Covering his mouth and nose with his hand, Nick wondered what exactly he had been thinking when he'd decided to lean down to look more closely at this poor woman's disfigured form. He'd been slightly nauseous almost every morning for nearly three weeks, so why wouldn't he be when his morning happened to include looking down at a dead body? It wasn't as though the putrid smell of decaying flesh and dried blood was going to improve matters. He tried to justify it by looking for something key, but the bile that was trying to force its way up his throat was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate.

"What do you think she was doing here? She's got a driver's license issued not more than a month ago that puts her address on the other side of town." Hank said from behind him, oblivious to Nick's plight. Not daring to open his mouth to answer, Nick kept his focus on the body. He could tell he wasn't going to last much longer though. "Nick...?"

Nick shook his head and abruptly bolted out the front door towards his truck. He leaned against it as he took in a few deep breaths of the fresh, mostly odorless air. By the time Hank approached him a few minutes later, he was feeling marginally better.

However, Hank's presence, while certainly not unwelcome, started to undo what the fresh air had been repairing. The stress of what he still hadn't told him was starting to manifest itself as part of his morning sickness.

Although he knew that he had to, there were a myriad of reasons why he didn't want to. First, he was already tired of Monroe and Rosalee worrying over him, mostly, unnecessarily; he wasn't sure he wanted to add another person to that list. Second, there was an irrational part of him that thought if he didn't tell Hank, maybe, just maybe, the impossible would not have happened to him, again. However, if he didn't tell Hank soon, he had the feeling Monroe would quite willing take the dreaded task on himself.

"You feeling okay?" Hank asked, giving him a once over. "It's not like you to flee a crime scene like that."

"Yeah...don't worry about it," Nick said as he climbed into the truck and gestured for Hank to follow suit, trying to ignore the returning queasiness. He was starting to wish he'd listened to Monroe's suggestion that he keep crackers in his truck for this. Shrugging that thought aside, he returned to the matter at hand,"The family that lives here has been out of town for almost a month, right?

"But the house doesn't really feel like it hasn't been lived in, and there was no sign of forced entry," Hank supplied.

"Right. Then that girl's clothes didn't look like they belonged to her. But they did look similar to one of the women in the photos in the living room," Nick said.

"So there's a decent chance she was staying here, though we don't know if any of the family knew. The housekeeper didn't recognize her." Hank said. "When we get back to the station, we'll look into her connection to the family...hey, you sure you're okay? You look a little pale."

"I think I'm just regretting what I ate this morning," Nick said, privately amending or rather what I didn't eat . When he'd woken up to discover that Monroe had already left to drive a finished commission across town, he'd felt like he was getting away with something by running out the door unfed. Sure he could have made something himself, and he knew he should have, but, well, he just hadn't felt up to eating.

"Big breakfast, huh? Well I'm glad I can see you suffer the downfall of living with a man who cooks," Hank said, smirking. When Nick just nodded, eyes firmly on the road, Hank asked, "Are you going to take the toll road back? It's probably faster."

"Yeah. I probably have some change in the center console. Can you check?" Nick asked.

"On it," Hank said. Then after some rustling, "I'm not seeing any change...just a box of saltine crackers? There's a Post-It on them too. Looks like Monroe wrote it. Thought you might change your mind. Hope you find these- M ," he said, clearly miffed by why Nick would have crackers, of all things, in his truck. "They're just crackers, aren't they? Not some damned Wesen thing?"

"Yeah, they're not. Can you hand me one or two of them though?" Nick said. Hank shot him a look that clearly said he didn't quite believe him before passing a few over to him.

"If something strange happens because you ate those...don't expect me to do anything about it," Hank said, eying the saltine box skeptically.

"Something strange already happened," Nick muttered into the steering wheel as he chewed slowly on one of the crackers.

Hank shot him a quizzical look, "Something I don't already know?" When he nodded reluctantly, Hank pressed, "Something I should know about?"

"Probably," Nick said. He supposed this was an opening he ought to take, except having that awkward I'm pregnant with another man's babyconversation just wasn't something he wanted to do in his truck, at least not while it was in motion. Or stopped, or period, really. "I'll tell you about it later though."

"You better," Hank said. "I know you keep your secrets for good reason, but I'd really like to be less in the dark. I don't much care for being caught off guard by the unexplained."

"And I don't want you to be. But this isn't really like my other secrets," Nick said.

"So it's not related to you being a Grimm?" Hank asked, drumming his fingers along the plastic below the window.

"Oh, I'm sure it is. Maybe not directly. But I'm sure it is," Nick said. He started to puzzle out if this would have been possible if he wasn't a Grimm and Monroe wasn't Wesen. He tried to remember if any of the incidents of male pregnancy Rosalee had found had had just human involvement. He thought he'd been watching the road through his contemplation, but perhaps not as carefully as he should have been because Hank hurriedly snapped him out of his thoughts by shouting for him to watch out.

He looked to the side and swerved, almost completely avoiding an enormous falling tree branch. It still hit the truck, but instead of crashing into the windshield, as it would have done, it fell against the driver's side door before tumbling innocuously to the ground. Nick's heart was already racing as he realized that they were now in danger of barrelling into a guardrail. He slowed down enough that they just bumped into lightly, and Nick guessed as he threw the truck into park that they had done more damage to it than it had done to them. Nevertheless, he gave Hank a cursory once over before climbing out, on the pretense of checking the damage. However, once out of the truck, he ran to and leaned over the guardrail to do what he'd been on the verge of doing all morning and threw up.

He was about to turn around to double check that Hank was okay, when he felt Hank's hand on his shoulder, "You alright?"

"I'm not hurt. But, no, I'm not alright... I'm pregnant," Nick said, slumping down, feeling defeated. He suddenly felt reckless for not telling Hank before; it wasn't as though it would have prevented a tree limb from falling into the road or anything, but he knew if what had just happened had been more serious, Hank wouldn't have known what to do for him. Not that Nick really knew either, but he had dark visions of EMTs asking Hank some very puzzling questions for which he had no sufficient answer.

"What? Nick...that's insane," Hank said, attempting to pull him upright, succeeding only in that Nick turned around.

"I'm with you. It's completely insane," Nick said, leaning back against the rail and rubbing at his temple. He looked up at his truck to see that, as he'd suspected, it looked no more or less battered than it had before.

Then, he flinched instinctively when Hank brushed his hand over his forehead, which caused Hank to grip his shoulder with his other hand before redoubling his efforts, "Just thought I'd make sure you weren't delirious. You don't feel warm...are you cold?... you're shaking."

"No, I think I'm just shook up," Nick admitted. He had a feeling that it wasn't just about the accident, but what it had demonstrated to him. He wasn't doing a stellar job of taking caring of himself right now, and clearly, he needed help -perhaps independence was overrated after all. Consequently, he let Hank lead him back to his truck and take the keys from him.

"Shook up? I think it's more than that. I'm taking you home. Maybe making Monroe tell you about the birds and the bees," Hank said.

"Funny story. He kind of already did," Nick said, leaning against the passenger side window, trying not to snort at the memory of Monroe beginning to explain the coyotls' mating ritual to him. He only wished the rest of that explanation had been as entertaining...

"Oh God. Please don't tell me what you two get up to," Hank shouted as he walked around to the driver's side.

"Like I would want to," Nick shouted back. Then as Hank turned the key in the ignition, reflecting on the last ten minutes, he stared sullenly at the dashboard without a word, worrying that he hadn't been as concerned as he should have been about Hank just then and that, even though he didn't fully realize it yet, he was about to put a lot on him. "I'm really sorry, Hank."

"For what? A huge tree branch falling? I don't see how that's your fault," Hank said. "Not to mention, I'm fine. I'm not so sure about you. But I'm perfectly fine."

"Not just that..." Nick said, and things that had been gnawing at him for a long time, even before he'd found out he was pregnant, things that he knew he shouldn't voice out loud, because he wasn't sure how many times Hank-or Monroe, or Rosalee, for that matter- could take getting the raw end of the stick, were spilling out of his mouth, "I'm sorry that you got me as your partner. I'm sorry that I keep turning your life upside down."

He felt hot tears beginning to prick at his eyes as he stared emphatically at Hank, feeling irrationally angry with himself. He really wished they wouldn't because it was just further proof that he was completely spiralling. He had a lot to report to Dr. Lehrer that he didn't want to.

"Damn it, Nick. What is going on with you?" Hank asked. "You aren't going to do this. Not right now, not ever. You already know I don't care if you're a Grimm. I don't care if you turn my life upside down daily. Hell, I don't care if you actually are pregnant. You're my partner, and the best damn one I've ever had. Nothing about who you are is ever going to change that."

Nick cupped his face in his hands because, despite his best efforts, tears were now flowing freely down his cheeks, partially because Hank saying that meant a lot to him, and partially because he felt like Hank didn't deserve any of this. "Thanks, Hank."

From where he was, sitting on the couch reading War and Peace , Monroe could hear Hank and Nick squabbling on the front porch.

"I can unlock the door myself," Nick stated as though Hank might have doubted it.

"Yeah, but you aren't doing it. Give me the keys or I'm knocking," Hank said.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Monroe opened the door for them, revealing a befuddled-looking Hank and a puffy-eyed Nick.

Before Monroe could even ask what happened, Nick took off into the kitchen.

"We got in a minor car accident; I'm fine. The truck's fine. Nick says he's fine. But, he told me he's pregnant," Hank said quickly, a hollow look of concern cast across his eyes.

"Finally," Monroe said, waves of relief and worry coursing through him simultaneously, as Hank cast that same hollow look up at him. "I'm not sure you ever get used to the idea; I haven't, exactly. But he wasn't losing it or whatever you thought. He really is pregnant. Now, if you'll excuse me, for my own peace of mind, I think I'm going to have to have a chat with my own personal trouble magnet."

"Monroe, I really don't think he's hurt," Hanks said, holding his hand up to stop him, then, bringing his voice down to a whisper, glancing to towards the kitchen, clearly hoping Nick was out of earshot. "But he seemed pretty rattled and he started apologizing to me for things it made no sense for him to apologize for, and today was the worst of it, but he's been acting odd, well, since that snake bit him. Is that when...? Was there really a snake...?"

Not really in the mood to discuss the whole ordeal their evening at the museum had been, Monroe nodded shortly before anxiously running his hand through his hair, "Huh. He's, uh, been doing things like that to me a lot lately too. I know he's upset about all of this, totally unsurprisingly, but I just can't help thinking there's just something he's not telling me."

"Yeah that's what I thought, and I was right, but you already knew he was... pregnant," Hank said, the last word coming out as though it were some kind of dreaded disease. Perhaps, in this case, he wasn't too off the mark. "So it's got to be something else. Maybe if we double team him, we could get it out of him?"

"Maybe..." Monroe said hesitantly. Whatever it was, if Nick didn't want to tell just him, he really doubted he wanted to tell both of them. However, Monroe was getting to the point where he thought Nick's judgment about what he did and didn't need for other people to know was far too cloudy to be trusted. He'd also like, if possible, to prevent further extremely heartfelt confessions and apologies about accidentally lost razors and coffee mugs. If putting his head together with Hank's would accomplish that, he was all for it. "Well, let's go talk to him. But let's not press anything just yet."

They found Nick sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of tea as he chewed cautiously on a piece of toast, looking put out.

"I should have told him before today, I know. Just save it," Nick said, as he tried to get up to make a run for the stairs.

"I don't think so," Monroe said, pushing Nick back into his chair and then pulling one of the other chairs up next to him. He rested one hand on Nick's thigh, giving him a brief red-tinged stare, daring him to try to leave the kitchen. "We're talking about this."

He paused and looked Nick up and down, "Nick, look. I know this isn't exactly comfortable for you...or us, really, but if you aren't honest with us, it's just going to make it worse on everyone. Should you have told Hank before today? Yeah, okay, probably. But I'm really not mad that you didn't."

"You're not?" Nick asked, looking skeptical and hopeful. Monroe sighed. This wasn't like Nick, to worry he was going to take things so personally. Hell, thinking back on it, he wasn't even sure Nick had ever properly apologized for accusing him of being a kidnapper. Not that he was bringing that up right now... because god only knows what Nick would do with that.

"No, I'm really not. He knows now, and quite frankly, that's what matters. Now, are you alright?" Monroe asked.

Nick's lips twitched slightly, but then he just stared at the table without answering.

"Yeah, that's exactly what's not going to work here," Monroe said.

"I just wish you guys would stop asking. That's all," Nick said resignedly, sweeping his hand past Monroe and Hank. "I don't think I'm really going to be alright until this is over, and I feel guilty about you guys feeling like you need to watch over me all of the time because you've got better things to do, and then even worse that you probably do need to."

"Nick," Hank said. "We want to watch out for you. That's what friends do for each other, whether you need us to or not. Tell us you wouldn't do the same if it was me or Monroe...uh, in your shoes."

"I'm sure I would. But neither of you are as completely helpless as I am," Nick said, throwing his head into his arms on the table, nearly knocking over his tea. The splash of hot water on his arm made him moan piteously as though it had provided inconvertible proof of this fact.

Hank and Monroe exchanged worried glances.

"Nick, you are anything but helpless," Hank said. "You know what you do for a living, right?"

"Reckless, perhaps. A little extra caution might do you some good every now and then, maybe," Monroe said. "But helpless just isn't a word that springs to mind when describing you."

"Defending myself is one thing, taking care of myself is another. I've never been great at it, and now I'm supposed to be doing it for myself andanother living being. You'd think I'd be getting better at it, but I think I'm getting worse... " Nick trailed off. Then after a long pause, "Uh, Monroe, there's something I really need to tell you. Something I should have told you a while ago. Hank, can you leave us alone for a minute?"

Nick watched as Hank disappeared into the living room, but he seemed no closer to spitting out whatever it was that was bothering him.

"Nick...?" Monroe prompted.

"I just don't really know how to say this," Nick said, swirling his spoon around his tea. "It's just kind of awkward and embarrassing."

"And I wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing," Monroe said, raising his eyes. "Nick, whatever it is, I'm sure it's no worse than things we've already had to deal with. I mean, for god sake's, man, you're pregnant."

"Yeah, I know, and I'm pretty sure that's the root of the problem. So when we went to see Dr. Lehrer, she told me I was showing signs of depression," Nick said, then after a deep sigh, "and...er, I think it's been getting worse."

"Oh my god, Nick! That was a month and a half ago!" Monroe shouted, standing up as he moved hastily around the kitchen table. He hadn't been mad at Nick before. He really hadn't. Maybe a little annoyed and frustrated, but not angry. Now, he was absolutely fuming. He knew that this wasn't really a good way to react to this, at all, but seriously, "A month AND a half ago. Why on earth wouldn't you tell me? Okay, yeah, I know, you already said, awkward and embarrassing. Right. But, dude, you really can't keep stuff like this from me. You just can't."

"Yeah, I know," Nick said, giving him his patented glum, broken puppy dog esque stare. "I'm sorry."

Monroe completely melted at that because he had learned quickly that he was completely powerless against that look -god help him if their child inherited it. He wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders and collarbone from behind his chair, leaning his chin and nose into Nick's hair. "Well I know now, and Hank knows, well, part of it, at least. I mean, I'm pretty sure he thinks we're insane still, but we'll work on that. In any case, you're going to be okay; we're going to get you through all of this. I promise."

"But Monroe, getting through this? How am I one day going to look our kid in the eye and tell them I had to get through this? " Nick asked, and Monroe could tell that this was really bothering him. "How unwanted are they going to feel?"

"You're worried about that? First of all, Nick, I don't know why you aren't more worried about explaining how they came to be in the first place," Monroe said. Then as he felt Nick's shoulders tense up, thinking he'd picked entirely the wrong tact, he continued, "But really, wanting to have a kid and wanting to go through pregnancy are not the same thing at all. I'm sure there are a plenty of women out there who can't wait for their pregnancy to be over. I am sure you're not alone."

"Maybe not," Nick said. "But it certainly feels like it."

Monroe wished he knew how to make Nick not feel like that because it broke his heart that he did. But he wasn't really sure how. Nick was in a particularly isolating situation, which, Monroe thought, he had stupidly chosen to exacerbate. But now that he knew more of the specifics of the situation, he would do what he could to make it better. "Get up so I can hug you properly."

Once he did, Nick completely sunk into him, cradling his head on one shoulder. He just stayed there, letting Monroe rub at his back for a few minutes, before straightening himself up, looking slightly less worse for the wear, "Do you think we should get Hank some tea or coffee or something?"

"Oh good god. I forgot he was here," Monroe said. "And you guys drove your truck here so he probably didn't leave..."

"Yeah, probably not," Nick said. "Are there any of those scones you made yesterday leftover? He probably needs some kind of incentive to believe us. Then, maybe after we all sit down and talk this out, we'll both be okay to go back to work. We really need to look into the family from where we were this morning, and I might have a lead on our elusive hexenbiest."

"You sure you're going to be okay?" Monroe asked. Then after a beat, remembering how much it had been getting to him, "I'm really sorry I'm asking. But I really need to know that you are. Please don't leave me in the dark about this."

"It's okay. I'll try not to," Nick said. "And, yeah, I think I'll be okay. For today anyway."

Just as he said that, Hank wandered back into the kitchen, looking slightly dazed, "Hey Nick, have you tried eating apples for breakfast for your morning sickness? I'm guessing that's what was going on this morning? My cousin always did that when she was pregnant; she has four boys now."

"Can't say that I have," Nick said, grinning. "But, I guess you're coming around to the idea?"

"Slowly," Hank said. "But yeah."