Author's Note: Hi guys, I'm back! I'm sorry it took so long to finish, and I apologize for the brevity. Hopefully there will be something longer coming very soon. I never have a free moment to write anymore. Funny how it even happens in the summertime.

All regular disclaimers apply. I do not own.

Here, finally, is Chapter 7.

CHAPTER 7

Nick had barely pulled up to the house and Rosalee was running outside to meet him.

"Nice dress," Nick teased to lighten the tension. "Red. I'm sure he loved that." Rosalee just stared at him. She was not exactly amused, but she remembered that Nick was doing her a big favor and decided not to retort.

"Thank you for being here," she said sincerely. "I appreciate it. He's just really worrying me – I've never seen him like this before."

"No problem," Nick said as Rosalee led him up to the door. "Where is he? You said you didn't want to leave him alone." Rosalee flushed in embarrassment but concealed that emotion with aggravation.

"He's sleeping now," she said. "Stepping right outside the door doesn't count as leaving, especially when he's out cold." Nick couldn't help but smile at her obvious frustration.

"It's going to be fine, Rosalee," he said. "Go on. I'll be fine here."

"Great," she said. "Look, if he starts seeing things, calm him down quick. Otherwise he might transform and try to attack you or himself."

"Got it," Nick said. "Rosalee, stop worrying so much. He'll be fine. I've got this." Rosalee stared deeply into his eyes. She trusted him. She had no choice but to trust him now.

"Okay," She said finally. "Thank you, Nick."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Just go get whatever will fix him." Rosalee nodded once and headed for the road, realizing belatedly that she did not have a car. Nick noticed too. He raised his eyebrows at her as if to say "So now what?"

"Do you… do you think he'll mind if I…?" She asked, faltering. It seemed like such a bad idea when she voiced it.

"I usually like to live by the policy of 'ask for forgiveness, not permission,'" he told her, understanding her meaning exactly. "Do you know where his keys are?"

"Yeah, he set them down as soon as he got in," she answered.

"Well, go on then," Nick urged. "It's not like he's in any condition to drive anyway. I'm sure he won't mind." Reassured by this, Rosalee stepped through the door, grabbed the keys to Monroe's vintage bug, and left again.

"I need to get out of this by the way," she said, gesturing to her dress.

"Why?" Nick asked. "Not comfortable for playing doctor?" Rosalee resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes at him.

"No, Nick," she said calmly. "It's not that. This color… in his condition, no matter how much he likes it, no matter how much he cares about me, it will set him off."

"Oh. Right," he said soberly, remembering the incident that had caused him to even meet Monroe in the first place. Wanting nothing more than for his friend to be healed, he urged her off by saying, "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"See you," she said. "And thanks again." With that, she climbed into the car and took off down the road.

She stopped first at her house and changed her clothes, glad to be out of the restricting formalwear, but also relieved to not be wearing the very color that might cause her death. She grabbed a bag in which she shoved a book and some personal items that hadn't fit in her purse. Then, she headed to the shop, thinking of only Monroe suffering as she drove, in order to keep her on mind on the task at hand.

Once inside the shop, she shut and locked the door before going completely insane, running around like mad, searching for ingredients in the wrong places before realizing she didn't even know what she was searching for yet. She sat down hard on the stool behind the counter and took a deep breath to calm herself. She usually wasn't so panicky with patients. She knew this job required a cool head and steady hands, but for some reason, having it be Monroe who was sick, who had his entire life in her hands right then, made her more frantic, more anxious, and more confused about her feelings.

She forced her tears to stay away and pulled a piece of paper out from behind the counter. She took a pen from the infamous pen holder on the countertop, wincing as it touched her skin and actually burned with the memory of Monroe handing it to her, and began to compose a list of all the ingredients she needed to create the remedies. When her thoughts were organized at last, she got a plastic bag and systematically gathered the items from the shop. Her face was blank, devoid of all emotions, until she reached up and included the most painful ingredient for the first stage of rash treatment in the bag – chili pepper & seeds. At this, she cringed, thinking of how much it was going to burn him and how much agony was going to ensue. She could practically hear the screaming, the begging and pleading for the hellish torture to end…. She didn't know how many screams she'd be able to endure before she'd go mad with anguish brought on by his tortured cries.

This wasn't good – she was beginning to lose her nerve. In fact, she was becoming so anxious she was thinking of making Nick do it. She bit her lip as she added camphor and sage to the bag and double checked that she had everything she needed. She remembered to grab her own mortar and pestle and a few sets of latex gloves as she didn't want to spread infection by taking chances with what other germs might or might not be on her hands. That was, after all, how most Blutbaden died of Lupofiebre.

Rosalee checked, double checked, and triple checked her list. When she was absolutely sure she had everything she needed, she grabbed Monroe's keys, shut off the light, and left the store, relocking the door behind her. She climbed into the car and headed back to the house, hoping Nick had been able to keep Monroe safe and under control. That's when she realized with a groan that she'd forgotten to warn him about the rash.

Meanwhile, at Monroe's house, Nick was having problems of his own. He had walked into Monroe's bedroom and found the Blutbad lying on his back, uncovered and bare-chested, with some sort of horrible blotchy inflammation bubbling and popping across his torso. His face was contorted in severe pain, jaw clenched tightly. Nick had been horrified. Rosalee had definitely failed to mention this, he thought as he went over to examine the ugly-looking rash. The angry red and white pustules were popping at random intervals, spurting some awful, bloody fluid. But that wasn't even the worst part. Nick swore he saw the white bone of one of Monroe's ribs showing through a tiny but deep hole in the skin. He couldn't tell for certain if that was the case or if he was just seeing things, what with all the redness and the blood, but the more he looked at it, the more that seemed to be the only logical explanation.

Nick was suddenly flooded with feelings he didn't know he had for his dear friend. The rash was nasty and looked absolutely excruciating. He wasn't sure how Monroe stayed asleep – he knew if he'd had something like that, he'd be screaming his head off in pain. Carefully, without thinking, he reached down to grip his friend's hand. Suddenly, in a flash, Monroe had grabbed hold of Nick's hand before Nick could even react. His eyes had flown open and he stared around the room confusedly for a long moment before locking eyes with Nick.

"Nick?" He asked, surprisingly alert.

"Hey, Monroe," Nick replied. "What the hell happened to you? You look awful."

"No time to explain," Monroe said breathlessly. "Nick, there are reapers here."

"Wait… what?" The young Grimm asked, bewildered.

"Shh," the Blutbad said urgently, sitting up with the slightest wince. "The reapers will hear you."

"The… what?" Nick asked bewildered, looking around. If there were reapers in Monroe's house, they'd both end up dead, as Nick didn't have any weapons with which to protect himself, and Monroe was currently out of commission.

"Reapers," Monroe moaned softly. "They're… they're here."

"Monroe, what are you talking about?" Nick asked, starting to freak out a little bit himself. Monroe was convinced there were murderers in his house, but the two of them were utterly alone. He wasn't making any sense. Were these reapers invisible, he wondered? "There's no one here but us."

"That's what they want you to think," Monroe hissed softly. "Where's Rosalee?"

"She went to get medicine for you," Nick explained gently. "That's why I'm here. Dude, are you alright? You seem a bit… spacey." And that's when he noticed the wild but dull and glazed look in Monroe's eyes. He understood immediately. Monroe was not seeing straight. He was having one of the hallucinations Rosalee had been worried about. And he was hallucinating reapers.

"Oh boy," Nick murmured to himself. This was about to get ugly.

A/N: So that's it for now. More to come. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought! Reviews are lovely and appreciated!

~PG22