Author's Note: I am SO SO SO SO SO SO sorry for not updating earlier! A round of sickness struck my family and then my laptop died leaving me without access to the fic. I've only recently gotten it uploaded to my only working computer which is why I'm now posting it. I'm currently in the process of writing chapter 8 and outlining the rest of the fic so that I can simply sit and write so hopefully I won't ever make you all wait this long again.

Beta'd by me; if you'd like to be my Grimm beta, let me know :D


Part VII

The landscape rolled by with increasing speed as he flew. Even with that knowledge, however, he still peered down, trying to locate where he was by simple markers. As expected, it didn't work so he gave up and enjoyed the flight. The plane wasn't crowded like it sometimes could be - a fact for which he was thankful. Pierre despised overpopulated areas, planes and cities included; it was why he normally chose to take midnight flights and live in small towns. However, as of late, his ambitions had begun to grow, and he'd found just the person to help further them. Now all he had to do was remove the man who stood in his way.

He pulled a picture of an old newspaper clipping out of his briefcase, sneering at the black and white ink. Removing him shouldn't be too hard; Pierre already knew how he would do that. It was subduing those that were loyal to him that would be the hard part. Thankfully, the person who backed Pierre had already thought of that and was making arrangements before he'd even left.

Be careful Captain Renard, he thought as he stared at the man's face from when he was at a press conference. You may have won the last time we met, but things have changed and this time, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that you won't see coming.

oOo

Sean landed in the forest, silent as a wraith. He put his nose into the air, sniffing it for sign of his prey while remaining as still as the trees. His eyes glowed bright orange when he caught the scent. Perfect. It was a single Lowen; unusual to be sure, but not unheard of. It appeared the lion was camping out in the woods, either hiding from someone or waiting for someone, Sean couldn't tell. Sean noted that it wasn't very bright when he pin-pointed the scent to be coming from an open plain within the woods rather than the caves which were far better at hiding someone.

With a rumble that was pure exhilaration, Sean took off towards the scent, quietly moving through the forest, unnoticed. Normally he wasn't this animalistic in nature; Sean preferred to keep his more feral side hidden. But with the tension between Nick and himself, his inability to check on the man without appearing like a stalker, and the realization that Nick was to be his future mate, Sean needed a release and this was it.

He pounced before the Lowen even knew he was there, using his ability to blend into the scenery to keep his presence hidden from its excellent eyesight. Sean actually felt a little low, attacking without giving the prey a chance to fight back, but his worries were quickly cast aside as the Regnant sunk its teeth into the Lowen's neck.

For a moment, he imagined it was Nick he was biting, but then the scent of the Lowen overwhelmed his senses and the dream was gone. The Regnant took out its frustrations on the dead Lowen, tearing it apart so that it couldn't be identified by anyone that had known it.

He let out a roar that was loud enough to echo through the far reaches of Portland, hoping that Nick could hear it because, after all, it was meant for him. He then repeated it a couple more times before desisting. Once he was finished, he began to dispose of the body so that it would never be found. He thought it was rather convenient that the Lowen had left the fire burning for him so he could use it to devour the lion's remains. Only once the smoke was a mile high and the air was thick with the stench of burning flesh did he leave the scene, the Regnant within rumbling happily as it went back into its cage.

oOo

Nick snapped awake, feeling as though his soul had been dragged out of a pool of sleep by an unwanted savior. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, but he had the feeling it had been real.

A roar, like that of a giant lion, rumbled through the air outside his window, catching his attention and bring him to his feet and then the window faster than he had thought possible. He opened the window, letting the chilly October air rush passed him as though the breeze itself simply wanted to get warm. When the roar came a third time, because he knew that was had woken him up in the first place, he stuck his head out the window and listened to it.

Beneath the ferocious gurgle, he heard things that he wondered if anyone else could hear. Given that was how his life seemed to work, he guessed they couldn't; that somehow the message within it was meant solely for him and therefore no other could decipher it. The sound felt possessive to Nick, almost like an animalistic claim that had been laid. But he also heard loneliness, desire, and love. The loneliness connected with him on a level he hadn't expected; then the love enveloped him, warming him and acting as an adhesive to hold his heart together.

Another breeze swept past, this time chilling him to the bone. Nick shivered, the act reminding him that he shouldn't be sticking his head out the window. And just like that, the roaring stopped and he felt just as cold, alone, and sick as he had before it had started.

"I'm assuming you heard that," Monroe's voice said from the doorway behind him.

"Couldn't everybody," Nick answered, doing his best to hide the fact that Monroe had surprised him. Slowly, he turned around, feeling every joint and every muscle as he moved.

Okay, that needs to stop, he silently grumbled. The whole, being-sick-and-feeling-like-it thing is just annoying now.

"Some more than most," Monroe said, the double meaning in his words clear. The problem was that Nick couldn't tell if he was referring to the fact that he could hear it better than most people because of his Blutbad heritage or if Nick heard it best because it was seemingly meant for him. Give the look Monroe was giving him, Nick would guess that it was both.

"Do you know what it was that made it?" Nick ventured curiously.

"Do I look like I know every wesen in Portland?"

Nick raised his eyebrows in an 'are you kidding' kind of expression and smiled. He thought about sitting down so that he didn't wear himself out, but he quickly wiped the idea away; he'd been off his feet for days, it was time to be standing and moving around.

"Alright, fine, yes, I know who it was, but if you don't know, I'm not gonna be the one to tell you because he would kill me. Okay, not literally, well, maybe literally, I don't know; either way, I'm not going to cross him."

"Let me guess, Captain Renard," Nick dryly suggested, recognizing Monroe's awe and desire to stay out of everything.

"Hey, I'm not saying a word," Monroe reminded him, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Anyways, how are you feeling?"

"Better," Nick answered, nodding his head to support his statement as he started to walk away from the window where'd he been standing since Monroe had walked in. Now it was Monroe's turn to give him the 'are you kidding' expression, making Nick stop. "What, don't I look it?"

"No. You look like death barely heated up."

"Well, thanks, I feel so flattered."

"Yeah, well, whatever. Rosalee wants to know if you want to come down for dinner."

"Dinner? What happened to lunch, I thought you were going to wake me up around noon?"

"Hey, I tried," Monroe defended, once again holding up his hands in a peace gesture, "you threatened to shoot me."

"I did not," Nick scoffed, waving away the accusation with the effort of swatting a fly. He paused for a moment, considering his mood as of late and decided to change his statement, "At least, I don't remember doing that."

"That's what I figured," Monroe said, brushing off the whole thing with a shrug. "Anyways, do you want to come down or not?"

"Yeah," Nick replied a bit more enthusiastically than he meant. He sighed, letting the breath calm him down. "Let me take a shower and then, I'll be down."

Monroe didn't reply. Instead he turned around and walked out, leaving Nick to take his shower in peace.

oOo

The hot water felt glorious as it splashed, splattered, and sprayed against Nick's skin. He stood with his back to the spray as he began pouring shampoo into the palm of his hand. The benefit of having short hair was that it didn't require a lot of maintenance; a teensy bit of shampoo, a bit of rinsing, drying and then a comb-through and he was done. There were sometimes when he felt like being fussy about it, but they were rare. He washed his face and his body with the same soap then he stood under the stream for another five minutes before he finally shut it off. If he could have, he'd have stayed under longer, but since he could feel his muscles begin to tire, he didn't push it.

Opening the door to the bedroom so that the steam from the bathroom could escape, Nick inhaled deeply. The smell of fresh bread wafted through his nose, quickly followed by smell of chicken; he assumed it was chicken noodle soup that was being made since he didn't think Rosalee would let him eat anything more substantive at the moment, but for a minute he imagined a rotisserie chicken, a baked potato, and maybe even a salad waiting for him.

His mouth watered as his imagination wandered. Off the top of his head, he could come up with five meals that sounded more delicious than soup, but he acknowledged that his stomach wasn't ready to handle anything too heavy yet and so he clamped down on his cravings.

After quickly throwing on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, Nick made his way downstairs. Much to his surprise he found the downstairs clean, in order, and…homey. All of the "gifts" from the eisbibers had either been put away in the kitchen or placed somewhere out of the way so that it looked like they belonged there. He paused for a moment to allow the scene to set in and then he made his way into the kitchen where he heard Rosalee bustling about.

"Hey!" she greeted happily yet distractedly. Her movements never ceased as she moved through his kitchen as though she'd been the one to set everything up rather than Juliette. "How are you feeling?"

"Hey, uh, better, I guess. What's going on?"

Food was strewn about the kitchen counters. It was messy and yet it wasn't since all of it was packed in the form of meals in plastic to-go containers. Nick stared at it all in amazement with just a touch of bewilderment. Did she think he couldn't feed himself?

"Just putting the rest of this food into the freezer before I begin setting the table," she absently answered while pouring a bit of what looked like goulash into a large, plastic bowl.

"I see that," he said, still staring at the counters. "The question is ... why are you putting large amounts of food into plastic containers?"

"Monroe was worried that with Juliette gone, you wouldn't feed yourself properly so he made enough food to last you through a war or two."

"Uh-huh, and, why are you the one putting it away?"

"Because he's out back grilling dinner for us."

The way she said 'us' made Nick think that she meant only Monroe and herself, but he still rose his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was asking if the meal was for all of them rather than just the two that hadn't been sick. His smile grew when she purposely ignored him, apparently guessing that what he was going to ask.

"Great," Nick said when the kitchen remained in silence and Rosalee continue to ignore him, "well, I'll just go and see if he needs some help."

When Rosalee remained silent, he went to the back hall, grabbed his coat and went outside to the porch. The smell of searing meat floated through the air like a delicate feather, settling on the autumn air like a comforting presence. Monroe stood in front of the grill, letting the smoke from the fire waft over him before it dissipated like a fine mist.

"Hey! Should you be out here?" the Blutbad greeted and asked in one. Using the pair of tongs he had in his hand, he flipped the meat over and then hung them back on the grill's side.

"Hey," Nick greeted back, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets to keep them warm. "I guess so. She didn't stop me from coming."

Monroe raised an eyebrow out at him. "That doesn't mean you should be out here. That just means that she was too busy to notice."

"Tomato, Tomahto," Nick answered, hovering by the warm grill. "What made you decide to grill? I thought you were a vegan."

"I am," Monroe assured, turning his attention from Nick down to the meat to make sure it wasn't burning and then focusing back on Nick. "This is vegan steak; there's no actual meat in it."

"Doesn't that kinda defeat the purpose of it?" Nick teased with a smile. In all honesty, he admired the Blutbad for his choice of lifestyle. While Nick didn't mind eating vegan or vegetarian every once in a while, he knew he couldn't do it every day – he craved red meat far too often.

Just then, the back door opened and Rosalee's head poked out. "Hey, Nick, could you do me a favor? Could you grab the plates for me? They're a bit too high up for me to reach."

Monroe and Nick shared a look that said that neither of them was fooled before Nick gave the fuchsbau a smile and answered, "Yeah. It's the least I could do."

She smiled at him and then went back inside, knowing that he would follow her. He shared another look with Monroe before he went back into the house, shivering as the heat from it sunk into his bones, alerting him to just how cold he'd actually been.

"So, why are the plates so high up again?" Nick asked as he grabbed said plates from an upper shelf in the cabinet.

"It seems as if your kitchen wasn't very organized, so Monroe took it upon himself to correct that while you were ill," Rosalee answered, taking the plates from Nick and putting them on the dining table. Though he'd handed her three, she'd only put two on the table, giving him the third one back with a, "Nice try."

"I'm not trying anything," Nick answered with a smile that belied his innocence. "Besides," he added when she gave him an eyebrow raise of doubt, "wouldn't it be better to have a plate under the bowl of soup so that I can put my bread on it? I did smell fresh bread, right?"

"Yes, you did," she answered in response to his second question. She didn't even bother answering his first, however, as she simply walked back into the dining room and placed the plate under his bowl. "Satisfied?" she asked when she came back in to grab silverware and napkins.

"Thrilled," Nick replied with a smile. Since he didn't actually feel that way, he chose to walk into the living room to take a breather for a few seconds. He'd just sat down when his phone, which, out of habit, was attached to his belt, rang. "Burkhardt," he answered without blinking.

"Just thought I'd let you know that the Captain has given you the rest of the week off," Hank supplied without bothering to say hello.

"Oh," Nick answered, not really able to think of something else. "Thanks."

"Uh-huh; don't think I'm going to play your messenger boy every time you don't feel like callin' in sick, though."

Nick chuckled, knowing that Hank would in fact play messenger whenever he asked, just like Nick would always do it if it was Hank that was sick or injured.

"Got it," he assured. "See you on Monday."

"Uh-huh," was all he got in reply before the line cut off.

"Nick?" Rosalee said as she poked her head into the living room. "Dinner's ready."

"Okay, thanks," he answered, waiting until she walked away before letting out a heavy sigh. "Here we go," he said to himself before he hoisted his butt off the couch and into the dining room.

oOo

The dinner passed pleasantly and swiftly. What little chatter there was mingled perfectly with the food as they ate, creating a comfortable atmosphere despite the events of the past week. Once it had finished, Nick helped to clear off the table and do the dishes while Rosalee put the spare food away.

"You guys don't have to stick around anymore, you know," Nick said as he bent down to load the plates into the dishwasher.

"I don't know," Monroe answered from his spot against the counter, bottle of beer in his hand. "The last time I left you alone, you managed to make yourself very sick. Who knows what could happen if you're left to your own devices."

"Funnily enough, I wasn't aware that you were a babysitter as well as a clock maker," Nick returned, adding the cups and silverware as he did so.

"Are you kidding me? I've been a babysitter from the moment you attacked me in my own home," Monroe countered without missing a beat.

"Really?" Nick asked, curious by what he meant.

"Yeah, I've been babysitting you since you first showed up at my door, lookin' for answers." He took another gulp of beer and then gave Nick a smile.

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but since he knew that Monroe was right, he shut it again, shrugged and shoved the pots and pans into the dishwasher, added the detergent and then forcefully closed the door. The dishwasher activated and the gentle humming of the water being splished and splashed soon became the only sound in the kitchen.

"Anyways," Nick emphasized as the small group continued to simply stare at one another. "Like I was saying, I'm feeling much better now, so you guys can go ahead and go home tonight."

"I think that sounds like a great idea," Rosalee said before Monroe had a chance to respond. "And I agree. You're definitely doing much better."

The two looked over at Monroe, impatiently waiting for the Blutbad to agree with broad, encouraging smiles on their faces. At long last he rolled his eyes and gulped down the rest of his beer. "Fine, all right," he gave in, placing the bottle into the trash. "But if you need anything, call. Don't wait until you're desperate."

"Monroe, I'll be fine," Nick reassured, sounding a bit more annoyed than he would have liked. It wasn't that he didn't understand or appreciate the other man's protective nature because he really did. Over the past year, the two had become good friends and each felt responsible for the other's health, whether they were or not. It was just that, right now, he longed to be left alone so that he could finally let the mask fall and slowly begin to adapt to life without Juliette.

They walked to the entryway in some silent understanding that the night was over. Despite the gloom he felt about Juliette leaving, Nick also felt blessed that he had friends that he knew he could count on and that understood him on a deeper level than she ever did.

"But thanks," he added to make sure that Monroe didn't feel like his and Rosalee's help wasn't appreciated.

Both Wesen nodded their answer then Rosalee leaned in to give him a hug. Having been caught off guard, Nick simply stood there for a few seconds while she hugged him. Then as things slowly began to process, he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug and feeling, somehow, privileged to be receiving such a show of affection.

"Thanks for your help," he told her as she backed away and stood next to Monroe. "Both of you."

"You're welcome, Nick," Rosalee answered for the both of them. Apparently taking that as her cue, the fuchsbau opened the door and walked out, stopping just outside to wait for Monroe to join.

The two men shook hands with Nick adding a small smile of both thanks and apology. He felt bad for essentially kicking the two out like he had, but he also felt bad about their having to watch over him for the past seventy-two hours. Monroe smiled back, silently assuring Nick that he had nothing to apologize for, and then he too walked out, closing the door behind him.

Once he was sure that they'd driven away, Nick collapsed against the front door, simply allowing the events of the past week collapse around him. Next week was going to be better. It had to be.

TBC