Disclaimer: I don't own "Grimm" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Grimm" and fell in love with the Nick x Monroe pairing. This was mostly inspired by the pilot episode, 1x07, 1x08, 1x12 so it is loosely based in the late season one setting.

Warnings: temporary memory loss, injury, care-taking, hurt and comfort, animal traits, scenting, language, flirting, just guys being dudes, drama, romance.

Abendrot

Chapter Seven

He was two loads in - having to look at labels to figure out what was his and what was Nick's - when a knock on the door startled him enough that he nearly dropped his unscented, eco-friendly detergent all over the floor.

He opened the door cautiously. Catching sight of an unfamiliar, solid looking man on the front porch looking off towards the road before he flipped the lock. Hoping somewhat vainly for the least awkward outcome as the man turned around at the sound.

"Uh, hello?" he offered, when the African American man stared back at him. Frowning. Like he was looking for something on his face he didn't immediately find.

"Detective Griffin," the man replied, making him blink for a long awkward moment before he realized it was an introduction.

"Monroe," he offered guardedly. Trying not to jump to conclusions about why there was a police detective on his front porch. "How can I help you, detective?"

But if anything that just made the man's frown deepen. Looking at him for a long awkward beat before shaking his head. Expression re-shaping like he'd just been forced to reevaluate an opinion he really didn't want to.

He scented the air unobtrusively. Getting a nose full of cologne and lint. And, surprisingly, the fading scent of-

"You really don't remember me do you?"

Wait.

Oh, shit.

Was this Nick's partner?

But before he could do or say anything, the man was already talking. Extending his hand for him to shake as he took it carefully.

"We've met before, but call me Hank. Nick told me what happened. I have to say I don't think I believed it until just now."

Hank.

He turned the name over in his head before shaking the man's hand. Aware there was a challenge in how firm the handshake was, but saying nothing considering the initial tension had already started to ease.

"Oh. Nick's partner?" he asked, knowing at this point but deciding it was easier to go through the motions than figure out a way to explain how he could smell it. How Nick's scent was worked into his pores and his clothes.

"That's right," the man answered, eying him carefully. Giving him the feeling he was being weighed and measured in real time. Which was disconcerting, considering he didn't have a clue where they stood with one another

"You called this morning," he said with a nod. "Nick's been helping me out since the accident. I told him I'd be fine, but he insisted. He isn't here right now though, he just got called in. Something about a witness coming forward?"

Hank's head came up, like he was surprised by that.

"Ah, okay, well- I haven't been back to the precinct since our first call today. Figured I'd stop by and talk to him about a couple of things on my lunch."

"Okay, so- uh- I'll tell him you stopped by then?" he offered, feeling like it was as natural of an out as they'd get at this point. Wanting it to be over so he could retreat back into the house and pretend that his life wasn't a complete disaster. Every part of him unsettled, but not threatened as he shuffled his socks awkwardly.

Only Hank didn't move.

Instead, things went from mildly mortifying to full-throttle awkward as the man winced - like even he was feeling it - before finally pushing forward anyway.

"Look. I don't what's going on with you and him, but Nick is my friend. Things haven't been the same since his Aunt died and Juliette left. And I'm here because- look, man if you even look at him wrong, I'll-"

He blinked as realization sunk in.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

Of all the things he expected today, getting scoped out by Nick's best friend and work partner and being read the riot act just wasn't one of them.

"No offense, but I'm not sure about you yet, man" Hank finished. "When Nick first came across you he was convinced you were our guy and he has pretty good instincts. I've learned to trust that, even if he's occasionally wrong. So when he says someone is bad news, I listen. And while I know you guys seem to be...friendly now...well, what can I say? The guy is trusting. Sometimes too trusting."

But far from being insulted, he was actually relieved. Grateful Nick was surrounded by people who cared about him and had his back. It reminded him of things he hadn't let himself think about in a long time - things like pack and mate and all the good stuff that came with it.

"You're a good friend," he said softly. Which seemed to catch Hank off guard. Making a decision he hoped wasn't going to blow up in his face as he held open the door and gestured for him to come in. "I just put on a fresh pot of coffee, want a cup?"

The man's eyes flicked to Nick's things spread across the couch as he toed off his boots and followed him inside. Looking immediately more comfortable – like just the fact they weren't sleeping together was a good sign - as he smothered a laugh by clearing his throat.

"Sorry about the mess, the last few days have been a little crazy. I'm still finding stuff I don't remember buying. Hard to figure out where to put it if I don't remember why I have it in the first place," he explained, aware the detective was looking around unobtrusively - looking for clues perhaps - as he filled their cups and gestured towards the kitchen table. The only area that didn't have a layer of stuff on it.

"Don't worry about it, if my cleaning lady didn't come every week I'd be living in a sea of dishes, dust and soap scum," Hank commented easily, taking a careful sip before his expression relaxed in surprise. "Good coffee."

"So I've been told," he said with a grin. "Found that blend years ago. I have to get it special ordered, but it's worth it. Life is too short to drink crap coffee."

"Sure like to explain that to the people who stock our breakroom," Hank commented ruefully. "Now I know why Nick visits so much."

The shift back to serious was a bit more sobering than he'd expected. Suddenly realizing that he wanted this to work not just for Nick's sake but for his as well. He'd never been a social guy, even before he went weider. It was blutbadden nature to be loners, more or less. But usually they had a core group of friends and family. He'd had to isolate himself when he'd adopted the weider lifestyle. Knowing that if he didn't he'd be tempted back into that way of life. Even his own parents didn't get it. Constantly letting him know - just not in so many words - that they were essentially waiting him out. Like this was a phase he'd drop sooner or later.

What he was trying to say was that, deep down, he missed people. And with his memories of the last months gone, he was feeling that need to connect like an itch he couldn't scratch.

It was a weird feeling overall, for a blutbad.

He sighed. Raising his eyes from his cup as Hank did the same. Watching him closely.

"Look, whatever happened before? I don't remember. I wish I could, but I don't. Nick told me the basics, but I have to tell you, I'm flying blind here."

He hesitated, silently asking the man to forgive him for the lie.

"I woke up in the middle of the forest. No idea what happened or why I was there. I had an aching head, some cuts and bruises. But everything was blank. I knew who I was, but what I'd had for breakfast? What jobs I am working on? For what clients? Where my car was? Where I was? Why? Nothing. Nick only got involved because I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, at night, and panicked. I looked through my phone and he was the last person I texted. I read through enough to know he was probably not a serial killer and called him. He came and got me. Hauled my ass out if the forest, found where I'd parked and got me patched up. It was amazing."

"Sounds like Nick," Hank commented, nodding along enough that he figured the not so white lie was passable.

He thought back to that moment in the woods. When Nick materialized above him and nearly gave him a god damn heart attack. Trying to remember if there'd been anything going through his mind before he realized he was belly up below a Grimm.

"I didn't know him. I keep waiting to. But I trusted him – then and now. He came through the trees calling my name and that was the moment I knew everything was going to be okay. He told me how we met- which admittedly is super crazy. But he also told me that he felt guilty about the whole thing and came over to apologize. I invited him in for a beer and-"

"You became friends?" Hank interjected looking doubtful. Setting down his cup with a solid sound. Badge glinting from his belt-loops like a reminder.

"Hard to believe?"

"All I'm sayin' is if someone tackled me, accused me of kidnapping and murder and turned my entire house upside down, I probably wouldn't invite him into my house," Hank pointed out. "You don't remember, but I was there. I had to pull Nick off you and get you into cuffs. I remember the look you shot him. I thought we were going to have a situation on our hands."

And yeah, that was a point.

But obviously it hadn't been that simple.

Nick had barged his way into his life like he'd always been there.

Like there'd been a Nick-sized hole in him all along and he'd just been waiting for-

Wait, he had?

Where had that come from?

He grunted in acknowledgement. Because all things being equal, he could imagine what'd been going through his head when Nick had tackled him. And it was safe to say it probably hadn't been good.

"I won't lie to you," he said eventually. Palm scrit-scritching down his stubble as he tried to tackle the heart of what he figured the man was here for.

"It's generally not recommended to lie to police officer," Hank returned sarcastically, smiling wanly. Making it impossible to hold back the words that came next as he fixed him with an expression he hoped was somewhere between confusion and firmness.

"Is that what you're here as?"

Hank just looked at him for a moment. Like he was still deciding.

"No," Hank said eventually. Nodding like he was getting used to the idea in real time. Like he hadn't been sure until he'd let the word out into the open. "Like I said, I'm here because of Nick. Because I feel like there is something going on and you're caught up in the center of it. And yeah, maybe it's none of my business, maybe none of this is any of my business, but I'm here. For him."

He nodded, deciding to let this much go as Hank looked back at him with a challenge in his eyes. Wondering deep down what Hank knew and how much longer Nick was going to be able to keep him in the dark about this as the man's scent tarted with building anxiety.

"I may not know him," he admitted, picking up his coffee only to set it back down when he realized it'd gone cold. "But I know how it felt when he called my name and came out of the trees. He was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that makes the rest of this make sense. And when you have nothing else, that's a hell of a thing."

It wasn't even a lie.

Because having Nick here the past few days had been everything.

Even if they weren't moving in the direction he hoped they were.

Hank hummed out a thoughtful note.

"Can I top you up?" he asked automatically, appreciating the natural pause more than he usually did as Hank cleared his throat and nodded. Handing him his cup.

He was halfway to the kitchen when the iPod dock on the table switched to a soft, latin-style jazz and suddenly he was eating dinner alone. It was dark, not light. And it wasn't coffee he was drinking, but red wine. Feeling present in that moment despite the fragility of it. Getting the feeling it wasn't as solid as the floor underneath his feet or the coffee cups clinking in his hand.

He blinked, but the after-image didn't clear.

Was this...was this a memory?

The wine was a new brand he was trying out, a recommended pairing with the recipe he'd found online. He remembered now- it'd taken him three stores before he found it. The girl at the till had smelled like insomnia and tea-tree oil. She hadn't smiled. She'd just cashed him through and stood there – staring at nothing. Mouthing the words to a song blaring out of her ear-buds. Green and pink pig-tails bopping to the beat he shouldn't have been able to hear, and really wish he hadn't.

He hated rap music.

Almost as much as he hated eating alone.

He felt the excitement second-handed when his cell rang. Feeling his lips curl up in a small smile when he realized who it was.

"Hey, I'm actually glad you called. I found a whole bunch more information on that watch. Yeah, it was- what? What?!"

He hadn't finished his dinner.

Or his stupidly expensive wine.

He'd left for the hospital without turning off the music or even the lights. Too distracted by the broken-rib wheeze Nick had struggled through when he'd said his name - effectively breaking through his monologue about the watch before he had a chance to start.

The wall in front of him swam with double vision. Blurring at the edges and suddenly he was at a hospital. Nostrils flaring as Nick twitched in his sleep, every part of him screaming in pain. He watched himself struggle through a strange weight in his chest as he reached out and gentled his hand on the Grimm's arm. Waking him with a jerk as the man looked up at him, relaxed, then grunted in pain.

"I don't know what you were just dreaming about, but it couldn't have been good."

It was him.

He'd said that.

He'd had his coat in his hand and was halfway out the door before the man had even asked him to come. Barely able to keep from snarling as he fisted the steering wheel and started the engine.

The anger had been burning hot.

Someone or something had hurt Nick.

And- he didn't like that.

It'd surprised him because up until then, Nick had been an annoyance. Barging his way into his life like he owned it. Dragging him into the woods, more than once. Getting him involved with things he had no business getting within a hundred-mile radius of. But this- this had changed things. Because what he was feeling was downright territorial. Actually caring about this stupid, fledgling Grimm and-

"Who did this to you?"

He staggered, coffee cups clinking as he grabbed the back of the chair and held on tight. Aware that Hank had shifted behind him, maybe even getting to his feet. Saying something he didn't catch and he shook his head and-

"You owe me five years!"

A sudden flicker of memory made his fingers dig in. Finding himself in the middle of a quarry. Hidden in the long grass as indecision rattled through him like a consumption cough. Hesitating for only a second before dropping to his knees and fumbling with the bullets. The stink of Siegbarste making his eyes water as the ogre swung a meaty fist and Hank- Hank was there! Alone. Falling to the ground with a brutal slam as the Siegbarste looked around for something to finish the job.

He aimed down the barrel of the long rifle. Fingers smoothing over the silver engraving. Understanding, in a strange way, what it was like to be on the other side. Wondering, however briefly, how many Grimms had used this gun before him as his cheek brushed against the aged wood.

It wasn't until the Siegbarste picked up a rock that he had a clear shot.

Hank was on the ground, too winded to move.

He breathed out, once, letting his eyes fluttered closed. Then-

The slamming recoil rattled violently through his ribs. Remembering suddenly how they were sore for days afterwards. Looking down the scope as the Siegbarste dropped to the ground. Aware that Hank had wobbled to his feet, looking around- looking for him before-

"You okay?" Hank asked, grounding him firmly in the present with a careful hand on his shoulder. Like he was afraid he was about to fall. Chasing the remnants of the memory- because they had been memories - firmly away as he tried his best to nod. Mouth dry.

"Yeah," he managed roughly, setting the cups down on the counter. "Just some flashes."

His hand fluttered down to his ribs in spite himself. Feeling the rattle from rifle blast ricocheting inside his chest. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt why the moment was so significant. It was the first time he'd-

Holy crap.

That was-

Holy crap.

"Hey, sit down." Hank told him carefully, making him wonder what his face looked like as concern piped sharp in the man's scent. Shadowing him to the couch before angling to the kitchen and running the tap. "Rest for a second."

There was a strange beauty in getting back all those little fragments, overwhelming as it was. Trying not to fight the sensation that felt a lot like he was coming home the longer he paused on it. Very aware of the part or him that wanted to curl away. Always afraid of giving up too much too freely.

The truth was, it'd been a long time since he'd been this honest with himself.
The last few days had been a ride, that was for damn sure.

He didn't comment on it when Hank took a bit too long in the kitchen. Wondering what the man was seeing in the dishes drying in the dish rack from breakfast. Or maybe the papers stuck under the magnets on the fridge. He didn't know, he wasn't a cop. More to the point, he wasn't Nick's best friend.

Jesus.

He pursed his lips, wishing suddenly that he could tell him everything. That he could look him in the eye and say it had been him in the quarry. Him who'd fired the bullet before the ogre could slam the rock home.

Because of Nick.

It was all because of Nick.

A Grimm.

Not that long ago, that would have sent him running for the hills.

A smile twitched across his lips, tugging at the dry corners.

It was the kind of smile that was more internal than anything else.

Private and for him alone as the man's footsteps creaked back.

"Here," Hank murmured, handing him a glass of water before sitting down across from him.

"Thanks."

The cool glass was a leveler to the system when he wrapped his hand around it.

"Has it happened before?"

"No," he issued. Scrubbing roughly at his beard before knocking back a mouthful of water. Looking at the other man with a new understanding. It might have been in pieces, but it was a hell of a lot more than he'd had a moment ago. "I've had a few impressions, I guess. Things that feel...Deja vu almost. Like I've done something or said something before, but I can't remember doing it."

"That's a good sign though, right? Remembering things?" Hank asked.

He nodded, hating that it came out a bit helplessly.

"Need me to call someone? Your doctor?"

He shook his head, trying to force his hands out of the tense fists that were now aching between the joints of his fingers. Taking a deep breath as he slumped back into the cushions.

"No… I'll be fine. I think it's normal. I have to get my memory back somehow, right?"

Then, without thinking-

"Besides, Nick will be back soon."

Hank didn't say anything to that. But his expression was conflicted enough to get his feelings across. Like he was trying his best to be okay with all this, but wasn't quite there yet. And honestly, he didn't blame him.

He nearly exploded a laugh through his nose when they both took a deep breath at the same time.

"Gotta face the music sometime, I guess," he murmured quietly. Wondering how intense it was going to be considering what little he'd already experienced had nearly knocked him on his ass.

But Hank seemed to take his words completely differently than he'd meant them. Choosing to lean forward and look him right in the eye. Hands flat on either knee like he was about to stand up again.

"Nick wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be," he offered kindly.

He had to hide the hint of a smile that wanted to break free as Hank let himself out not long after.

Because yeah, that was probably true.


A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to come.