Hello there!

You know how I said that I would have more time during the summer to update, well, I lied. I am taking an online course for school so I can get ahead (an overachiever here) and I didn't realize how much of my time would go towards that, so blame my overachiever-er-ness… yeah not a word no matter how much I wish it was. I always seem to make new words; rememorable is probably my most extravagant.

I worked on this all day, seriously…Okay, got distracted…baked some cookies, danced, played Bubble Shooter and Candy Crush Saga, fed my dog…

Anyway, just wanted to point this out, it's exactly a month since I update last and no I didn't do it on purpose!

Thoroughly read before each review! (Get it: Thoroughly shake before each use!... Sorry, sleep deprived.)

Enjoy!It's a longer chapter, almost as long as the very first chapter!

I do not own Grimm and any characters associated with the show. I just like to beat fictional characters up for my enjoyment-...I mean I like writing!


Previously on Cops and Robbers Don't Mix:

Once out in the parking garage, Pete sprinted towards his car. In the driver's seat sat a beautiful ginger. He jumped into the passenger seat and looked over at the woman.

"Is the target down?" she asked almost scared of the answer.

"Of course it is. I'm not as incompetent as you think I am, Genevieve."

"I'll believe that when I see it." She put the keys in the ignition, started the car and pulled out of the parking spot.

Pete grumbled some profanities and buckled his seat belt.

He knew that the Grimm was down and he knew that the consequences of the poison would greatly impact the Grimm and those he cared about…


Uniforms were stationed throughout the hospital, scoping out potential threats. Two were guarding room G13, thoroughly checking anyone who deemed it necessary to enter Burkhardt's room. They weren't taking any more chances. Why they didn't post someone at his door right when he got here, the world may never know.

Hank was pissed off. And worried, but he didn't show it, or at least didn't think he showed it. The whole hospital practically knew he was, but hell his partner and friend had just been poisoned. He had a right to be pissed off and…not worried.

Monroe had made a frantic phone call to Hank after he was ushered from Nick's room. Hank was surprised to hear how freaked out Monroe was; it was definitely different from his usual freak out moments where he was more reserved in his panic rather than desperate and close to letting his Wesen side take over in his stress.

After that, Hank stormed out of the precinct, broke about every traffic regulation (hey, cops are at the top of the law's food chain, so deal with it)to get to the hospital because if Monroe let go of his reserved side, it was bad, really bad and he couldn't have some sort of Blutbad-freak-out in the middle of the hospital. No way in hell would he be able to keep that on the DL.


When he reached the hospital, he had haphazardly parked in an empty parking space and practically sprinted to the entrance.

Now, he was showing the two police men in front of Nick's door his credentials, tapping his foot impatiently. He did not have time for this; his partner could be dying for all he knew. He hadn't pressed Monroe for details, knowing Monroe might freak out even more.

"Can we hurry this up?" Hank said while one of the men was patting him down.

"Sorry, procedure…" He was not sorry at all and screw procedure. He was a freakin' cop!

"Well I'm pretty sure I wouldn't hurt my partner." Perhaps if he tried this tactic they would realize who he was and let him in already.

No such luck. It seemed he was going even slower.

Reggie stood up from searching Hank and said, "You can go in now," with a sarcastic smile.

The other cop, Marc, who had a striking resemblance to Mark Wahlberg, slapped his partner on the shoulder.

"Cut him some slack, Reg. His partner was just poisoned." Mark looked over at Hank and sent him a silent apology.

At least someone has manners.


Hank gripped the door handle hesitantly, not exactly sure what to expect. He pushed it opened and caught sight of Monroe sitting in the corner of the room, elbows on knees, rotating between wringing his hands together and running them through his disheveled hair. He looked a wreck, but not like he was going to woge.

Then he looked over at the bed in the middle of the room. Nick was propped up on pillows, a nasal cannula snaking up to his face, wrapped around his ears, plugged in his nostrils, and secured under his chin. Even more tubes and wires were hooked up to him.

He was even paler than he was when Hank had left; he looked weak, like a simple breeze could kill him.

He could tell he was hurting; pain lines were etched near his mouth and eyes, tension filling his shoulders and neck. Sweat was cascading down his forehead; machines were beeping and the blood pressure cuff was whooshing and Hank briefly wondered how anyone could sleep with how loud the noise was.

"They still don't know what he was injected with," Monroe said quietly.

Hank hadn't realized he was still standing with his hand clasped around the doorknob, in the middle of the doorway with his mouth slightly agape, staring. He turned his head towards Monroe, leaving his eyes on the sickly figure for a few more seconds before giving Monroe his full attention and closing the door.

"Do they have any idea?"

"They think it may be oleander poisoning, but-"

"You mean a flower did this?" Hank interrupted.

"-they gave him the antidote, but it's not working; there may be something mixed in with it, but they don't know. They are treating the symptoms as they come. We need to find this guy; they can't treat him if they don't know what else was in it. Hell, they weren't even going to give him the antidote for fear of making him…worse," Monroe finished as though he hadn't been interrupted, huffing a breath through his mouth.

"Jesus Christ…" Hank sighed, "What symptoms is he showing?" He feared the answer.

"So far just nausea, dizziness, stomach pain; he's been unconscious for a while now. Had to put him on oxygen, he couldn't take deep enough breathes due to pain."

"How did they come up with oleander?"

"Said something about having a case a couple months ago, presented the same symptoms. I don't really know, I was more concerned with Nick and him writhing in pain than how they came up with their diagnosis," Monroe replied practically spewing venom across the room. He was stressed.

Hank decided that he would never piss Monroe off.

Monroe's wolf side was raging, leaving him seeing and thinking red.


Almost as though Nick was listening to their conversation, he began to stir. He groaned in discomfort, shifting in the bed.

"Nick? Can you open your eyes for us?" Hank moved closer to Nick's side.

Another moan came from the dark-haired detective.

"Come on Nick." Both Hank and Monroe were anxious and…not worried, so don't accuse them of it.

Fluttering of eyelids, a deep breath, (or as deep a breath he could manage with two cracked ribs. They had to remember that he was hurt before this whole…ordeal.) and Nick came around, slowly but surely.

"H-hey," Nick shakily said taking another wheeze of breath and tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace.

"Hey yourself," the Blutbad smirked slightly, as suddenly as the venom in his voice was there, it was gone, as well as the red. (For some reason it went away when Nick was around which was weird considering he was a Grimm.) It wasn't Nick's fault that he was hurt and poisoned. "How are you feeling?"

Nick looked at him like he was stupid.

Don't piss Nick off either, Hank mentally added to his list.

"It's a legitimate question."

Nick closed his eyes, trying to ride out the nausea and how his stomach was practically on fire; his injuries throbbing with a vengeance every time he breathed; the oxygen helped him steady his shallow respiration, but could only do so much.

He felt awful. He felt sick. He was going to puke.

"Good," he answered instead.

Hank rolled his eyes at the same time Monroe scoffed.

"I don't think I can believe that," the dark-skinned detective smirked.

"Yeah…" Nick shut his eyes again against the nausea.

Sensing what was coming next due to the green tinge to his partner's skin, Hank grabbed a nearby basin and gently shoved it underneath Nick's chin just in time for Nick to start heaving and gagging, bringing up what he had consumed a few days earlier, which was not that much and left him sputtering up bile and what was that?

Blood...

Nick was coughing up blood.

Nick spit into the basin and collapsed against the pillows, once again drained of all energy. He hadn't noticed the blood.


He relished in the oxygen, once again closing his eyes and simply breathing.

"Nick?"

"Mmm..."

He felt like he was going to puke again if he said anything. His head ached and his heart was pounding painfully against his ribcage.

The beeping in the room suddenly got very loud and Nick wanted someone to hit the snooze button.

"It's…it's not 'ven mor'ing yet…"

There's the disorientation.

Nurses and doctors flew into the room as the heart monitor, with it's insistant, shrill beeping, got even louder.

Without warning, Nick rolled over to the side of the bed and vomited again with such force; both Monroe and Hank thought he was going to fall off the bed.

"He's tachicardic," one of the nurses shouted towards the doctor.

Hank and Monroe were frozen, standing in the way looking like gaping fish.

"Get those paddles ready. We can't risk giving him anything that could interfere with the poison running rampant through his blood stream," Dr. Hanson said pulling on rubber gloves.

Nick rolled to his back, his breathing harsh and eyes clenched tightly. More sweat poured off him and he could feel his heart doing pirouettes and leaps, intent on working so hard that he thought it was going to leap right out of his chest.

The nurse grabbed the paddles while another, again, ushered Monroe, with a complaining Hank following close behind, out the door with a promise to come get them when Nick was stable.

"What the hell is going on?" Hank shouted and turned to Monroe.

"Hank, I need to tell you something." Monroe clasped a hand on Hank's shoulder and led him to the waiting room near the front entrance of the Intensive Care Unit.

It was time to tell someone about the red-headed nurse and how he thought it was related to Nick's problems.


Next time on Cops and Robbers Don't Mix:

Monroe will have a talk with Hank, you'll finally get to hear what happened with Nick, more about the poison, AND what these weird dreams are about because remember both Nick and Monroe have had one. Perhaps Hank will be the next…


How was it? Please review! My medical credentials were ruined when I watched an episode of ER trying to find correct usage of medical jargon, jumped out of a helicopter, surfed on a cloud, met Zeus the lightning God, stole one of his lightning rods, and landed on the peak of Mount Everest, therefore, I'm not a doctor anymore (yet). All of this stuff was researched this time, but I suggest not listening to it. It could still be slightly off (try completely off). If you think you have been poisoned, please contact Poison Control or go to the Emergency Room. And may I ask… why the hell are you even reading fan fiction if you've been poisoned?

Please review, they make me feel giddy inside!

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, favorited, followed this story; it means a lot! And to those who are following or favoriting me as an author, you are why I get up in the morning and write!

Hope to have the next chapter up soon!

~S.A.N.e-but-inS.A.N.e~

*Do you hear the people sing, singing the songs of angry men.* Been in my head all...day...long.