Disclaimer: With this story I am in no way claiming the rights to the characters of Grimm. Original characters and plot devices are owned by me but anything that you recognize from the show is not. This has been written purely for entertainment.

"It's time we settle our differences…violently." –Nick Burkhardt, Grimm

8.

Chase's stammers didn't exactly bode well with the cop in front of her. When had she become such an amateur? Her life depended on this one secret that only those closest to her knew about, and the customers. Her heart raced and Lukas growled beneath her.

At least someone was on her side.

Rosalee came into the room to break the silence. "What's going on?"

Nick didn't look at the Fuchsbau and only frowned. When he spoke, his voice was low, and Chase could understand why he was so disturbed by the current events. However, this was more than that, Nick was downright furious. "How many?"

Chase almost took a step back, but caught herself. He was definitely trying to intimidate her and it was definitely working. She wouldn't let him know that, though. Chase also pretended not to understand the question. He wanted to know how many Wesen she'd killed, total, over the years. When Chase didn't answer, it wasn't just because she was being impertinent, she also couldn't focus her thoughts while glaring at Nick's intense gaze.

He took a breath, but became no less angry. "It's a simple question. How many peoplehave you killed?"

Getting a good look then, Chase could see that Nick's eyes were bloodshot. The files he held looked to be all of them, so she was sure he knew the answer. She could also tell that he'd been up all night, studying them.

"They're not people!" Chase cried out. Reason abandoned her in that instant, and she regretted her words as she whipped her head to look at the Wesen in the room. Monroe only looked surprised, with his eyes wide. Meanwhile, Rosalee had disappointment written all over her face. It was strange, but Chase didn't really want to disappoint Rosalee. She'd slept on her couch for heaven's sake.

"I-I mean…" Chase paused, not exactly revoking her previous statement. "Why…how did you…?" It was phrased as a question.

"I'm a detective, Ms. Chase, and you're not as clever as you think you are." Nick replied. Chase bit her tongue to keep her mouth shut this time, and finally looked down, because he was right. At least she had the decency to look slightly ashamed. But, she wasn't ashamed of her profession.

As a child, she'd had everything taken from her. She was innocent. She didn't deserve it. Now, working the way she did, she could put an end to people who did deserve it. That was the promise she'd made to herself—only kill the ones who deserve it, only kill the ones who are dangerous.

The detective in front of her threw the folder onto the coffee table. "I have some more questions. If Monroe here even thinks that you're lying or that you're clouding the truth in any way, you'll regret it," he said.

Monroe nodded along, though Chase raised her eyebrows. He definitely didn't look dangerous. What kind of Wesen was he to tell if she were lying or not?

Chase scoffed, which in retrospect, probably wasn't the best thing to do. "Monroe? But you're harmless. For all I know you're some cowering little Mauzherts."

"Then you really don't know anything." Monroe replied, and woged.

Chase's stomach fell to the floor and she had to hold her abdomen as she felt her breath leave her in an instant. Monroe was a Blutbad. He was a Blutbad and he was standing in front of her; she couldn't do anything about it. Chase took an involuntary step backwards and knocked into the coffee table. As she fell, something glass shattered on the ground and sliced open the palm of her left hand.

She couldn't breathe. Every time she tried to expand her lungs, the weight of a thousand tons was on her chest. Breathing out made her choke and warm tears slid down her cheeks.

Chase scrambled backwards, muttering with the last of her breath that she couldn't control. "No. No, no, no, no." A distant memory flashed before her eyes.

More glass breaking, this time a window. Those men, those things had barged in, and she'd been pushed through the glass.

Chase closed her eyes, trying to keep the images at bay and trying to lock them once again inside of her. She frantically kept crawling back until her back and head hit something hard—the bricks of the fireplace.

The concrete was rough and hurt her head, but the glass shards had sliced up her arm. The pain was almost unbearable for the eleven-year-old, but the growling made her eyes open wide to look inside the house.

Against the wall, Chase shook and rubbed her arm, feeling the slight raises in skin where she still had the scars from that day. She released another sob, but refused to open her eyes, even when she heard the sounds of three people rushing over to her.

They were fighting. Everything was a blur, though that was probably from the tears. The fog in her mind lifted just in time to see one of the creatures lunge at her father and sink its sharp teeth into his neck. There was so much blood…

Hands grabbed onto Chase's wrists, though she tried to wrestle them away. One flailing kick had hit a target, causing someone to recoil and hit the ground with an oof. Chase thought she could hear someone speaking, yelling maybe, but her mind was far away.

She heard the sirens just as the second creature ripped her mother's throat out, too. Before it bolted, it turned to look at the little girl sitting outside in a pile of glass shards and wet with her own blood. She got a good look at it, but she didn't know what she was looking at. She did know, he wanted to kill her too. But, he ran.

"No, no, no, no! The blood! There's too much…too much blood…" Chase found her voice at last, but then couldn't stop whispering. "I tried…I tried to stop the bleeding but there was so…much…blood…"

She opened her eyes, then, and looked down at her open palm. There was a trail from the coffee table to where she was sitting. Her palms were caked with red and she'd rubbed it all over her arms. It almost seemed like she was bleeding again, there, on that sidewalk. She furiously started rubbing her hands together. She screamed. "They killed them!"

"Chase!" Someone yelled. They began running their hands down her arms, grounding her there. At least the flashbacks had stopped, but she still could barely breathe. Without oxygen, there was an unbearable pain in her chest and her sobs had turned into high-pitched groans, trying to free her lungs.

She heard that voice again from far away, and felt something warm and soft being placed on her shoulders. "Chase. I need you to breathe with me. Can you hear me?" They asked. Chase shuddered and shook her head, eyes squeezed shut and curling further into a ball.

The voice didn't give up, even at her trying to recoil even more. "Chase, I'm going to count down from three, and then you're going to open your eyes, okay? Chase, I need you to open your eyes. Stay here, stay with me." She thought she recognized that voice, and decided to do as it said. When the voice said "one" she opened her eyes.

Naturally, the room was spinning and black shapes swirled her vision. Chase's head was pounding.

"Alright Chase, good job. Now I'm going to count to ten. Relax your shoulders Chase, and breathe with me." The voice was closer this time, and Chase felt her hand being placed on the chest of someone in front of her. She could make out their dark hair and worried gaze. It was Nick. He was…helping her?

"Okay, Chase. Here we go. One, two, three," Chase did as she was told, matching her inhalations with Nick's in front of her, "four, five, six, seven…" The last memory faded from her mind, going back into the locked box where it belonged. "eight, nine, and ten."

The thousand tons was lifted from her chest, and she breathed raggedly for a moment. Chase felt a weight on her leg and looked down to see Lukas' head resting there. He whined softly until Chase buried one of her hands into his fur.

"You're safe, Chase. What do you need? Can you stand?" Nick asked. Chase didn't even feel like giving him an answer. She sagged forward and landed in Nick's arms, exhausted. She just relished in the feeling of his steady breathing and wouldn't let go of Nick's black t-shirt.

"Rose!" Nick called for her attention but was very quiet at the same time. "I'll take care of everything out here. Why don't you take her someplace to clean up?" Nick's arms wrapped around Chase's waist and helped her get on her feet. Actually, her complete bodyweight was leaning up against him and he didn't even stagger.

Chase however, was passed over to lean on a smaller frame, just as strong, but different. She kind of wanted to have Nick help her in case she had another attack like that, but Rosalee was nice…even for a Wesen.

The bathroom lights weren't on all the way as Rosalee helped Chase strip out of her clothes from the night before and climb into a footed bathtub. The Fuchsbau said nothing about Chase's numerous scars, for which she was glad. The water was nice, warmer than the blanket that had been around her shoulders.

"Where's the, um, Monroe? Where's Monroe?" Chase asked. Her voice was raspy and she cringed. Rosalee didn't look up from bandaging Chase's hand which was the only wound she'd sustained from the ordeal, other than a bruised ego that is.

"I sent him to the spice shop for some herbs. We'll make tea when he gets back so you'll stop trembling." She said. Luckily, the cut didn't need stitches according to Rosalee. However, it did require some sterilizing gooey green poultice to be spread down its length. There was silence for a few seconds. Rosalee looked Chase in the eye, who was making a point to stare at one specific tile on the wall.

"Monroe feels terrible about what happened. At first we thought you were just startled, but that obviously wasn't the case. He didn't want to do that, only intimidate you a bit I suppose. We all see you as more of an unlikely ally than as an enemy, you know.

"Anyway, I'm sure Monroe will apologize when he sees you again…though I'm not sure he's the only one that needs to." Chase stiffened but Rosalee continued, "Something really terrible must have happened for you to go into that state, and to establish your specific views on Wesen kind."

Rosalee was definitely prying, but after what happened, Chase couldn't share. Instead, she scratched at some of the remaining blood on her forearm and watched as little pink trails formed where her nails had scraped the skin.

The Fuchsbau sighed and stood up. "Alright, dry off when you're ready and then we'll talk. Nick wants to know what exactly is going on." Still, Chase said nothing. She turned onto her side in the tub and reached down to pet Lukas, who was laying on the floor like a fluffy bath mat. He didn't move, as if he was tired as well.

Finally, Chase grabbed a towel and dried off, dressing in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top provided by Rosalee. At least she'd be comfortable when facing her doom.

The living room lights were dimmed as well. Chase was thankful for this due to her pounding head. Monroe was seated in the armchair furthest away from the couch. She couldn't read his emotions, but he looked stiff. Leaning against the arm slightly in front of him, was Rosalee. Nick was standing where the coffee table had been and Chase noticed it had been pushed against a wall.

She could also smell some sort of cleaner. She looked at where her attack had happened and saw no traces of the blood, and no shards of glass from whatever had broken. Chase kept moving and finally sat down on the couch, in front of Nick.

"What happened?" Nick asked. He no longer looked angry. Chase took this as a good sign, though he was still standing above her.

She frowned. "You're the detective, you figure it out." Nick closed his eyes slowly and held up yet another manila folder. The one with her jobs was still on the coffee table, so what was he presenting to her this time? Nick opened it and Chase saw a small picture of her clipped on the inside. However, that picture was from when she was eleven.

"Oh, so you already have figured it out." Chase said. She shivered and was grateful for when Rosalee stood and poured her a cup of tea. It was bitter, but made Chase relax and sink further into the couch.

"Kristine—"

"Chase." She muttered.

Nick continued. "Chase, your parents were killed almost two decades ago, but the case ran cold. Something tells me that old-fashioned police work isn't going to find whoever did this. Your file tells me that you were deemed an unreliable witness due to your recounts of seeing 'monsters with red eyes and fangs' when describing the suspects. Then you were put into foster care."

Chase followed along. She had memorized that entire passage after having one of her contacts in a police department look up her file. Monroe and Rosalee were hanging onto every word.

"Tell me; what really killed your parents that day?" Nick asked. Chase yawned and obliged, feeling fuzzy from the tea.

"Blutbad."

Chase told herself she was thankful that Nick left a few minutes after interrogating her. However, somewhere in the pit of her stomach she still wanted him near her. She felt almost…safe with the Grimm. More safe than she felt in a long time.

Pushing that train of thought of the way was difficult, but possible. Chase was able to reel in her emotions once again and simply lay down on Rosalee's puffy couch. Maybe things would get better soon and maybe she could start anew once she got back home.

Funny, the thought of leaving Portland didn't even cross her mind as she once again succumbed to her dreams.

More growling woke her up.

Chase's sleep deprived mind panicked for a split second before jolting up from the nest of pillows surrounding her. She thought that there was another Blutbad in the house, but heard no more growling. Then, she looked over at Lukas who was fast asleep and fitting his large body onto the end of the couch and half falling off. When the growling started again, Chase looked down.

"Oh." She muttered. She hadn't had food in days.

Chase rose out of the embrace of the couch and removed the blanket that had been placed over her sometime in the afternoon. She looked at the clock and sighed, it was two in the morning. Should she just wake Rosalee and ask for some food? Maybe she could maneuver her way throughout the kitchen on her own.

Chase decided that she definitely needed to do something with her hands, if only to stop thinking about her dream.

Once Lukas was out in the backyard, Chase returned to the kitchen and started looking around. It was very nice, and full of food. She'd stacked up all the ingredients she'd needed for pancakes and a few extra snacks for along the way. She then reached up to grab a glass measuring cup on top of the cabinets.

"Chase?" She heard. Immediately startled, Chase dropped the measuring cup where it shattered on the floor right in front of her feet.

"Shit." Chase hissed and looked up at the intruder. Rosalee stood there, grinning slightly. Chase had expected anger for breaking yet another glass object or annoyance for waking her up so early in the morning, but she received none. She went to step around the glass and find something to pick it up with.

"Don't move!" Rosalee said and began picking up the larger pieces of glass on her own. "I don't want you to get cut again."

"Sorry." Chase said. "How did you—f"

"Don't cry over spilled mike. Or, in this case, broken glass." Rosalee only smiled. "Not to mention I literally have the ears of a fox." When she deemed it safe for Chase to walk around again, they both approached the pile of ingredients.

"Pancakes?" Rosalee asked. "You know you're supposed to use baking soda, not baking powder." She held up the ingredient in question.

"Oops. I must be more tired than I thought." Chase replied.

"Let me help you." Rosalee said. "Besides you're my guest." Chase passively wondered when prisoner had turned into guest but realized it wasn't important. She was being juvenile.

The two of them measured ingredients, cracked eggs, and hand mixed the batter. It was looking great, but they may have made a mistake in tripling the recipe. There was so much dough and it was getting everywhere. When one of her spoons flung some batter in the direction of Rosalee and landed in her hair, Chase froze.

Retaliation was swift, and a glob of the pancake batter landed on Chase's chest, then dripping under her tank top.

"That's cold!" Chase said, giggling.

Soon enough, the two of them had batter in more places than they knew they had places, and much of it was wasted stuck around the kitchen, too. They couldn't stop laughing at their impromptu batter battle, but realized that they actually needed to bake some of it into pancakes, too.

So, they called a truce, but watched their back while flipping the pancakes.

It felt great to eat food for the first time in twenty-four hours, and Chase used her fingers while scarfing down her chocolate-chip pancakes after drowning them in whipped cream. Rosalee smiled and used her knife and fork, but didn't say anything about her guest's manners.

The pancakes were delicious.

"Did you sleep well?" Rosalee asked.

"No tossing and turning, if that's what you mean." Chase said. She saw Rosalee nod and then continued, unsure as to whether or not she should actually open up to the Fuchsbau. "I had a nightmare. One of the first ones since coming here. I couldn't wake up, but I feel refreshed so that's good."

"What was the nightmare?"

Chase went on to explain about how she had relived the night of her parent's murder every night for years. Recently, they haven't been as bad. However, last night the familiar images had started to replay in her mind with her parent's murder, but then she had taken on the persona of the killer.

"And then, once I was…done with them, I saw flashes of most of the jobs I've taken on before. I still killed the wesen, all in the same way, but they were all…" Chase trailed off and put down her last pancake.

"They were all what?" Rosalee prompted.

"They were all you, or Monroe." Chase whispered. "Sometimes, Nick is the one who makes me sign the contract. But it's not Nick, I guess it's a Grimm because his eyes are black, and hollow, and soulless, and he wants me to kill you."

Rosalee put down her fork as well and then walked over to embrace the woman who'd been sleeping on her couch.

"You won't kill us. Besides, people have tried." She said.

Chase shook her head and wrapped her arms around the Fuchsbau. "But I could have. Someone could have given me a contract and I wouldn't know you and then I'd shoot you, or poison you, or make it look like suicide. I couldn't—"

"Shh." Rosalee soothed. "Let's just get you back to sleep and then tomorrow I'll take you home." She could only nod as Rosalee tucked her back into the couch like a child and let Lukas back in the house.

Chase didn't really want to go back to sleep, though.