In a way it helped that others treated him normally; others who knew he was a Grimm. Like Clari Woods, the hare who owned the small corner store where Nick frequently got his coffee to go or his sweet pastries. He couldn't share case information with her, not even Grimm stuff, but her quiet smiles, her easy way around him, helped healing.
"You can't expect them not to fear you, detective," she said when he lingered after paying for his coffee, sipping at it. "I feared the Grimm, too."
"I didn't threaten her in any way, Clari. At all!"
"It doesn't matter. You're a Grimm."
At his despaired look, Clari held out a chocolate bar, nodding at him to take it.
Nick did. Dropping a dollar on the counter with a frown in her direction.
"Nick," she chastised. "This is from one friend to another, food for the soul."
He stared at her, rolling the 'friend' over in his head with astonishment. Clari just smiled at him, still ignoring the dollar bill.
"Thanks," he finally said quietly.
Nick felt better for the rest of the day. He couldn't forget the Davenports' fear, but Clari's declaration of friendship eased it a little more.
The dollar bill had remained in the shop.
x x x
He only once ran into Bud at the store as he was buying a sixpack, and the biber froze for a moment, eyes widening, then he took a deep breath and nodded at the Grimm.
"Hey," Nick said calmly.
Bud licked his lips and managed a brief 'Good evening, detective', then he quickly left.
At least he wasn't running or begging for his life.
x x x
Becoming aware of so many creatures around him, Nick started to quietly observe whether or not they noticed who he was. Strangely enough, not all did. Not even when he confronted them in his role as a police officer, taking witness statements, asking around for possible witnesses, or passing them in the station.
Some did realize who he was after a while. It was this subtle shift in their faces, this second of hesitation, of knowing and trying not to show fear. Those who were more or a predatory nature sized him up but never attacked outright.
x x x
Monroe convinced him to go to a concert by Roddy Geiger's school. Nick wasn't much of a classical music enthusiast, but he enjoyed himself and he enjoyed watching Roddy play. The young reinigen had truly grown up and he was a gifted teen. Monroe looked enthralled, swept away by the music, and he gushed about how Roddy was insanely talented and would go places.
The young reinigen just ducked his head and blushed.
x x x
Yes, it helped, but the dark knowledge of such senseless murders had Nick frequent the trailer more often than not, taking to reading more of Marie's journals, but her reports were cool and detached and almost clinical.
He was learning to read between the lines, though. He learned how to tell when she had killed.
Too often, he thought. All too often.
x x x
He didn't see the Davenports again.
x x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x xx x x x x x
Nick had never taken into consideration that despite all that Renard was, he wasn't immortal or invulnerable.
As was shown when the suspect in a murder investigation got the jump on the arresting officers, wrestled the gun from one of them, and started to fire wildly around the precinct.
One bullet hit Renard.
In the stomach. And Nick felt it like a punch to his own.
Another lodged in the captain's shoulder.
Nick nearly screamed out in pain as he mirrored the injury. He felt the ebb and flow of energies, felt the regnant's pain in his head. He tried to push it away and suddenly it was gone, like a switched had been flipped.
Not his doing. Renard's.
Shit!
He was at his superior officer's side and trying to stop the blood flow without thinking about it. For a second he saw burnt orange eyes, saw the shift in the human features as the regnant lost control, then he touched the other man and the façade slammed back in.
"You're shielding," he whispered harshly.
Renard's eyes were intense with the pain he felt, one hand clamping around Nick's wrist, leaving bloody imprints.
There was controlled chaos around them, shouting and yelling and the panic as civilians tried to get to safety.
Nick looked into the green eyes, felt the bond between them shiver and slip-slide into shock. He caught it unconsciously, felt the regnant, felt Renard, knew he was holding his life in his hands.
And he held it, feeling everything.
The bullet felt like someone had stuck a glowing hot nail into his ribs and was currently twisting it around. Blood was flowing in steady streams and soaking his shirt. Nick? I'm here. Calm down. I'm here. He was fading, aware that this one piece of lead had hurt him more than anything ever before. Not prepared. He hadn't been prepared for this. I'm here…
It was like raw glass, biting into his soul, trying to tear him apart with the pain. He swallowed his own discomfort, aware that the pain wasn't his. Nick wouldn't let the other go; he wouldn't let the other mind separate from him.
Even when the paramedics came and he physically had to let go.
Even when they wheeled him off and Hank stood next to him, shock written on his features.
Even when control was reasserted over the PD.
Even when he was waiting outside surgery with others.
Even when the doctor told them it had been touch and go, but the captain was strong and they expected him to make a full recovery.
Nick never let go, aware of the tension, aware of the exchange between their souls, and while he functioned normally to the world who didn't know him, Monroe noticed.
Dark eyes, with a shimmer of red, knowing and accepting. The blutbad drew him into an embrace, kissed his temple, let his solidity ground Nick in a way nothing else had ever done.
It was why they were both in the hospital room after visiting hours were over not much later, slipping past the nurses and doctors. Monroe assured him he could hear anyone approach, that they had a little in here, and that he would give Nick what he needed timewise.
Renard was sleeping, heavily drugged, hooked up to machines and his stomach bandaged. Nick just watched him, Monroe at his side, and when the blutbad slipped his hand into Nick, he curled his fingers around the long digits, glad for the support.
"He'll pull through," Monroe only said.
Nick nodded. "I know."
The blutbad nuzzled one temple.
x x x
He was still holding on, strong and unrelenting.
tbc...
