Chapter 9: Hush, hush, don't tell me cause it hurts
After three weeks of convalescence, Nick returned to work. One of her primary objectives, now that she was back on duty, was to gather all of the information she could on David's murder. Hank had broken the news of David's murder to her about a week into her leave of absence. She remembered the afternoon well—Hank sitting at her kitchen table, words flowing copiously from his mouth in a rushed, yet vague manner. In summation, it appeared that David had been killed by some wild animal; the final coroner's report was still pending. Sadness over her friend's death was quickly replaced with a grim determination to discover all she could about the last moments of his life. Now that she was back at the precinct and the coroner's report had been officially issued, Nick requested to see a copy. But Hank always managed to come up with some excuse as to why that wasn't possible. In reality, he had been trying to shield Nick from the details of David's gruesome death; Nick realized that that was at the heart of all of his obfuscation. But she was a cop, for pity's sake, she could handle anything the file contained. Hank walked in with Sergeant Wu, interrupting her reverie.
"Hi, Nick. It's getting late, heading home soon?" Hank inquired.
"I was just finishing up a few things and then I'm out."
"Well, have a good night and don't work too late."
Wu said his good-byes, and they both turned to leave when Nick spoke, "Hey, do you think that I could have a look…" But before she could even complete her sentence, Hank said, "No, Nick." Turning back around to face her, he continued, "We already discussed this. I don't think it would be a good idea at this point in time."
"Stop treating me like I'm some fragile, damsel-in-distress. I'm a cop, show me some respect and start treating me like one!" She was livid.
Hank's voice took on a conciliatory tone, "I do respect you, Nick, more than you know. You've been through a lot recently, and I'm just trying to spare you further pain right now. I hope you can understand why." He placed a hand on her shoulder, "Go home and get some rest, it's been a long day." Nick nodded her assent silently.
Once Hank and Wu were out the door, Nick went to Hank's office. Extracting the lock pick from her pocket that she had brought with her for this express purpose, she was able to open the office door. Once inside, she closed the door and went over to Hank's desk to turn on the lamp that resided there. Walking over to the filing cabinet, she searched for the file on David's murder. After locating it, she sat down at Hank's desk and began to peruse it. Fortunately, all of the crime scene photos had been neatly placed in a large envelope, which allowed her to read the case details before viewing the actual photos. The coroner's report was really tough to stomach. Certain salient details stood out: blunt force trauma to the jaw and chest, weapon/method unknown; heart removed from chest cavity, appears to have been partially devoured, examination revealed teeth marks which supports this conclusion; extensive bite wound pattern continues where removal of flesh from body is evident; appears that victim was attacked by a large canine or big cat (Note: sending bite wound findings to wild animal attack specialist for further analysis). Large canine. It's not possible, Nick thought. Finished with the coroner's report, that just left the crime scene photos. With trembling hands, Nick removed them from their envelope. Her stomach did a back flip, the scene was unimaginable. So much blood, and David's body, it looked as though some wild animal had torn him apart and eaten the pieces. Nick had had enough. She returned the file, locked the office back up and fled the precinct.
She couldn't go straight home. He would be there, and she could not confront him in this present state of mind. She got in her car and drove, to nowhere in particular, just someplace far from him. Her cell phone rang, of course it was him. She was late and he was probably worried. She turned off the phone. Eventually, she came across a little late-night café. She went inside and ordered a latte. Having a seat by the window, she began to analyze all that she had read earlier.
It all makes sense, a little voice in her mind spoke up. You had your suspicions all along. Listen to what your instincts are telling you.
Maybe I'm jumping to the wrong conclusion, she fired back. Maybe it wasn't him; maybe it truly was a feral dog or a mountain lion. It's possible.
But not probable, the voice said. You remember how he was that night.
It doesn't matter, I love him.
You know what he is. He's a killer by nature. He's not human! The voice shrilled.
You're right, I know exactly what he is, but that doesn't change a thing. He loves me, we're connected now. He would never intentionally harm me. I trust him, she stated with finality.
Fine, judge him by human standards, but know this, you do so at your own peril, the voice warned.
Nick was done arguing with that little voice inside her head. She paid the bill and was back in the car headed for home. She arrived home around midnight. The house was dark inside, but she could sense his presence. She found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring blankly at the muted TV, an ancient black and white movie on the screen.
"If I ask you a question, will you promise to tell me the truth?"
The Blutbad exhaled audibly, he knew where this conversation was headed. "I've never lied to you, ever. Why would I start now?" He looked over at her, his eyes filled with calm acceptance.
"Did you kill and, and, d-devour David?" she whispered, voice dripping with revulsion. The crime scene photos flashed through her mind, and she felt the bile rise in her throat.
"So, I guess I can assume that you got your hands on the crime scene file this evening. Or is this one of your Grimm epiphanies?" His voice was slightly mocking.
"That doesn't answer my question."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Yes. The answer to your question is yes." No remorse was evident in his voice. Monroe stood up. "Does that sadden you? The death of your would-be suitor at the hands of your Blutbad lover." He scented the air, eyes turning red. "Or does it frighten you?" He said moving closer to the Grimm. She stood her ground. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing him the fear that she felt, although he could sense it, smell it.
"Come to me." It was more of a request than a command. He extended a hand, beckoned her with it. When the Grimm didn't move, he lowered his hand. Monroe frowned. "So little trust, after all this time, after all we've shared. Do you think that I would harm you? My mate? My bonded?"
"You killed a man." She countered.
"I've killed lots of men." The smile flitted across his face again. "But you already knew that. I've never tried to conceal who or what I am from you." It was true. Monroe had never tried to hide his nature or candy-coat his past. He had always been brutally honest with her. They stood facing each other; Monroe wore a stoic expression, resignation settling into his eyes. Nick's face was a composition of dread, doubt and fear; Monroe didn't know which one disturbed him more. The distance between them, though they never moved farther away from one another, grew into a yawning chasm. "I think you need a little time alone to reflect on things, to reflect on us. Wolves mate for life. My loyalty to you is absolute. I will never love another. Perhaps in time, you will be able to determine if your allegiance and love still belong to me."
Monroe turned to leave, and Nick rushed forward and clutched his arm. "Where are you going?"
"Home. There is no reason for me to be here any longer." He started walking towards to door again.
"So, before you leave; let me make sure I understand the game plan. I get my "alone time" to work out my problems. Mourn the loss of a friend murdered by my lover, who, by the way, feels zero remorse or regret. And once everything is just fine and dandy, then what? Should I just give you a call?"
"It's your decision." Monroe would not be goaded into an argument. He felt heartsick. How could he possibly explain what it was like to be true to himself and at the same time try and integrate into a world where he always had to hide what he truly was. Yes, at times, his methods were questionable, his behavior barbarous, but only when judged within the limited confines of a human-engineered society. And to further complicate matters, he had to go and fall in love with a Grimm. His love and devotion to Nick were deep, ingrained into the very fabric of his being. He only wanted to protect the Grimm, care and provide for her. He would die for her. There was nothing that he would not do for her, nothing that he would not sacrifice.
When Monroe remained silent, Nick turned to head upstairs, "You're a coward," she said under her breathe.
"What did you say?" Monroe asked quietly.
Nick was half way up the stairs, when she replied, "I said that you are a coward."
In an instant, Monroe bounded up the stairs, grabbed the Grimm and flipped her on back. The wooden stairs cut painfully into her back as his weight pressed against her. To call Monroe a coward was a terrible affront in the Blutbad world. She could feel a growl rumble through his chest. "Go ahead, get pissed off. What are you going to do about it?" She challenged.
"That is an excellent question that deserves an equally excellent response." He leaned down and kissed her lips. "I can start by educating bratty, little Grimms on the perils of insolence." He drifted to the Grimm's jaw, gently nipping and sucking. His upper canines descended and he drove them into her jawbone, leaving two deep puncture wounds. Shocked, Nick leveraged herself against the stairs and was able to dislodge the Blutbad with a powerful push. Monroe fell backwards, but with an agility that belied his size, was able to land at the bottom of the stairs on all fours. Nick turned on her heel and ran up the stairs, provoking Monroe's hunt-chase instinct. He pursued her up in the stairs, galloping in a quadrupedal fashion. Nick made it to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and then quickly locked it. She realized that a locked door was a trivial hindrance to a two-hundred and twenty-five pound, angry Blutbad. Bringing her hand up to her face, she could already feel the wound healing. Leaning against the door, Nick looked down and saw the doorknob being twisted back and forth a few times before stopping. She could feel Monroe on the other side of the door, hear his soft breathing. The door creaked as though a heavy weight was leaning against it. The sound of protesting wood assailed her ears as Monroe's clawed hand traced deep grooves down the length of the door. He could so easily remove the obstacle that stood between them and let this primal drama play itself out. But Monroe would not give into his baser instincts, not tonight.