A/N:
WOW thank you for the great response to the last chapter! I know it has been a looong build-up to this part of the story (and I was honestly starting to wonder if anyone was still reading this thing), so it was so great to hear that you were still with me! Shout out to EmeraldFire512, Veronica, TinkerBella7, Lostinarwop, afan21, quack-quack21, and ImaginaryArtist17 for your wonderful feedback.
Well, friends…you better grab some tissues for this one…
Fictional
"Nick!"
Monroe was barely able to skid to a stop at the broken bridge rail, teetering skillfully at the edge as his eyes frantically searched the churning river below.
There was no sign of Nick anywhere.
"Nick!" Monroe tried uselessly again, scanning either river bank, but it was impossible to tell if Nick had even been able to make it to shore with the thick underbrush on either side, supposing he had even survived the fall into the water at all.
No no no…this isn't happening…
"Monroe!" a panicked voice suddenly called out, and he wheeled around to see Hank and Renard rushing at him from the other side of the bridge, looking somewhat beaten and battered from their run-in with the Verrat, but otherwise unharmed.
Hank stopped at his side, his bruised face etched in worry. He paused to eye the dead and unconscious agents littering the bridge around them, before looking back at Monroe. "What the hell happened? Where's everyone else?"
"The girls made it to the car, but Nick is in the water!" Monroe shot back, waving his arms frantically. "We have to get down there!"
"What? He's in the water?!" Hank's eyes went wide with fear. Without a second's hesitation, he threw off his coat and gun and made to leap through the broken rail after his partner.
"Hank, stop!" Renard bellowed, grabbing the detective by the back of the shirt and pulling him back from the rail, as Hank struggled against his grasp.
"Hank, you can't just jump in after him," Renard said again firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders and trying to jolt him back to reality.
"Nick's down there, we have to go get him!" Hank shot back in a mixture of anger and fear.
"And we're just wasting time!" Monroe exclaimed in agreement, his heart clenching as the moment of Nick falling into the water played over and over again in his mind. He closed his eyes, but the image only became clearer, on a constant repeat that he couldn't stop.
"You'll just get yourself killed trying to jump in after him like that, and that won't do Nick any good," Renard told them, looking seriously at him and Monroe. "We need to go down along the river bank and see if we can find him."
"And we better hurry, that current is fast," Monroe added, hesitating as he realized that they still didn't know the entire story.
"Monroe, what?" Hank saw his expression change as he pulled his jacket back on.
Monroe shook his head miserably. "Nick's been shot. That's why he fell in."
Hank just stared at him, at a complete loss for words, when Renard quickly took charge of the situation. "You two, take the far river bank, and I'll go along this side," Renard gestured quickly back over the bridge towards the Lodge. "I'll call in back up."
"Ok then, let's go!" Monroe urged, and without a second's hesitation he and Hank ran back over the bridge and started making their way down to the river bank.
Even as they moved in opposite directions, Monroe's sharpened hearing could hear Renard as he quickly dialed the rest of the Portland P.D.
"This is Captain Renard. We need all available units up at the old McCallister Lodge. We have an officer down, in the river. Notify the dive team…"
Monroe shook his head, glad he and Hank were finally out of earshot as the pushed their way through the thick underbrush to the river's edge.
"Nick!" Hank called out, stumbling over some boulders as they finally reached the water. He waded ankle deep into the freezing cold water to get a closer look, and Monroe followed him, shuddering involuntarily as the sub-zero cold seeped in around his feet.
How could even Nick survive this?
He shook his head, desperate to clear those negative thoughts from his mind, and sniffed the air, hoping that he might catch Nick's scent.
Nothing.
"You getting anything?" Hank turned back to him, unable to hide the desperation in his voice as they continued moving farther down the river's edge.
Monroe shook his head sadly. "No. Not yet."
Hank nodded, trying to hide the worry on his face and failing miserably as he turned back out to the water, looking desperately for any signs of life. "Nick! Nick, can you hear us?"
"Nick, it's us! Answer if you're out there!" Monroe added, breathing in again deeply and swearing under his breath when he smelled nothing but pine trees and moss and the fear rolling off of Hank. Between the water and the cold, any sign of Nick could be easily washed away, enough so that even Monroe's enhanced sense of smell wouldn't be able to catch it.
"Damn it," Hank swore breathlessly as they continued their frantic hike along the riverside, back on the bank now as the slope of the river suddenly dropped, making it impossible for them to walk in the water's edge without getting pulled out into the rapidly speeding current.
"How bad was it?" he asked a moment later, not facing Monroe as they stumbled over more steep terrain at the river's edge.
"How bad was what?" Monroe asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
Hank glanced back at him over his shoulder, hesitating for just a moment. "The gunshot wound."
Monroe couldn't hide the worry in his tone as he replied. "I won't lie to you Hank…it wasn't good. Hit to the abdomen, and he was already losing a lot of blood before he even fell in…" he trailed off with a shake of his head, as the horrific image of Nick falling once again replayed through his mind.
Hank didn't answer immediately, just nodding his head slowly as he processed this information. "And this current is strong," he finally muttered a moment later, looking back over his shoulder again in concern at Monroe. "And this water is freezing."
"No Hank, stop," Monroe shook his head, knowing exactly where Hank's thoughts were going, where the rational, logical side of a seasoned cop was taking him. "Stop it right there. We will find Nick, and he'll be fine."
Because if he wasn't…
Monroe shook his head again, fighting against his own despair that their search might be in vain.
"Yea, yea, this is Nick, he'll be ok," Hank responded quietly, as if he was trying to convince himself. "He'll be ok."
"Yea," Monroe sighed, scanning the bubbling rapids once more as he sucked in another deep breath, hoping against hope that there might be any sign of Nick.
"He has to be."
Their frantic search along the river bank turned out to be fruitless, and Monroe was doing everything in his power not to panic. They had easily made it almost 3 quarters of a mile down along the edge of the river, with still no sign of Nick anywhere to be found.
"Hey, do you see that?" Hank caught his attention a moment later, and Monroe froze, his heart lurching with hope that maybe Hank had spotted their lost Grimm somewhere.
"I think the cavalry is here," Hank gestured back up river, and Monroe turned to see the flashing lights of what was likely the majority of the Portland P.D. now at the bridge in the distance, the blue and red lighting up the pitch black night in a dizzying array of color. He held up his cell phone, frowning at the no service signal since they were so much deeper into woods, before turning back to Monroe with a defeated look.
"Well, you can go back, but I'm going to keep looking," Monroe told him firmly. "We can't waste any more time…and we don't know how much more time Nick might have."
Hank flinched at his words, the same thought crossing his own mind. "I know. But what about Juliette and Rosalee? We have to tell them what's going on."
Monroe's heart dropped when he realized in their panic that they had taken off without even telling them what had happened to Nick, but there had been no time to waste…
"How do we even tell Juliette this?" Hank shook his head miserably, as they stood frozen at the water's edge, torn between going back to the bridge and continuing their search.
"God, I don't know," Monroe replied sadly. "As if this whole ordeal hasn't been traumatic enough…and she won't want to leave until we find Nick, but we really need to get her and Reed to the hospital and get them checked out. And Rosalee actually, for that matter."
"Why, what happened to Rosalee?" Hank questioned quickly, raising an eyebrow at him.
"One of those mutts got her arm," Monroe growled, his eyes glowing red for a moment. "It's not too deep, but she needs stitches."
"Damn it," Hank swore again as another realization struck him. "And not all of those agents were dead, were they? We better make sure that none of them get away."
"Or bring more reinforcements," Monroe nodded in agreement, casting one last wistful glance over his shoulder at the river.
"Well, maybe the Captain found Nick on the other side," Hank added hopefully. "I mean, we're almost a mile down. You think we would have found him by now…"
"Right," Monroe nodded, as they both silently acknowledged the fact that time was running out, and if they hadn't spotted Nick by now, the window of opportunity for finding him at all was rapidly closing. Monroe sighed deeply, giving Hank a pained look.
"We need to go back."
"No, you don't understand, let me through!" Monroe could clearly hear Juliette's panicked and angry voice as he and Hank approached the swarm of officers on and around the bridge.
"Sorry, Mrs. Burkhardt, but it's not safe," two harried young officers were trying uselessly to placate her. "Captain's orders are to keep you here."
So she already knows. Great.
"I don't give a damn what your Captain says, that's my husband out there!" she shouted furiously, successfully pushing her way through and moving past them, only to collide directly into Monroe's solid chest.
"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on Juliette," Monroe steadied her, grasping her by the shoulders as he met her worried gaze.
"Monroe, Hank," she breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of them, "thank God! Did you find him?! Where is he?"
"Juliette," Hank cut in, touching her arm gently, "we haven't found him yet."
The short-lived relief on Juliette's face was quickly replaced by a mixture of anger and fear. "Then what are we doing standing here? We need to go find him!"
Renard came through the throng of police officers and vehicles then, his face marred with barely concealed exhaustion and anger, his suit wet and muddy from his search along the river.
"Sean, let me help," Juliette protested, coming to stand in front of Renard, arms crossed firmly over her chest. "I'm not just going to wait here!"
"Juliette, I've already got the dive team in the water," Renard replied, gesturing at the officers milling about behind him. "They will have a better chance of finding Nick than any of us do, they can swim downstream with the current. It's too dangerous for us to get in the water."
"Did you see any sign of him Captain?" Hank asked in vain hope as Renard finally turned to him and Monroe.
Renard hesitated for just a moment, before shaking his head. "No. And I made it almost half a mile down. You?"
"Us either," Hank replied with a deep sigh. "And we made it even farther than that."
"Then we have to keep looking!" Juliette tried again, making to move towards the river bank.
"We'll find him, Juliette," Hank tried to placate her further, but his voice was hollow and empty as he forced the words that he didn't even sound like he believed at the moment. "You won't do him any good if you get hurt trying to find him. Let the dive team handle it."
"In the meantime, we need to get you and Reed to the hospital," Monroe added as gently as he could. He had promised Nick that he would look out for them…
"No," she shook her head in determination, blinking back tears. "No, I'm not leaving until we find Nick!"
"Juliette, at least take Reed," Hank tried then, looking helplessly at Monroe and Renard for support. "He's been through a lot for his first night of life, and you need to make sure that he's ok."
Juliette faltered at that, biting her lower lip, knowing that they were right but not wanting to leave while Nick was still missing. She glanced back over her shoulder, to where Rosalee was sitting in the back of one of the two ambulances by the bridge, gently cradling Reed in her good arm while a paramedic tended to her injured arm.
Juliette sighed, nodding slowly as she turned back to level them all with a steady look. Reed was the priority now, and she had to make sure he was safe.
"…ok. We'll go. But promise me you'll find him."
Renard nodded, narrowing his eyes in determination. "We'll stop at nothing until we do."
Juliette nodded one last time, before moving back towards the ambulance to check on her son.
"One more thing," Renard added, turning back to Monroe and Hank, "I found the tracks to an off-road vehicle down near the river."
"What, you thinking a Verrat get-a-way vehicle?" Hank asked in concern as he and Monroe exchanged a look.
Renard shrugged at that. "I don't think so. The tracks weren't that fresh, and there was no vehicle in sight. Apparently the Lodge used to be a popular attraction for ATV riders, so this could be completely unrelated, but I'll still have the search and rescue unit look into it."
"Good plan," Hank nodded in agreement. "We can't be too careful with any angle on this one."
"Agreed," Monroe mused, looking over his shoulder as the doors to the ambulance began to close.
"Monroe, you should go with them," Hank said then, causing Monroe to turn and look at him in surprise.
"But I need to be here to help with the search," he protested, furrowing his brows.
"So far, your nose hasn't been able to catch anything," Hank frowned sympathetically at him, "and you're not the only special player we have in our corner," he gestured knowingly at Renard. "Besides, it's more important that we have somebody to watch out for Reed, Juliette, and Rosalee at the hospital."
"My brother is still in town, and he may have more reinforcements left," Renard added. "You need to stay with them, in case they're still targets. If there's more Hundjagers coming, you'll be able to scent them a mile away."
Monroe's eyes turned red once again, but he fought vainly against a woge before the other officers could see. "Ok, you're right. I'll go with them, and I'll make sure that none of those bastards get anywhere near them."
"Ok then, get out of here," Hank urged, Renard giving a short nod in agreement. Hank turned to glance back at where the other officers were handcuffing the unconscious agents and pulling white sheets over the rest. "We'll handle things here."
"Fine, but keep us posted," Monroe held their gazes steadily before he walked away.
"We will," Renard nodded sharply at him. "As soon as we find Nick, you guys will be the first to know."
Three days.
It had been over three days, and there was still no sign of Nick.
The Portland P.D. had tirelessly torn up the woods along the river for over two miles past the bridge, including the dive team, but not a trace of him had been found.
But that didn't mean any of them were giving up.
Rosalee had only been kept in the hospital overnight, but Juliette and Reed were kept longer because of the risk of complications from their ordeal in the woods with the Verrat. The morning of the fourth day, they were finally released, and Monroe continued his daily guard dog duties to make sure they got home in one piece, even though Renard now had a patrol posted outside the house.
As soon as Reed was finally settled in and taking his afternoon nap, he and Rosalee opened up a map of the area around the McCallister Lodge and spread it haphazardly across Juliette's coffee table. Regardless of the Portland P.D.'s efforts, the three friends were determined to keep looking for the lost Grimm on their own.
"What about this bend in the river?" Juliette asked hurriedly, pointing to a section of the map that Monroe had stretched out on the table. "Wouldn't the current slow down there?"
"She has a good point," Rosalee chimed in, as she peered over Monroe's shoulder at the map.
"That's a good place to start," he agreed. "If the current slows down there, Nick may have had a chance to pull himself to shore. I mean, Renard searched that side of the river the night it happened, but maybe he missed something somehow, and maybe the rest of the officers wouldn't know what to look for."
"Maybe. Besides, it's less than half a mile from the bridge," Rosalee looked over at Juliette, her eyes shining bright with hope. "It's worth another look at least."
"So Nick could have made it that far," Juliette replied resolutely, as Monroe and Rosalee both looked back at her with the same conviction.
"If anyone could make it that far, it would be Nick," Monroe added with a note of determination. "We just need to look there again, to see if there's something that Renard and the other officers didn't pick up on," he tapped the side of his nose for emphasis.
There was a brief moment of silence as they relished in the thought that Nick could have survived, and that he was simply just waiting for them to come find him. They were all startled out of their thoughts moments later by a soft knocking on Juliette's front door.
"You expecting anybody?" Monroe asked in surprise.
Juliette furrowed her brow as she rose to answer the door. "No."
Rosalee looked at Monroe, who shrugged in return, as they looked at Juliette's retreating form.
Juliette strode quickly to the front door and swung it open, completely unprepared to see Hank standing on her doorstep. She had been expecting him to call her with any updates on the Portland P.D.'s search for Nick.
"Hank?" she questioned, pushing her unruly dark hair back from her face. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh, Juliette…" Hank began, unable to look her in the eyes, and it was then that she noticed the forlorn look on his face and the slump of his shoulders. He let out a defeated sigh as he slowly reached out and handed her a torn and mangled object. Juliette immediately recognized what it was.
Nick's jacket. The one he had been wearing when he fell into the river.
"No," she heard herself say, as though she wasn't even aware she was saying it. She unconsciously gripped the jacket between her now shaking hands.
"Juliette," Hank looked up at her then, pain etched all over his face.
"No," she repeated again, more firmly, not wanting to hear what he was going to say.
"If you'll just let me come in," Hank tried again, but Juliette held up a hand to stop him.
"No. Please, Hank."
He sighed, rubbing a hand slowly over his face. "Listen, Juliette, I'm so sor…"
"No!" Juliette yelled, her voice rising without conscious effort, not even realizing in that moment that she was about to wake up her sleeping son. She didn't want to hear it. If Hank didn't say it, then it couldn't be true…
She was barely aware of Monroe and Rosalee coming up behind her then, or Monroe's strong arms pulling her back and letting Hank enter the house.
"Hey man," Monroe greeted solemnly, as Hank followed them slowly into the house. His eyes widened suddenly when he caught sight of the jacket in Juliette's unyielding grasp, and he shot a questioning look at Hank. Rosalee followed his gaze, her eyes falling to the tattered material in Juliette's hands.
"Is that…?" she asked gently, gesturing at the mangled jacket that Juliette was now clutching unconsciously to her chest, her knuckles turning a shade of white.
"Yea…it's Nick's," Hank nodded slowly, entering the living room behind them.
Rosalee guided Juliette over to the couch, unable to hide the grim expression on her face. Monroe stood, facing Hank, anxiously waiting for what he had clearly come to tell them. Juliette felt completely disconnected from the whole scene, as if she was watching a movie, and not really a part of everything that was happening around her.
Everyone was silent for a long moment, not wanting to hear the undoubtedly bad news that Hank had come to deliver.
Monroe was anxiously wringing his hands together, finally looking up at Hank. "So…did you find his…?" he asked softly, trailing off. Juliette looked up at Hank, willing against the tears slowly welling up in her eyes.
Hank closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "No."
The group let out a collective sigh of relief. "Geez man, you really had us going there for a minute!" Monroe let out a nervous laugh, as Juliette clutched Rosalee's arm in lightheaded relief. "We all thought you were about to tell us that Nick…"
"I'm not done," Hank interrupted, looking at them sadly. Juliette felt her heart jump up into her throat.
"What is it, Hank?" she asked softly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"I don't know how to tell you this…" Hank continued, looking as though he was desperately searching for the right words. "The Captain has called off the search."
"What?!" Juliette cried in disbelief, jumping up off the couch and striding forwards to stand in front of Hank. Monroe and Rosalee both followed, standing protectively at her shoulders. Juliette narrowed her eyes at him. "Tell me this isn't true, Hank."
"I wish it wasn't," he replied dejectedly, shaking his head. "But it is. Captain called off the search and rescue today."
"Why in the hell would Renard do that?" Monroe asked in indignation, a noticeable tint of red flaring in his eyes.
"Nick is still out there!" Juliette snapped heatedly, trying to figure out how Renard could possibly be calling off the search now. "We have to keep looking!"
"And we have an idea of where to look a little more closely," Rosalee added with note of optimism.
"We're just wasting time talking about this," Monroe continued, gesturing wildly. "We should all still be out there, right now, trying to find Nick!"
"Guys. Guys. Guys!" Hank held up his hands, effectively silencing all of them. "I know. Trust me, I know. But it's out of my hands."
"Do you agree with this, Hank?" Juliette stepped closer to the detective, grasping one of his shoulders in desperation. "Nick is your partner, and one of your best friends. Are you really just giving up on him?"
"Juliette," Hank looked pained at her words, taking an involuntarily step back from them. "You know that's not true. I would look for Nick until the end of time, if I thought it would help bring him back."
"Bring him back?" Monroe questioned suddenly, looking at him in confusion.
"Look," Hank sighed deeply as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked back up, Juliette was stunned by the unshed tears now evident. She unconsciously pulled Nick's jacket tightly to her chest again. Hank looked all of them squarely in the eye before he continued.
"The Captain called off the search…because Nick has been presumed dead."
A heavy silence fell over the room for a long, aching moment as they tried to absorb the crushing enormity of what Hank had just told them.
Juliette finally found the courage to speak."…what?" she asked painfully, in barely more than a hoarse whisper.
Hank looked at her sympathetically, stepping forwards then and laying a hand on her now trembling shoulder. "Juliette," he began slowly, looking carefully over to Monroe and Rosalee and then back to her, "it's been over three days. There's been no sign of Nick, not even a trail to follow…"
"That doesn't mean he isn't out there!" Monroe croaked, pacing rapidly back and forth now behind Juliette, running a hand wildly through his hair. Rosalee stood rigidly still, watching Monroe with worried eyes, while trying to retain her own composure and furiously blinking back tears.
Hank glanced up at Monroe briefly, before focusing back on Juliette. She was staring blankly ahead as she tried to register what he was saying, but she felt so disconnected from the whole experience, as if this was happening to somebody else. Not them. Not when they were just starting a family. This couldn't happen to them. Not her. Not her and Nick…
Not Nick.
"I know," Hank continued quietly, forcing himself to say the words. "But we've just been putting off the inevitable. As much as none of us want to, we have to face the facts. Nick has been missing for over 72 hours. He was hurt…damn it he was shot…and fell 50 feet off of a bridge into freezing cold river rapids…in the middle of winter in Oregon. No one could survive that…not even Nick."
"So Renard thinks he's…" Juliette found her voice again, but it sounded alien, as if someone else in the room was talking. This wasn't happening. Nick wasn't gone. He couldn't be.
Hank nodded slowly, letting his hands drop from her shoulders to hang limply at his sides in defeat. "He's going public with the statement tomorrow morning. Then it will be official."
"But how can we be sure that Nick's really gone?" Rosalee asked sadly, coming forwards to wrap an arm supportively around Juliette's shoulders. Juliette barely even noticed she was there as the reality of the situation slowly started sinking in.
"Well, we can't be, really," Hank replied, running a hand slowly over his face. "But, as much as we don't want to believe it…it makes sense, at this point, to assume that Nick is…" Hank's voice broke then and he was unable to finish, as a lone tear escaped and rolled down his cheek.
"But this is Nick we're talking about here," Monroe croaked hoarsely, shaking his head in disbelief. "He always finds a way, he always comes back…"
"He's not coming back," Hank shook his head sadly at him, another tear rolling freely down his cheek now. He didn't even bother to brush it away. "Not this time."
"…so Nick's dead," Juliette said suddenly, causing everyone in the room to turn and look at her.
"I'm so sorry, Juliette," Hank whispered, unable to look at her anymore. It was the worst part of being a cop, telling the loved one of an officer that he was dead. "But we found his jacket this morning…at the bottom of the river, caught on some boulders in the bend about half a mile down. And in the same area, we also found the body of one of the other agents who fell in right before he did. The dive team thinks," he paused, taking another deep breath, "that Nick could have washed downstream miles by now, and that we might never find him…God, I wish I didn't have to tell you this…I'm so so sorry…"
"So they figure if the other guy's dead, then Nick must be…" Monroe whispered painfully from his spot behind Juliette. She had almost forgotten that he and Rosalee were still there, hovering at her side. She felt as though she was falling down into a dark, endless tunnel, with the only thing she could grasp at being that Nick was gone forever.
"Nick's dead," she repeated numbly, stumbling away from them to sink down on the couch. She felt as though she was being sucked down into a deep void, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She knew they were talking to her, but they all sounded far away now, as if they were talking to her under water. She wasn't listening anymore, anyways. Her mind was focused on only one thing.
Nick was missing. Nick was never coming back. Nick was gone.
Nick was dead.
"Oh God," Juliette breathed, burying her face into the jacket as that unbearable realization sunk in. The desperate hope that they still might find him, that he might still be alive, had been cruelly ripped away, and the sudden weight of that fact was crushing and absolute.
"Oh God…no….please…Nick…no…" Juliette began sobbing so hard, she felt as though she would break. She felt strong arms around her then, and she unconsciously leaned into the figure next to her on the couch, but she was too lost in her own grief to even notice, or care, who it was.
Juliette started hyperventilating, unable to catch her breath between her gut-wrenching sobs. She didn't think it was possible to survive the amount of pain she was feeling. She could hear her friends around her, trying to talk to her and bring her back to them, but she was slipping farther and farther away.
The room began spinning dangerously, and a loud buzzing rang in her ears, effectively blocking out her friends' pleas to respond to them. The next thing she knew, she lost her complete grip on the situation, and everything went blissfully dark.
"Monroe? Talk to me. Please."
Monroe vaguely realized that he hadn't said a word to Rosalee since they had left Juliette's house, after they had left her and Reed in Hank's care for the night.
Juliette's breakdown after Hank had delivered the horrifying news of Nick's presumed death was a tragic scene, and not something he ever wanted to witness again. In fact, Hank and Rosalee had also had their own horrific breakdowns as the realization that Nick was gone forever had finally sunk in for all of them, a painful reality that they all now had to face, and Monroe had wanted nothing more than to grieve with them.
He found that he couldn't.
He knew Nick was gone, could feel it deep down into his bones, but yet all he felt was numb. It was as though someone had hollowed him out with a dull blade, and all that was left was an aching emptiness. What was even more frustrating was that he hadn't even cried. His best friend was dead, it was official now, and yet he couldn't muster up a single tear.
What was wrong with him? Maybe he was just a monster, a blood thirsty animal like Nick's ancestors had made him out to be.
He entered their house and stumbled into the living room, just staring absently at the empty room, his eyes wandering until they fell on the space on the couch where Nick always sat when he came over. It suddenly felt as though the room was becoming claustrophobic, that the simultaneous ticking of his clocks was deafening.
"Monroe," Rosalee tried again quietly as she followed him into the room, taking in his haggard appearance, "are you alright?" He finally turned to face her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying, her face pale and drawn.
Monroe was sure that he didn't look any better.
He shook his head no, slowly, before pushing past her and sinking down onto the couch, the one that Nick had made himself comfortable on so many times, and buried his head in his hands.
"Monroe," Rosalee followed him, her voice still full of worry and concern. She took a seat on the coffee table directly in front of him, vainly searching for the words that could make this better for him, for both of them, but there just weren't any. "I'm…I'm so so sorry."
Monroe just nodded, leaning back against the couch, and staring off to some place past her head. It was just too painful to look at her again.
"Just talk to me," she implored him, reaching out a hand and laying it gently on his forearm. Monroe flinched involuntarily at the contact, but didn't pull away.
"Please."
"…what's there to say," he finally answered, his voice rough and quiet. He looked her squarely in the eye then. "Nick's dead."
Rosalee winced at his words, the reality still raw and painful. "I know. I still can't believe it…"
"And it's my fault," Monroe continued suddenly, causing Rosalee to draw back in surprise.
"No Monroe, this was no one's fault, no one but the Royals," she told him firmly, but Monroe shook his head vehemently in disagreement.
"But I was supposed to have his back, and I wasn't there," he replied painfully, closing his eyes at the vivid memory of Nick falling backwards through the bridge railing as he tried uselessly to reach him. "I couldn't help him…I couldn't do anything…I couldn't save him."
"No, don't blame yourself, Monroe," Rosalee leaned forward again, grabbing both of his hands in hers despite his initial protests. "You made sure that Reed and Juliette, and me, got to safety, just like Nick asked you to."
"Still," he shook his head at that. "I should have been there the whole time, fighting at his side. It wasn't supposed to end like this."
"Blaming yourself is like saying me, or Hank, or Renard, are responsible," she argued with him, her voice trembling slightly now. "And really, it doesn't matter who's to blame, because he's gone now anyways…" her voice trailed off as two more tears slid down her cheeks.
"We all failed him," Monroe replied miserably, jumping up then and storming into the kitchen, as Rosalee sniffed, brushing her face on her sleeve. She remained seated in the living room, knowing he needed some space.
Monroe growled in frustration, yanking open the refrigerator door and subconsciously reaching for a beer. Why was it so easy for everyone else to cry? Did he not have any feelings at all?
As Monroe slammed the fridge door shut with unnecessary force, he looked absentmindedly at the microbrew in his hand.
It was the one of the beers that Nick had brought over the other night. He could almost hear Nick's voice, thanking him for expanding his taste in beer and trying to match Monroe's expansive knowledge of all things micro brewed.
And that's when it all came crashing down.
The beer slipped through Monroe's fingers, crashing to the floor and exploding into a million tiny pieces, glass and liquid flying everywhere. Monroe was heedless to this as he sunk to his knees in the middle of the kitchen floor, not noticing the spilled liquid absorbing into his pant legs or the shards of glass cutting his palms as he clumsily braced himself from face planting on the floor.
He would never share a beer with Nick again. He would never give advice to Nick again, or help Nick chase down bad Wesen again, or help Nick solve a case again. He would never talk to Nick again. He would never see Nick again.
Nick was dead. Nick was dead. Nick was dead.
Monroe gasped for air as he suddenly couldn't breathe. He was barely aware of Rosalee rushing with a panic into the room, and dropping to her knees beside him, frantically calling his name over and over.
Finally, the tears came.
Monroe broke down, into painful, heart-wrenching sobs, as the finality sank in. Nick was gone forever, and he had been so powerless to stop it.
Rosalee just wrapped her arms around him tightly, cradling him close to her chest as he cried out his anguish. They could have sat there for minutes or hours or days on the middle of the kitchen floor, Monroe really couldn't tell.
He couldn't feel anything past the hole in his heart.
TBC...(sorry)