Spending a night with Renard, at his home, hadn't been the plan. The man had been released after a week, the doctors very pleased with how the healing progressed. The whole department had been relieved. Many had been at the hospital, a reason why Nick had only come once and never stayed too long, though he had been worried. He felt the regnant's weakness, he knew he was needed, but he couldn't just hang around without good reason.

Another precinct was investigating the shooting. Things had gone back to as normal as could be, but Renard was missed. His quiet, cool and competent way of handling the PD was well-known and very much appreciated.

So Nick found himself on the regnant's doorstep not much later, both men looking at each other, aware what the Grimm's presence meant. Nick could have ignored the need, he could have disregarded the pull, he could have simply let Renard recover on his own.

He hadn't and he wasn't. He still didn't know everything this connection involved, but he was pretty sure that denying the regnant the counterpart's presence would have been cruel, bordering on sadistic, now that Renard was injured.

Renard let him in, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "Where is your mate?"

The man looked bad. Pale and haggard, the pain still very present in his eyes and every line of his body. His injured shoulder – the bullet had only torn a painful, deep groove into the flesh - was in a sling. The hand was slightly curled against the injured stomach. Nick knew the gesture; he had employed it as well when he had been shot months ago.

"Monroe is at home. He actually kicked my butt over here, told me to take care of you. It seems this is a strain on both of us."

Him and Renard. Because Monroe had smelled it, had sensed it, and had told him to do what a counterpart needed to do.

And that he trusted him. That he loved him.

"Where's your 'sister'?" Nick asked in return, raising his brows.

Renard smiled. "I don't need her any more. She has her own life."

It still sounded very formal. As if someone was listening in on them.

"I thought she lived to serve you," came the sharp remark.

"Then your books are wrong. She is loyal to me, but she doesn't live just for me." The regnant's voice was mild, almost amused. "Why are you here?"

Nick tilted his head a little. "I think it's obvious. You need me."

The regnant looked surprised.

"I've come to realize that your need isn't Monroe's need, and vice versa. He has accepted your role in my life. I've accepted your presence in mine."

Renard smiled, the pale features, still showing the strain of the shooting and the hospital stay, easing a little.

"Have you?" he asked mildly.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Stop playing, Renard. I know you need me."

It got him another smile. "You are my greatest weakness, Grimm," he said softly.

"And you still need me around to replenish your energies," Nick stated, aware it was the truth.

Once bound together, the regnant relied heavily on the companion-counterpart. Renard needed him to recover from this and Nick wasn't so blind and stupid not to see it. He also knew it entailed nothing more than physical proximity. If it wouldn't rile up Monroe, Renard could spend a few days at their home, but it was a threshold he didn't want to consider crossing.

So the Grimm was at the regnant's home, his safe haven, and he felt the power within the walls, like fine lines of energy he might just see if he squinted.

"If I could have, I would have stayed at the hospital."

"I understand, Nick."

"And now I'm here," the young detective continued.

He felt it the moment Renard gave in. It was like something finally broke between them, let the walls crumble, and the regnant accepted the help.

The raw feeling inside Nick eased. It had been like missing a limb for the past days, unable to shake off the sensation of loss and guilt, unable to pinpoint where it all came from exactly. Like something very important in his life was fading and he couldn't do a thing about it.

Monroe had called him thick-headed and slow for his behavior.

"It's him," the blutbad had pointed out. "Renard. And that companion-thing between you."

And he had been right.

It was really weird to have his mate push him into coming here, but Nick had given up on thinking about weird a long time ago.

It was just another part of his life now.

"It's vital for him," Monroe had added.

"How do you figure?"

"Dude, duh! Haven't you listened to that part of the files? Complementary parts and all? You balance him, Nick. Go and balance."

He had simply stared at his partner, then kissed him hard and fast, leaving not much later.

It had taken a blutbad to point out what was wrong!

And how wrong was that?