A/N: A programming note! I'm going to be doing some fancy footwork with the timeline here, both because there are a lot of changes to the canon in this story now, and because there's a lot to fit into the next two weeks of story time. This is where I wave my hands and say, "It's AU!", so thank you for your patience with that. And thank you as always for reading and commenting! It's such a pleasure to know folks are invested in this story.


Adalind reaches her desk in a daze. Nick had been called away—after the shower and before the tea—which had left Adalind and Juliette staring at each other over a cup of oolong, completely at a loss as to what to say next. As far as Adalind can tell, the only thing they have in common at this point is Nick's dick, and somehow she can't imagine that topic of conversation going over particularly well.

So, she'd left. Grabbed a cab and fled for Berman & Rautbort at pace. It's only now that she's here, staring down at the stack of files on her desk, that she remembers which client she has a meeting with today. The one who needs a hexenbiest just as much as they need a lawyer.

That's the secret of this firm. They cater to wesen with very specific needs, and hexenbiest lawyers are the best. No one breaks a contract with a hexenbiest. Not if they like breathing, anyway.

Only now she can't offer that level of service. She's not a hexenbiest anymore. At least not right now. Maybe never again. And if she goes to that meeting, and she can't give the client what they want, she'll be fired, sure. But more importantly, she'll be exposed to the rest of the firm. Her new weakness will be laid bare. This firm isn't exactly known for it's kindness, and their clients are powerful and power-hungry in the wesen world. If they discover that her powers are gone, then they'll all know that she's vulnerable. They'll scent the blood in the water, and maybe they won't come for her until there's reason to, but they'll find one eventually. Maybe they'll even find out about Nick, too, and then they'll both be in danger, her and Nick and their kid.

Her phone rings, and it's Nick. They'd traded numbers at Monroe's dining room table this morning—or rather, saved their numbers from her fateful phone call to him last night setting up the meeting at the ruins—and now here he is, calling her. She glances around, worried that somehow her colleagues will know that she's not who she was yesterday from just one call. She's lost her powers and now she has a Grimm in her phone and even more outrageously, she's glad to see his name pop up on her screen. But then she panics again. No one in this office can know Nick Burkhardt is calling her. No one is even looking her way, but she still turns away towards the window before answering the phone.

"What's wrong?" he asks—no preamble, no hello, but just the fact of him on the other end of the line starts to ease her panic.

"Everything," she says, "how did you know?"

"I felt it. Didn't know that could happen, but I felt your anxiety spike, and I figured it couldn't be good. Where are you?"

"Work. Nick, I can't stay here. It's not safe. Not without—"

"Oh," he says. His voice is distant over the line and she can hear the blinker clicking in the background. He's calling her from his car. "Okay. I'll come pick you up. I'm on my way to the spice shop. There's something going on with Monroe and Rosalee and some Resistance guy. Weren't they part of your five point security plan?"

Adalind's heart stops racing abruptly. She forgets all about the threats lurking in the office around her and instead focuses every scrap of attention she's got on the man on the other end of the line.

"You listened to my plan?"

"Well, yeah," Nick says. "It sounded good. And you know a lot more about how the wesen world operates than I do. If we're going to survive this thing together without our powers for the next nine months, I think you're leading our diplomatic efforts."

"Diplomatic efforts? Are we founding a city state?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm not wild about raising a kid in a town where the Resistance and the Royals are going to battle it out street by street, so yeah, maybe that means we're aiming to be Switzerland for the foreseeable future."

"We don't have the cash on hand to be Switzerland," she says.

"Another problem I'll leave in your capable hands. I'll be there in ten minutes. That enough time for you?"

Adalind looks at her desk, covered in files and pens and sticky notes that she hasn't looked at in weeks. None of it matters now, and she never was the type to bring personal effects to work. All she needs to do is write up her letter of resignation and hand over her notes.

"Sure," she says. And then, because she can: "Didn't you promise me coffee, too?"

He laughs. "I knew you were going to be high maintenance. Fine. Give me your order."

He picks her up fifteen minutes later with a latte and a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says. "I guess I just thought you would have more stuff."

"Not that kind of place," Adalind says. "Big law doesn't go in for knickknacks."

"Neither does the law-law. They're talking about desk sharing at the precinct."

"Ah yes, musical desks in the booking room—what could possibly go wrong?"

"Yeah," he says with a huff of laughter. "Apart from anything else, it should be a real stress test of our filing system. We'll see what the Captain says."

Adalind looks at him, searching for any sign of strain, but his eyes are clear and focused on the road ahead.

"How is Sean?" she asks

"Brooding." Nick's eyes dart to her, a flicker of amusement quirking his lips. "Probably plotting. He didn't come after me for our conversation this morning though, so he must have called Henrietta."

"That must have been fun for both of them. We'll have to talk to him soon. Make a deal."

"Yeah. Let's hear what the Resistance has to say, and then you can tell me your plan for an alliance with Renard."

He's not looking at her now—he's too busy driving—but the way he says it—so openly, so casually—makes something in her belly flutter. She's never had a partner before—not an equal who takes her seriously and really wants to listen to her ideas. She's been running around this town all year, trying to get someone to listen to her and listen well, and now here's Nick, looking to her to help solve their shared problems. It's refreshing, is what it is. Exhilarating. And if she didn't already know how good the man could be in the bedroom—or forest, as the case maybe—she thinks just this readiness to let her help lead this negotiation would turn her on just as much.

He pulls up in front of a storefront in a nice brick building, and Adalind turns to get out of the car until Nick's hand on her elbow makes her pause. He's looking at her with those dark eyes again—fathomless and utterly captivating—and she has to close her eyes for a second, just to resist the impulse to lean into him again.

"Sorry," he says, dropping her elbow, leaning back himself, "it's just Monroe said the guy's been shot. You going to be okay with blood and a bullet wound?"

She snorts. "You're kidding, right? You met my mother. I stopped getting queasy at the sight of blood at the age of seven when she drained my guinea pig for a spell."

"Jesus Christ," Nick says. "Does she have any redeeming qualities or has she always just been a nightmare?"

Adalind considers that and shrugs. "She's very good at what she does. The best. And she protects what's hers. If we're going to be Switzerland, we're going to need her on our side, even if it's just to keep an eye on her. And she might want a crown, but I think she's going to want to be the grandmother of the most powerful little girl in the world a lot more."

Nick's grinning at her—bright and open in a way he's never been before. Not since the very first time she saw him.

"What?" she asks, wary, but he just keeps grinning.

"You think it's going to be a girl, too, huh?"

Her heart kicks up another beat. "I had a dream. She seemed pretty real."

"Me, too." Nick's smile is soft now. Almost wistful. "She was terrifying, but I really loved her, you know?"

"I know," Adalind says, thinking of the little girl's intense little eyes that reminded her so much of Nick's. "She's ours."

"Yeah," he says. "She's going to kick our butt, isn't she?"

"Oh yeah. The power coming off of her was electric. Raising her well is not going to be easy."

"Especially if we're not sure her only grandparent can be trusted. Do you want your mom to be in her life?"

"I don't know. I don't think I'll have much of a choice. The safest place to be in relation to my mother is beside her with one eye on your back. How about you? Is she a deal breaker for you?"

She's ready for him to say yes. She's seen this show before. High school, college, law school. She's had boyfriends. Nice ones. Rich ones. Powerful ones by Kehrseite standards. They'd all wanted her—they'd pursued her—they'd thought they could love her, and then they'd met her mother and every single one of them had vanished from her life the next day. That was part of what had finally drawn her to Sean. He was the only man in the continental US her mother wouldn't want to drive away. It'd been a relief to know, whatever his faults, that he wouldn't leave like the rest of them. Of course, he also wouldn't love her—not really, not the way she wanted to be loved—but that had seemed like an acceptable price to pay when every other man she'd ever met had never lasted past meeting her mother.

But now there's Nick. The only man to look her mother in the eye and tell her to stop being awful. The man currently shrugging and saying, "I know this sounds bizarre given, well, everything, but I kind of liked her."

Adalind stares at him—mouth open in shock—while he shrugs again, looking just as bewildered as she feels.

"I know," he says. "I mean, I really don't like the way she treats you—that's not okay, and we're going to need to be very clear about that—and we're never, ever letting her pet sit—but the rest of it...I don't know. She's power-hungry and dangerous, but I'm beginning to think I like that in a woman. And if we're having a daughter, maybe having a grandmother around who's a walking example of what not to do with magic would be useful. And she also made you, and you're growing on me, so—"

Adalind starts to laugh. "I'm growing on you?"

"Like mold," Nick says, glaring at her, "only ten times more lethal."

"Also prettier," she says, grinning now.

"I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole," he says. "You know you're gorgeous, you don't need me to tell you."

"You think I'm gorgeous?" It shouldn't be a shock—she's made a career out of reading men's desire for her—but in some ways Nick has always been unreadable when it counts. She's always been aware of the attraction between them, but it clouds her perception as well. Wanting him—it's made her question whether he wants her, too.

"Gorgeous," Nick says, still glaring, "and dangerous and power-hungry and annoying and a really good lawyer, which I really hate sometimes—"

"I'm annoying?" His list of her faults is starting to sound like he might mean them as compliments, and that's making her flustered and ready to lash out. "You walk around this town like you own it, but you don't know the first thing about the wesen world or the Royals or magic or life, and you want to tell the rest of us how to live?"

"No," he says calmly—so very calmly—"I just want everyone to get to live. To be able to have a life. I want people to stop killing each other in my goddamn town and waving their hands and saying, 'That's just the way it is—that's how it's always been.' How it's always been sucks. We're going to change it."

Adalind stares at him staring at her, eyes dark and intense and right there, inches away. They've done it again—they've invaded each other's space in the heat of the argument, and their lips are close now—so very close.

"You mean that, don't you?" she asks. "You really want to change the world—make it better for everyone and everything in this silly little town even though it will take years—decades, maybe—and no one will ever thank you for it?"

"Yeah," Nick says, voice rough—husky even—eyes flicking to her lips, "I do. And I think somewhere in your power-hungry little witchy heart, you do, too."

And then he kisses her, and it's magic—the heat that flares between them—the sparks that spiral upward. She sinks into his warm mouth and his strong, killer arms, and Adalind thinks that if she was always destined to burn, then she's glad he's the one who lit the fuse.