A/N: Hey is it just me, or did the music score in the latest Grimm Episode, "Eyes of the Beholder" actually sound a little like the music in the Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters Movie to anybody else? I thought it was weird that they sounded so alike and that I was still working on this crossover; LOL.

Chapter 5: Grimms & Ding Dongs

The smell of forest and stink (in Gretel's case, that is, Nick not having sweated and because of that saved the indignity of B.O. though the odor of pine and dead leaves stuck to him so strongly it was almost as bad) still clung to the two Grimms as they walked through the front door.

Juliette's nose wrinkled automatically. She really couldn't help it; the wafting stench of her post-fighting formerly zombie boyfriend and his sweaty house-guest was overpowering.

Of course Gretel was the only one that actually looked like she'd just been in a fight. Tired, cut on her cheek, strong perspiration, etc... Nick was just slightly disheveled.

Which was why Juliette -lacking any further clues- had to ask, half-laughing nervously, "Okay, what happened to you guys?"

"We were in a fight," Gretel told her. She would have shrugged, but her shoulders ached too much. Instead, she managed a small, dismissive shake of her head without sending too much throbbing pain through her neck. "Not a big deal."

It really wasn't. Gretel had come out of friendly scrimmages in worse shape before. The only difference was that she could usually commiserate with whoever she'd fought, after beating the shit out of them while they were going after her. Getting in more than her fair share of hits. Nick, though, just stubbornly refused to be beat up.

Juliette looked concerned. "Oh, my God!" Her eyes darted over to Nick anxiously. "Are you okay? What sort of Wesen was it?"

"No," Nick explained, trying not to chuckle. "We weren't fighting a Wesen; we were fighting each other."

Her brow sinking, Juliette managed a puzzled, "Why?"

"It's how Grimms sharpen their skills," Gretel said, as though it were obvious.

"By beating the crap out of each other?" Juliette asked.

Gretel titled her head towards Nick pointedly. "Does he look like I just beat the crap out of him?"

Juliette shook her head. "No, actually." Frowning at Nick like a disappointed parent, she sighed, "Geez, Nick. You didn't have to hit her so hard, did you? She's practically limping." Gretel might not have been Juliette's favorite person, but being a vet she did have something of a 'wounded critter, help it' instinct. And right now, it was being set off.

"I am not limping," snapped Gretel, suddenly fascinated by the back of her own hand resting on her bowed leg, not looking at Nick or Juliette. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Nick's expression hinted that he was caught between being embarrassed and trying to justify it. He hadn't done anything wrong, really. Gretel would have been furious if he'd treated her like a delicate piece of glass while they fought; in her eyes, it would mean he didn't respect her enough to fight her for real, the way he would if she were her brother.

It would have hurt her more, Nick thought, to have her ego bruised than her body. Gretel took what she was -what they both were- seriously. Belittling that by holding back more in the fight than he had (which only seemed fair since he had new abilities she didn't) would be like making a joke of her life.

He couldn't do that to her.

But of course all Juliette saw was that he'd beaten up their house-guest. Go figure.

"I'm going to get you some ice." Juliette said, walking into the kitchen.

"I didn't really hurt you, did I?" Nick asked Gretel under his breath, now that Juliette was out of the room.

She snorted. "Please."

Well, that answered that question.

Juliette came fast-walking back in, handing Gretel an icepack wrapped in a rose-pink dishtowel. "Here you go."

Although Gretel gave the icepack rather a repulsed look (this might have had more to do with the girly-colored dishtowel than the object encased within), she took it and put it on a sore spot behind her neck. Nick had, briefly, had her in a headlock when she'd tried to come up behind him and jump onto his back, having flipped her forward so fast she got whiplash.

Barely a minute later another sore spot demanded her attention, now that the back of her neck was as close to numb as it was going to get, but the pack was already lukewarm.

"Sorry if that's not as cold as it should be," apologized Juliette, sucking her teeth in mild annoyance. "I think we have to call Bud in to take another look at that freezer; it's acting up again."

"I can give him a call tomorrow," Nick offered.

Though there was little point, Gretel was now pressing the non-icy icepack against her right thigh.

"Oh," said Juliette suddenly. "I just remembered, you know Mary Clowd?"

Nick blinked at her. "Uh, no..."

"Come on, Nick, you remember Mary," Juliette insisted.

Arching an eyebrow, he reaffirmed, "I don't remember Mary."

"Alicia's cousin." Juliette paused for a second, lost in thought. "Three times removed... Or was it four times? We met her...like..." She stopped, counting silently on her fingers. "Well, it would have to be before my coma... So, what, two or three years ago?"

Nick's expression didn't change. "Juliette, I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Alicia's cousin."

He chuckled. "Yeah, got that much."

"Alicia, the one with the husband who..."

Nick held up a hand, not wanting to get into it. Juliette knew perfectly well what he thought of their friend Alicia's abusive bastard of a husband. He was not going to get into another discussion about that in front of Gretel. Frankly, he was a little worried Gretel would do what he'd not so secretly always wanted to and actually kill Alicia's husband, Joe, if she heard that story in full detail.

"Of course I know who Alicia is," Nick said, as Juliette's mouth clicked shut almost audibly (she was looking at Gretel out of the corner of her eye, probably catching onto what her boyfriend was thinking she might do, half-tempted to let her); "I just don't remember her ever having a cousin named Mary."

"Anyway," Juliette pressed on, "Mary invited us to a party tonight."

Nick winced.

She swatted his arm. "It'll be fun, Nick."

Somehow, Nick doubted that. It wasn't that he minded going to parties with his lovely girlfriend on his arm; he just didn't really like hanging out with people he barely knew. Being a Grimm, you never knew where Wesen were going to randomly pop up. These days, they seemed to be coming in through the freaking windows. And some poor sap screaming, "Oh my God, it's a Grimm, run for your life!" and overturning the catering tables as they made a break for the nearest exit didn't exactly make Nick the most popular man in the room. Or, if it did, it was for all the wrong reasons. There was no way for him to explain the incident.

Gretel started fiddling with a loose thread dangling from the pink dishcloth. She got Nick's apprehension; it wasn't novel. She and Hansel used to feel that way, too, about throwing themselves at strangers, not knowing in advance who was what. But, for them, indulging those feelings was never an option.

"Your friend could come, too," Juliette offered, generously.

She was still largely in 'help the wounded-critter' mode. And it seemed a little rude -since Gretel was staying with them for a few days, no other option, no avoiding it- to just leave their guest sitting here nursing her injures all night. Also, maybe, somewhere in her subconscious, Juliette's mind was vaguely aware that she might feel a little better about this Grimm who dressed like one of Charlie's Angels threw up a Renaissance fair if she could see her around other people, not only Nick.

Oh, sure, she knew Nick didn't think of Gretel that way. That all his efforts to help her were no more a suppressed desire to be with her than Juliette's giving her an icepack had been. But, being a woman, it was still hard not to see someone of your own sex who related to your boyfriend on a level you couldn't, who had something in common with him you didn't, come flouncing into your lives. And Gretel, with her tight leather and motorcycle gang attire, was difficult not to view as a threat, however irrational that might be, especially considering the jarring away she'd first met her.

Of course, it was more likely, Juliette thought, that Nick was wrong about his new friend and she was working to get the key. Way more likely that his heart would be broken by betrayal than hers. It was stupid to think of Gretel as both kinds of threats. Stupid, but impossible not to.

That might have had something to do with passing the invite on, too. Juliette wanting to prove she could be bigger than her emotions in this. Nick would feel more comfortable if he had someone else, besides just Juliette herself, he could talk to there. Another buddy.

Inviting her like this, Juliette was in effect saying that she respected Gretel's new place in Nick's life as his friend, just like she accepted Hank and Monroe and Rosalee. Just like she accepted he was a Grimm and there were Wesen.

In Nick's line of thought, though, he couldn't help wondering why Juliette seemed to think two Grimms at a party full of strangers was better than one.

Twice the table-flippings and freakouts?

He, being a guy, didn't see the matter at all angles -some of them probably imagined- like his girlfriend did. Yet, somehow, he got that she was trying to be supportive -like she always was. His wonderful, supportive, loving, ever-understanding Juliette who accepted him for what he was.

"I guess she could." Nick shrugged, turning to Gretel. "If she wants."

"You wanna come?" Juliette asked nicely. She didn't want Gretel to get the impression she was acting like she wasn't actually in the room with them.

Gretel, dropping the useless pack and cloth onto the floor with a thud, managed to look up and blurt out, "Yeah, sure."

And just like that, it was settled. Gretel was coming to Mary's party with them.

"You can't be serious," Gretel remarked. "What was wrong with my clothes?"

She was standing by the bed in the master bedroom after taking a shower, wearing a red silken kimono Juliette had loaned her, looking down in mild horror at the clothes laid out for her.

Juliette had set out a ruffled tan-and-black blouse that buttoned in the front, blue jeans, and a pair of black ankle boots.

As far as Gretel was concerned, the boots were the only even remotely acceptable part of this little ensemble. She'd never dressed like this a day in her life! This was what normal, soft, pretty, frilly women wore! Women like Juliette, with at least semi-normal lives and jobs. Women who weren't expected to be able to reach into their shoes, pull out a throwing knife, toss it over their shoulder, and embed the blade in a Hexenbiest's abdomen at a moment's notice.

She couldn't hide anything in Juliette's clothes. Even a pack of gum would have been tricky. A pistol? A knife? No way in hell.

Juliette sighed. What was wrong with Gretel's clothes? Besides the fact that no sane person would go to a party wearing that much leather? Where did she begin? Without being rude, of course. There was no reason to be mean. Just tell her the truth; her clothes were dirty and sweat-drenched from fighting Nick. They'd needed a wash.

"Your clothes are in the laundry," she finally settled on, gently. "And you needed something to wear tonight, so I thought you could borrow something of mine."

Gretel gave in. "Thank you." She probably shouldn't bring weapons to the party. If a Hexenbiest did turn up and attack, this could be a decent chance to put her hand-to-hand combat skills into good use.

Besides, she'd insist on bringing her own leather coat, and that was where most of her best on-person weapon-hiding spaces were anyway...

Juliette smiled. "You're welcome."

"I'm not sure those pants will fit me."

"Trust me." Juliette bent over the bed, scooped up the clothes, careful not to wrinkle them, and draped them over Gretel's awkwardly outstretched arm. "Compared to what you're used to, my jeans are sweats."

When the withdrawal pains were at their worst, Carl lapsed back into bad old habits. Habits that were, in their own ways, probably as dangerous as his Jay abuse.

Daemonfeuers never cut themselves deliberately to ease pain; they had their own lowly form of self-harm. They coughed human fat onto their own arms and legs (the less confident did toes or a thumb) then, breathing onto the doused body part, set it ablaze. Those that were crazy enough to do this typically avoided doing it in a way that would roast them alive; they thrived on the pain of small to medium burns.

It was when things in his life had started going downhill that Carl turned to this practice. Very few people, none of them in his life now, knew. Not even Ariel knew. The times he'd seen her back when he did it a lot, Carl had managed to hide the burns from her. She never even suspected, far as he knew. Besides she hadn't been around him too much when he was a big burner. Ariel was only aware of his problems as far as being a burn out went; she knew about the Jay.

After Jay was introduced into his lifestyle, and later Bianca, Carl had been more relaxed; his inner suffering no longer so awful he needed to burn himself.

Now there was no Bianca, and no Jay. He was getting clean in hopes of getting her back, but could he get past her uncles even after he succeeded? He'd never charm them, never get them to even grudgingly like him. Maybe Ariel was right. Even if he won them over somehow, could he really expect Bianca to accept him for what he really was?

To love him as a Daemonfeuer?

Pain returned, and also guilt -for things he done in the past to get his next Jay fix- crushing him.

He needed to burn. He needed relief.

Rocking back and forth on the cold bathroom floor, Carl rolled up his sleeve, took a deep, raspy breath, and coughed.

"Anybody ready to go yet?" Nick called up the stairs.

"We'll be down in a minute!" Juliette's voice replied.

Nick hopped off the bottom step and waited.

A few seconds later, Juliette appeared, wearing a red minidress with spaghetti straps and matching pumps.

"You look beautiful, as usual," Nick commented, grinning. Then, "Where's Gretel?"

Juliette rolled her eyes and took a step back, dragging someone with her by the arm. "You look fine," she laughed. "Just get out here!"

Nick's eyes widened when he saw Gretel. Dressed like that, she didn't look anything like the Grimm he'd come to know. Juliette must have done something to her hair -curled it, probably- to make it look shorter, because it had seemed a lot longer braided down her back. She was even wearing a little bit of makeup.

With that clothes and that hair, she looked like... Well, like Juliette, actually. Partly this was due to the fact that it was her clothes and makeup, but it was also a transformation in its own right. Dressed like this, Gretel could be anybody. Nick wouldn't be able to pick her out on the street, aside from the fact that she was a pretty brunette girl. And there were enough of those to make it confusing. As a cop, he might have had a hard time picking her out of a lineup.

Gretel had come into their house as one of Nick's strange friends, from his Grimm vs. Wesen world he'd been living in since Aunt Marie's death; she was walking out of it now much more like one of Juliette's normal friends.

She looked like any of Juliette's friends might.

That aside, she did look nice. And much more girly than Nick had been able to imagine her ever appearing.

Folding her arms across her chest as soon as Juliette let go of her, Gretel sighed, "All right, let me have it."

"You look great," Juliette tried again. "Nick, will you tell her she looks great?"

"Gretel, you look great."

Almost like she was insulted when he didn't insult her -didn't tell her he liked her better the way she'd been before- Gretel folded her arms across her chest, marched down the stairs, and muttered, "You look like shit," as she walked past Nick and threw on her coat over Juliette's clothes.

Nick smirked tightly. "Thanks."

"She is a charmer," Juliette said through a clenched smile of her own.

"Hank, what are you doing here?" Nick asked, surprised to see his partner at a party thrown by one of Alicia's distant relatives.

He'd been at the party for about an hour by this point, and if there were any Wesen in attendance they were good at keeping their cools, because he and Gretel had both gotten through the evening without any Grimm incidents so far.

Gretel seemed to finally have gotten comfortable in Juliette's clothes, through she hadn't allowed them to check her coat, leaving Nick feeling suspicious.

"Please tell me you didn't bring your crossbow," he'd said to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"Of course not." She'd snorted. "Exactly how would my crossbow fit in my coat? It's a lot bigger than yours."

"Let's not go there."

"I have one knife and a small pistol."

"You brought a gun?" he'd hissed.

She'd cocked her head at him.

"Fine, just don't let anybody see it, okay?"

And she hadn't. No one had run out of the party screaming "Gun!" or "Grimm!"; Nick considered that a success.

"Oh, my goddaughter Carly is dating one of the caterers," Hank explained. "Jarold wanted me to come here and keep an eye on them tonight."

"Ah." Nick nodded. "You're chaperoning."

Hank shrugged. "Pretty much."

"Nick, you've got to see this." Gretel appeared at his side, excited. "This guy's got a taser the size of my head."

"I've seen tasers before, Gretel, I work with the police," Nick reminded her.

"Who's this?" Hank asked, his face lighting up.

"Oh, right." Nick couldn't believe he'd completely forgotten to tell Hank about her. He'd said he'd talk to him about it (aka meeting another Grimm) later, but somehow had never actually gotten around to it. "Hank, this is Gretel."

"Nice to meet you." Hank stuck out his hand.

"She's a Grimm," Nick mouthed.

Hank's eyes widened.

Gretel shook his hand with a grip that would have done a Siegbarste proud.

"Gretel, this is Hank," Nick told her. "We work together." Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen."

Gretel rolled onto her side and leaned over the edge of the couch, reaching for a magazine on the coffee table.

For some reason, Juliette only kept two kinds of magazines in the house. Housekeeping and some animal care drivel journal she probably brought home from work.

The animal ones were mildly interesting. Even if the articles were shitty, Gretel liked looking at the pictures; they were mostly of birds, horses, cats, and dogs, but some more exotic pets sometimes made it in, too. But the housekeeping ones were rotten through and through. Gretel hated those with a passion. Just pictures of annoying, perfect houses she would never in her whole life be welcome in. Idyllic family rooms that no one she knew had ever seen the likes of in real life splattered every page from the front cover to the back. Maybe that's why they were always empty in the photographs.

Gretel had already read most of the animal ones, and reading did nothing to block out sound anyway. Just a welcome distraction in its own way.

She would have switched on the T.V. but the cable box was scrambled or something else was wrong, because it wasn't working no matter which buttons she pressed on the remote.

After five minutes of uselessly low-pitched static that couldn't drown out a housefly, she'd finally given up and switched the damn thing off.

Nick probably could have gotten it to work, but he was otherwise occupied. In fact, his current occupation was why Gretel was searching for a distraction. It didn't really bother her as much as stuff like that seemed to bother most people, but it seemed rude to just sit down here and listen.

Especially when they had no idea she could hear them screaming and moaning and rolling around up there.

After they'd gotten home from the party, Juliette all loosened up from three or four glasses of wine she'd had, Nick and his girlfriend had slipped upstairs, leaving Gretel in the living room, making up the couch, completely forgotten.

Now it was just endless squealing and declarations of love, followed by moans and pleas to a deity of some kind, ending with the squeaking of bed springs and the sound of the bed itself moving up there, scuffing up the floor.

Even someone as low-key about such matters as Gretel could only take it for so long before she pressed a couch pillow against her ear and silently prayed to each and any higher power that might or might not exist to make her deaf, just for the rest of the night.

Around one AM Nick came down and opened the fridge. The ice was still melting; Bud would hopefully be able to fix that real soon. What were the odds of finding an unspoiled late night snack?

About as good as finding unspoiled milk. It looked like he'd have to settle for dry cereal or something else out of the cupboards.

Shutting the refrigerator door, the retracting light suddenly landed on someone sitting on the counter.

Nick slammed the door the rest of the way and whirled around, prepared to defend himself.

"It's just me," Gretel said, scooting to the edge of the counter and jumping off, walking over to turn on the kitchen light.

"Is that a Ding Dong?" Nick asked, noticing a dark pastry in her hand.

"Yeah." Gretel swallowed. "It is."

"Toss me one."

"Here." She glanced into the box she'd pulled it out of. "You're lucky; that was the last one."

Mouth half-full of Ding Dong, Nick chuckled, "So you've been hanging out in the kitchen eating Hostess treats all night?"

"Well, honestly, I thought it would be quieter in the kitchen," Gretel admitted. After a pause, she shrugged. "It wasn't."

Nick's forehead crinkled for a moment before he caught on. "You could hear us upstairs?"

Gretel nodded. "Wear her out, did you?"

"Oh my God."

"Is that the only line you know, Nick?"

Nick was redder than a tomato now. "I can't believe you heard..." He put his hand on his forehead. "Did you hear everything?"

"Pretty much."

Gretel sat down at the table across from him. "Don't worry about it; I'm used to it."

"What?"

"Hansel," she explained, shrugging again.

"So you're telling me your brother is a..."

"A huge man-slut, yes," Gretel chuckled, smiling to herself. Even when she was saying something negative about her twin, she still missed him. "I blame our parents for that. Aside from me, he didn't have anyone he could rely on and, like I told you, he would even talk about our mom and dad. I guess he felt the only way to fill in the void was to be a bit of a womanizer.

"The first few times, he tried to hide it from me; I think he wanted to believe I didn't know what I was hearing in the other room when we stayed with people. He was only fourteen when he..." Here Gretel couldn't quite look at Nick, she had to turn away. "When he started actively pursuing women."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She looked at him now. "Because I trust you. I doubt you'll think less of him for what he's done."

Nick crinkled his nose. "So for years you've been hearing your brother and...his...company...?"

"You get used to it," said Gretel. "Nothing in my life was conventional."

"But...it was just him? You never...?" Nick regretted the question the minute he stammered it out. "Sorry, too personal. That's none of my business."

"Are you asking me if I ever had men spend the night?"

Nick blanched.

Gretel looked down at the tabletop. "No. For one thing, Hansel would have killed them. For another...something..." She took a deep breath. "Something happened that made me...not want that..."

"What happened?"

Gretel closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. "I was almost gang raped when I was a teenager, Nick."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He wanted to reach across the table and hold her hand comfortingly, but he wasn't sure if -talking about this- she wanted any male touching her. "I had no idea."

"There was no way you could have known." Gretel sat up straighter. "Hansel didn't even know. I never told him. I didn't want him to think it was his fault; he was with another woman at the time. I didn't want him to feel guilty, because I think he actually cared about Mina; that was the name of the girl he was with that afternoon. He never cared about any of the others."

"How did you...?"

"How did I get away from them?" Gretel smiled. "Easy. That was the day I met Edward. He killed most of the effing bastards."

"Gretel, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"The more I'm around you, the more I hear about your life, the more I understand why my mother left me with my aunt to protect me. You and your brother had to go through so much you weren't ready for... But I had years and years of just being a normal kid...and then a normal guy, and a normal detective..."

Gretel shook her head. "Abandonment is never the answer."

"She didn't abandon me, not like..." Not like Gretel's parents did. "She chose to let me live my regular life for as long as I could."

"Nick, being a Grimm's not something you choose -or that your parents can choose for you." She rested her elbows on the table. "This isn't the life Hansel and I chose."

What would you have chosen? Nick wanted to ask.

But he didn't. What was the point?