Chapter 11: A Kiss For Bad Luck

It was the quietest ride imaginable. Neither Nick nor Gretel said a word as the car zipped down two streets and paused at one four-way stop.

What was there to say? Nick knew now. He had seen her fullest woge. Gretel stared straight ahead, wondering what was going to happen. Maybe he'd hate her as much as Hansel did.

Though, you didn't generally give rides home from the hospital to people you hated, did you?

No, Gretel reminded herself, not home; his house. Nick's house was not 'home'... Not for her.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and broke the silence. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

After his initial, "Oh my God," not one word had come out of his mouth since he walked in on her woging. Not even a grunt of acknowledgment had come from him as he'd signed her out, walked her to the car... Nothing. He'd gone as far as to hold the door open for her, and still he didn't make a single noise. The only sound had been the car door slamming as he shut it after her.

This was getting ridiculous.

"What do you want me to say?" Nick kept his eyes on the road.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Do you want me to talk about how I can't believe I fell for your little Grimm-in-need act?"

Gretel felt like he'd just slapped her across the face. "It wasn't an act, and no one asked you to help me."

"You're not a Grimm."

She felt her cheeks growing hot. Not from embarrassment, but from unadulterated burning anger. Hansel at least had an excuse to be an effing asshole. He'd been, well, she didn't even know what they'd done to him to make him forget her, what hell he'd been through since they were separated. Nick didn't have that excuse; he hadn't been tortured. Sure, he'd had a shock, walking in on her like that, but that was in no way the same thing. He had no right to talk to her like that. She'd known about their world much, much longer than he had; she'd been living the life of a Grimm since she was a little girl. Gretel had pushed herself to the breaking point so many times, ignoring severe pains both physical and emotional, just to make herself a better Grimm, to always be ready for whatever came at her next -whatever Hexenbiest she had to fight to keep herself, her brother, and who knew how many untold innocents safe.

"I am," she said slowly, "more of a Grimm than you will ever be."

"You're not the first Wesen to do this to me," Nick told her darkly, remembering the precinct's former intern, Ryan Smulson, "but you definitely were the most convincing."

"Listen, you idiot," Gretel hissed, twisting in her seat and glaring at him. "My father was a Grimm. And you know what? He didn't need enhanced skills -from a Wesen- to fight better."

His cool facade of calmness while inwardly feeling betrayed began to fizz out on him now, at this worst possible moment. Because he believed her. Somehow, he didn't think she was lying, even after what she'd kept from him.

"By the way, you missed the damn turn."

Nick was aware he'd gone down the wrong street, but not until he was already on it and there was no way to go back without making some kind of illegal U-turn over somebody's front lawn. "I want to go this way," he lied.

Silence once again ensued.

"Gretel?" He actually turned his head to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" She leaned her hairline against the window.

"For what I said a couple minutes ago." Nick sighed. "I was... I was way out of line."

You bet you were. "Did you mean it?"

Nick paused for a moment to think about it. "No."

"Then I forgive you."

"And you're right," he said, making a turn. "You are a much better Grimm than me."

Gretel shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"Gretel..."

"I only said that because I was angry about being rejected."

"What?"

She swallowed hard. "Hansel visited me at the hospital and told me he didn't want to see me ever again, that he didn't believe I was his sister." She lifted her head off the glass and looked over at Nick. "Or a Grimm."

"So my saying that..."

"Pretty much pushed me over the edge," Gretel admitted. "I've already lost my brother, and I suddenly realized I might be losing my friend, too." She bit her lip, then released it. "And I was telling myself it was okay... But it's not. And that only made me even more angry because... Because I'm not really used to needing anyone besides my brother, or caring if anyone else gives a shit if I'm dead or alive. When you saw me woge, and I turned and saw the look on your face, it just hit me so hard that it was going to hurt when I lost you. It was really, really going to hurt." She shook her head. "And I don't want it to."

"You're not going to lose me," Nick said, his eyes back on the road now but his expression softer. "Way I see it, nothing's actually changed."

Gretel smiled weakly.

"But..." He hesitated. "What you said about your father... Is it true? I mean, if you found out about what you were after he..." Nick's voice trailed off.

"I don't know." Gretel laughed to herself, a little bitterly. "I guess I just want it to be. I like to think he was something like Hansel."

Almost involuntarily, Nick made a face.

"The Hansel you met -the one that stabbed me- isn't the Hansel I know," she reminded him.

"Yeah, I know."

"Nick?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's a little late for this, but there's something I want to tell you. Something I should have trusted you with before."

"What's that?"

"I'm half-Hexenbiest."

He smirked, glancing over at her as the car rolled to a stop at a changing yellow light. "You don't say."

Gretel smiled back. His tone might have been sarcastic, but there was no coldness in it now. And his facial expression was friendly again.

So she told him. Everything. The truth as far as she knew it. About being scared of anyone ever learning the truth about her being the daughter of a supposedly very powerful Hexenbiest; about Sean Renard telling her that her father betrayed the Verrat and giving her Adrianna's wand.

"So you don't hate your parents anymore. At least you got that much closure," Nick pointed out.

Gretel shrugged. "Not hating them is only half the battle. I still don't identify as a Hexenbiest. I'm a Grimm, that's all I've ever known. It's not that I hate my mother for being a Hexenbiest, or that I'm ashamed of her memory..." However little of it she actually had. "It's more that I don't want to be one. I don't want to be able to woge, and I sure as hell don't want their powers."

Nick found himself thinking of Adalind Schade, and how he'd taken her powers from her, along with her ability to woge. "What I don't understand is why, if half your blood is Grimm, it doesn't keep your Hexenbiest powers in check."

"It does, somewhat. I can control it better than most; I hid it from you," Gretel reminded him. "I doubt that would have been possible if I wasn't a Grimm, too."

"What do you think would happen," Nick asked, "if you got another Grimm's blood inside of you?"

"Same thing that happens to every Hexenbiest," Gretel guessed. "I have the mark under my tongue; I assume I'm bound by the same rules, more or less."

"What about Hansel?"

Gretel snorted. "Are you asking me why I never tried to drink my twin brother's blood?"

Nick looked a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess."

"Among other reasons," she said, rolling her eyes, "he has the same parentage as me. He may not be able to woge, but he's as much the child of a Hexenbiest as I am."

So if another Grimm's blood (his blood) got inside her, Nick realized, it would probably work... She could be free of her risky half-heritage. If that was what she really wanted. If it wasn't just talk, or the simple fear of being related to the very thing you hunted and disdained.

"But if you had a choice," Nick pressed, "would you really give up your powers? Even if it meant losing your last connection to your mother?"

"What powers? I can't use most of them; I'm a fighter -a hunter- not a witch." She wrung her hands, staring down into her lap, not even noticing this time that Nick had missed the turn again. "And then of course there's what Sean Renard told me. As a Hexenbiest and a Grimm I'm doubly valuable to the Verrat. Aside from my connection to my father by birth, if I was just a Grimm..." She looked up. "The only thing I'd have to worry about are Reapers. And I know I can handle that."

"Okay." Nick pulled off the road into a parking lot.

What happened next was not Nick's finest plan. Looking back, he wished he'd been smarter and just flat out offered some of his blood to Gretel. A couple of drops, maybe put into something easier to swallow at the spice shop, with Monroe and Rosalee supervising, and boom, she'd have been all Grimm, just like she wanted. But he hadn't thought of that. Instead, Nick thought of how sharp Gretel's instincts were. He remembered what she'd said to the Bauerschwein back at the diner the day they met: Next time you touch me -or any other innocent woman- like that, I won't just break your nose; I'll bite it right off your effing face.

It occurred to Nick that if he kissed Gretel, fast and hard, her first instinct would be the same as Adalind's. She'd bite him. She wouldn't want to hurt him, but she'd bite down before her mind gave way to rational thought, and she'd bite hard. Hard enough to make him bleed. Hard enough to give her what she wanted.

It would be so quick. And maybe once she was no longer able to woge, Hansel wouldn't feel so threatened by her and they could work on getting his memory sorted without him being a bigoted asshole and trying to kill her again. He probably couldn't make himself kill his own sister -however strongly he denied her- slowly, but if it was quick, like that knife had been... As long as Hansel was in Portland and Gretel's secret was known to him, she was in danger. In his current state, who knew if Hansel wouldn't be stupid enough to hand her over to the Verrat himself? Nick sure as hell didn't expect Ariel to be any help controlling him...

So, as soon as the car was parked, Nick unbuckled himself, leaned over the seat, and kissed Gretel full on the mouth.

Gretel's fighter instincts didn't kick in like they were supposed to. She was caught completely off guard. For one -not entirely unpleasant- moment she was lost in the sheer force of the unexpected kiss.

Generally, Gretel didn't let men kiss her. If she hadn't been thrown off, she'd have had Nick by the throat before his lips even made contact with hers. She'd have been squeezing her fingers into his windpipe as she pushed him away.

But something here hadn't gone right. Gretel didn't feel repelled enough to react quickly. She didn't feel like biting him or choking him or shoving him away so hard his head smashed against the glass of the window on the driver's side. This wasn't disgusting, or horrible, or anything like what she so often had to fight off from anything of the male variety.

She found herself doing what she'd never done before. Returning the gesture; kissing him back...

It wasn't until she suddenly remembered Juliette and Nick was already pulling away from her, after what was really only a few seconds though it seemed like a lot longer, that Gretel's common sense -and fury- came rushing back to her. Along with the anguish she'd told herself she'd never have to worry about feeling.

Nick was as surprised by this as she was. He'd had no clue that Gretel had those kind of feelings for him. If he'd known, he would never have kissed her.

It was the look on her face as he hastily pulled away that betrayed her thoughts. That face, usually so closed off and protected, was -for a split second- an open book.

He could read his fellow Grimm's face, and the feelings written all over it.

"I'm so sorry..." Nick stammered softly, staring into her eyes. "If I'd had any idea-"

Then, just like that, the open book snapped shut. Gretel's face hardened and the only emotion he could still read was that she was extremely pissed. "Don't flatter yourself." She undid her seat-belt and flung the car door open, fast walking out into the parking lot.

"Gretel, wait!"

She didn't wait; she kept walking. Gretel had no idea where she thought she was going, exactly, but 'away from Nick' seemed a pretty damn good destination right now.

What further aim did she really need?

Unfortunately, Nick wasn't a slowpoke by any stretch of the imagination. And if their practice Grimm-on-Grimm scrimmages had taught him anything it was how to catch up with her when he wanted to.

Gretel knew this, which was why, even as she kept moving, she didn't bother breaking into a run. She could turn into freaking Flo Jo and Mr. Nicholas Never-Sweat Burkhardt behind her would still catch up in a manner of minutes.

He grabbed her arm. "Gretel-"

She wrenched herself free, whirling on him. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"That wasn't what you think," Nick tried.

"You have an effing girlfriend!" Gretel fumed on, ignoring what he'd just said. "You can't just go around kissing people."

"Just let me explain!"

"Oh, this ought to be good," she muttered, turning and walking away again.

He kept up with her, of course.

Since he clearly wasn't going anywhere, Gretel decided to start off on him again. "You pull off the road, park the car, and kiss me... What besides the obvious could I possibly assume here?"

"You could assume that I'm an idiot."

"Yes," Gretel agreed sardonically, stopping in her tracks and turning around to face him again. "As a matter of fact, I have."

"Look." Nick took a step backwards and shook his head at her. "I didn't expect you to kiss me back."

"Oh?" Gretel folded her arms across her chest and arched an eyebrow. "And that makes it okay?"

"Gretel," he chuckled nervously, gesturing apologetically with his hands. "I thought... I thought you'd fight me off, I'd end up bleeding, some of my blood would get in you, and..."

"...And I wouldn't be a Hexenbiest anymore," Gretel finished for him.

He nodded. "You said that was what you wanted."

Gretel reached out and shoved him. "You idiot!"

"Hey, take it easy," Nick protested. "I had no idea that you-"

"That I what?" Gretel demanded.

"That you..." He hesitated, unsure of how to say it. "That you liked me."

Gretel cocked her head. "Please."

"Why else wouldn't you have fought me off?"

It was like a cold hard lump in Gretel's throat, dripping down into her heart in tiny sharp, piercing splinters, stabbing it repeatedly. Not only was this little episode humiliating, but it was also abundantly clear that for all the repressed emotions that stupid kiss brought out in her, Nick felt absolutely nothing. Nothing but sorry he'd hurt her. Sorry he'd hurt a friend. He was in love with Juliette, and only Juliette.

Not, of course, that Gretel wanted him to be a cheating jackass... What she wanted was not to want him. And she'd been doing a damn good job of that until the moron went and kissed her.

"I don't want to talk about this," she grumbled. "Leave me alone."

"Just get back in the car."

"No."

"You have stitches in your side; you're going to make them come loose."

"Eff the stitches."

"I know it's not worth much right now," Nick said gently, "but I really didn't mean to hurt you. I consider you family, Gretel."

"Because I'm a Grimm."

"That, too," he admitted. "But you're also one of the best friends I've ever had."

Gretel bit her lip.

"And no matter how many stupid mistakes I make, I'm not just going to walk away and leave you alone."

A different Gretel, one who'd grown up with her parents and not more or less on the streets with no one except her brother, might have cried. This Gretel didn't cry, but she did accept his apology and get back in the car with him.

"I don't think I should go back to your house," Gretel said as Nick started up the car engine.

"Where do you think you should go?"

"I don't know. The trailer?"

"I didn't let you sleep in the trailer before you were wounded," Nick reminded her. "What makes you think I'd let you now?"

"Nick, I think I need some time away from you," Gretel told him. "And I know Hansel doesn't want to see me right now, so..."

"How much time do you need?"

"I don't know." She swallowed and looked out the window. It was starting to rain. "Enough to figure out what to do."

"If you're thinking of trying to take Hansel and go..."

"No, that's not what I'm thinking. That would be suicide right now." Not to mention impossible. Hansel trusted Ariel -a Daemonfeuer- more than he trusted her at the moment. Gretel strongly doubted she could rely on the brotherly instinct that kept Hansel from killing her in cold blood to protect her if self-defense was involved. And she'd fought her brother enough times to know he had as good a chance as her of winning. Better, actually. Because his new hatred of her, his lack of old memories, made him ruthless. A luxury she didn't have.

Nick nodded.

"Is there anywhere," Gretel pressed, "I could stay for a few days that isn't your house?"

Backing out of the parking lot and onto the road again, Nick took the car out of reverse and said, "Yeah, I think I might know a place."

"How's the vegan sausage?" Monroe asked, leaning forward in his chair and folding his hands on the dinner table.

"It's good," Rosalee said, cutting another piece.

"It's too salty, isn't it?"

"No, it's not, it's great."

"Really? You sure? Because I think I put too much salt this time."

Rosalee shook her head. "Monroe, the sausage is fantastic."

"So, I think it was really great how you helped that Daemonfeuer kid," Monroe told her, after a short pause.

Rosalee put another piece of sausage in her mouth and chewed for a few seconds before swallowing and answering. "I feel sorry for him. He's made some bad choices, but I don't think that makes him a bad guy. There's a lot he's going through with his addiction that..." Her voice trailed off and she stared down at her plate. "That I remember experiencing a lot more vividly than I'd like."

"Well, if he's anything like you," Monroe said, smiling as she looked up, "I think he'll do pretty well in the end."

"Thank you."

"Hey, not to sound off topic or anything, but, after I get the dishes taken care of, you feel like going upstairs and...uh...you know?" Monroe lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Rosalee stood up. "Except for the part about you doing the dishes." She reached over and took his plate, putting it on top of hers. "You cooked, so I get to clean up."

Monroe leaned back in his chair to call after her as she disappeared into the kitchen. "Can I at least help?"

"No, I got it!" she called back.

"But what about, like, you wash, I dry?"

"We have a drying rack!"

"Since when?"

"Since last week; you were with me when I bought it!"

"What?" His brow furrowed. "I don't remember this."

"Of course you do," Rosalee's voice reminded him. "That was the day I went with you to fix that mantelpiece clock with the fat cherubs on it...?"

"Oh, yeah! That's right... Now I remember."

Knock, knock.

"I'll get it!" Monroe got up and went to the front door, swinging it open.

Nick stood there, looking tired.

"Oh, hey, Nick." Monroe smiled awkwardly. "You okay, man?"

"Fine." He shifted from one foot to the other. "I was just wondering if you still have that spare room in your attic?"

"Yeah, of course." Monroe's smile waned, replaced by a worried look. "But, why would you-"

"Not for me." Nick moved out of the light and tilted his head in the direction of Gretel, who was now visible at his side. "For her."