Chapter 13: Breaking Hansel

"Go ahead, try it on if you want," Rosalee told Gretel, noticing her eying a red sweater Monroe was adding to the laundry pile.

The sweater was not really Gretel's style (not nearly enough leather or secret pockets for her taste), but it wasn't as girly as the clothes she'd borrowed from Juliette that time she'd gone to a party with her and Nick. And, more importantly, it looked comfortable, and -much as she wanted to deny it- Gretel seriously needed some comfort.

Even if it was from something as simple as a baggy knitted sweater.

She couldn't help but think, as she -after slipping upstairs to her attic room- pulled the sweater over her head, letting the warmth of it settle on her body (completely bare except for her bra), that there was good reason she'd stuck to leather and lace and never indulged herself like this before.

Leather pants and lace-up bodices were clingy, they stuck to your body so that a Wesen couldn't grasp your clothes in a fight and use that against you. With a sweater like this, a Hexenbiest could probably snag you by one perfectly manicured fingernail and strangle you with the yarn while she unraveled it.

No, this would have never done growing up. Not with the life Gretel had always lived.

She didn't even feel right wearing something like this now; it felt too much like letting her guard down, leaving herself open. But she reminded herself she was in a house owned by a Blutbad who would probably literally rip out a ribcage before he let someone hurt a friend of Nick's. So right now as safe as she would ever be to enjoy something like this. The feel of wool. The pleasure of its softness.

God, how often, only a few measly years ago, had she wondered what it would be like to be a teenager in a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt, baby-blanket colored woolen throw around her shoulders, steaming hot cup of cocoa in her hands, watching MTV without worrying that something was sneaking up behind her?

She'd never had the chance for that -always too busy fighting for her life and for a living- and now she was too old for MTV or silly cartoon character themed clothes. She was a grown up now, more interested in coffee and booze than anything as unstimulating as hot cocoa. She'd always needed to be wired to survive, and now she wondered if she had to be on guard constantly -even when there wasn't any danger- just to feel like she was herself.

If comfort wasn't comfortable to her...

Maybe her hands would never -no matter the circumstances- feel truly relaxed when they weren't clutching a weapon or at least positioned with her fingers in general range of one.

Gretel unbraided her hair, shook it out, and let it fall around her shoulders. From the (half-hidden by wool) hips down, she looked like her usual self, from the waist up, she might have been a different person entirely.

Who was this person? Hair loose, baggy borrowed sweater...

Shaking her head again, Gretel re-braided her hair, and tied a small knot in the side of the sweater to make it fit tighter. A compromise. Between herself and the unreachable comfort she needed.

She fingered the knot, hanging just below her stitches where Hansel had stabbed her, pensively.

Sometimes Gretel wondered what she'd be like if she was a normal person. Not a half-Hexenbiest. Or even -though she considered this less often because it was such an enormous part of her identity, and it would be easier to think about life without a right arm- a Grimm.

If they were just regular people, she'd still have her brother. Hansel wouldn't hate her. Memory loss or not, he'd probably welcome the idea of a sister, so long as she wasn't a monster. It would take him a while to warm up to her, but his instincts, the same ones that kept him from cutting off her head now, would take care of that.

But as long as she was visibly part Hexenbiest and his memory continued to fail him, he'd keep hating and distrusting her.

Interestingly, her problems with Nick were exactly the opposite. It was being something more than Kehrseite that brought them together and made them friends.

Being ordinary, in another life, wouldn't have made things between them different. He'd still have found Juliette first, and -without a reason to- he and Gretel probably would have never met and become friends.

Or, if they had, he'd have just thought she was some random homeless woman, looking for throwaways.

No, if she and Hansel weren't what they were, their parents would have never left them. Thanks to Renard, she knew that now.

So she'd have had no reason to ever come to Portland or live on the streets.

She and Nick definitely would have never met.

And she wouldn't have feelings she didn't want for him now. Feelings she couldn't face up to, because they were already hurting her, even as she kept repressing them. Nick had probably told Juliette Gretel wanted to give Hansel some space and that's why he hadn't brought her home; but that wasn't true. Gretel could deal with the pain her twin's current mood put her through. He didn't want to see her? Well, eff him. He'd have to deal; she was staying at Nick and Juliette's house first.

The real reason was living with Nick just made a hard situation harder.

Especially after what happened.

Add Hansel to that mix and you'd literally have Gretel's idea of a living hell.

So for right now, it was better to just stay here. Safe in Monroe's house, trying on a sweater, thinking over things that didn't bear thinking about, waiting to be called down to dinner.

"Good work on the Snowlight case," Captain Renard said, passing Nick and Hank's desks on the way to his office. "So I take it you've heard about the change of plans with our fundraiser?"

Nick and Hank exchanged a puzzled glance.

"No," said Nick, turning his attention away from Hank and to his boss. "What's up?"

"Well, the firemen of Portland have booked a black-and-white masked ball, to raise money for the children of the firefighters who died in that forest fire last year, on the same night." Sean Renard raised his eyebrows. "Same place."

"So... We're off the hook?" Hank looked hopeful. "No karaoke?"

The captain shook his head. "Somebody messed up and we don't have the money to get a different venue. Long story short, the two events have been lumped into one. So I'd stop at a costume shop at some point in the next week and pick up something to wear if I were you."

Carl Fieri came over carrying a cardboard holder with four steaming cups of coffee. He set one down next to Nick, then reached over to hand another to Hank.

"Are one of those coffees for me?" Renard asked.

Carl nodded. "The one on the left." He gestured at the last one with his chin. "That right there's Sergeant Wu's hot herbal tea with cinnamon."

The Captain took his coffee and, hesitating for a moment, woged quickly.

Though he did inhale sharply, Carl didn't drop Wu's tea or even tremble. He just woged in return, revealing his Daemonfeuer face.

Renard's own face went back to normal and he nodded, approvingly. "I think you're going to fit in around here just fine, Carl."

Carl retracted his own woge, not fully letting out that deep breath he'd taken until Renard disappeared into his office. "Jesus!" he muttered.

"It's official," Hank said, chuckling lightly, "you're part of the team now."

"What team?" Sergeant Wu suddenly appeared at his elbow, dropping off a paper on his desk.

"Uh... The team of hard working policemen and detectives at this precinct," Nick came up with quickly. "I believe you've met our new intern?"

"I've got your tea," Carl told him.

Drew Wu took the hot styrofoam cup in his hands and sniffed it lightly. "I like this kid," he decided, walking away.

Carl did his best not to smile. Not that it was easy. It had been too long since he'd fit in anywhere, and it seemed -now that acceptance had finally come, from such an unexpected source- all these years he'd been looking in the wrong places.

He wondered what his cousin Ariel would think about him working with the Grimm. Somehow, he got the idea she'd be pretty pleased with the whole arrangement.

A horrified scream rang through the house and Nick was caught between the habitual desire to jump up, gun drawn, and his true longing to just roll over, pressing a pillow to his ear.

"Nick..." moaned Juliette. "I think it's Hansel again."

Oh, of course it was! The guy had more nightmares than a freaking war veteran. The problem was that last time they'd gotten up to see what was wrong, Hansel denied ever screaming in his sleep and looked at them like they were out of their minds.

"Your turn," Nick tried.

Under the covers, Juliette kicked his leg. "Nick!"

"I don't see why I have to get up and run to his side in the first place," Nick mumbled. "He's not a baby."

But he was the brother of one of his best friends... And, even if Hansel wouldn't admit it, he was scared to death. No one who screamed like that was really okay. They couldn't be. No way in hell would someone who wasn't afraid cry out like that.

And, more than once, it had been Gretel's name that was screamed.

In his sleep, Hansel remembered.

Maybe Nick just had some stupid hope that one time he'd wake him up so fast his brain wouldn't have time to forget and he'd recall everything about Gretel being his twin.

Besides, if he didn't wake Hansel up, he'd just keep screaming. It wasn't like they could sleep through that...

"Hansel," Nick called into the guest room, tying a bathrobe around himself. "Hansel, it's Nick. You're screaming again."

"Gretel..."

Juliette appeared at his side.

"What are you doing here?" Nick whispered.

"Well, I'm up now." Juliette shrugged, rolling her eyes. "He's still shouting."

"Gretel!"

Juliette nudged past Nick, into the room. "Hansel, wake up." She shook their guest's shoulder. "Come on."

"Ah!" Hansel jumped up, grabbing Juliette's wrist and squeezing.

Nick jumped forward, ready to spring at him.

Hansel's eyes shot open. He noticed Juliette, cracked a half-smile, and grunted, "Just couldn't stay away, could you?"

"Let go of me," Juliette growled.

"Some people can't take a joke." Hansel rolled his eyes and released her wrist.

"Are you all right?" Nick was looking anxiously at his girlfriend's wrist, examining it for bruises. It was a little red, but it wasn't damaged; there was no darkening skin, no tears from Hansel's ragged nails. Which was good. Since Nick really didn't want to have to kill Gretel's brother. Something like that could put a big damper on a friendship.

"I'm fine," Juliette said. "But this is getting ridiculous. He screams Gretel's name every single night while we're trying to sleep, and yet he expects us to believe he has no memory of her."

"Juliette-" Nick tried, starting to shake his head.

"No, Nick, I'm sick and tried of this," Juliette snapped. She glared at Hansel. "Look, there is obviously something wrong with you. No one's debating that. But I think you remember a hell of a lot more than you let on, and that's why you act the way you do." Her eyes narrowed. "And the real reason you don't want Gretel here."

"Please." Hansel started stretching his arms over his head nonchalantly. "I don't want to see her because she's a Hexenbiest." He sniffed and let out a low groan. "Burn 'em all."

"You're crazy," Juliette mumbled, throwing up her hands. "I'm going back to bed. Nick, are you coming?"

"Yeah, in just a minute." Nick couldn't help wondering if there was some truth to Juliette's idea that Hansel's memory loss was not as total in regards to Gretel as he was leading them to believe. "You really have started remembering her. Isn't that right, Hansel?"

"Yeah...uh... Everything that happened, you know, before yesterday, is a little foggy..." Hansel stopped stretching and pulled the covers back over his lap. "You know what I'm saying? I don't... I don't really concern myself with the past." He turned and pumped up a pillow before plopping his head down on it. "Can't change it."

Nick started to turn away. There was no point to this. He might as well just go back to the bedroom with Juliette and pray that Hansel didn't fall into another nightmare and start screaming his head off for the sister he so vehemently denied.

Then an idea popped into his head. It probably wasn't a good one. It wasn't right to use the information he planned to use to goad Hansel into acceptance like this.

All the more so since it was something Gretel had told him in confidence.

But if it worked... If it snapped him out of this funk...

Hansel might even forgive him.

Would Gretel, though?

Well, he'd soon find out. Nick took a deep breath and watched Hansel peeking at him through half-closed eyes as he pretended to be falling back asleep. "So, was Mina a Wesen?"

Hansel's eyes shot open, his whole expression tightening. "How the hell do you know about Mina?"

"How do you?" Nick challenged. "You were with her when you were a teenager. I thought you said everything before yesterday was foggy."

"You son of a bitch," muttered Hansel, getting up and walking over to the window.

"What kind of Wesen was she, Hansel?" he pushed.

"Stop."

"This is my house. I'll stop when I feel like it."

"Bastard."

"Was she a Daemonfeuer? Like Ariel?"

Hansel didn't answer.

Juliette had stopped in the doorway, no longer heading back for their room, watching all this with a mixture of confusion and fascination.

"Oh, I get it," Nick went on, "she was something a little more gross. Lebensauger?"

Hansel clenched his jaw.

Nick couldn't see it, but he had the feeling a vein somewhere in the Grimm's forehead was throbbing. "A Grimm and a Lebensauger... Wow, you really will go for any woman with a pulse, won't you?"

Hansel spun around. "She was a Hexenbiest, you imbecile!"

That surprised Nick; he hadn't seen that coming, though it did explain a lot. Hansel's 'hatred' for Gretel wasn't really hatred at all. It had nothing to do with her.

Clearly his memories of this Mina girl had come back before his memories of Gretel. Something bad must have happened to her, something that hardened him even more than he'd already been. If Nick had to guess, he'd say yet another Hexenbiest was responsible. It was a defense tactic for more than his childhood trauma; it was a protection against letting himself believe there could be a good Hexenbiest in the world, then losing them at the hands of a bad one.

If he killed Gretel before he fully remembered, before he loved her again, a Hexenbiest couldn't take her from him.

Sure it was twisted logic, but the guy's whole mind was twisted. Hansel had been pushed over the edge.

And Nick was planning on pushing it even further. Even with the surprise confession, he could still redirect this. He could still break Hansel to save him.

Hopefully, it would also reunite him with his sister.

After what he'd done to Gretel, messing with her emotions -even though he hadn't meant to, hadn't known how she felt- Nick figured he owed her this. Even if she hated him forever for it. Because this was what real friends did for each other.

"Out of curiosity, Hansel, do you remember seeing your sister after you spent some time with Mina?"

"I don't have a sister."

"She didn't look..." Nick paused, faking thoughtfulness. "Battered? Like someone had tried to hurt her? Maybe a little disheveled?"

Hansel pressed his hand to his forehead like he was having an aneurysm. "She wouldn't tell me," he murmured. "She wouldn't tell me what happened."

"Nothing much." Nick struggled to keep any emotion out of his voice. "Some idiots just tried to rape her."

"Nobody touches her!" Hansel's whole body was shaking. "I'll kill the effing bastards!"

Now Nick could let a little emotion through. "It's all right," he said gently, "Edward got most of them."

Hansel's eyes met his. It was like seeing a dam breaking. The memories he couldn't repress anymore started cracking through to his expression. For one split-second, Nick actually thought he saw the person Gretel knew and had tried to tell him about -the real Hansel- before he went from cracking to outright crumbling.

He pressed against the wall, sliding down until his bottom reached the floor. Then, curled up in a ball, this great, strong Grimm started crying like a lost little boy. His sobs sent his whole body into what almost looked like a seizure.

"God, Nick," whispered Juliette, coming back into the room. "I think you broke him."

Nick wasn't proud of it, but it wasn't like there had been a whole lot of other options. "I had to, Juliette." He looked at the man on the floor with his face buried in his arms, his knees to his heaving chest. "It was the only way to bring him back."

Gretel was asleep with her hands tucked under her head, the look on her face almost peaceful for once, when the car pulled up in front of Monroe's house.

It wasn't the noise that woke her so much as the sensation that something lost was being returned. She jolted up, as if from a sudden and sharply ending dream, with this wonderful feeling. Sort of like she imagined normal kids felt during summer holidays or Christmas...

Her mind kept telling her she was wrong, but her heart knew she wasn't. He was here. Not just his body, but his mind. Her brother, her twin, her Hansel...

As she all but flew down the stairs, she kept trying to stop herself from this rise to obvious disappointment. This was a dream; this wasn't real.

Still, it was obviously really Monroe standing there with the door open, asking Nick if he knew what time it was and telling him he was crazy to 'bring him here'.

And behind Nick (and Juliette, who Gretel barely noticed was there to begin with) was Hansel.

Jumping down the last step, gently nudging past Rosalee's attempt to hold her back for her own safety, Gretel found herself at Monroe's side, gaping at her brother.

She tried to say, "Hansel," but no sound came out, only a strangled, uncharacteristic whimper.

Finally, putting her last few fears to rest, Hansel looked at her -at her, not through her- and said, very simply, "Hi."

Gretel smiled brokenly at him. "Hi," she whispered back.

With that, Nick stepped aside, and the two siblings threw themselves into each others' arms. There was no hesitation. No fear, no mistrust. It was only a brother and sister who loved each other deeply, who were all each other had left, finally reuniting.

"Gretel," groaned Hansel, holding on tight. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

"It's all right." She felt him stroking her hair, her back, reassuringly, just like he used to when she was a little girl, usually right after a nightmare. She felt his fingers drift to her stitches, feeling them guiltily. "I'm okay," she reassured him. "I'm okay."

Monroe had to clear his throat to keep from getting choked up. Nick bit his lower lip. Rosalee forced a tight smile and blinked rapidly. Even Juliette was having a hard time keeping her eyes dry through this.

As they pulled apart, Hansel still clung to his sister's hand, squeezing so tight that if it weren't for her callouses from fighting it would have hurt.

And nothing in the world could have made him let go.