"It's hard to wake up from a nightmare if you aren't even asleep…" -J.S.
…..
Pain lit up his body as something sharp collided with his left knee. He screamed loudly, begging and pleading with the fuzzy images in front of him to stop. He bit his bottom lip and felt blood drip from his chin. He tried moving but it was no use, the blurry images in front of him had a strong hold on him. Something snapped and he felt the tape on his wrists beginning to break, and wondered if he would be able to make it out in time… before… before…
He heard someone scream his name and peered through the darkness trying to find the source. It was a girl. That much he could tell. Something sliced through his shoulder and he bit back another scream as tears slide down his face. Someone was pushing his head down now, trying to force him to move, trying to…
Light flickered across the room for a moment, and he gasped loudly. He could see her. He could see the girl; she was standing in the corner clutching her bear tightly to her chest. Blood splattered across her pink dress, dripping down her small face. She was crying. Was she hurt? Had they hurt her instead of him this time? Had they-
Water. Water gushed up his nose and into his lungs. He couldn't see; it was too dark. But he could hear. He could hear them. Laughing. Someone thrusted his head up and he took in a huge breath. The girl screamed again, and Nick said something, hoping to get the monsters attention. Someone let go of his hair and Nick smacked into something hard, blinking water from his eyes. He heard metal colliding with concrete and then he heard her…
Nick shivered as he pulled his jacket closer, letting his mind wander as he walked through the dark playground next to his school. The branches groaned loudly as the wind howled around him, sending leaves flying freely through the air. A crescent moon hung in the sky eerily, hiding behind gray clouds, casting horrific shadows on the ground below Nick's feet. Nick kicked at some rocks that were littered across the playground, smirking slightly as they connected with the metal slide a few inches away.
He shivered again, pausing briefly to tie one of the laces on his shoe, glancing towards the direction of the Chemistry building and letting out a sigh. A twig snapped behind him causing Nick to tense, grasping at the flashlight buried in his pocket. He took a deep breath before turning around to the empty lot behind him. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up and chills run down his spine. Something's out there. Nick bit his lip as the monster from earlier crossed his mind. No, I'm just tired. There isn't a monster. There isn't a monster. He turned back toward the building a few yards in front of him, listening to the nightlife around him. He pulled the flashlight from his pocket, and pressed the button several times before it came on with a soft spark. The dim light that illuminated from the shitty flashlight clasped in his hand, did little to brighten the path ahead of him. Another crunch sounded behind him and Nick gripped the small light tighter in his hand. You're going crazy. Crazy kid! Sick Kid! The monster's going to eat you! The monster's going to get you! Poor little pathetic Grimm… you don't even know what you are do you?
Nick shook his head as his flashlight flickered, "Shut up…" he said softly.
"Who are you talking to?" Someone asked.
Nick let out a loud yelp, turning on his feet towards the voice, dropping his flashlight, his light flickered again and Nick sucked in a breath, "Hank! What the fuck are you doing here!"
Hank stood a few feet away, shrugging, "Look, I might be bad at picking lab partners, but I can spot a lie when I see one. Besides I figured you would show up here eventually… it's always like a criminal to show up to the scene of his crime."
Nick shook his head, yanking his flashlight from the gravel, and turned back towards the building a few yards in front of him, "I didn't do this Hank." Yes you did! You did! You did! Stupid Grimm! Images flashed across Nick's mind…
…Nick stood in the middle of the room, water dripping from his hair, running down his face as blood coated his clothes. He watched in terror as the small girl coward in the corner, screaming for someone to help her, to save her, to take her away from the monster. His fingers ached and Nick looked down to see blood and dirt covering them like children's paint. He felt his knees buckle as his world collided with the harsh ground beneath him, and smoke filled the air…
"Whatever you have to tell yourself," Hank muttered, kicking at some of the loose gravel beneath his shoe. Nick blinked, clearing his mind, muttering something incoherent under his breath. He really didn't need this right now. He was here to look for more evidence, and having Hank here was just going to slow him down. Nick came to a stop in front of the building, letting the light hang loosely in his hand, listening to Hank whistle beside him.
Wooden posts stood half-scorched and naked, leaning against melted lockers and abandoned plastic chairs; loose police tape danced freely in the wind and the smell of smoke still lingered in the air. Nick stepped closer, tripping over his laces, toppling to the ground as he sucked in a harsh breath. Despite having come here several times during the past two weeks, he still felt chills run down his spine at the sight of the abandoned building, questions racing through his mind. Did he do this? Was he capable of doing this? What actually happened that night?
His hands meshed with the warm dirt and Nick glanced up again, watching as the second story stood, barely supported by wobbly posts at the end of the wooden building. From the outside, the building looked small and crippled, despite once being two stories tall. It groaned loudly as the wind tore through one of the busted windows, blowing leaves, and pieces of scorched paper from one of the slanted lab desks. Nick's arms burned as memories flooded back to him, and he closed his eyes trying to work out every detail. He could still feel the fire burning against his skin, still feel it biting at the palms of his hands, and he could still hear the screams echoed through the halls. He let out a loud sigh, opening his eyes, pushing himself from the ground dizzily, and started walking towards the still standing entrance.
Nick turned, shining his flashlight in Hank's face, "Go home Hank."
Hank shook his head, catching up to Nick's pace, "There is no way in hell I'm going home. I've been out here for 3 hours. Besides, I can't have blood on my hands if you plan on burning down the History building next."
"Fuck you," Nick spat, turning back towards the crumpling building. His flashlight flicked off for a second as Nick wedged through the entrance, hearing the building moan in protest as Nick touched one of the wooden posts.
"No- look- sorry… Besides, if we get caught, you'll look less guilty if I'm here… and we can say we're working on our science project or something." Hank said, stepping forward. He paused briefly in the doorway, eyeing one of the unstable posts that leaned defeatedly against a pile of scrap metal.
Nick sighed, "I really don't need a babysitter Hank."
"You sure about that?" Nick turned to face Hank who looked down at the gauze still wound around one of his arms. He shot Hank a menacing glare before sighing again, "Fine… did you bring a flashlight?"
Hank laughed loudly, pulling a flashlight from his jacket pocket before zipping it up as the wind raged past them, "Dude, what do I look like? An amateur?"
Nick shook his head and turned his attention back towards a glass cabinet in one of the dark classrooms. The glass of the cabinet had busted open, along with several small beakers and jars with what Nick could only assume was some type of chemical. The door to the classroom was blown off the hinges, lying several feet from the opening. Nick shivered…
…He heard creaks and groans around him as the old building was beginning to give. Something fell to his right, and Nick glanced down the hall to see a door burst open, flames gushing out…
Nick kicked at some of the wooden ash, pushing a piece of wood away from the doorway, and pulling the caution tape from the metal hinges on one of the classrooms. His flashlight flickered again and Nick cursed as the half-standing building faded to black momentarily. Hank reached for another cabinet, opening the door carefully as some of the glass fell from the frame.
"So, do you know who they were?" Hank asked quietly.
Nick smacked his flashlight against his hand as Hank flipped his on, "What?"
"The boy and girl, Nick. Do you know who they were?"
Nick sucked in a sharp breath…
…the boy pushed the knife towards Nick's chest and Nick could feel the sharp tip digging its way into his burning body. "Stay away from me and Sarah," the boy growled… The girl's name was Sarah…
Nick shuttered, "If I knew who they were, I would be referring to them as Jack and Jill, not boy and girl, Hank. Besides, how do you know about that?"
Hank snorted, climbing over some of the rubble, wiping his hands on his jacket, "Everyone knows about it. You're the talk of the school Nick… hell, maybe even the town."
Nick groaned. He should have known his conversation with the precinct therapist would get out eventually. There was a loud noise behind him, followed by something falling. Hank cursed loudly before muttering a soft "sorry." Nick groaned again, "be more careful Hank, we don't want to wake-"
He cut off midsentence as his light grazed over something sticking out from under one of the wooden planks littering the ground. What the hell is that? It hadn't been there the other night. You're losing your mind Nick.
Nick felt another chill run down his spine, and pushed past wooden posts, scrapping his hands against the blackened metal protruding through the wood, as he made his way over towards the small object buried beneath the splintered scraps. He dropped his flashlight next to him and started digging his fingers in the ground, trying to scrape away the hardened dirt and ash that swallowed the foreign object. His breathing hitched as he yanked it from the ground, and Nick grasped the object in his hand, running his fingers across the sharp edges, tracing the letters engraved in the metal. It was a small knife, well it looked like a knife… but it wasn't the one the boy had held. This one was different, ancient and dull. Rust had begun to cover the pointed teeth, and part of the wooden handle was splintered off, burned and broken. Nick ran his hand over the letters again, trying to find hidden meaning behind words he didn't understand. Grimm.
He let out a shaky breath, and looked up towards the woods in front of him. The wall that had once shielded the wooded area from the classrooms view, laid a crumpling mess, strewn across the grass around it. Nick stood, peering in the black distance, gripping the flashlight tightly in his trembling hand as his vision focused to readjust to the trees a few yards in front of him. He heard Hank next to him, asking about the knife clutched in his hand, and shook his head, not really aware if that was a correct response to the question he was asked. The hair on his arms stood up and Nick shivered, pulling his jacket closer, willing his feet to move towards the thing that had captured his attention. His blood froze in his veins and his stomach turned to a block of ice as Nick closed the distance between himself and the shady forest. He felt his hand sliding the knife in his pocket, and stood at the edge of the forest, listening to the foreign sounds of creatures he couldn't place.
The moon disappeared behind a passing cloud and Nick sucked in a breath, his heart racing, pumping blood through his veins at a deadly pace. His light flickered again before letting out a small pop, turning off completely. Nick froze as his vision readjusted and he stared into the forest before him. Wind whipped around him, causing the zipper on his jacket to smack against his stomach harshly, and Nick felt chills run down his spine. Behind him he heard Hank yelling his name, and heard him curse, dropping something, which Nick could only assume was his flashlight.
He heard rustling in front of him, twigs snapping, branches breaking as the thing that had drawn him towards the woody abyss began to move. Nick swallowed loudly, trying to stop his hands from shaking, as he peered through the mass of trees and brisk darkness, at the two red eyes staring back at him. He heard the creature laugh roughly before letting out a loud howl that caused Hank to scream. Nick flinched and watched as the eyes began to disappear deeper into the black forest. Was it the monster from his nightmares? Nick took a deep breath, letting the dead flashlight slip from his grasp before he sprinted blindingly into the shady woods.
Trees swirled past him in a multitude of grays and blacks, clawing at his face and skin as he ran madly past them, trying his best to keep up with the red eyes running away from him. Woody pines tore at his shirt and jacket, ripping the old fabric from his body, digging their pointy fingers under his skin, breaking free from their captor. Nick bit back a wince as his face collided with a branch, and Nick ran faster, his eyes searching for the creature as the red eyes disappeared from his vision.
He came to an abrupt halt, tripping over something, falling face first, his face and hands meshing against something wet, his fingers grinding into watery dirt. Water flooded his mouth for a second as he hit the ground with a loud splash, and Nick sucked in a breath, breathing in dirty water as it washed over his head. He let out a surprised yelp and scrambled to his feet, spinning around, trying to peer through the trees, trying to figure out where he was. Water soaked through his clothes and shoes, into his socks, and Nick glanced down, seeing the clear water shimmering in the dull moonlight that wafted through the naked trees. He was standing in a shallow river, water rushing past his knees, soaking the bottom of his pants. Nick shivered as he pulled himself from the river, pulling his soaked jacket closer to him as he trudged towards the direction he came.
Owls hooted loudly from one of the murky trees, and Nick cursed as the wind hit him full force, drying the water from his face and causing the already cold wet clothes to cling to his body. He stopped for a second, listening to the silent forest. He shivered again, his teeth beginning to chatter as he realized he couldn't hear Hank yelling for him anymore. He couldn't hear Hank. He couldn't see the building. He didn't know where he was. Shit. Stupid kid!
Something snapped behind him, and Nick spun around, trying to peer through the darkness, trying to find the source. "Hank?" He asked quietly, shoving his hands in his pocket, his hand grasping the splintered handle of the knife he had found earlier. Nick swallowed, stepping back slightly as two red eyes peered through the dimly lit forest. His back collided roughly with one of the trees behind him as the creature stepped forward. Nick sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as moonlight flooded through the trees and the monster stepped forward revealing a distorted wolf-like face, one that haunted Nick's mind every night.
Nick pressed his hands against the bark of the tree, the knife in his pocket momentarily forgotten, as he continued to stare at the creature a few inches from his face. This isn't real. This isn't real. You're going crazy. You're having a psychotic break. This isn't real! Clouds washed overhead again as the moon's light vanished from the forest, leaving Nick to stare at the glowing red eyes fixated on him.
"I should have known. I should have known what you were, but you- you're covered in that Blutbod's scent- and that- that Fuchsbau's," The monster growled harshly, spitting at the ground, causing Nick to jump slightly, "odor!" Nick shut his eyes as leaves and twigs cracked under the creature's foot as it moved closer. You're imagining this. You're going crazy. You're going crazy! Crazy!
Something collided with Nick's knee and he dropped to the ground with a loud cry as something sharp tore at his side. Light flooded the forest floor again and Nick stilled, prying his eyes open, listening for any sign of movement, waiting. Something brushed against his ear, causing the hair to stand up on the back of Nick's neck, and a chill ran down his spine as hot breath touched his cheek.
"You stink. You reek of that Blutbod's scent. It covers you… I should kill you, Grimm."
Nick shivered, the wind around him tearing at the loose fabric covering his body. He grit his teeth, digging his hands into the soft dirt below him, feeling bugs crawling over the exposed flesh. What's a Blutbod? What's a Grimm?
"I-I don't know what you're talking about. I-" Nick whispered, looking up to see the red eyes again, peering down at him. He peered through the pale moonlight, looking around the forest, hoping he'd see something familiar, something to see Hank.
"YES YOU DO!" The creature yelled, and Nick looked back down, digging his hands further into the leafy dirt, feeling something bite at his fingers. He bit his lip, trying to push himself off the ground, feeling the creature's foot slam against his back. Nick coughed as all the air escaped from his lungs and tried reaching for the knife in his pocket, finding his arms uncooperative and hard to move. He didn't want to die. He wasn't going crazy!
"I should kill you…" The creature growled. The moon disappeared behind the clouds again as the trees groaned loudly at the vicious wind whipping around them.
….
Nick laid there, facing the sky, letting the wind blow over him and running his hands through the leaves that littered the ground. He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd been lying there, but judging by the fact that he could no longer feel his fingers or nose, he guessed it'd been a while. He blinked a few times, staring at the stars that littered the night sky and pulled his jacket closer, trying to warm his stiff body. His shirt felt damp against his chest, and Nick wondered slightly if his clothes were still wet, or he was just too cold to feel it.
Something moved to his right, and light outlined the trees surrounding him. Nick blinked a few more times, listening to the footsteps getting closer, listening to the crunch of dry leaves. Nick turned to see a shadowy figure walking closer towards him, and grasped at the knife in his pocket.
"Nick?"
Nick released his grasp on the knife and pushed himself into a sitting position as Hank's light rested on him. A small smile toyed with his lips as his vision readjusted to see the familiar face standing just a few feet from him. Nick nodded, before letting out a shaky breath, "Yeah?"
Hank stopped, shining his light through the dark trees before turning back towards Nick, "What are you doing out here? On the ground? You know, I've been looking for you for hours…"
"Oh," Nick said, pushing himself off the ground, wiping the mud from his hands with his jeans, shivering as the air hit him full force. I should kill you…
"Are you- Are you okay?" Hank asked slowly, shining the light in Nick's face, causing him to wince. Nick squinted, his eyes trying to readjust to the bright light as Hank's eyes washed over him.
"I'm fine Hank. Look, let's just go back, alright?" Nick pushed his hands in his pocket, touching the knife with his fingers, letting them trace over the foreign word etched into the burned wood. He pushed past Hank, his shoulder connecting with Hank's harshly, causing him to stumble slightly. I should kill you… for what you are…
Nick yawned loudly as exhaustion washed over him. He ran a hand through his hair, walking toward the direction Hank had come, hoping that it was the right way. His body ached and he felt tired… more tired than he'd ever felt. The cold feeling had returned and all Nick wanted to do was crawl into a warm bed, hopefully catching a few hours of sleep before he had to wake up.
"Nick…" Hank started.
"I'm not crazy Hank," Nick said, feeling his body tense as he waited for the next question, "I'm not crazy. I know I didn't do myself any favors by running off, or disappearing in the woods but I'm not-"
"No, look," Hank said, flicking the light in Nick's face before shining it towards a metal object in the distance, "what do you suppose is in there?"
Nick followed his gaze. Through the dim light, a metal trailer stood, abandoned and rusted, forgotten in the middle of an overgrown forest. Confusion etched across Nick's face, his mind reeling with freshly formed questions, and he took a step towards it before something grabbed his arm, yanking him back.
"What in the hell are you doing here Nicholas!" Someone yelled. Nick groaned loudly as another light was shone in his face for the thousandth time tonight, and he bit his bottom lip, trying to peer past the florescent light, trying to see the expression on Renard's face. Nick jerked his arm away and stumbled into Hank behind him.
"You know this guy Nick?" Hank asked quietly, shining his light at Renard.
Nick nodded, "Yes… he's technically my boss. Hank, Renard. Renard, Hank." Nick made an awkward gesture between them that was supposed to resemble an introduction. He bit his lip, biting back another yawn. He swallowed loudly, turning to give Renard a sheepish smile.
"Nicholas, I asked what you were doing here?" Renard said again, his light flashing between the two teenagers standing before him. He took note of the dirt that covered Nick's face and clothes, along with the ash that had stained the bandages on his wrist, as well as Hank's clothing.
"We're working on a Chemistry experiment," Hank said softly, flicking his light between Nick and Renard.
"Uh-huh," Renard nodded, "Let's pretend for a second that that isn't what I think it is, and what's happening here, isn't happening."
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked, running a hand through his hair. He pushed his hands once more in his pocket, forcing the knife down, hoping it wasn't visible in the pale moonlight.
"I received an anonymous call from one of the neighbors across the street saying the arsonist was back," Renard said, motioning for the teenagers to start walking. He smacked his hand against Nick's shoulder harshly as the teenager kicked at some dry leaves, pulling it back a moment later, "Why are your clothes wet, Nick?"
Nick tensed, and continued walking, biting his tongue. He had no idea how to answer that question. I should kill you… for what you are, for what you'll become…
Hank yawned loudly as they reached the edge of the woods, clicking his flashlight off, "Well… it's been a long night-"
"Let me make something very clear to the both of you," Renard warned, pressing his hand once more to Nick's shoulder, "If I catch you here again, I won't let you off with a warning. Do you understand me?"
Both Nick and Hank nodded quickly. Nick stretched loudly, wincing slightly as the bruises on his ribs rubbed against the harsh damp fabric of his shirt. If you catch us, Nick thought.
Red and blue flashed in the distance and Nick could see Renard's car parked a few feet from the Chemistry building. You're in so much trouble. He pulled his jacket tighter to his body, shivering as he realized the thin piece of wet fabric wouldn't be able to help him against the violent wind. Hank slammed against his shoulder and Nick turned to face him, "I only live down the street and I rode my bike here, so I'm going to take off. You going to be alright?"
Nick glanced in Renard's direction before nodding. Was he going to be alright? No. No, he wasn't going to be alright.
"He'll be fine Hank," Renard said sternly, "I'll drive him home."
Nick bit his lip again. Yep, he was in so. Much. Trouble. I should kill you… for what you are, for what you'll become… but I won't….
….
Nick sat at his desk, pretending to skim over the Chemistry textbook sitting in his lap, listening to the argument downstairs. A chill ran down his spine as Monroe's voice echoed off the stairs and Nick turned towards the opened door. He was supposed to be asleep but after sitting at the top of the stairs for an hour, listening to the trio talking downstairs, he found it difficult to sleep- instead he figured he would catch up on some much-needed studying.
He heard Monroe sigh, and he placed the textbook on the desk gently, creeping towards the door, stopping softly when the floorboard creaked loudly.
"I- I just, we can't keep doing this Sean," Monroe said softly.
"Monroe, honey, what do you suppose we do? We can't send him back-" Rosalee started.
Nick winced sliding down until his right side was pressed against the doorframe. He looked down and started picking at a few splinters from his left hand. He hadn't noticed them until he was in the back of Renard's car, mulling over what he was planning on using as an excuse for being brought home at 4am in the back of a police car…
Nick kicked at some of the rocks that were scattered across the paved pathway towards Monroe's front door. The wind around him had picked up, and some rain had begun to fall overhead, littering the ground with fat wet drops. Most of the drive had been a daze, mainly because Renard hadn't said a word, and Nick sat silent in the backseat fighting to keep his eyes open as the night's event played over again in his head.
Nick sighed loudly, pulling his damp jacket closer as Renard rang the doorbell once more, cursing under his breath. He turned slightly to eye Nick, standing a few feet away, kicking some rocks gently with the tip of his shoe. He smirked, turning back towards the door and knocked loudly. Despite knocking and ringing the bell several times, the couple failed to answer. Renard sighed again, running a hand through his hair, wondering what to do if neither Monroe or Rosalee answered, when the door opened gently.
"Sean?" Monroe yawned, running a hand over his face, "What are you doing here? It's 4am." Confusion had etched across Monroe's face before Renard yanked Nick in front of him harshly. The teenager stood sheepishly, giving a small wave before glancing once more at his dirty sneakers. He bit his lip and winced as he heard Monroe sigh, "really?"
"That's not what I meant," Monroe sighed. Nick could hear something heavy slam against the table and jumped, nearly falling down the stairs in surprise. He stood on shaky legs, listening to a soft "sorry" from Renard.
"Sean, Nick needs professional help, or something. He got into another fight today, and if he gets suspended again, the principle said he'll be expelled. I don't think Rosalee and I can help him if he doesn't get the help he needs…" Monroe paused, and Nick could feel tears welling in his eyes. He wasn't crazy. Was there something wrong with him? Maybe. But he wasn't crazy. They're going to send you away… just like your last family… just like the Johnsons. You deserve to be locked up, after what you did to them…
Nick closed the door softly, pressing his head against the cool thin wood. He closed his eyes, letting out a few steady breaths. His whole body was shaking but whether it was from exhaustion or the thought of being abandoned again, Nick didn't know. He didn't want to leave. Monroe and Rosalee were actually normal, they made him feel normal… for once. It was nice here. He sighed loudly, and swallowed, scrubbing at the tears that threatened to spill from their tired rims.
"Have you seen his sketchbook Sean?" Rosalee asked. Nick forced his eyes open, flinging his head in the direction of his bookbag. His sketchbook! Had he picked it up earlier? Nick pushed himself away from the door, and stumbled towards his bag, dropping to his knees harshly as his hands tore through the old bag. He threw books haphazardly from the bag, wincing as they landed with another loud thump. Papers landed in a crumpled mess besides his bed, and Nick found his hands shaking even harder as his thoughts raced violently.
Where was it? Where was it? You picked it up, right? You picked it up, right stupid kid? You stupid GRIMM! Nick turned the bag upside down, shaking it violently, watching as pens and pencils rushed out of it, rolling across the floor chaotically. No. No. No! NO! It wasn't here! Nick ran his hands over the mess of binders and books, still searching, still hoping. He grasped the bent Chemistry notebook in his hands, crushing the fragile loose-leaf paper in his hands. You lost it. Now everyone will know. Everyone will know what you see!
Nick felt tears rushing down his face as pent up anger bubbled to the surface. He grit his teeth, and looked down at the damaged notebook in his hands. He gripped it again, flinging it across the room, watching it collide with an old photograph hanging on the wall, before crashing to the ground, torn pages flying from the ugly book. He leaned his head against the bed, running a hand through his hair and stared at the wooden ceiling above him as tears slid silently down his face.
He wanted to scream. Hell, he wanted to break something. If anything, he wanted to break himself. I should kill you… for what you are, for what you'll become… but I won't… because something worse will come for you one day.
…
One of the clocks on the wall dinged loudly and Renard directed his attention towards it. It was 5:00am now. His shift ended an hour ago, and all he wanted to do was sleep. The rain outside was beginning to beat down harder, and Renard wondered if he'd left the windows open earlier. He sighed loudly, running a tired hand through his hair and turned back towards Monroe who stood, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed loosely across his chest. Rosalee sat at the table next to Renard, a cup of tea clutched in her hands.
"Monroe, honey, what do you suppose we do? We can't send him back," Rosalee said softly. Monroe nodded gently, "That's- that's not what I meant…"
Renard stood up slowly, reaching for his cap, knocking over his abandoned cup of coffee in the process. He jumped slightly, watching the brown liquid spill slowly across the table lazily, and cleared his throat, "Sorry." He reached for some of the napkins Rosalee held out for him, stifling a yawn. He'd spent the whole night at the precinct going over some of the evidence from the fire, and trying to identify the Reaper currently residing in Portland, when he received a call from an elderly couple across the street from the school. He had no doubt in his mind that it was Nick, after all the kid had been rather jumpy when questioned about returning to the scene.
He leaned back in his chair again, tuning in whatever Monroe had been saying, and folded his arms loosely across his chest. Rosalee grasped again at the teacup in her hands, the green liquid sat cold and abandoned, and she bit her lip, glancing up slightly. She leaned forward softly, "Have you seen his sketchbook Sean?"
Renard cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes dancing between Monroe and Rosalee, confusion masking his tired features. He shook his head, rubbing his hands together.
"It's filled with these drawings," Rosalee paused for a second as something crashed upstairs. All three glanced toward the ceiling as Monroe sighed. Renard yawned again, forcing his tired body to stand, and ran a hand through his hair, "Monroe, Rosalee… about Nick…"
Monroe walked over, taking a seat next to Rosalee, placing his cardigan over her shoulders and took a sip from his tea. Renard glanced at the clock again as the question of whether he was going to get some sleep before his shift in the next few hours weighed heavy in his mind. He glanced back towards the couple in front of him and took a seat once more, deciding it was better they knew rather than getting some much-needed sleep. Renard still wasn't a hundred percent sure the kid was a Grimm considering he hadn't seen anyone woge in front of the kid, but with all the weird things happening in Portland right now, he wasn't a hundred percent sure about anything anymore. He had to admit the kid was beyond weird, and he wanted to keep his hunch to himself until he had further proof or reason to involve Monroe or Rosalee… but now… especially if a Reaper was in town…
He sighed loudly, clearing his throat again and looked up toward the ceiling, "… about Nick… I think we need to talk…"