A/N:
Wow. Just wow. Thank you SO much for all the reviews/faves/follows! I'll be honest, I wasn't planning on updating quite this soon, but your reviews kicked me into action! And even to you lurkers (yes I know you're there, I used to be one too), thanks for taking the time to check out this story. I appreciate you all!
For those of you who said I was "in character"-that's just awesomesauce. I think the most important thing (and the hardest thing) to do in fanfic is to stay in character, so thanks so much for boosting my confidence! You'll have to let me know how I did with Renard when he eventually pops up, he was the hardest one for me to write.
Also, I'm NOT a slash writer (NO offense to those who read/write it), it's just not my thing. I'm a canon-compliant kind of girl, and one of the 5% of people who actually like Nick/Juliette.
And although I LOVED all of your reviews, etc., I just have to shout out at MoondustWolf whose comment "ALL THE AWARDS" seriously had me laughing out loud. Why thank you! *takes bow*
Ok, on to the good stuff. Watch out for some blood, swearing, and some hurt and ANGST in this chapter. As well as another cliffhanger…hang on!
~TheFictionalMe~
Monroe landed on the bottom steps of the altar with a hard thud, momentarily stunned with the force and unexpected shock of his fall. He was barely cognizant of a gunshot echoing painfully off the stone church walls, followed by the screams of multiple guests as they scrambled from their seats and ran for their lives. There was a heavy weight on top of him, crushing his chest, but he shifted and the weight rolled off, allowing him to suck a deep breath into his lungs again.
He lay sprawled out on his back, and the world was spinning above him with the impact of his landing. Maybe I have a concussion…great, he thought, as he closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. Or…maybe I've been shot, he began panicking internally as he finally processed that someone had just shot at him, at his wedding. He tensed, waiting for the sharp burn of a bullet hole to register somewhere in his body…but there was none.
He was finally brought back to his senses by Rosalee frantically screaming his name from where she was being held back by Deetta behind the cover of the large ceremonial table at the top of the altar. Juliette lay sprawled out behind them, looking momentarily stunned, her bouquet strewn in pieces across the top of the steps. It seemed that Deetta had knocked her over in her haste to get to Rosalee.
It was absolute chaos in the church, guests screaming and pushing each other over and fleeing out the main doors of the church. His parents and Rosalee's mother were caught somewhere in the frantic crowd no doubt, and Hank and Pastor Johnson were strangely nowhere to be seen. But all Monroe could hear over the mass pandemonium was Rosalee calling out to him.
"Monroe!" Rosalee screamed again, and the absolute panic in her voice caused Monroe to sit up slowly, holding his aching head. Even with a possible concussion and some definite bruises, he amazingly felt fine, despite some unknown gunman's best attempt. He turned to reassure her, and that was when he finally caught sight of his shirt and realized why she was so afraid.
The front of his once starch white shirt and vest were now covered in bright red blood. At this realization, the thick, coppery smell hit him full force, and he struggled vainly not to wolf out at the scent.
Taking a shaky breath, Monroe reached up with an unsteady hand to probe his chest and abdomen carefully, fearing that maybe he was still in shock and that the pain of the gunshot wound wasn't yet registering to his brain.
Upon further exploration, Monroe found that he was still ok, no bullet holes to be found, and he exhaled deeply in relief. "I'm ok!" he called over to where Rosalee was still struggling to break free of her sister's protective grasp. "The blood isn't…mine…" He paused at the sudden sinking realization of what that meant.
Monroe immediately twisted to his other side to see Nick face down at the bottom of the steps beside him.
He wasn't moving.
"Oh God," he breathed, scrambling to his knees and moving closer to him. "Nick?" he nudged him gently.
Getting no response, Monroe slowly rolled the Grimm on to his back. Nick's eyes were closed and his face deathly pale, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. But Monroe's attention was instantly drawn to a hole through the left lapel of Nick's suit jacket, smaller than a penny, with an impressive amount of blood already blossoming from behind it. It stained the front of Nick's dress shirt and vest an ugly shade of red, pooling slowly down on to the floor beside them and soaking into Monroe's pant leg.
"Jesus…" Monroe murmured in horror, staring at the alarming amount of blood, before finally looking up at Nick's face. "Nick? Nick! Can you hear me?" he shook him gently at first, then more urgently a second time, desperate to get any kind of response. "C'mon man, wake up! Nick!"
For as pale and as utterly still as he was, Monroe was truly afraid for a long painful moment that he was dead. With shaking fingers, he reached up press against Nick's throat, searching for a pulse and fearing that he wouldn't find one. He almost fainted with relief when he felt the faint thrumming against his fingers. Weak and thready but still there. Still alive.
He wheeled around to look back at Rosalee again, not paying any heed to the chaos still continuing in the church as the guests fled for safety. "Nick's been hit!"
"Oh my God!" Juliette cried out, snapping to her senses and realizing what had happened. She flew down the stairs, losing one of her heels carelessly behind her, and landed with a hard thud on her knees at Nick's other side. "Nick! Nick! Open your eyes!" she begged him, cupping his face and turning it towards her. Nick continued to lie utterly still, the shallow rise and fall of his chest and his weakly beating pulse the only indication he was still with them at all.
"We need to put pressure on the wound," Rosalee said authoritatively, suddenly at Monroe's side, pulling up the layers of her wedding gown and kneeling down next to them on the steps. "Juliette, help me pull his shirt back."
Juliette nodded silently, worrying her lower lip, and moved to quickly undo the buttons on Nick's dress shirt, her fingers slipping on the slick blood. As she worked, Monroe turned to Rosalee. "Are you ok?" he asked her with concern, his eyes frantically scanning her up and down for signs of any injuries.
She nodded quickly in response, reaching out to grab his arm, her eyes full of worry. "Are you?"
Monroe smiled grimly at her. "Yea…can't say the same for Nick though."
Rosalee frowned, leaning forward and closely examining the wound on his chest. "He's bleeding too much. I need your jacket."
Monroe nodded, hastily ripping off his suit jacket and balling it up. He hesitated, meeting Juliette's anxious gaze across from him, before placing the jacket over the wound. He took a deep breath, pressing down firmly in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. As he pushed down, Nick groaned audibly in pain, his eyelids slowly fluttering and causing them to all lean over him in apprehension.
"Nick, can you hear me?" Juliette asked, running a hand tenderly down the side of his face as she blinked back tears that she refused to let fall. He groaned again as Monroe pushed down even harder, trying not to stare at the blood steadily seeping through his jacket and coating his hands at an alarming rate. Nick began writhing beneath his hands, trying to get away from the pain, but Monroe was unrelenting. Rosalee leaned over to hold down his shoulders so that he couldn't move away, heedless to the fact that Nick's blood was now soaking into the edge of her once-white dress. Juliette leaned over, whispering calming words into his ear and squeezing his limp hand between hers.
"Sorry, sorry…" Monroe murmured apologetically, refusing to let up on the pressure. The bleeding didn't seem to be slowing down at all, and Monroe wondered if he was even helping. Nick coughed weakly, finally opening his eyes all of the way.
"Nick?" Juliette asked again gently, running a hand across his clammy forehead.
"J'liette?" Nick choked out as his unsteady gaze focused on her face.
"Hey," she smiled sadly, relief evident in her voice that he was awake. "I'm here. We're all here."
Monroe let out a deep breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, immensely grateful that Nick had regained consciousness. "Hey man, you back with us?"
Nick's eyes rolled around dazedly, as if he was trying to locate the sound of Monroe's voice. "…yea," he coughed again. He grimaced, closing his eyes for a moment and Monroe noted with concern that it took an exceeding amount of effort for him to open them again. Nick swallowed convulsively before he was able to continue, each word strained and breathy. "…wh't….happ'n'd…"
"Nick," Juliette's voice was shaky but calm, "you've been shot…but you're going to be fine. We're going to get help." She looked up, taking her eyes off of Nick briefly to scan around the room. "Where's Hank?"
Monroe shook his head, and Rosalee shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."
"He took off towards the balcony," Deetta answered as she finally joined them, standing on the steps behind Rosalee. "I think he was going after the gunman."
"Nick needs a hospital now," Juliette bit out in worry and frustration. Since they were all in their wedding attire, none of them had their phones except for Hank, who had insisted on keeping his in the pocket of his suit jacket. "Somebody call 911!" she called out, looking around desperately for someone who could help. The church was nearly empty now, the guests retreating for cover outside the church.
"I already did," Alice suddenly answered, slowly approaching them with Monroe's dad behind her. "They're on the way."
"Thank you," Monroe looked up at his parents briefly, hoping they could read the sincerity in his eyes. He knew how they felt about Nick and his subsequent friendship with him, so the fact that they were willing to help to save his life spoke volumes.
Bart nodded stiffly, looking uncomfortable as he regarded Monroe. "Are you alright?"
"Me?" Monroe scoffed, looking back down at Nick's bloodied chest and frowning. "I'm fine."
"Who would try to shoot you at your wedding?" Alice shook her head in disbelief, and Monroe could only shrug at her. Truthfully, he had no idea who had tried to kill him or why.
Alice sighed, blinking back tears. "I don't understand it. I'm just glad you're ok."
"Well, not everyone approves of a Blutbad marrying a Fuchsbau and being friends with a Grimm," Bart replied quietly, shrugging his shoulders. "Bound to piss someone off."
"Bart!" Alice scolded him, slapping his arm gently.
"What?" Bart looked back at her, and Monroe just shook his head at his parents, ignoring them to turn back to Nick.
"Well, I can't say that I agree…anymore," Bart continued reluctantly. "Monroe is alive, thanks to Nick."
"Monroe," Deetta added with a tone of wonderment and disbelief, "the Grimm took a bullet for you. He saved your life."
Monroe froze as that sudden realization hit him like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Someone had tried to kill him, and nearly had, for reasons still unknown, (although maybe his dad had a point), at his wedding…and Nick had saved his life.
Nick had taken a bullet meant for him, and now he might die because he was an utterly brave and heroic idiot.
Monroe swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in his throat, fighting back the unwelcome burning sensation welling up in his eyes.
"Yea…he did…" Monroe began slowly, pausing when his voice began to crack. He opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it, trying to find the words to express what he wanted to say, but found that for once he couldn't. He was saved from having to respond when Hank finally joined them, looking angry and out of breath.
"The perp tried to get away, but I surprised him in the back stairwell. He didn't stand a chance," Hank grinned, raising his fist triumphantly. "He's gonna be out for a while…" he paused as he came closer to the group, smile quickly dissipating as he sucked in a deep breath of realization that they were all gathered around Nick. "Oh shit…was Nick hit?"
Rosalee nodded sadly, looking over at Hank. "He was shot in the chest… he's still alive, but he needs medical treatment now."
"Damn it," Hank swore as he pushed his way past Deetta and knelt down next to Nick's head, his face masked in concern and fear. "Nick! Hey, Nick, you hear me? Talk to me…"
Nick's unsteady gaze slowly found Hank's face, and it seemed like ages before he was able to respond, his face twisted in utter pain and concentration.
"…I'm 'ere…" he ground out slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open and failing miserably.
"Good," Hank breathed, grateful to see his partner awake for the time being, "let's keep it that way, ok?" He quickly took off his own suit jacket, rolling it up and creating a makeshift pillow, sliding it underneath Nick's head.
Nick didn't respond, as he sucked in a deep breath that was painful to hear. It was too wet and shallow, sounding increasingly worse with each inhalation. Rosalee glanced over in worry at Monroe. He could sense her eyes on him but couldn't bring himself to look over at her, his eyes strangely fixated on the unsteady rise and fall of Nick's chest. He fought down an irrational fear that if he looked away, Nick would cease breathing altogether.
Hank hastily pulled out his phone, about to call 911, when Juliette stopped him. "Monroe's mom already did. They're on the way." She quickly turned her attention back to Nick, unable to tear her gaze away from his face.
Hank nodded stiffly, before standing back up. "Then where the hell are they?"
"I'm sure they're coming as fast as they can," Alice tried to reassure the detective, but he just sighed, brushing her off.
"Well, he doesn't have that much time," Hank said seriously, hands on his hips as he regarded his fallen partner. "He's bleeding out, and there isn't a damn thing we can do."
"All we can do is try to stop the bleeding and keep him awake," Rosalee replied quietly. "The longer he stays conscious, the better."
Hank sighed, nodding in agreement as he pulled out his phone again. "I've got to call the Captain." He looked seriously at the group before he stepped away. "Make sure…"
"…That he stays alive, got it," Monroe huffed, hoping the sarcasm covered up how scared he really was. It didn't.
Hank paused for a moment, before deciding not to respond to the jibe and stepping away to call Renard and inform him of the situation. Monroe sighed, shaking his head and looking apologetically at Juliette and Rosalee. "Sorry. I'm just…"
"Yea, me too," Juliette reassured him quietly. "It's ok."
"We're all scared," Rosalee added, "But we can't give up. Just keep pressure on it." Monroe nodded, making sure to keep the pressure on Nick's chest steady and even.
Deetta cleared her throat, interrupting the group. "Rosalee, I saw Mom get dragged outside by Uncle Bernie when the gun went off. I'm going to go check on her and let her know we're fine, ok?"
"Sure, go," Rosalee curtly gave her assent, and Deetta promptly moved down the stairs and down the aisle towards the main entrance of the church, where the rest of the wedding guests had taken cover.
"Mom, Dad," Monroe looked up urgently at his parents as a thought struck him. "Can you check with the rest of the guests and see if there's a doctor here?"
"Sure son," Bart nodded, and Monroe shot him a grateful look. Bart and Alice quickly took off after Deetta in the direction of the guests milling outside.
Just then, Nick made a pained noise in the back of his throat, his whole body shuddering slightly and drawing their attention back to his prone form.
"Nick, look at me," Juliette told him firmly, trying to keep his eyes focused on her as he fought vainly to keep them open. "You're going to be ok. You have to hang on, just a little bit longer."
"Yea man, you just gotta stay with us, ok?" Monroe added, amazed at how steady he was able to keep his voice. If his hands weren't currently pressed down on Nick's chest, trying to keep him alive, he was certain they would be shaking uncontrollably. "Just stay awake."
Nick blinked slowly as he looked up at him, and Monroe tried to ignore how glassed-over his eyes were. "'m try'ng…" he mumbled tiredly, struggling with his tenuous hold on consciousness.
He coughed again wetly, accompanied by an ever increasing wheezing sound as he struggled to breathe. Monroe's eyes widened when he saw blood now evident in Nick's mouth, staining his teeth and slowly coating his colorless lips with an ugly pinkish-red color.
"Monroe." Monroe's eyes shot up to meet Rosalee's worried ones next to him.
"Oh no…that means the bullet punctured a lung…" Juliette breathed, her panicked gaze meeting both Monroe's and Rosalee's over Nick.
Monroe shot a questioning look back to Rosalee. She looked at them both, regarding them seriously. "He could literally drown to death on his own blood. We're running out of time." Even though she was trying to seem outwardly calm, Monroe didn't miss the clear undertones of what she was saying.
Nick needed medical attention fast or he was going to die, right there on the altar steps at their almost-wedding.
"Captain's on his way," Hank told them as he stepped back to the group. He stopped next to Juliette, frowning as he looked down. "How's Nick?"
"The bullet punctured a lung," Rosalee said urgently as she looked up at him, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know.
"What do we do?" Hank asked, as he began pacing frantically back and forth behind Juliette. He paused, running a hand haggardly over his face. "We can't just let him die!"
"We're doing everything we can but…without the proper medical equipment…" For the first time, Rosalee faltered, biting her lower lip and looking unsure as she met Monroe's concerned gaze, and his heart froze at the tears in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she looked back down at Nick, running a hand gently through his hair. "I don't know."
"No," Juliette whispered in disbelief, leaning down until her face was inches from Nick's. "Nick, stay with us. You have to stay with us, ok?" Her tone was desperate now, drawing Monroe's attention back down to his friend. "Please, please…"
Nick coughed once again, frothy pink liquid bubbling out from behind his teeth and leaking slowly down one corner of his mouth. The light in his eyes was slowly dimming as he lost the battle with consciousness. His eyelids were slowly drooping closed again, although he was desperately fighting against it. Monroe could read the look clearly in his pain-filled eyes, and it felt like ice through his veins. They were losing him.
"I-I'm…s'rry…" Nick breathed, wet and throaty around the blood rapidly pooling in his mouth. His gaze slowly flickered to Juliette. "…l've…you…" His eyes slipped shut.
"Nick, no! Please!" Juliette pleaded, trying to force Nick to stay with them. Monroe's heart sank as he realized that Nick was dying right in front of them. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life.
"C'mon man, don't do this!" he was barely aware it was his own voice that was now begging, refusing to let Nick go. He pushed down even harder on the bullet wound, determined to keep him alive, but it elicited no response this time. "Nick!"
"Damn it Nick, hang on!" Hank demanded angrily as he knelt back down by his partner's head, shaking him roughly. "C'mon, you can't quit now!"
But Nick didn't move, didn't stir, didn't respond at all.
"How touching," a new voice suddenly spoke from behind Monroe and Rosalee, startling them all. They had all been so focused on Nick that they hadn't even realized someone was still in the church with them.
They all turned to see Pastor Johnson, who had conveniently disappeared when the shooting had begun, now standing at the top of the stairs. He grinned, but it wasn't a happy smile. He slowly reached underneath the layers of his robe, and Monroe's heart stopped when the pastor pulled out a handgun.
Pastor Johnson woged, showing his true Klaustriech form. "It's just a shame you won't be getting out of here alive," he snarled, as he raised the gun and aimed.
TBC...