A/N:
So, fair warning, this one is angsty. I apologize now if this makes any of you cry…but if it does then I guess I've accomplished what I set out to do with this chapter.
And much continued thanks for all of the FANTASTIC reviews. Please let me know what you think of this chapter…
Enjoy?
~TheFictionalMe~
Monroe gripped Rosalee tightly to his side the entire ride to the hospital as Hank wildly sped his way through Portland's city streets, lights flashing and siren blaring.
He could feel her shaking slightly against him, and he nuzzled her cheek, beyond grateful that she was safe and in his arms again. He didn't know, didn't want to know, what he'd have done if he'd lost her forever.
But now they might be losing Nick.
All they knew from Juliette's frantic phone call was that Nick was crashing and that they were rushing him back into emergency surgery.
It wasn't looking good.
Monroe swallowed thickly as he buried his face in Rosalee's hair, and she leaned even harder against him, squeezing his knee in reassurance.
"It's going to be ok, Monroe," she whispered quietly to him, her head nestling against his shoulder.
Monroe sighed deeply, wrapping her even tighter against him as he rested his chin on top of her head.
"It has to be."
They burst through the doors of Portland General, and Monroe knew they must have been a sight, covered in blood spattered and ripped wedding attire. Several pairs of questioning eyes followed them as they rushed frantically through the hallways on Hank's heels towards the surgery waiting room.
They found Juliette sitting in a hard plastic chair in the corner, looking completely lost and shaking ever so slightly, still dressed in her bloodied bridesmaid dress. She had her bare feet drawn up on the chair, her arms wrapped around her knees and hugging them tightly to her body. When they burst into the room, she leapt to her feet and ran over to them, falling into Hank's outstretched arms.
"Juliette," he said gently, before pulling back to look at her urgently. "What's going on?"
"When Nick first came out of surgery and he was critical, but stable," she told them, tears welling up in her eyes. "But then his sats started dropping, and they think there's still some internal bleeding," she paused, taking a shaky breath, "and his lung c-collapsed…" She stopped, looking up at the ceiling and blinking desperately. "The doctors are doing everything they can…but they just don't know…"
"Oh Juliette," Rosalee breathed, quickly coming forwards and pulling her into a tight hug.
"Rosalee! Thank God you're alright," Juliette whispered hoarsely, hugging her tightly back.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Rosalee reassured her, pulling back to look sadly at her friend. "Monroe and Hank rescued me."
"And the men who did this?" Juliette asked darkly as she reached a shaking hand up to brush away a tear.
Monroe stepped forward then, pulling her securely against his chest. "They've been taken care of," he said quietly in her ear, and he knew she understood his meaning. They would tell her the rest of what they'd learned later, when Nick's life wasn't hanging precariously in the balance.
Juliette pulled back, nodding slowly at him, her eyes flashing with something unreadable. "Good."
"So," Monroe asked then as his eyes flickered anxiously to the closed swinging doors between them and the surgery unit, "now we just wait for the doctors to tell us something?"
"Yea," Juliette replied quietly, hugging her arms around herself tightly and shivering. "We have to wait…until they come out and tell us…" she dropped off, shaking her head and biting her lower lip.
Hank crossed his arms over his chest and stared forlornly at the OR doors. "We could be waiting a while."
"Well, waiting is going to drive me up the wall," Monroe replied impatiently as he began pacing back and forth in front of the OR doors. He felt his inner wolf raise its head again, and he felt slightly like a caged animal, being helpless to do anything for Nick but wait.
Hank sighed, turning to him. "Why don't you take Rosalee to get that cut taken care of?" he motioned at the sluggishly bleeding wound on the side of Rosalee's head. "Until Nick's doctors come out, we won't know anything."
"No way," Rosalee protested. "The cut isn't that bad. We aren't leaving."
Monroe looked up to meet Hank's and Juliette's questioning gazes. As much as he wanted Rosalee to get checked out as well, he understood exactly why she was refusing. He squeezed Rosalee's hand tightly in his, his heart clenching painfully. "We just can't leave you guys right now. Not after everything that's happened tonight."
"Exactly," Rosalee agreed resolutely. "You guys are our family. We aren't going anywhere."
"Guys," Juliette said softly, stepping closer to them, her eyes wet and shining in the harsh waiting room light. "It's ok." She turned to Rosalee. "Please, see a doctor. You could have a concussion. I can't stand the thought of anyone else being hurt."
Rosalee sighed in defeat, glancing over at Monroe as she dropped his hand to pull Juliette into another bone-crushing hug. "Ok," she agreed softly. "But we'll be right back. I swear."
"And we'll be waiting right here," Hank said firmly, hands on his hips. "Please, go."
"Promise you'll come get us the moment you hear anything," Monroe told them, still reluctant to leave when they didn't even know if Nick would come out of this.
Juliette nodded in understanding. "Promise."
With that, Monroe and Rosalee flagged down a passing nurse, who took one look at Rosalee in her torn wedding dress and Monroe's bloody suit and immediately found them an examining room, conveniently around the corner from the OR unit.
"A doctor will be right with you," the nurse smiled kindly, trying her best not to look taken aback at their appearance and failing.
"Thank you," Rosalee mustered her best smile, and then the nurse quickly stepped out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Monroe sighed wearily, leaning heavily back against the door and pulling out his phone. He had a dozen missed calls and messages from both his parents and Rosalee's family, undoubtedly wondering what had become of them after the wedding. Things had been so hectic after the wedding with trying to find Rosalee that he hadn't even thought to call them or let anyone know what was going on. He sent out a quick group text letting everyone know that they were alright and that they would call soon, further ignoring their replies and sliding his phone back into his pocket. He could only deal with so much in one night.
He looked up as Rosalee wearily took a seat on the examining table, mindlessly fingering the layers of her tattered wedding dress and blinking back tears. Monroe looked at her sadly and walked over, giving her a gentle kiss. "Your dress was beautiful."
She looked up, smiling at him through her tears. "Yea. It was."
"I'll make this up to you. I promise," he told her firmly, moving her hands from where they were tangled in the ripped fabric and interlacing her fingers with his.
"You have nothing to make up for," she reassured him, squeezing his hands. "This was not your fault. It was those monsters who did this to us, and whoever hired them. No one else."
"Still, this happened because someone was after me," Monroe said bitterly, shaking his head and averting her gaze. "I feel I'm due some of the blame here."
Rosalee reached a hand up, gently cupping the side of his face and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "No. Don't Monroe. Don't do this to yourself. This was completely out of your control, you have to realize that."
Monroe placed his head in his hands, trying to get a handle on his emotions and breathing deeply. He felt Rosalee pull him closer to her and wrap an arm supportively around his back. He looked up, feeling overwhelmed and raw, and gently fingered the wound on the side of her head.
"I almost lost you tonight," he began slowly, and she leaned into him, touching their foreheads together. "I don't know what I would have done…if I hadn't gotten you back…" he paused, his throat closing up.
"Hey, hey, I'm ok, we're both ok, Monroe," Rosalee reassured him quietly, rubbing her nose gently against his. "You can't think about the 'what-ifs', or it'll drive you crazy."
"I know, I know," Monroe sighed heavily. "But I can't help it. What if I wouldn't have found you in time? What if Nick hadn't pushed me out of the way?" He paused, choking up slightly, "What if…Nick dies because he saved me?" He stepped away from her and began pacing around the small hospital room, unable to calm his frayed nerves.
"Monroe, he'll be ok," Rosalee said softly, and Monroe paused to look at her with a pained expression.
"We don't know that," he countered, shaking his head and running a hand haphazardly through his hair. He took a deep breath and glanced back over at her. "You saw how bad it was…back at the church…"
"Nick is strong," Rosalee countered, reaching out to grab his hand and pulling him to sit reluctantly on the examining table beside her. "He'll make it. We have to keep believing that."
"And if he doesn't?" Monroe said brokenly, turning to look at her as they sat on the table. "He took a bullet for me, Rosalee. How am I supposed to live with that?"
Rosalee looked back at him sadly as she squeezed his hand again, but she didn't have an answer for him this time. Monroe felt the sting of hot tears that were now burning in the back of the eyes, but they refused to fall, and he briefly wondered what was wrong with him that he couldn't even cry. He just felt numb with the reality of everything that had happened. It was finally crashing down on him, and he felt like he was free falling. Rosalee pulled him tightly against her then, and he buried his head to rest against her shoulder. Monroe held on to her as if she was the only thing anchoring him to the world, and at the moment, it felt like she was. They sat in silence for several moments, arms wrapped tightly around each other, not needing to say anything. There was really nothing left to say.
And that was exactly how the doctor found them when he walked into the room.
The doctor was almost finished patching up Rosalee's cut when Hank called Monroe.
"He's out of surgery."
"We're on our way," Monroe replied quickly, and motioned with his head at Rosalee. Without another word to the doctor, they both leapt up and ran from the room.
They were breathless by the time they reached the room in the ICU that Hank had directed them to. They simultaneously skidded to a stop outside the room, Monroe reaching out to steady Rosalee as she stumbled over the hem of her gown.
Hank was waiting for them outside the room, leaning back against the door frame. Monroe swallowed thickly past the growing lump in his throat, approaching him slowly. "Is he…?"
"Still fighting," Hank grunted as he looked at them. "He's too stubborn to give up now."
He paused, letting out a shaky breath. "You guys can go in. Just…prepare yourselves," he motioned wearily at the door. "I have to call the Captain now, but I'll be right out here."
"What are you going to tell him?" Monroe asked hoarsely as he regarded Hank.
"Nothing about what we know," Hank replied, "but we've got to act normal until we know more. I'll just tell him Nick's status and ask him what to do about..." he trailed off, but they both knew he meant the scene in the abandoned warehouse. Monroe just nodded stiffly in agreement.
"Did you tell Juliette?" Rosalee asked, looking over at Hank.
"Yea, I've filled her in," he replied quietly, "and she agrees that we should wait and see what we can find out before we say anything to Renard. Speaking of," he gestured to his phone, "I've got a call to make."
"Ok," Rosalee told Hank softly, and he nodded tersely at them. They both watched Hank slowly walk away, every step stiff and measured with the weight bearing on all their shoulders. She turned to look up at Monroe. "Are you ready?"
Monroe just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He took a deep breath, and they opened the door to the darkened hospital room and stepped inside.
The harsh overhead lights were dimmed, but the room was still partially lit by the various machines that Nick was hooked up to. He lay pale and motionless on the bed, thick bandages wrapped around his bare chest. There were multiple IV's near the bed, as well as a bag of blood as part of an ongoing transfusion to replace the precious quantity he had lost. The most shocking thing was the ventilator that he was currently hooked up to because he wasn't breathing on his own, and Monroe couldn't tear his eyes away from the machine, knowing it was the only thing currently keeping Nick alive.
Juliette sat in a chair by the head of the bed, clutching Nick's limp hand tightly in hers, even though he wouldn't respond to the touch. She stiffened slightly as they entered, but didn't turn away from Nick. She knew they were there.
Monroe and Rosalee came to stand at her shoulder, and she finally turned to look up at them, looking completely drained and exhausted.
"How is he?" Monroe whispered into the darkness, clutching Rosalee's hand unconsciously with one hand and gripping Juliette's shoulder gently with the other.
Juliette let out a shuddering breath as she leaned into his touch, gripping his hand on her shoulder with hers. "The doctors think that they stopped the internal bleeding and repaired most of the damage to his lung, but he's not breathing on his own, and he lost a lot of blood…" she trailed off, sniffing slightly as she wiped her face on her sleeve. "They still don't know."
Monroe and Rosalee were silent for a moment, absorbing the information as they looked at Nick. Monroe swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from his unmoving form. He looked halfway dead already, and if it wasn't for the ventilator…
"Can we?" Rosalee asked gently, gesturing towards Nick's bed and taking a cautious step closer.
"Of course," Juliette replied quietly, smiling shakily through her tears. "Talk to him. Nick would want to know you guys are here."
Rosalee nodded, dropping Monroe's hand and moving around to the other side of the bed. "Oh Nick," she whispered, reaching over to squeeze his other hand. Monroe paused with baited breath, unable to fight down the false hope that Nick would respond. He continued to lie utterly still, unaware they were all around him and silently begging for him to wake up.
"We all need you, you know," Rosalee told him fiercely, "so you had better come back to us." She leaned down to place a kiss gently on his forehead before pulling back, unsuccessfully blinking back tears. "Thank you. Thank you for saving him," she whispered to Nick's still form before she turned to look up at Monroe gratefully. She gently squeezed Nick's hand one more time and slowly stepped away.
Monroe turned away, unable able to watch, feeling like he was on the edge of breaking. Even though rationally he knew that he hadn't done this to Nick, that this was the fault of whoever wanted him dead, he couldn't help the overwhelming surge of guilt and sadness that washed over him. Nick had saved his life, but it might be at the cost of his own. He let out a shaky breath, unable to make eye contact with Rosalee or Juliette for fear of losing it completely in front of them. There was just no way he was ready to see Nick like this.
Just then, a petite older nurse with slightly graying hair entered the room quietly, coming over to the monitors to check Nick's vitals. She looked sympathetically at them all, laying a hand gently on Juliette's shoulder.
"He's stable right now," she informed her quietly, offering Juliette a warm smile. "That's an encouraging sign."
"Thank you," Juliette replied softly, looking up at her gratefully, but she was unable to force a smile.
"You guys should get some rest," the nurse frowned as she looked them all over carefully. "Running yourselves into the ground isn't going to help him any."
"I'm not leaving," Juliette said firmly, shaking her head and turning back to Nick. "He needs us."
Monroe faced the nurse, regarding her seriously. "I'm sure you hear this all the time, and I don't expect you to understand, but we really can't leave him right now."
He really didn't expect her to understand the overwhelming pack mentality that was currently surging through his veins, going to the very base of his primal instincts. Nick was hurt and needed their protection. Nick was family. Nick was pack.
He wasn't leaving.
"Actually, I do," the nurse shrugged, as she slowly woged to reveal her true Eisbiber form.
"Huh." Monroe hadn't been expecting that. It was abnormally brave for an Eisbiber to be in the same room with a Blutbad, a Fuchsbau, and a Grimm (even an incapacitated one) and not freak out. Monroe had to admit that he was impressed.
"Now," the nurse chastised them gently as she shifted back to human form, "if you won't take my advice, at least let me help you." She left the room briefly and then returned, carrying some hospital-issue baby blue scrubs in her hands. She motioned to Juliette and Rosalee, both still wearing their tattered dresses. "Here girls, put these on. If you're going to stay here all night, at least you should be comfortable."
Juliette hesitated, looking completely taken aback by her kindness. "I don't know. I don't want to leave him…"
"Thank you," Rosalee interrupted, stepping forward and gratefully accepting the scrubs. She was desperate to change out of her destroyed wedding gown that just constantly reminded her of the failed wedding. She turned to Juliette. "Come on," she urged her gently. "Let's get out of these dresses."
Juliette shook her head firmly, looking back at Nick. "No. I don't want to leave him alone."
"He won't be alone," Rosalee reassured her, squeezing her hand. She turned to look at Monroe. "Monroe will stay with him until we get back."
"I don't know," Monroe interrupted, his heartbeat rising in panic as he had an unreasonable reaction to letting Rosalee out of his sight.
"Monroe," Rosalee laid a hand gently on his arm, knowing exactly why he was afraid, "we'll only be gone for a few minutes." She glanced briefly down at Nick. "Talk to him. He might hear you."
Monroe sighed, reluctantly agreeing with her. "Ok. But if you guys aren't back in a few minutes…"
"We will be," Rosalee said firmly, tugging on Juliette's arm and half-dragging her away from the bed.
Juliette paused as they walked by Monroe, and reached out to grab his hand, her eyes meeting his. "Take care of him for me."
"I will," Monroe bravely held her gaze, and then they left the room, leaving him alone with Nick.
He paused, shoving his hands uncomfortably in his pockets as he moved closer to the bed. He sighed as he looked down at Nick's motionless form, before dropping unceremoniously into the now vacant chair by the bed. Now that he was alone with Nick, the only noise to keep him company was the sound of the ventilator slowly pushing air into his lungs. The gentle rhythm echoed deafeningly in the quiet room.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh.
Monroe sighed again, trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic hospital chair, but found it to be an impossible feat. No matter what he did, every position was just as uncomfortable as the last.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh.
He glared irritably at the machine as it continued the steady noise, unable to block it from his mind. But as much as the sounds of the ventilator were grating on his nerves, Monroe was silently grateful for one thing: It meant that Nick was still alive. There was still hope.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh.
Running a hand roughly over his face as he leaned forward in the chair closer to Nick's bed, he looked at the utterly still figure before him. He let out an audible growl, barely able to suppress the wolf within at the sight of his friend lying so unresponsive and still in the bed, only breathing with the help of a machine.
Monroe propped his elbows on the edge of the bed by Nick and buried his face in his hands, finally letting his guard down now that he was alone.
That bullet had been meant for him.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep Whoosh.
Monroe kept replaying the scenario at the wedding over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out what they could have done differently, how he could have stopped Nick (yea right), how they might have seen the gunman first or even known that Pastor Johnson was in on it, and how he desperately wished that it was him instead in that hospital bed with a bullet in his chest. Nick didn't deserve this, and he didn't deserve for Nick to save him.
It was so unfair.
Monroe could still hear the gunshot echoing clearly in his ears. It was a sound he wouldn't soon forget.
Nor would he forget Nick bleeding out at the church as his blood seeped through his hands, or a gun being held to Rosalee as she was dragged helplessly away from him.
Those images were burned into his memory forever.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep Whoosh.
And now Nick might die, and he still felt responsible, no matter what Rosalee said. The guilt was weighing down on him, literally crushing him, and he couldn't breathe. Another low growl, more wolf than human, escaped from his throat, and Monroe sank his head deeper into his hands.
"It's not your fault, you know," a deep voice said behind him, and Monroe sat up instantly, chagrined that he had been so distracted he hadn't even heard someone enter the room.
He scoffed, turning his eyes back to the bed. "Don't try to make me feel better, Hank. It won't work."
Hank was in the doorway now, returning from his phone call to the Captain. He came further into the room, stopping beside him to look down at Nick.
"Stop beating yourself up about this," Hank continued quietly, as both men gazed down at their fallen friend. When Monroe looked up to protest, Hank raised a hand to stop him. "And don't tell me you're not because I know that you are. But believe it or not, I think Nick knew what he was doing."
"Yea, being a chivalrous idiot, as usual," Monroe muttered, before letting out a long sigh and looking sadly back at Nick. "That should be me, Hank. Not him. Me."
"No," Hank shook his head quickly, clapping a big hand on his shoulder in support. "Don't think like that. That's not going to help Nick, and it's not going to help you. No one blames you, man."
Monroe nodded silently, but didn't bother to reply. Deep down he knew that, he really did, but he couldn't help it. He felt accountable for Nick getting shot, when he was clearly the intended target.
"How is he?" Hank said after a few moments of silence passed between them.
Monroe shrugged helplessly. "The same, I guess. I don't know."
Hank nodded, putting a hand to his face in deep thought. "Nick will pull through. He always does."
Monroe looked up at Hank again and the two men made eye contact. Monroe wanted with every ounce of his being to believe what Hank was saying, but he wasn't even sure that Hank believed it himself.
"How's Rosalee?" Hank asked gently, turning back to look at Nick. "I saw her and Juliette in the hallway, looked like they were going to change or something."
"Yea they are. She's okay, physically," Monroe answered slowly, clenching his fists unconsciously. "And she's trying to keep it together, to be strong for me, but…" he trailed off, clenching his jaw and forcing his canines not to elongate in the middle of the hospital room. Rosalee had had her dream wedding ruined by two madmen with guns, shooting at her future husband and hitting one of her closest friends, and then was subsequently held at gun point and taken hostage. Yet, she was still being the supportive one for him. He continued to be amazed by her.
"She is strong," Hank added with a note of admiration. "She was great back there, in the church, with everything..."
"Yea, she was," Monroe nodded proudly. There was no doubt about that.
And he had almost lost her. It was too much to bear.
"And Juliette," Hank added quietly, "How was she when I left?"
Monroe slowly shook his head, letting out a deep breath. "She's tough. Damn tough to be able to handle our world and still stick around. But she's scared for Nick…I mean, we all are," Monroe gestured ruefully at Nick's motionless form on the bed. He paused, running a hand over his face before looking back at Hank dejectedly. "I just, I don't know. All I can think is that she will end up secretly hating me for this happening to Nick. I can't say that I would blame her for that."
Monroe swallowed hard past the growing lump that formed in his throat. It was so difficult to look in Juliette's pained but hopeful eyes, knowing that Nick might die, and all because he had tried to save him. "Hell, I blame me. Nick shouldn't be here."
Hank offered him a small smile. "Seriously Monroe, stop blaming yourself. I know she doesn't, and she wouldn't. That's not Juliette. And you are her friend, and she needs you right now. She needs all of us right now, especially if…" Hank stopped short, unable to finish his sentence. He cleared his throat, gaze settling back on Nick. "Nick would want us to watch out for her."
Monroe nodded in resolutely in agreement. "I know. That's the least I can do. He saved my life."
Hank snorted. "He's your friend, Monroe. Did you really expect anything different?"
Monroe gave Hank a pained but knowing smile, shaking his head. "No, not really."
For as long as he had known Nick, he had always put others first, usually before himself, because that's just who Nick was. Unfortunately, Nick also didn't usually consider all the consequences when someone he cared about was in danger, and he might not walk away from it this time.
Hank nodded, patting Monroe's shoulder again before heading for the door. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to the precinct for a bit and deal with…everything. Can you guys stay until I get back?"
"Of course," Monroe agreed quickly. "We aren't going anywhere."
"Ok," Hank replied gratefully, looking sadly down at Nick. "We're going to find out who did this, one way or another."
He looked back up to meet Monroe's gaze. "The Captain doesn't seem to suspect that we know Johnson said anything, far as I can tell." He paused, running a hand roughly down his face. "God, I wish Nick would just wake up so we could ask him how he wants us to handle this."
"You and me both," Monroe replied quietly. Hank tipped his head at him in agreement, starting to move away when he suddenly stopped, backtracking his way to Monroe.
"Oh," his eyes widened, "I almost forgot." Hank reached into his pocket to pull out a small plastic bag. He sighed, before hesitantly handing the plastic bag over to Monroe. "The nurse gave these to us when Nick came out of surgery. They were in the pocket of his suit jacket."
Monroe froze as he examined the contents inside the bag and realized with a sinking heart what they were. Inside the bag were his and Rosalee's wedding rings, which Nick, as his best man, had been charged with safe-keeping during the wedding.
They were now stained a deep shade of red with Nick's blood.
Hank didn't miss the horrified look on his face and quickly apologized. "Sorry, with everything that's been going on, I didn't have a chance to wash them off."
"No, no, it's ok," Monroe shook his head, looking somberly back at Hank. "I'll take care of it." He slowly slid the bag with the blood-stained rings into his pocket, trying not to focus on how they got that way.
"Alright," Hank shifted uncomfortably, looking down at Monroe and sighing. "Sorry man, I've really got to get down there."
"Yea, no problem," Monroe reassured him, trying to plaster on a believable smile, but he knew Hank could see right through it. "We'll be here."
"Ok," Hank nodded, before he stepped forwards to look at Nick, frowning as he came closer to the bed. "And you had better keep fighting, Nick. I mean it. No quitting on us now," he whispered fiercely, before firmly squeezing Nick's shoulder and turning back to Monroe. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Just hang in there, man. And make sure that Nick does the same."
Monroe turned in his chair to meet Hank's solemn gaze. "I will."
Hank gave him a wry smile. "Good." Then he was gone, and Monroe was alone with Nick once again.
Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh.
Monroe leaned forward, staring at the face of the unconscious Grimm for a long moment, and silently berating himself for wishful thinking that Nick might suddenly wake up.
"Dude," he breathed, shaking his head sadly, "what did you do to yourself?"
There was no response from Nick, not even a twitch or a spike in heart rate, but Monroe really didn't expect there to be. It made him even more determined.
"C'mon man, you have to wake up. Enough lying around already, don't ya think?" he pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back at Nick again seriously.
"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, Nick. And if you die for taking a damn bullet for me, which was incredibly stupid by the way, then I will never forgive you." He paused, blinking past the sudden tears blurring his vision before continuing. He didn't even try to stop himself when he instinctively reached out to grasp Nick's clammy hand tightly in his own. "I'll never forgive myself."
Monroe stopped, taking a deep breath as he bowed his head in guilt and shame. "Damn it," he muttered through his tears as they finally came, blinking them back uselessly.
"You know, before you came crashing into my house and accused me of a crime I didn't commit, I led a peaceful life, a quiet life. And I liked it. But then there you were, baby Grimm on his own with no one to guide him, and somehow I became that person for you," Monroe scoffed through his tears, shaking his head in disbelief at the memory. He squeezed Nick's hand again before he continued. "And you wake me up in the middle of the night for help on cases more times than I care to remember right now, or expect me to go to the trailer with you at a moment's notice. In fact, before I met you, my life wasn't in danger on a regular basis. It was actually pretty normal. Well, as normal as life for a reformed Wesen can be, anyhow. Until you came along, my life was easy, predictable even," he shook his head ruefully before continuing.
"But I'll tell you what, at this point, I'll just forget about that gift basket." Monroe attempted to laugh, but it came out more like a broken sniffle. He stared blankly at Nick as the tears finally escaped and started streaming freely down his face. He was barely aware of them and made no move to brush them away.
"Being friends with you has quite literally turned my life upside down. And you know what? I wouldn't change a thing."
It was true. Nick had changed his life, and had made it indisputably better, had given him a purpose again. And then he had met Rosalee because of Nick, and Monroe would always be eternally grateful to him for that.
Somewhere in the back corner of his mind, the thought popped up of how ridiculous an image it would be to see a Blutbad crying over a Grimm and holding his hand, and he couldn't help but smile through his tears. His smile quickly dissipated as he leaned closer to Nick, hoping somewhat foolishly that maybe Nick could really hear him.
"Nick," Monroe breathed, trying to steady his voice, "y-you're the closest friend I've ever had. I mean, hell, you're not just family, you're pack. And I don't throw that word around lightly, you know that. Man, I'll even admit it here…I need you in my life." He paused again as his voice cracked, and he tried desperately to regain his failing composure. "We all do. So please, please come back. You have to pull through this."
He crumpled then, burying his face helplessly in his folded arms on the edge of the bed as he pleaded for a miracle.
"Nick, you just, you can't die…you just can't…"
TBC