A/N:

Well I hope you are all recovered from that last chapter, sorry for making some of you shed tears (and in HipsterMaybe's case, your husband too!). But really, I take it as a compliment that I was able to achieve the angst level I was aiming for, so THANK YOU for the reviews! I loved them all.

This chapter was the toughest one for me to write so far, and I really hope all the parts come together and make sense with the thickening plot. Let me know either way! It's been great to hear what some of you are speculating…time to find out if you're right!

~TheFictionalMe

"Hank's right you know," Rosalee looped her arm through Monroe's as they headed out through the main entrance of the hospital. "You really need to get some sleep."

Monroe glanced back at her, his face clearly lined with fatigue. "And you really expect me to get some sleep with all of this going on?"

Rosalee shook her head sadly, looking a little defeated. "No, not really. But you need to try to rest at least."

Hank had all but manhandled Monroe out of Nick's hospital room, noting how Monroe had been there nonstop and that he clearly needed to take a break before he keeled over from pure exhaustion. But Monroe knew that getting any sleep was going to be next to useless.

It had been three days. Three days and still no change. Nick's doctors assured them continuously that he was improving, even though he hadn't woken up yet and he was still on the ventilator, fighting for his life.

Monroe knew what the doctors really meant was that they were amazed that Nick was even still alive. Monroe figured that it must have something to do with Nick's Grimm heritage that he still was.

As they stepped out through the sliding glass doors, Monroe paused, taking a deep breath of the cool night air as he tried to relax his frazzled nerves. He froze as a familiar and unwelcome scent suddenly reached his nostrils, and he felt Rosalee tense next to him as the same scent reached her.

Monroe quickly swung his head towards the dark shadows to the right of the hospital entrance, barely suppressing a snarl as he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Well," a snide voice answered, "I was just checking up on Nick." A figure slowly stepped out of the darkness and into the brightly lit area by the hospital doors.

Adalind stood before them, smirking widely, and Monroe wanted nothing more than to wipe the disgusting Cheshire cat grin off her face. She regarded Monroe and Rosalee with a look of pure pleasure evident on her features. "Tell me, how is our favorite Grimm? Still alive?"

"What do you want?" Monroe snapped irritably as he glared at her. "And why are you here? Last we knew, you were off traipsing through Europe again. No one's heard from you for weeks."

Shortly after they had deceived Adalind and sent her daughter away with Nick's mother (it was all for the greater good), Adalind had fled back to Europe on the false notion that Prince Viktor had her child, and she was desperate to get her back at any cost. Nick had told Monroe that Renard had tried to stop Adalind and convince her to stay, knowing that Viktor would just kill her (and that he didn't have baby Diana anyways). However, Adalind couldn't be swayed and she had gone, but not before threatening to make them all pay for not helping her. Luckily, it didn't seem that she knew of their true involvement in Diana's disappearance. No one had heard from her since, and they had all assumed that she was dead by now.

"My mistake, I thought we were all friends now, since you so graciously helped to protect me and my daughter," Adalind spat with a tone of disgust. "So, were you guys in on the little plan to take my daughter away from me, or was that all Nick's idea?"

Monroe hesitated, unsure how much she may have learned and not wanting to give away the baby's true whereabouts. Did she only think that Nick had helped set up the hand-off to Viktor, or did she know what they had really done?

Rosalee responded before Monroe could gather his thoughts. "Oh no, we're not friends. But we are Nick's friends, and he asked for our help, so we gave it, no matter how ridiculous we might have thought it was to help you," she replied heatedly. "Don't think we've forgotten all the terrible things you've done, like trying to kill Juliette and Hank. Our protection was about your baby. Not you."

"Oh please, spare me," Adalind rolled her eyes, her smirk quickly changing to a look of loathing as she regarded them. "After everything I've done? What about everything Nick's done? Or you?" she looked at them knowingly. "Don't pretend to be so perfect. We all have pasts."

"Well how do you know this wasn't Renard's idea?" Monroe shot back, clenching his fists unconsciously. "Don't blame this on Nick. Renard was the one who handed your daughter over to the Prince of Darkness, if I remember correctly."

"Because," Adalind hissed, her eyes flashing with contempt, "Nick's mother was a part of the distraction to get my daughter away from me, just long enough so that Sean could hand our daughter off to the Royals. Besides, I know there's no way he would have willingly given her up if Nick and his mother hadn't convinced him that there was no other choice."

She paused, for a moment, composing herself with great effort and crossing her arms over her chest. "And as it turns out, Kelly was so conveniently released from police custody, for murdering my mother I might add, and is once again nowhere to found. So now I only have Nick left to answer for giving my child away."

"If you take even one step closer to this hospital," Monroe growled as he moved forwards, towering menacingly over her. Rosalee came to stand at his shoulder, glaring murderously at Adalind.

"Now, now," Adalind tsked, gesturing upwards towards the hospital security cameras that they were currently standing directly under, "we wouldn't want to get violent in public, would we? Especially with so many witnesses."

Monroe hesitated, glancing up at the cameras before taking an infinitesimally small step back, as Rosalee reluctantly did the same. He paused for a moment as an older couple moved directly past them and through the hospital doors, throwing curious glances their way.

He turned back to Adalind, eyes shining with fury as he lowered his voice. "I'd be glad to take this somewhere more private if you'd like to...talk."

Adalind's eyes darkened as she looked back at them. "As much as I'd love that, no. That's not why I came. So you can both relax, I'm not here to hurt Nick. It sounds like he already did a pretty good job of that himself."

She paused, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I just wanted to see if you both liked my wedding present."

Death was nothing like Nick had imagined it would be. It was so dark and so quiet, and there was just complete stillness at the end. As much as he had fought to hang on, to not give up, he had just faded away into nothing and then it was all over.

Is this really it?

It was so still and quiet now, the voices of the ones he loved now gone, and in the deafening silence he wished desperately that he could hear them again, just one more time, wherever he was now.

I didn't want to go.

But he had heard her voice, that much he was sure of, and he wondered where he was now, alone in obscurity once again. He floated through the darkness, trying to find some semblance of reality and figure out what he was supposed to do next. Although he hadn't been ready for this, he was sadly grateful that he hadn't been alone, and that everyone he loved had been there with him at the end.

I just hope they're all okay.

Suddenly in the distance, a gentle beeping reached him, steadily growing louder with each passing minute. He struggled to concentrate on where and what it was in the darkness, but he had no control over what was going on. This didn't seem like death. This was different.

Where am I?

As the beeping grew increasingly louder, tiny pinpricks of feeling started to creep across his whole body, making him shudder involuntarily. He blinked suddenly, dumbfounded at the fact that he could do any of these things at all, as someone who was supposed to be dead.

What's happening to me?

Bright light flooded his vision as his eyes cracked slowly open, making them instantly water, and he abruptly shut them again. After a moment, he slowly pried them back open, blinking rapidly against the harsh light assaulting his retinas.

It was then that the pain hit him full force, reminding him agonizingly that he was still very much alive.

He tensed, closing his eyes against the piercing pain that crushed his chest until he couldn't breathe, and he struggled to draw in a deep breath of precious air. But there was something large and foreign in his throat, choking him and cutting off his air supply. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't fight, and he was dying all over again. Somewhere in the distance, the beeping had changed to a shrill alarm, and he thought it might have something to do with him but he wasn't sure of anything at all in that moment except that he couldn't breathe.

Then, there were gentle hands on his face, on his chest, rubbing calming circles and trying to get his attention. There was a voice in the distance, too quiet and far away for him to make out who it was or what they were saying, but through the muddled fog the words attempted to reach him.

There were more voices now, and it was steadily getting louder around him, as both the voices and the alarm continued to rise shrilly. Nick panicked even more, trying to suck in air and choking again on whatever was still trying to kill him. He was distantly aware of a pinprick on his arm, and a familiar voice finally broke through the haze.

"Nick, breathe."

He slowly began to relax, as the pain started to fade and he was eventually able to pull more air into his aching lungs. The voices above were gradually becoming clearer. With great effort, he pried open his eyes into half-slits and could make out more blurry faces hovering above him (seriously that was getting old), and then his eyes finally fell on a recognizable shock of chestnut hair.

Juliette.

Her face came more into focus as his system slowly calmed and his breathing regulated, the pure agony fading into a dull throbbing, and then he could see her lips moving slowly above him. He knew then that it had to be her voice that he had heard. He instantly felt relieved, knowing that wherever they were, they were here together and that she was safe.

"It's ok, Nick. You're ok. Let it help you breathe."

He was just able to fully focus on her face and meet her worried gaze before the drugs pulled him back under.

Monroe froze in horror at Adalind's words as the realization dawned on him. "You," he breathed, staring back at her in disbelief, "you were the one behind all this?"

"You were the one who hired someone to kill Monroe?" Rosalee asked in shock, her whole body trembling as she gaped at Adalind.

Adalind burst out in laughter, shaking her head at them. Monroe started to move forward again, ready to rip her apart for what she had done to them, but only Rosalee's firm grasp on his arm stopped him. He glanced up in frustration at the cameras nearby, silently debating if going to jail would be worth it.

Adalind took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "You guys aren't very bright, are you? Of course I didn't hire the hitmen on you, I'm not stupid," she replied condescendingly. "I just made sure that the right people were involved and that they had the right motivation. It was really pretty simple after that."

"Why?" Rosalee snarled as she glared at Adalind, "why would you do this to us? We helped protect your daughter, whether or not you believe that!"

"The only thing you did was take my daughter away from me!" Adalind snapped back. "And it's only fair, that after what Nick took from me, he knew what it was like to lose someone he cared about."

"Are you kidding me?" Monroe was incredulous. Nick had already lost a lot (including what he had thought were both of his parents for most of his life), and Adalind had successfully taken Juliette away for a while, after Nick had taken her powers. "You've already been down this road with Nick once before, and look how well that worked out for you!"

"That's the beauty of Nick and I's working relationship. We're predictable, in that sense." She smirked again. "Of course, I'm pretty sure none of you saw this coming, least of all Nick. I suppose that's why he's in the condition he's in now," she shrugged, almost looking bored. "This wasn't the outcome I expected, but I can't say I'm disappointed by it."

"Why are you telling us this? Why confess?" Rosalee questioned angrily. "What's your angle?"

"Ah, yes, the great problem-solver," Adalind scoffed, turning towards Rosalee. "Such a good question." She paused, narrowing her eyes as she looked at them both. "Maybe because I want you to know the truth about who really did this. As much as I'd love to, I can't take the credit."

"Yea right," Monroe shook his head doubtfully. "There's no good reason why you would tell us, or that we would believe you for that matter."

"Suit yourselves," Adalind shrugged, moving to walk away, carefully staying in plain sight of the security cameras. "By the way, I figured out that Viktor doesn't have my daughter. And never really did, actually." She glared at them. "But of course, you already knew that, since you helped to fake her disappearance. So, who do you suppose told me the truth? Since clearly no one from your little gang thought I should know what happened to my child."

Monroe paused, frowning at that. So she knew the truth about that (or at least part of the truth anyways). "Well, I'm assuming Viktor told you himself when you stupidly went to confront him."

Adalind laughed. "Yea right, he'd kill me." She smiled when she saw their reactions, knowing that they'd assumed Viktor would do the same thing and had, in fact, thought he already had.

"Can't say I'd blame him," Monroe muttered, and Adalind smiled grimly at his words. He narrowed his eyes at her. "So it's true then. Eric Renard is still alive, and you convinced him to do this."

Adalind shook her head, smirking at them again. "Seriously, that's the best you can come up with? Eric is dead. Someone made sure of that. Try a little harder."

"Oh, just tell us already,'" Rosalee demanded in frustration, "or don't, we've had enough of your games, Adalind. Who told you?"

"Who do you think?" Adalind said impatiently. "Who else would care as much as I do about what happened to my child and want revenge for having her taken away without a choice?"

Monroe furrowed his eyebrows as he looked skeptically at Adalind. "Renard?"

Adalind smiled again, raising her eyebrows at them. "Well, this chat has been lovely, really, but I have to get going. Don't worry, you won't be seeing me again for a while." She moved slowly backwards towards the parking lot, staying in the well lit areas and carefully avoiding a young man who went rushing by towards the hospital entrance.

"I hope Nick feels better," she called out in a sickeningly-sweet voice to them, and then she was gone into the night.

Monroe and Rosalee just stared at each other in shock, trying to register what had just happened.

"So, let me get this straight," Monroe asked in confusion, "Renard told Adalind the truth about Viktor not having their baby, and what we did, so she went on a revenge streak and convinced someone to put a hit out on me, in order to get back at us and Nick for helping take her daughter away?"

"Not just someone," Rosalee looked back at Monroe with a pained expression, "she means that she convinced Renard to do it."

Monroe looked dumbfounded. "But you said it yourself, why would Renard do this when it would only turn Nick against him? As far as we know, he still wants Nick working with him, or maybe for him, I don't really know. Either way, having me killed wouldn't be a way to, ya know, support that."

"True," Rosalee sighed, "but sometimes people do crazy things when they lose the ones they love, especially parents and their children. Maybe Adalind was able to turn him somehow and see her side."

"Yea, I guess she did have a point about Nick and his mother convincing Renard to give the baby up. It was obvious he didn't like the idea, I mean who would, but he agreed with it because it really was the best thing for her, and the world at large," Monroe shook his head. "But, Renard putting out a hit on me? Seriously?"

"I don't know," Rosalee ran a hand roughly through her hair, "but Adalind wants us to think he is the Royal who put the hit out on you. She has a reason for telling us this, I just don't know what."

"Of course she does," Monroe nodded in agreement, "from what we know of her, she never does anything without a reason. But still, this whole thing seems a little far fetched, even though we've had our suspicions. Besides, how do we know she is even telling us the truth? She's not exactly trustworthy."

"I'm not sure what to think anymore," Rosalee shrugged helplessly. "But I think either way, Renard is connected to this somehow."

"I think we need to talk to Hank and Juliette," Monroe replied, glancing backwards at the doors behind them. "They need to know about this."

With that, they both turned and rushed back inside the hospital, heading directly for Nick's room.

"So what do we do now?" Juliette said quietly as they huddled in the corner of Nick's room, trying to keep their voices low so no one would overhear them.

Monroe sighed resignedly. "I don't really think that this can wait any longer."

"Me either," Hank let out a deep breath. "After what Adalind said, I don't think we have a choice but to confront the Captain now."

"So what, you're just going to walk up to him and demand he tell you the truth?" Rosalee asked, shaking her head. "That's not going to work."

"Well," Monroe replied, "I mean, what else are we gonna do? We can't just ignore this either."

"But how do we know he'll even admit anything?" Juliette questioned, looking carefully at the whole group. "It's not like he's been forthcoming before. Why would he even admit to it?"

"We won't know until we talk to him," Hank shrugged, "and at least we can see what excuse he'll come up with when we tell him about Adalind."

"Wouldn't it better to wait and see what else you can find out," Rosalee added, "before letting him know that you suspect he's involved in this somehow?"

"Well besides Johnson's cell phone, we have nothing else to go on," Hank put his hands on his hips, "and hopefully we'll have something once I get the data back from the lab, but since it's just a burner phone, there might not be a lot to get. Otherwise, the only other move we have is to ask the Captain himself." Just as he finished his sentence, his phone rang, and Hank smiled. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, "it's the lab now." He turned away, answering his phone. "Griffin." Pause. "Yea? Great, send them to me now."

"I can't believe Nick actually woke up for a minute," Monroe changed the subject, looking at Juliette with relief. It only figured that the one time he had actually left Nick's room, he would wake up. "What did the doctors say? Is that a good sign?"

Juliette smiled tiredly at him, squeezing his hand. "Yea, they said it's good that he regained consciousness, even though it was brief. He's not ready to come off the ventilator yet," she glanced hopefully over at Nick's still form in the bed, "but they said he's getting better."

"It's a step in the right direction," Rosalee smiled, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. "Nick will come back to us. I know it."

"I know," Juliette smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks. I'm just so glad you guys are here."

"Of course," Monroe nodded at her, "although, I'm not so sure Nick will be glad when he wakes up and hears about what we're about to do."

Juliette looked knowingly at him. "Probably not, but he'd be glad you guys are working so hard to figure out who did this. You and Hank had just better be careful."

"Definitely," Rosalee gave him a stern look. He knew she was beyond worried that he and Hank were actually going to confront Renard, after everything that had already happened. She and Juliette were staying behind with Nick, just in case Adalind decided to return to the hospital, leaving him and Hank to deal with Renard.

"We will be. Maybe the element of surprise will work in our favor," Monroe replied hopefully as Hank finally hung up, "since Renard doesn't seem to know that we've learned any of this yet."

"You know, Adalind could just be lying again," Juliette gritted her teeth in disgust, "and trying to pit us against Renard."

"I don't think so," Hank shook his head solemnly as he checked his phone email. "Look at this."

He turned his phone around to show them the data from Johnson's phone. There was a list of phone numbers, with one at the top listed more frequently than the others.

"What is this?" Monroe asked, furrowing his brows at Hank as Juliette and Rosalee peered over his shoulder. "Whose number is that?"

"Those," Hank sighed deeply, "are the most frequent and recent outgoing calls that Johnson made from his phone, right up to your wedding."

"I recognize the number," he paused, regarding them all seriously. "It's the Captain's."

"So, we're really doing this?" Monroe asked Hank hesitantly as they stood outside Renard's building in the brisk night air. He stared forebodingly up at the penthouse, feeling more than a little intimidated. There was no way Nick would have approved of their plan.

Hank raised a single eyebrow at him. "You got a better idea?"

Monroe sighed deeply. "No, not this time." He motioned casually at the door as he swung it open. "After you."

Hank marched directly up to the front desk of Renard's building, flashing his badge and giving the doorman their names.

The doorman immediately buzzed Renard's room, and after he got the confirmation, sent them up the elevator without a second glance.

"Guess we're kind of ruining the element of surprise, aren't we?" Monroe muttered as he climbed in to the elevator behind Hank.

Hank glanced over at him as he hit the button for the penthouse. "Well, we could wait to do this tomorrow at the precinct, with everyone else around, but how well do you think that would go over?"

"Uh, not too well," Monroe agreed. "Guess we better do it here."

Hank nodded as they stepped off onto the top floor. "Besides, he probably thinks we're here to talk about Nick or more about the hit…which I guess we are," Hank smiled grimly as they reached the door. He stopped with his knuckles raised to knock, looking at Monroe. "You ready for this?"

"Yup," Monroe replied shortly, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen on the other side of the door.

At Hank's knock, Renard swiftly opened the door, looking down at them cynically from his expansive height.

Monroe swallowed dryly. Here it goes.

"Gentlemen," Renard greeted them, stepping aside to let them in.

"Sir," Hank said in a clipped tone, and Monroe quickly followed him into the penthouse. He stopped a moment to take in the swanky surroundings and observe the huge window with an incredible view of Portland, and he couldn't stop himself before the words were out of his mouth.

"Wow. Nice place."

Renard raised an eyebrow at him. "Thanks. But something tells me that isn't why you guys are here."

Oh. Right to the point then.

"Yea, I can't say this is a friendly house call," Hank replied, putting his hands firmly on his hips as he faced Renard, Monroe standing at his shoulder.

"Didn't think so," Renard nodded, walking over to his wet bar and opening a bottle of scotch. He turned to look back at them. "Drink?"

Hank shook his head, as Monroe put his hands up in polite refusal. "Uh, no. Thank you."

"Suit yourselves," Renard shrugged nonchalantly, pouring a tall glass on the rocks and striding back over to them. He took a long sip before looking back up. "So, how's Nick? I haven't been able to make it back up to the hospital."

"He's still alive, if that's what you mean," Hank said, the suspicion clear in his tone. Monroe tensed next to him, narrowing his eyes at Renard. If this was the guy who wanted him dead, who was the reason that Nick nearly was…

Well, then things were about to get ugly.

If Renard noticed their demeanor, he made no comment on it, just nodding slowly and taking another long draw from his drink. "Good. Let's hope he keeps improving then."

"Yea, you'd like that, wouldn't you," Monroe muttered to himself, noting the skeptical look Renard gave him this time.

Renard turned back to Hank. "So, let's get to the real reason you guys are here. Have you made any progress on who might have hired Johnson and his accomplice?"

"Funny you should ask," Hank narrowed his eyes at him. "We just got a new lead."

"Yea, a really interesting one at that," Monroe chimed in, but quickly backed off when he saw the warning look that Hank gave him.

"Really?" Renard mused, setting down his now empty glass on the counter behind him and looking at them curiously. "Interesting how?"

"Well," Hank took a step forward, looking directly at his Captain, "guess who made a surprise visit to the hospital tonight?"

"And may I say, not a welcome one," Monroe shook his head in disgust.

"Let me guess," Renard sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Adalind."

Hank and Monroe looked at each other in confusion, taken aback at Renard's words. They hadn't been expecting him to readily admit knowing that.

"So you knew she was here?" Hank asked skeptically, staring back at Renard.

"Yea," he nodded, leaning back against the counter. "She's been back for a while."

"Well, then I suppose you know that she now knows your crazy cousin Viktor doesn't have the baby," Monroe replied crossly, clenching his fists.

"Yea," Renard raised his eyebrows, "since I told her myself."

"I'm sorry, excuse me?" Monroe asked, freezing for a moment to look at Renard in confusion. Was Renard actually admitting to this?

"Are you kidding me?" Hank narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "So you're saying you're the one who told her Viktor didn't have the baby?"

"I am," Renard nodded steadfastly, "but I told her before she even left, to try and keep her from going back to Vienna, because I knew Viktor would just kill her on sight. Despite what you all may think of her, she is the mother of my child, and she gets a certain amount of respect for that. But it didn't matter anyways, because she still went to Vienna even with my warning not to go."

"After everything we did," Monroe growled in disbelief, "to help you and your daughter, you went and told Adalind the truth anyways? What the hell man?"

"This is ridiculous," Hank added heatedly, "why would you do that?"

"Like I said, I was trying to keep her alive," Renard was unwavering, looking back at them coolly. "After what I've done to her, I owe her that much. I thought if she at least knew that Viktor didn't have the baby, then she wouldn't go."

"So did you also tell her what we all did to help Nick's mom take the baby away?" Hank speculated, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "This is getting so twisted."

"No, I didn't say that," Renard disagreed, shaking his head. "I only told her that Viktor didn't have the baby, and that the Resistance did now. She still doesn't know where the baby really is. She came to the conclusion on her own about Nick and his mother convincing me to give Diana up, and she's not entirely wrong on that part," he looked knowingly at Monroe and Hank, "but she only assumes that's what happened, and that you guys probably helped Nick. I didn't tell her."

"Captain," Hank squared his shoulders, "I'd like to believe that, and I really don't want to ask you what I'm about to ask you, but this is looking worse by the minute."

"Seriously," Monroe agreed, tightening his jaw. "So much for not making yourself look guilty. I mean, you knew Adalind was back, and you didn't even think to, uh, tell us that?"

"I didn't want her to get suspicious," Renard replied calmly, barely ruffled by their underlying accusations. "I've been having her followed."

"Followed?" Hank asked in confusion, as he and Monroe exchanged another bewildered glance.

"I knew she was up to something, and I wanted to find out what," he replied simply. "Knowing Adalind as I do, she's always up to something."

"Yea, you mean like convincing someone to put a hit out on me at my wedding?" Monroe wasn't able to contain the anger or frustration any longer. He moved closer to Renard, his eyes flashing dangerously red. Hank stood at his shoulder but made no move to stop him.

"So let's see, Adalind is back, you told her that your deranged family doesn't have the baby, and she now claims to have helped set the hit up on me, that currently has Nick fighting for his life, in case you've forgotten," he said incredulously. "And what, we're just supposed to believe you're innocent in all this?"

Renard didn't flinch, but looked back at Monroe coolly. "What exactly are you getting at here?"

"What he's trying to say, sir," Hank bit out with a tone of disgust, "is that we know the truth."

"And what is the truth?" Renard raised his eyebrows at them.

"Adalind convinced you to kill me to get revenge on us for taking away your kid!" Monroe growled, fists clenched into growing claws now. "Don't deny it."

Renard had the decency to look mildly surprised at his accusation, looking over at Hank. "And you believe this too?"

Hank looked back at him evenly. "Trust me, I didn't want to, especially with anything that comes out of Adalind's mouth. But," he sighed, "then I got back the data from Johnson's phone, and it had your number all over it."

Monroe narrowed his eyes at Renard. "You care to explain that one?"

Renard sighed, shaking his head. "So, let me get this straight. After everything I've done to protect Nick and help all of you, you really think that I would have you," he looked directly at Monroe, "killed, knowing that Nick would never just let that go?"

"That's what we thought at first," Hank replied, a little doubt creeping into his voice, "but after what Adalind said, and after we got the data back, it's hard not to think that."

"Not to mention," Monroe added firmly, "when Johnson was about to kill Rosalee, he said it was 'compliments of Prince Renard'. Now, as far as we know, you are the only Prince Renard left. And thinking he would have no witnesses, what would be the point of Johnson saying that?"

"Now that is interesting," Renard mused at Monroe's words, "and those are all valid points," he nodded, regarding them both seriously. "But I didn't set up the hit. That would go against everything I've been working for."

"Well, sorry sir," Hank replied caustically, "but you're going to have to do better than that if you want to convince us that you aren't involved in this."

"And if you are…" Monroe fearlessly held the deadly stare Renard gave him in return. Renard finally looked away, moving from the counter towards the center of the room.

"Come here," he motioned for them to follow him to his desk facing the large bay window, "I want to show you something."

Hank hesitated, reaching instinctively for his holstered gun, before deciding against it and nodding for Monroe to slowly follow. They kept a cautious distance, still unsure if they trusted the bastard prince and what he was telling them, police captain or not.

Renard procured a key and unlocked the top drawer of his desk, effectively sliding out a burner phone and a manila envelope.

"What's this?" Hank asked as Renard handed him the phone.

"That," Renard gestured at the phone now in Hank's hand, "is the phone I use to conduct all private business, here and abroad. Now, if I was going to set up a hit on Monroe, don't you think I'd use this instead of my own personal number? Knowing that you could trace it anyways?"

Hank hesitated while Monroe stopped in surprise, the red quickly fading from his eyes.

"Yea, that would make sense," Hank mused quietly, turning the phone over in his hands. "We just figured you didn't think Johnson would get caught or that we'd get a hold of his phone. Obviously, the hit didn't exactly go as planned."

"Well take this, run the data," Renard shrugged, gesturing at the phone in Hank's hand. "I have nothing to hide from you."

"Then why is your personal number on Johnson's phone?" Monroe asked, looking at Renard quizzically.

"It's not Johnson's phone."

"What?" Hank asked, looking back up at Renard. "It is a prepaid, but he bought it over a month ago and has been using it consistently. We tracked his credit card information."

"Yea, he may have bought it and had it on his person when you found him, but he wasn't the one using it," Renard replied, picking up the envelope and handing it over to Hank. "See for yourself."

Hank furrowed his brows, and Monroe moved closer, peering over his shoulder to see the contents inside. Hastily ripping open the top, Hank reached in and pulled out a stack of pictures taken through a long-range lens.

Adalind and Johnson, somewhere in Forest Park, in what appeared to be more than one meeting. In one of the very last pictures, she was handing him what looked to be a cell phone, much like the one Hank had found next to Johnson.

Monroe looked up at Renard. "What does all this mean?"

"It means," Renard began, "that Adalind isn't as clever as she thinks she is, and whether or not she hired the hit men, she definitely helped to set it up."

"So, you're saying that she was using this phone to contact you?" Hank asked, searching for clarification.

"Yes. She got back from Vienna about a month ago and contacted me on this number multiple times. She said it was because she had finally forgiven me and she just wanted to make amends…but I know her better than that. She'll never forgive me, or any of us, for taking away Diana." Renard sighed, putting a hand to his chin. "She wanted it to look like I had been in touch with Johnson this whole time, when it reality it was her. No one except for me, and now you, knew she was back."

"Wait a second," Monroe shook his head, "why would she want it to look like you had something to do with all this?"

"I'm not sure," Renard replied, "but I really think she was hoping that if you were killed, Nick would think that I set it up and come after me, and one of us would take out the other, or maybe both." He shrugged. "When things didn't go the way she planned, she met you at the hospital to send you after me, hoping you'd still believe that I would do this." He paused, looking at them both carefully. "Do you?"

Monroe and Hank looked at each other again, before Hank sighed, handing the pictures back to Renard.

"I really want to believe you had nothing to do with this, Captain," he said, as Renard took the pictures and relocked them in his desk, "and for the most part, I do."

"Yea," Monroe ran a hand over his face, looking tiredly at Renard, "I mean, I can't say that I exactly trust you right now, or anything, but honestly, I don't really think this was you either."

"Fair enough," Renard nodded, "and I'm sorry about telling Adalind that Viktor doesn't have the baby. I thought I was doing the right thing," he sighed, placing a hand to his chin thoughtfully as he looked back at them, "and I hope to God I did the right thing for Diana."

"You did," Hank reassured him quietly. "It's better this way."

"Agreed," Monroe added. "She'll be safer with Kelly, where no one knows where she is."

"I hope so," Renard responded, "but in the meantime, we need to figure out who Adalind is working with."

"Yea, well if it's not you," Hank raised an eyebrow skeptically, "then who is it?"

"Well, I don't think its Viktor, or even my father," Renard replied, "but then again, a lot of my inside resources were depleted when I tried to get Adalind out of Vienna last time."

"Well, who hates you enough, and maybe Nick, to set up something like this with Adalind's help?" Hank asked him.

"I hope that list isn't too long," Monroe muttered, not missing the sideways glance Renard gave him.

"Unfortunately, there's more than one person on that list," he looked at them both carefully, "but there's only one I could think of that would still be willing to work with Adalind and would have the same agenda for revenge."

"So, who exactly would that be?" Monroe asked, as he and Hank regarded Renard, waiting for his reply.

Renard sighed, putting his hands in his pockets as he sat on the edge of his desk. "Well, either Adalind really is working alone, or…"

"Or?" Hank encouraged as he and Monroe looked at him impatiently.

Renard held both their gazes firmly before he spoke again.

"Or…Eric is alive."

TBC