Monroe woke up with a throbbing head ache. "Ow," he groaned pitifully. A small, shaky hand was thrust forward, offering him two Advil. He swallowed them whole before remembering that he lived alone and no one should be offering him medicine. He looked up to see a young teen staring intently at him.
"Uh, who are you?" Monroe asked. The girl frowned and said, "Before I answer that, you should try drinking some of this." She picked up a cup from the coffee table and handed it to Monroe. He took it gratefully and sipped at it.
"Mmm, this is really good," he commented. The girl smiled at him and said modestly, "Thanks. It's just chai."
"So the tea is chai, now who are you?"
She sighed heavily but before she could start the phone rang. The teen rolled her eyes and said, "You'd better answer that. He called twice while you were out. The messages he keeps leaving sound kind of urgent too."
"Out?" Monroe echoed, forgetting that he had passed out for a second.
"Yeah, you fainted. I did try to catch you, but you kind of missed my arms and hit the floor. Don't worry, it's only been four hours."
Monroe took the phone from her, hoping the person on the other end could clear this issue up. Without even looking at his caller ID, Monroe hit talk and grunted out a, "Yeah?"
"Monroe? Hey, it's Nick. I've been trying to get a hold of you."
Monroe felt his body relax and he replied, "Oh, hey Nick. What's up?"
"Nothing, just wanted to let you know I talked with some of the Wesen today. Most of their stories are consistent, so tomorrow I'll make up some story so Hank and I can start looking for her. This girl may not even know she's a Grimm, if that's what she really is."
That's when Monroe remembered all those phone calls the other day. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks in the gut as he looked at this girl up and down. If his head ache wasn't so damn bad, he was sure he would have noticed that Nick-like scent on her earlier. This rain wasn't helping matters.
"Um, actually Nick, when you get the chance, you should come over," Monroe said, while trying not to sound freaked out in any way. He didn't want the girl to realize that he knew.
The Blutbad could almost heard the detective's hesitation as Nick replied, "Uh, yeah, sure. I can come over tomorrow when my shift ends."
"Sounds great," Monroe said before he hung up. He pointed the phone in Quinn's direction and said, "You, Grimm, have a lot of explaining to do."
Quinn sighed as she flopped into the chair on the other side of Monroe's coffee table and covered herself with a rusty colored afghan that had been laying on the floor. "I don't even know where to start. Well, Dad, it starts like this-"
"Ok, first off that's impossible. Try again."
"What do you mean?" Quinn looked her dad over, trying to figure out what she said wrong already, but his face wasn't giving anything away.
"I mean, you're a Grimm." Monroe said, "It's kind of faint since you've been running through the woods and got caught in the rain, but it's there. And since Nick is pretty much the last Grimm, I cannot be your father." A smug look crossed over Monroe's face but Quinn just rolled her eyes.
"Take a bigger whif, old man," the teen said, somewhat teasingly. "I'm part Blutbad."
She waited several minutes as Monroe sat there, furiously sniffing the air and sorting out all the scents he was inhaling. The smug smile was wiped from his face when he finally caught the underlying scent and the blood drained from his face as he looked at his daughter.
"But, how? I mean, Nick is a guy. At least, I'm pretty sure Nick is a guy. Please explain, and bring me something stronger than tea."
Quinn got up and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. She came back to the living room and handed it to her pale father, who was very careful not to brush his fingers against her's as he took the bottle from her.
"You understand, I'm from the future. I don't know how much I can say without screwing something up."
Monroe raised his hand to shush her and said, "Actually, you know what? I changed my mind. It's midnight and this has been a really, really, really long day. You're welcome to the couch or the guest bedroom, whichever floats your boat. Goodnight, um?"
"Oh! I'm Quinn," she said, suddenly realizing her dad didn't know her name. Monroe nodded and said, "G'night Quinn. Sleep tight." Monroe went about, locking the doors and turning off most of the lights before thudding up the stairs. Quinn didn't let herself cry until she heard the upstairs' bedroom door close.