The atmosphere in the car during the drive back to the precinct could have frosted Death Valley during summer. Nick had just been rescued by a Blutbad. Who was, apparently, working with a Fuchsbau police detective. Though the relationship between the two seemed less equal than a partnership - the Blutbad was clearly the boss.
No surprise there. From what Nick knew of Blutbaden, they were definitely near the top of the Wesen food chain, and most other Wesen were, if not outright intimidated, then at the very least respectful of them. But this "John" character clearly wasn't a cop. Organized crime? Definitely possible, coercing Fusco through bribes and/or intimidation to be his eyes and ears on the Force. And a member of Wesen organized crime might look at the Verrat incursion onto American soil as a threat - the killing of the Hundjäger pack was a definite message. Nick had sent a similar message to the Reapers, two heads via air express.
Fusco was practically twitching next to him in the driver's seat, constantly glancing at Nick out of the corner of his eye. Finally, Fusco's nervousness tipped Nick past his breaking point. He was used to Wesen freaking out over him being a Grimm, but this was downright annoying. "You've got questions. You might as well ask them," he stated pointedly.
"How does it work? You being a Grimm. You said you don't go around chopping people's heads off, and I appreciate that, really I do. But what do you do?" The question seemed to burst out of his mouth all at once, as if Nick had popped the top of a soda can that'd been shaken repeatedly.
"My job. I'm a cop, too, remember? I do my best to help people, I just don't always do it within the strictest scope of the law. And what about you?" he inquired ever-so-casually, "Does Detective Carter know about your little arrangement with your Blutbad friend? Or are you keeping that on the down-low?"
Fusco shot him an incredulous look. "'Down-low'? Do people even still say that? And keep Carter out of this. She doesn't know anything about the Wesen, and we'd all like to keep it that way. She's got enough problems as it is."
Nick chuckled bitterly, feeling not a trace of amusement. "I tried to keep all this-" He gestured vaguely. "-a secret from my partner Hank. Our cases started getting weirder and weirder, and he thought he was going crazy after he saw a Wildermann, full-on woge, change back into a human after he died. Hank running into a Blutbad in the woods didn't help, either."
"Wait, you're telling me that your partner ran into a Blutbad in the woods, and he's not dead?" The disbelief in the NYPD detective's voice ratcheted upwards.
Nick winced; he probably shouldn't have brought up Monroe - the guy had already become a target for being friends with him. "Yeah, well, the Blutbad wasn't out to eat anyone. Anyway, things really came to a head when we rescued the daughter of one of Hank's old school friends, and he saw her as a Coyotl. He nearly shot her, a 17-year-old girl he'd known since before she was born, because he was so freaked out. I had to explain it all to him- Wesen, Grimms, the whole nine yards. And later... you know, he actually told me that that had been one of his better days, because he might be crazy but at least he wasn't alone anymore."
There was a long pause from Fusco's side of the car, probably as he gathered himself to actually make a reply to this story. "This partner of yours, what's-his-name-"
"Hank."
"Yeah, right, Hank. He's totally human, right? He can't see anything we see, unless we're totally woged?"
"Yeah. So, now, every case we work, he makes sure to ask whether I saw something. Though he's usually pretty good at recognizing when I do. And if Carter is half the detective I think she is, she's probably going to figure out sooner or later that something weird is going on with you," Nick warned the Fuchsbau. "How long've you two been partners, anyway?"
"'Bout a year now," Fusco replied easily, apparently momentarily forgetting he was sitting next to a Grimm rather than simply a fellow detective. "But she won't notice anything. Too busy fending off the Feds who wanna recruit her. Among other things." What 'other things,' he declined to specify.
"Oh, just out of curiosity, who was it that was feeding your buddy John the info on me?" Nick segued abruptly, remembering a far more pressing question on his mind.
The other detective shot him a look of confusion. "Whaddaya mean?"
"Well, John didn't get all hostile on me until we got outside. You obviously didn't know I was a Grimm until he said so, plus I saw his earpiece when I walked past him to get into the car. Very covert, almost impossible to spot, but I was looking for it. So I'm guessing he had someone else, a handler or partner, maybe, who suddenly found out something. Probably discovered that Marie Kessler was my aunt and put it together from there. So, who is he?"
Fusco snorted, shaking his head in negation. "Honestly, I have absolutely no idea who he is, anymore than I know who our friendly neighborhood Blutbad really is. No clue. I don't even know if he's Wesen or not. And for both our sakes, you should leave it at that."
Nick wasn't overly impressed with Fusco's response. "This guy have a name?"
"Everyone's got a name, but the only ones I know are fake." The Fuchsbau shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not even sure he remembers what his real name is. Anyway, you'll never find him. And if you're smart, you won't try. Really."
"Why, is he some kind of crime boss?" Nick asked, half curious, half derisive.
"What? No!" Detective Fusco strenuously objected. "We help people! Wait, you've been thinking this entire time that Wonderboy and me are part of some Wesen mafia or something?" He let out a huff of irritation.
"The thought had crossed my mind," Nick replied dryly. "You guys didn't exactly going about your little rescue mission by the book."
"Look, I've made mistakes in the past- big ones, and I'm still not exactly on the side of angels- but what we do, we do to help people. I don't know how they come by their information, but somehow they know when someone's in danger. They tell us who to look out for. Sometimes it's the victim, sometimes it's the perp. Sometimes we don't know who the hell it is. This time, it was you." Fusco let out a sharp breath as he pulled the car into the police parking lot. "I can't believe I just helped rescue a Grimm. From the Verrat! Un-friggin'-believable."
