A/N: Thanks again for the favs. And also a very, very special thanks to Merlyn Pyndragon, who did a great job with betaing. Thank you sooo much! And good luck with the classes.
Christian was about to call it a night. He only wanted his usual glass of warm milk to calm down and find the rest he needed. Maybe a little strange after this heatwave, and everyone wanting drinks and meals as cold as possible. But this was a sort of tradition for him, and to give this nightly routine up would probably mean the end of his world.
During the day, after his visit to Adalind's hotel suite, he had tried his best to find out if the Grimm was somewhere around. He had to act twice as careful as usual, watching his mouth and his steps. But so far he found out nothing. No Grimm around, at least not visibly.
Hans and Franz Severin, the cousins who were also Grimm, were in the castle. Christian didn't noticed them before, and as far as he knew, to have them here usually meant that there was another prisoner down in the basement.
When he tried to enter those chambers, with the excuse that he had to search one of the stocks down there, the entry was declined. There was definitele something going on down there. But wether or not this something included the missing Grimm he wasn't sure. In addition three leaders of the Resistance disappeared during the past few weeks. Could they have been imprisioned down there as well?
Christian would try again tomorrow, maybe a little more determinedly. But now, he was tired after the last couple of nights without really good sleep. He felt exhausted and drained and one night full of sleep was the best cure he knew for this.
So he entered the huge kitchen to warm a little milk up. The personnel down here had mostly gone to bed themselves; only two of the maids still were around, cleaning up the pots and pans that had been used during the day.
"Guten Abend," said Marianne to him, one of the maids. " Du siehst muede aus. Anstrengender Tag?"
Christian nodded, putting a little casserole onto one of the stoves. "This summer heat is killing me this year," he explained. "I will never understand how you folks down here can stand it."
Marianne laughed and turned around, drying the dishes her coworker, Bettina, was washing.
"Dieses Jahr ist es wirklich besonders heiss," said the washer without looking up. "Soll ich deine Sachen noch mitwaschen, ehe wir uns auf den Weg machen?"
Christian smiled. "That would be great, thanks," he said.
He got a mug from one of the units and poured the warmed milk into it before he handed the casserole over to the two women. His cup he carried over to them and sat down at one of the working tables.
"How are your families?" he asked and sipped a little.
"Good," came the answer without hesitation.
Marianne looked back over her shoulder, a bright grin on her face. "I'm going to get married this fall. After Matthias returns from his work," she answered.
Christian lifted his eyebrows and nodded. "That's big news! How long you two are a couple now?"
"Seven years, nearly eight," Marianne answered.
"Someone probably wanted to wait to get that cursed year done, huh?" Bettina asked. In answer she got the elbow of the other woman in her side.
Christian smiled.
Conversations like this were one of the highlights of his days. Unfortunately, not every evening he met people down here. Sometimes his own work lasted so long that everyone was gone before he made it there. So he enjoyed this little scene while it lasted.
These girls were so innocent. They only wanted to live their little lives, get married, have kids. Politics and all these games of power were way above their heads and not for their interest.
What would it be to have a life like this? Christian never learned that. As a bastard-son of one of the private secretaries and a Royal, his own way of life was pretty much planned from the very beginning. Fortunately his Wesen side was a Maushertz, not a Hexenbiest like Sean. But both men met back then in school and found out about their similarities pretty fast. Always the outsiders, they became friends. Christian was around when Sean's mother came into the classroom years ago and fetched her son to flee with her over the ocean.
Sometimes, Christian thought about such an escape himself. He was in the position to get one of the private jets and could simply flee to another place. But he knew this wasn't the answer. He had to take care for his friend, for the world to keep going forward instead of falling back into ancient times like Eric planned..
Being a Maushertz, he wasn't exactly hero material. In fact, he was more of a coward. But at one point in his life Christian understood that the only way to get what he wished was to overcome this and become a spy. It was a huge, momentoius feat, espiecally for a Maushertz, but he finally made it.
But right now, Christian thought, this time, what Sean wanted from him could be too much. So long as he doesn't find any sign of the missing Grimm, he couldn't do anything. But the plan Christian came up with, needed this Grimm. Well, it could also work with another person. But the Grimm was in the top position of his priority list.
Christian sipped another time and sighed.
He also had to take care of all the humans who would get thrown into a war they never knew was brewing. They only wanted to live their simple lives. Getting married, having kids ...
Christian's eyes fell on a windbreaker that was lying on one of the working places.
"Isn't it a little bit too warm to wear that?" he asked.
Both woman, Marianne and Bettina, turned around, eyes wide.
Christian frowned. "What?"
Marianne swallowed and stepped a little closer. "Don't tell anybody, please," she said.
"What should I not tell? That you brought a jacket to work?" he asked bewildered.
"That she took it from the fire and will take it home with her," Bettina answered. "You know how they are. We all fear them and don't want to have anything to do with them. I told her, this is a bad idea!"
"The windbreaker is new and it's a good brand," Marianne explained. "Matthias wanted one of those for himself. But they are pretty expensive over here, having being exported from the USA."
Christian stared at her, suddenly very much awake again, his mind working.
A jacket without owner, but from the USA? A curious coincidence considering his mission.
"Who brought that jacket down here?" he wanted to know.
His stomach seemed to shrink into a little ball of fire and bitterness.
"That two cousins," Bettina answered while Marianne began to cry. "They also brought a shirt, and they threw all of it into the fire before they left. But the windbreaker didn't burn."
Christian stood up. "May I see it?" he asked.
The little burning ball began to throb like a second heart while he went over to the jacket.
An US-brand, that was right. The windbreaker wasn't black as he first thought, but a dark greyish blue. Like the one Sean reported the Grimm had worn when he disappeared.
Carefully, Christian began to search the pockets and found some sweets in one of them, a serviette in another. The serviette had a logo on it, from a coffee shop in Portland. The sweets also had a logo on them, from a hotel, again in Portland.
Damn!
Christian thought for a moment he would lose balance and fall to the ground.
A windbreaker, just like the Grimm had worn, in the pockets things from Portland ...
He turned around. "That shirt you mentioned," he asked, "was that a brown?"
Marianne and Bettina exchanged a look.
"Do you know those clothes?" Bettina asked.
Christian nodded. "I probably know the origianl owner. So, was the burned shirt brown?"
Marianne nodded. "It was. I tried to get it out of the fire but it was too late," she answered. "Is that owner a friend of yours?"
He wished he knew.
Christian stared at the windbreaker and his findings.
If this was the jacket the Grimm had worn when he went missing then ...
"Yes," Christan answered. "I know him."
"I'm sorry," Marianne said. "I hope you don't think I am a thief. I only wanted to keep this jacket as Matthias wished one for himself for a while now."
This was the evidence he wanted, Christian decided. He turned to the woman, getting his wallet. "I will pay you for that windbreaker," he said. "I fear this friend loved the jacket too much to give it away. Order a new one," he said and counted money into her hand.
Marianne's eyes widened with every bank-note he gave to her.
"A word to no one!" Christian ordered and gave also some money to Bettina before he grabbed the windbreaker to take it with him and hide it somewhere in his room.
"We can keep our mouths shut," Bettina said.
Christian could only hope ...
Nick was lying on this bed, curled up into a shuddering ball. Still his hands were shaky. He felt a pain all over his chest and upper body where the electricity had shocked him. He felt so damned helpless, so hopeless, and ... lonely.
If one of the others was be around, no matter who, he wouldn't have such problems. Not actually helping with possible wounds, but only in listening and sharing thoughts. He had never missed other human beings more than now.
Why did they do this to him? Only to goad him into killing Adalind? Could that really be all?
Nick wasn't sure. True, Klaus had told him as long as he doesn't kill an innocent person, Eric wouldn't have full control over him. But ... how could Eric control him completely? He wasn't a marionette, and he was doing his best to never become one.
The small, scalded marks on his skin burned like hell. Nick was sure he never would be able to use a taser again. Not after this humiliating and torturous experience.
If only there was a real comprehensible reason for all of this. A reason why Eric set Hans and Franz in charge, to watch over him. A real reason for Eric to torture him or let him be tortured. A real answer why the Royal put all this effort into kidnapping him and bringing him here.
Europe, Nick reminded himself, he was in Europe.
Someday, he remembered, he had wanted to dig his roots up and travel, most likely with Juliette at his side, all over Europe. That was an old dream he had all the time before Aunt Marie came to Portland and his inheritage begun. Since then, Nick had to realize Europe would probably be too dangerous for a mere honeymoon.
Why did Eric put Hans and Franz in charge to watch over him? After Klaus' reaction, Nick realized that he probably was better known in Europe than he'd ever supposed. But why two kinsmen of him were his guards, hiding his face from everyone, holding him in a cell on an empty hallway somewhere in the dungeons of the castle, was a mystery.
Nick rubbed his arms when he realized he was freezing again.
Cold, weak, lonely, hurt and tortured.
How far would Eric go with him?
Pretty far, Nick answered himself. Far enough to risk his life if he wouldn't give in or break. He wouldn't give in, this he knew for sure. But he wasn't that certain about the breaking part anymore.
What if he did break? What if he turned into a marionette, without any will of his own, to be sent out to kill for his master like a mindless thug?
No, he didn't want to think this way! He couldn't!
But his thoughts, after calming down, came back to this point, starting a loop around this topic, without getting any answer.
How he would survive this? Would he survive at all?
A single tear ran from Nick's eye.
Why him? Why no one else?
He didn't know, and he wasn't sure IF he wanted to.
The lock of the door to his cell opened.
Nick didn't know what to do next, what to expect now. His fear came back when he heard the key moving in the lock. And every time he heard this sound, the fear was swelling.
Was this how his ancestor felt during his time as a prisoner of the Renards before he was killed?
Nick curled up a little more, closing his eyes like a child, pretending that if he didn't see them, they would leave him alone. But he knew how lame this game was, how futile.
Not more, not today. Please. Not while he still had to deal with the aftermath of today's torture, feeling his heartbeat missing the occasional rhythm sometimes, the pain in his chest, the wounds, the overstimulated muscles, the mental pain of being alone and helpless.
Nick was wishing himself so badly back to Portland this evening, he actually started to wonder why he still was here in his cell instead of lying on a flying carpet on his way there.
So much he'd thought impossible was real. Why not this?
"Hey, Shorty, on your feet! Move! The prince want you to clean up now!"
Nick felt a hard poking on his back, and still tried to lay prone and pretend to be unconscious. Maybe that would help a little, or give him at least a little time.
Yes, he was acting cowardly, and he knew this. But he never had been in a situation like this before, and, to be honest, he feared everything right now.
"Move, Sweetie!" Franz' voice ordered. "If you don't do it yourself, we will make you move!"
This threat Nick couldn't ignore. Shaky and trembing with fear, he slowly sat up, hearing the rhythm of his heart drumming in his ears. He held his head down, avoiding eye contact.
"On your feet!" Franz ordered again, and Nick felt the other Grimm grab him and pull him to his feet.
Not again! Not another lesson! Not now!
But the steps, lingering and provocatively slow, he knew too well now.
Nick bit his lips, determined not to make a peepl. Still he held his head down, while Franz continued to hold his left arm in an iron grasp. Hans just brought a chair into the cell and put it down in the middle of the room. Where the tub stood last night ...
Nick shivered again.
If he only could do something! If there was someone around, someone who knew where he was, someone he could talk to without fearing, someone who could kill the one who came for him now for what he did to Nick.
Finally Eric entered the cell, watching the whole scene with mild interest before he gave a silent sign to Franz.
"You're doing better now?" the Royal asked when Franz left Nick alone. "It would be nice if I showed some sympathy, right?"
Nick took a small step back as Eric entered his personal space. The Grimm didn't notice the cold smile growing on the face of his enemy, still staring at the floor.
"But I have to confess, I don't," Eric continued. "I see it this way: I made you a generous offer which you turned down. I warned you this would happen if you did so but you didn't listen. Now you have to pay the price. You are responsible for what is happening to you."
Nick shook his head but kept his mouth shut. Again he stepped backwards. Tears were burning in his eyes like fire.
Why couldn't they let him go? What was so damned important that Eric couldn't leave him alone?
"Do you fear me, my sweet Grimm?" the Royal cooed. Somehow he managed to sound surprised.
Nick still avoided eye contact, sensing the Royal standing in front of him, once more trapped in a corner of his cell. He wanted to get out of there, to flee. But he knew this was impossible. As long as he was here, in the dungeon or somewhere else in Eric's castle, there wouldn't be any way out for him. He wouldn't make it to the next stairway, he was sure.
"Do you fear me, Grimm?" Eric asked again, more determined now.
Nick cringed. Every single part of him wanted to scream, wanted to fight, wanted his freedom back. But he knew right now it was impossible. Somehow he had to stand the pain and the torture, and he had to stay sane until the chance to flee arose.
Eric stepped to him, so close, too close for Nick's taste, and grabbed him hard by his chin. Pulling his head up, the Royal studied his face, looking deep into his eyes before he releasing him again.
"You are not broken, that's good. You have a strong will, my dear Grimm," the Royal said. "And to show you what will await you if you change your mind ..." He clapped his hands and stepped away.
The next moment Franz was back, grabbing Nick again hard and pushing him into the chair. "You will sit now!" he ordered forcefully, as though the Grimm wasn't already.
Nick didn't move. Again he held his head down, again he tried to flee in his own world of dreams, ignoring the reality. Again he failed to do this, feeling so absolutely helpless and lonely, just like he felt after he had been informed that his parents were dead, many years ago.
Franz tied his ankles to the chair, then left the cell for a moment to come back with a thin rod, followed by Hans, who carried a bowl and a towel.
What was this about?
"Help me. Hold him," Franz said to his friend or relative, Nick still didn't know.
The next moment Hans' big hands grabbed him by his shoulders, holding him down on the chair. A little whimper flew from Nick's lips.
All the jerking, pushing and pulling wasn't that good for his body. He had some huge haematomae on his arms and shoulders now, and he was sure he would get some more when this was over.
Grabbing his elbow and pulling it back, Franz put the stick between Nick's body and said elbow. Another whimper came from the lips of the young Grimm. Not only the stick hurt, also did his arm and the handcuffs. And Franz just shift the stick between his other elbow and his body.
That hurt!
Nick fought against the pain, still dealing with the other wounds from this morning.
"I want to invite you tonight, my sweet Grimm," Eric told him now.
Nick moved his head and stared at his keeper. "What?" he whispered throatily.
Eric, again sitting on his bed, shrugged. "You have to learn, my dear. Not only that you will be tortured if we are from different minds, but also that you will be honored if you become what you are destined to be: a prim, brave and attractive young Grimm who will join my forces soon."
Nick moved his head back and stared at the stony wall, steadily impassive.
Of course this was another lesson for him, he knew this already. And to realize this made it even harder to accept his own role in this.
"Don't throw his clothes away, like you did with the ones last night. He will need these," Eric ordered and stood up again. He came over to Nick and grabbed him by his chin once more to study his face.
"I think you should probably wear grey tonight, my sweet Grimm. There's a grey suit that should fit him," he said to Franz. "Put him into that and let his current outfit clean up. We don't want your new clothes getting bloody, do we?" Eric asked Nick with a bright smile. "We'll meet again soon, my sweet Grimm. I hope you will like the meal. It was made just for you." With that he lifted his hand. "Shave him well. You two know I don't like beardy faces."
With that, Eric finally left the cell.