A/N: Awe, thanks guys, for the favs, followings and the reviews. You really rock! And again a very special Thanks to Merlyn Pyndragon for her awesome work on betaing this. Thank you so much!

Juliette's first thought was, it's Rosalee, when she heard a loud, enthusiastic knocking at the front door. A smile curled her lips while she walked over to open the door. The surprise was ... it wasn't Rosalee.

"Monroe!" Juliette said, really so surprised that she lifted her eyebrows. "What brings you all the way to my porch?"

The Blutbad with the heart made of gold smiled down at her and handed a basket over to her. "I did a little baking and thought, well, it could also be something for you." He half shrugged, sheepish. "Rosalee doesn't really like my pastries," he said.

Juliette grinned but stepped aside. "It's a pleasant surprise. Please, come in," she offered.

Monroe smiled back at her, a little nervous, but he came in. "Are you awaiting someone? The smell is delicious," he asked after he sniffed one short time.

"I do," Juliette told him. "Rosalee called me this morning and asked for a lady's night to plan the baby shower."

Monroe hesitated. "Maybe I should go then?" he asked. "I don't want to interrupt anything."

"You are not interrupting," Juliette decided. "Come in and take a seat. I cooked more than enough to feed you too."

Monroe shrugged and took off his coat. "Okay, if you insist. Can I help you with something?"

Juliette smiled again and went into her kitchen.

The pastries Monroe had made looked a little weird in her eyes. The smell was okay, a little neutral for her but she could live with that.

"Do you want to eat one?" Monroe asked from the door.

Juliette looked up. "Maybe later. I put them aside, if you don't mind."

"Why should I? Anything I can do for you?" the Blutbad asked.

Juliette shook her head and put the one of the pastries on a separate dish. She felt Monroe's eyes still on her, wondering what was possible bothering him.

"Everything okay with you?" she finally asked, brushing flaky crumbs from the counter into her hand and disposing them in the sink.

"I'm good. What about you? You are the one carrying a child in her belly," Monroe answered.

Juliette nodded. "I'm fine. After all I'd heard I'm really lucky so far. Some troubles with my patience, besides that everything is normal."

Monroe smiled again. "Good to hear," he said.

Juliette, inspecting the food she had cooked for this evening, looked back over her shoulder. "But?" she asked.

Monroe blinked. "But?"

She smiled at him while she stood up again. "You sounded like there would be a but. That's why I was asking."

"No, no but so far, or – no, no but."

But it was obvious that there were some restless thoughts on his mind. It only made Juliette wonder why he didn't want to share these thoughts.

"What you are cooking?" Monroe asked, pointing at the oven.

"Do you want to join us?" Juliette smiled. "I've prepared some eggplants as a vegetarian bolognese. Rosalee is a vegetarian, too, she told me."

"She is, well, mostly." Monroe shrugged. "Don't you want to test the pastries?"

Juliette smiled.

She felt loved and safe with Monroe around. He was really a good friend; no wonder Nick was drawn to him and solved some of the more unusual cases with his help.

She nodded and took one of the pastries out of the basket. Again she sniffed it and decided it smelled good before taking a bite.

Monroe's eyes grew. "And?" he asked.

Juliette chewed on the pastry, thoughtful.

Monroe watched her anxiesty, biting his lips. Suddenly she had the impression that he would probably start to gnaw on his fingernails if she didn't answer and chewed a little more.

True, the pastry was dry, but somehow she liked it. The filling tasted interesting and definitely delicious, maybe a little too tasty, but good.

Juliette nodded. "It's great. What is the fill? It's delicious!"

Monroe grinned. "You really like them?" he asked.

Juliette nodded and took another bite.

Really, this was good!

A knock came from the front door.

Juliette put the pastry aside to go answer the door. But suddenly she stopped.

There was something wrong, she decided, looking at the front door. She only couldn't name it.

To be true, this sixth sense she'd noticed a few times now, often enough to listen to it, when it happened to her. She could not really tell what it was, it was more the impression of something could happen, IF she continued.

"Is it Rosalee?" Monroe asked.

Juliette shook her head and kept silent, still watching the door.

And then she saw it: a tophat!

Carefully, trying to make no noise, she stepped back, still eyeing the tophat that was moving slowly in the top window of her front door.

The tophat! Nick had mentioned a man with a tophat and she had read about him in Nick's book at the trailer.

That was the Wesen that had taken Nick from her!

Juliette felt something rushing from the bottom of her heart, growing like a monster wave to a tsunami, ready to take control. Her hands became fists.

Still the tophat moved slowly from one to the other side of the window, as though the Wesen wearing it was rocking back and forth to a tune. Then it vanished.

"Juliette?" Monroe touched her carefully with one finger at the shoulder.

Juliette spun around, ready for everything, only to find the Blutbad behind her.

"You're okay?" he asked. "You look like you just have seen an apparition."

"Not a ghost," she answered, turning her head back to the front door. "But the Cracher-Mortal was here. I saw his tophat."

Monroe stared at her with wide eyes. "Really?"

Juliette nodded again. Then she remembered the guest she was still awaiting.

Rosalee was late. Hopefully she was only late and nothing else. But if ...

Juliette ran to the front door and yanked it open, Monroe on her heels, woged into his Blutbad form. Before she opened the door she could tell what they would find on the porch but she couldn't believe it. She opened the door so powerfully, that the doorknob crashed into the next wall, leaving an impression on the drywall. On the door there was the green spit she knew all too well now. And when she glanced down, she found Rosalee's bag on her porch, near the stairs to the path to the street.

"What happened?" Monroe wanted to know. "I smell Rosalee!"

Juliette walked to the bag, looking around. Her instincts were fully kicked in but now she didn't feel any immediate danger anymore.

"He has Rosalee," she finally said, picking up the bag.

"WHAT?" Monroe stepped closer. "Never! Rosalee would never let that happen! She's way too clever for this guy."

"Not this time ..."

Juliette looked around.

He was still here, somewhere. She could feel his presence but she couldn't pinpoint where to find him. He had taken Rosalee with him. Maybe he wanted to use her as bait, surely he would use her as bait.

Juliette felt a cold shiver running down her spine, like a trickle of ice water.

He knew about her pregnancy!

It started sometime in the middle of the night. After the pain began to expand and grow, while he was shaking like an old leaf in the wind, Nick came to realize there was something going on inside his body.

Then he started to throw up, retching noisily over the side of his cot and spitting out bloody dots with the remains of his meal all over the cold floor. Suddenly, the whole cell began to stink, making him feel even more nauseous

He managed to crawl over to the door, but it was more than his body could handle in this state. He felt sicker with every rattling breath he took.

His knocking at the door was as weak as his shaky voice when he finally put his pride aside and cried meekly for help.

The next hours were like hell, a blur of sick and pain in his mind.

A few years ago, before he came to Portland, he fell victim to food poisening, the result of consuming questionable Chinese food. But this was even worse than he had ever experienced. His stomach seemed to burn, he had tremors, and all the time he was shaking and sweating and moaning in agony.

Sometime later he found himself in a deep embrace with a bucket, and he was thankful to have this bucket for what was coming up the wrong way out of his throat.

And all the time he felt so damned cold and helpless. He heard the two other Grimm talking and he was sure they were discussing about what to do with him.

The meat he had eaten, that meat couldn't have been something usual, this was clear.

It felt an eternity later when he felt the cousins carry him back to his bed. But if they thought his stomach was finally empty, they were wrong. Nick wondered where all the stuff came from. Maybe there were also some remnants of the green spit the Cracher-Mortal had paralyzed him with?

Again his thoughts began to wander and the world became a haze. The pain in his body was the only thing that chained him to reality. Otherwise, he was sure, he had lost conscious completely.

And finally he heard the voice he had started to hate the most during the last few days.

"What happened here?"

Eric!

Nick tried his best not to look too helpless and sick. The last thing he wanted was that the Royal would see him weak and use this sickness as another weapon against him.

Someone grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. Truly it was Eric who was inspecting him - surprisingly, frowning, and with a worried look in his eyes.

"You don't look too good, my dear," the Royal decided and let him go. "When did this mess start?"

"Last night, your highness. A couple of hours after the dinner," Hans answered.

Nick felt another tremor coming up and began to choke, leaning again above the bucket.

"You should have called me immediately," Eric snapped. "I think I was clear about how much he is worth to me, wasn't I?"

"You were, your highness," mumbled both Grimm, abashed.

Somewhere from deep inside his body, there was dark, humourless laughter shaking him. Aduously, Nick looked up, still trembling, ashen and sweaty. "I am of worth to you but you've poisoned me? Interesting way to prove this to me," he said lowly.

Eric turned around to him. Still looking worried, he studied his face again. "You've been through a purification process," he finally decided. "When?"

Nick shivered and turned his head again, awaiting the next tremor that would make him choke.

"This is necessary information if you want to survive, my dear Grimm," Eric told him simply.

Nick tried to focus but finally gave in. He couldn't stand this alone. He needed help, that was why he had crawled to the door in the first place.

Yes, he would die, he was sure. He wouldn't give in, not with a killing to prove his loyalty. And he was sure his death would be very painful. But not this way.

"Two months before the Cracher-Mortal trapped me," he whispered weakly, feeling as though he was surrendering his deepest of secrets.

Silence. Only the heavy feeling that Eric was watching him.

"He cannot stay here. This cell stinks like someone had died in here," the Royal finally decided. "Get another one ready for him and one of you will go to Pierre and get some medicine. Explain the fact that our dear guest had been through a purification process four months ago, so some of his usual indgrients aren't working the way they should now."

Silence, while Nick was still awaiting the next tremor.

"Ahm, both of us, your highness?" Franz finally asked.

"What you two think he could do to me right now? He isn't in the condition to fight. So, move! Both of you! I'll stay here and watch over him."

Footsteps.

Nick barely looked up, watching Hans and Franz leaving the cell.

So, Eric's information about him wasn't all complete. There was a small break, probably nothing more than a couple of days. But it was something Eric didn't know.

Nick remembered. Rosalee gave him the potion right after Adalind left Portland and he had killed the Hundjaeger. Maybe those Hundjaeger didn't come with her, but they were all in Portland, watching him and the other ones to get the needed information. Could explain a lot.

But whatever, this break closed a short time later, as Eric had information about him after Adalind's flight back to Europe.

Who was in charge of that? How many spies did Eric have in Portland? How much did he know about what was going on there now?

"I am supposed to be in an important meeting right now," Eric sighed. "I hope this gives you an idea how much you are worth to me, my dear Grimm."

Nick again looked up, his teeth chattering. "Not enough to let me go," he finally answered.

Eric sighed and took a seat on his bed again. "Well, I hope I can move that date and that this is only an interlude. You should have told me about the purification process."

Nick again laughed his humourless laugh. "Yeah, for sure. Next time I'll bring my complete Grimm autobiography with me," he answered flatly.

"Well, you should understand this was important and could have ended up more tragic than you might think now." Eric was very serious now.

Nick frowned.

He, the captive, was supposed to tell his keeper about his medical condition? In which reality?

Eric shook his head. "Anyway, four month ago is enough time not to put you into mortal danger. But, as you can see now, close enough to make you really sick."

Carefully and slowly, Nick sat upright, the bucket still in reach. He looked at the Royal. "What was the meat?" he asked.

That was all he had eaten here. That and the water he drank. But he didn't get sick from the water. Plus, he had already seen what was in the mush they served him before the meat.

Eric raised his eyebrows in fake surprise. "The meat was meat. What did you expect?"

"What kind of meat?" Nick wanted to know. "It was the meat, right? It was all I've eaten here. Last night and the sandwich earlier."

"Again the clever Grimm, huh?" Eric leaned back and looked thoughtful for a moment. Finally he shrugged. "It's not so much about the meat as about the spicing. Anyway, the meat carries the special ingredients perfectly."

"What ingredients?" Nick demanded.

Damn, he was so freaking cold! Every bone in his body seemed to be frozen. And still his stomach hurt like hell but at least the tremors had seemed to fade.

Eric watched him with interest. "You are really good with these things, right?" he asked. "Putting the single pieces together to get the complete picture. That's really interesting and I'm wondering if this ability has probably something to do with your former job."

"Don't try to distract me," Nick said, again shivering.

Eric smiled and shrugged again. "Very well. It is a drug called Hundswurz. In high doses it kills, but used carefully, it can carry you to the edge and probably help you over it."

Nick frowned.

Edge? Eric wanted him to go crazy? Was that what all of this was about? But how did the offer of him being a bodyguard fit into this?

"And you have found a way to control me when I'm crazy and aggressive, right?" he asked.

Eric still smiled. "If I want you nuts, I never would have woken you up. I want the dark part of you, the roots of your Grimm. You surely have found out WHAT is there buried deep inside you, right? Fully awoken, you can do things you never thought were even possible for only one person."

"You want to turn me into a monster?" Nick shivered, but this time not only because he felt cold.

"I want the warrior, I need the warrior."

Nick shook his head. "Never!"

His attempt to let his voice sound determined was followed by another retch which forced him again to embrace the bucket.

"Well, now it's put on hold until you are well again, I fear." Eric sighed. "Thanks to the idiot who lead you through the purification process, I've a lot of work to do now with searching a new way to get you to the point I want you."

Nick eyed his keeper, and again he shook his head. "Never!"

"We'll see, my dear Grimm. We will see ..."