Nick had come out to the trailer to get in a few hours reading, as well as writing his own additions and chapters. He did that semi-regularly, fitting in an hour here or there, maybe even a whole day. He knew it was crucial to teach himself as much as he could and to pin down his experiences and thoughts for whoever would inherit it. He had learned a lot already, but things still kept surprising him.

Sorting some of the smaller books he tried to understand Marie's system, if she ever had one in this place. Books were in every corner, on every shelf, in drawers and cupboards, or even on the floor. The many drawers of one cupboard were filled with things that were weird and sometimes downright nasty. He knew he would have to drag Monroe along and ask him about what this was and where to use it. If there was any use for it at all. Then again, his aunt wouldn't have kept it if it didn't help her in some way one day.

It was weeks after Mireille had left, hugging him tightly and telling the amused Grimm to call or mail, that Nick stumbled over an envelope wedged between two drawers. There was no address on it, no stamp, just a name.

His name.

Nick took it and sat down on the only chair in the trailer, turning it over and over in his hands. It was thick, probably containing more than one page, and didn't look too old. Finally he opened it with a knife.

Three pages, handwritten, were inside.

Nick scanned the first few lines, then started to read in earnest, paling as he began to understand what this was. His fingers started to tremble and he slammed the pages down, taking a deep breath. He raked a hand through his hair and tried to control the reaction to just the first page.

It was the last letter of his aunt to him, written just before she had come to his house, just before they had taken that fateful walk outside when the reaper had attacked them both.

She had planned this. Knowing she was dying, knowing that he would be the next Grimm, she had staged her death in a way that ensured his survival. She hadn't counted on the reapers coming so close, coming into protected territory.

It had been her idea.

It had been her contingency plan.

And Renard had known.

The knot in his stomach was leaden and heavy, settling in and making it hard to think.

Renard, his captain and as of late his life-partner, had known, had helped, and he had… he had done as she had asked. Marie Kessler had wanted to die quickly; Nick had managed to stop that plan because of his natural instinct to protect.

You knew! he screamed in his head.

Maybe it transmitted through the bond.

Renard had known! He had actively helped Marie kill herself!

Forgive me, Nick, the letter said. I wanted to teach you so much, but I couldn't. My pain was too great. I lost not only my sister and her husband, but also more.

I lost nearly everybody I cared about.

It never worked out because I never could get very close to them.

It changed me. The cancer changed me. I killed, Nick. Indiscriminately. They feared my name, they feared the whispers of the Grimm. I had power over them, but it didn't bring back what I had lost. There was never any peace.

My time on this planet was up and I knew I would leave my heritage to you. I had tried to shield you from it all and that was my mistake. I tried rectifying it.

So she had met with Renard, knowing fully well who he was, but the reapers had nearly finished it all too soon.

Sean had known. Sean had played his part.

I apologize, Nick. For everything you had to go through, for everything that will still happen. I never meant for you to follow in my though you have to, I had wanted to ease you into the work of a Grimm, remember my own beginnings, my old life, and show you that there is more than violence and darkness.

But I failed. They are so close, Nick, the reapers. And there is hardly anyone I can still trust. I need to end this quickly, on my terms, and with the Guardian of this city on my side. You need his protection. He needs you, too.

Be yourself, Nick Burkhardt. Be the person I never could be. Don't let the darkness claim you.

He read over the last sentence again and again.

Marie had told him only to hunt the bad ones, to trust his instincts. She hadn't told him that there was someone he could turn to, someone to trust. She had been unable to tell him anything about the protector of Portland.

And maybe that had been planned, too.

He had done pretty good so far and he had survived without Grimm training, whatever that entailed. And he had trusted his instincts, which had never failed him.

Even with Sean Renard.

Nick closed his eyes, feeling the echoes of his anger again, feeling the bond strain. He ignored it.

You should have told me! he thought furiously, though with less fire than before.

He needed a time out. He needed to be away.

x x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x x

"I knew it," Monroe groused as he opened the door and was faced with the well-known figure of Portland's version of the friendly, neighborhood Grimm.

And no sarcasm in there either. Nick Burkhardt was friendly and he was neighborly in his own way. As a Grimm he was the best that could have happened to Portland.

He was also sometimes the worst that could have happened to Monroe, who had been Nick's go-to guy in too many cases to count. Now, aside from Grimm stuff, he had become an agony aunt for all things mate-related. As if Monroe was one to know about such things! But he listened, which was mostly enough, and knowing how bull-headed Nick was, and how territorial regnants were, and possessive and cold and political, it was a small miracle Nick hadn't done more than just grumble about it all.

Monroe would probably have brought out the axe.

Then again, looking at Nick's stormy face, maybe it was axe-time.

"What did he do this time?" he asked as Nick walked inside. "Oh, and yes, do come in. At one in the morning, I might add!"

"Sorry," Nick apologized. "I didn't notice the time. Uh…"

Monroe rolled his eyes. How could a grown man, a Grimm, for God's sake!, look like a lost, beaten puppy? From day one of meeting Nick, Monroe had noticed the wide-eyed look, the reflection of need and wonder and soul-deep confusion at some things. It had been endearing and had caught him off guard. Nick hadn't been the Grimm of his childhood nightmares; he had been… different.

"Stay. Beer?"

Nick nodded and accepted the cold brew when Monroe handed him one.

"So?" the blutbad poked carefully. "This is about Renard, right? Not some case?"

"Yeah. About him."

"What did he do?"

"Kill me aunt?"

Monroe froze, bottle halfway to his mouth. He let it sink down again, staring at the other man, daring him to lie. But Nick wasn't lying. It was plain to see.

"He what?"

Nick sank down on the couch, twirling the bottle in his hands. "I was at the trailer and found a letter from my aunt. Something she wrote just before she came to my house, before the reaper tried to kill her. After she had talked to Renard."

Monroe blinked and sat down as well.

And Nick told him about the letter, what it had said, what his aunt had done, what Renard had lied to him about. And more.

"Dude…" he said slowly.

Marie Kessler had been a nightmare, but she had also been Nick's aunt and surrogate mother. She had been his family, had raised him, and she had kept the Grimm heritage from him as long as possible. Nick had once told him that she had been in love with a steinadler, which had floored Monroe just a bit, and that the death of her sister had changed that. Everything had changed. She had had to raise a young boy, had to uphold her normal life while also hunting wesen. And she had turned her back on the man she loved.

That Renard had orchestrated her death… by her demand, because she wished it, because she wanted Nick to become the next Grimm and survive for more than a minute…

"Geez," he muttered and shook his head.

"He knew all that and he never told me!" Nick snarled, startling his friend. "He played it all out! Like a lot of things, most likely!"

"Politics," Monroe said. "Not my kind of playing field, really, but it's a harsh game."

Gray eyes flared and the blutbad almost recoiled from the anger and power he saw in there.

"He played that game with me, Monroe! He claims I'm his mate, that he loves me, that he needs me, but he's been manipulating me all that time! He lied to me! About Marie, about everything!"

Nick got up, body thrumming with anger and pain and betrayal. Monroe watched, hackles rising as his instinctual side told him that currently the Grimm was dominant and that it wouldn't be a good idea to confront him right now. Nick looked deceptively innocent, but he wasn't. For one, he was a trained police officer. That alone was something to be careful of. And he had the reactions and instincts of a Grimm. That on top made him a lot more than the wide-eyed newcomer into the wesen world he had been so long ago.

"You said she arranged it all, asked him to help her die," Monroe said carefully. "So he didn't kill her in cold blood. The reapers on the other hand…"

Nick glared at him. "I had to read it in a letter I found by accident, Monroe! He knew and he didn't tell me! He knew!"

"Well, yeah, there's that."

"I know he's a bastard! I know he's cold and ruthless and calculating when it comes to his territory and everyone in it. I know how he treats his own sister while she's visiting! I know it all! I'm mated to that bastard!"

"But he could have told you about Marie?"

"Yes!" Anger flared in Nick's eyes again and Monroe warily watched the Grimm. "I'm aware of a lot about Renard! I know so much already! Why not tell me that little tidbit? What did he think he could gain?"

"Have you talked to him?"

Nick's eyes sparked. "No! Because I'm not sure I can without trying to kill him!"

Monroe winced. "Oh. That bad. And the bond?"

"He better not try anything because I've shut it down!"

Another wince. Monroe hadn't even known Nick could do that. Then again, psychic bonds and regnant mates and stuff like that weren't his expertise. He didn't know what it would do to Renard, how much he would feel, how much he suffered from the loss of contact. Regnants created the bond and blocking it would probably create tension.

"What do you want to do now? He's your boss at work. You can't evade him."

"I have three more sick days left. We'll see after that." Nick let his back fall against the wall, suddenly looking drained. His eyes were darker, open and vulnerable, and he shook his head. "What am I supposed to do, Monroe?"

"Uhm, actually you're asking the wrong guy, Nick. Killing and stuff… pretty common in my family. No apologies or explanations. Applying your morals to it makes us killers. To us it was… kinda normal, you know." He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. He was reformed and his old life seemed like a horror movie at times. "For Renard… he's a regnant, Nick. It's what he was born and raised as. What he does isn't governed by human morals and ethics. What he does, he does for his protectorate, and now for you, too. You're his mate. "

Nick was silent, staring at the floor.

"And he did what your aunt asked him to. She did it to protect you, too. I doubt she knew that you'd bond with him, become his mate. He wouldn't have approached that topic if not for the coins, right?"

A nod.

"I guess you have to talk to him sometime. You should do it rather sooner than later."

Monroe knew it was crappy advice, but it was the only one he could give.

Nick didn't answer, but he accepted a second beer. He also stayed when Monroe switched on a movie, and he actually crashed on the couch for the night, which was nothing new.

It also didn't surprise him to find a text message on his phone when he checked it not much later. Nick was asleep, victim of too much alcohol but not really drunk into a stupor.

'He's at my place. Drunk. Don't you dare come here. Get it straightened out' he texted back.

'I will' was the reply. 'Take care of him'.

Monroe rolled his eyes. 'Of course I will!'

'Thank you, Monroe'.

He looked at the message, wondering.

Then he went upstairs to get some well-deserved sleep.

tbc...