He had heard the cry of outrage and betrayal and pain. He had almost fallen flat on his face with the strength of the outburst, the flood of pure emotions, and Sean Renard had realized that Nick had found out.

About Marie Kessler, about his involvement in her death.

Sitting against the wall, leaning sideways so he was partially resting against the floor-to-ceiling window panes of his apartment, the regnant let the coolness of the glass seep through his skin.

Nick knew.

And it had hurt him, just like Renard had thought it would.

The force with which the bond had slammed shut had almost made him throw up. He had never felt something like this before in all his life; well, he had never been connected to anyone like his Grimm before in all his life.

Mireille's words had been like an omen.

Now it was up to Nick to make a decision, but if he left, if he turned his back on Portland and the man guarding it, Sean knew there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He might lose his greatest asset, something he had fought to have and hold, someone who was his equal in everything.

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 x

He didn't pull his punches. Each blow was measured and applied with full force. Muscles rippled under the sweat covered skin as the slender figure kicked and punched at the hapless bag that swung suspended between ceiling and floor, the heavy coils of steel rope creaking. More blows rained down on the hard leather bag, ferocious, quick, and without mercy.

Nick's chest heaved with each breath as he forced his body beyond the point of pain, pushing himself past his limit once more, testing his endurance. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat already, his legs felt tired, his arms heavy, but still he went against his dummy opponent, adrenaline surging again and again, driving him on.

A last blow had the bag swinging once more. With a puff of air he staggered away, his hands blazing with pain, his legs trembling with fatigue. He was panting, drenched in sweat, his hair slick.

This had been far beyond a normal work-out. It had been like a dam breaking inside him, like back inside the ring at the Lowen Games. He had pushed and pushed until his body screamed and he couldn't go any further.

Sinking to his knees, he stared at the wrappings around his hands, noting in dismay that he was bleeding. He had some first aid spray in his gym bag.

Nick unwrapped his knuckles and found the damage worse than the last two days he had spent in this place, hammering away at the bag, working out his pain and frustration and other waves of emotions. He hadn't given the wounds any chance to heal and the first aid spray wouldn't really do the trick this time. He would just have to live with it for now. Other, more important things were currently keeping his mind occupied.

Sean Renard.

His life-partner and bonded mate. The man he had trusted.

Nick closed his eyes and crumbled the bandages into a ball, ignoring the stings from the cracked skin.

He still trusted him. It was hard to change that, but now there was a bitter taste to it all. Like he had been made a fool, like everyone had known but him. He had been part of a play acted out by his aunt and Renard, and his mate hadn't found it important enough to tell him!

Nick had taken his sick days and he had been everywhere but his house, near Renard's apartment, or even the police station.

It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He was off balance, he craved a companionship that he didn't allow himself to experience, and every night was colder and lonelier than the one before. He wanted to reach out toward the other man, but he refused to give in to the need.

He was stronger than that. He could deal with it. He had to deal with his own emotions before he could confront the source of it all. He had to make a choice, had to make sense of it, then take the next step.

Walking into the shower, Nick tried to forget. He tried to let the water wash away the pain of strained muscles and betrayal and pain.

He exhaled explosively, water spraying from his lips.

He had to make a decision. Turn away from Renard, from his mate, from everything… or accept it. Accept the man, his actions, his lies, Marie's words. The truth.

It wouldn't be so hard, Nick mused darkly, if he didn't have feelings. If he didn't really like Sean, like him a lot, wanted him, needed him to some degree. He loved the other man, plain and simple. It had nothing to do with the connection; that had never influenced him. He hadn't fallen head over heels, he hadn't been under any kind of influence… he had simply come to like Renard and then feel a lot more.

Now that was laced with that bitter flavor of Sean's actions as it turned out.

x x x x x

Despite the cold, Nick had gone out to take a brisk walk, clear his head and Monroe accompanied him. He had only briefly complained about the weather, then fallen in step with the smaller man, until they had run into a jagerbar Nick knew only too well. Frank Rabe. It hadn't come as a great surprise that Barry wasn't that far from his father. Both had been dressed outdoor style, with backpacks and camping gear.

"This isn't what you might think," the lawyer immediately said.

"A family hiking trip?" Nick asked amiably. "In the middle of winter?"

The other man blinked, then nodded cautiously, his expression still guarded. Barry looked downright sour.

"It's something we've started doing ever since…"

Ever since his wife had nearly killed them after trying to uphold ancient tradition that involved hunting humans to death and disemboweling them.

"I understand. I'm just taking a walk."

Rabe nodded. "There's a cabin. We rented it. Would you like to come for something hot to drink?"

Reading no ill intent in the other man, briefly glancing at Monroe, who seemed only slightly tense, he had nodded.

Warming up to another had been slow, almost impossible, but it hadn't surprised Monroe all that much that the two jagerbars had thawed a little. Especially after Monroe had shown them who and what he was. That had drawn wide-eyed looks that had transformed in a million questions.

So they had actually, in all reality, gotten together for coffee and donuts. A Grimm, two jagerbars and a blutbad.

It had been the strangest thing. Monroe had been tense, guarding his best friend because he really didn't trust the younger Rabe not to do something stupid.

He hadn't.

It had been a pleasant surprise.

x x x x x

Nick was out on the wrap-around porch of the large cabin that clearly belonged to the Rabes, bundled up against the cold, enjoying the clear, crisp air. Around him was nothing but forest. He wasn't surprised to hear someone approach, different steps than Monroe's, and he nodded at Frank as he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Both men stood together for a while, then Rabe shot the Grimm a look.

"Thank you," he finally said.

Nick gave the man a surprised look. "What for?"

"Handling my wife's case as you did."

"I'm a cop, Mr. Rabe. It's how we deal with matters."

"You're a Grimm. And please call me Frank."

Nick gave him a quick smile. "Foremost a cop, with a Grimm side to it. I know my family has a bad name. At least my aunt. But that's not me."

"I know that now. I realized it while you were looking for the kidnapped humans." He played with a leaf. "I heard rumors since then. I'm not as involved in politics as you might think, but I hear things."

"Things?"

"About you. How you handle matters, how you are fair and just and different. That the Guardian of Portland has… personally accepted you as his, what shall I call it, arbitrator?" He hesitated, then added almost carefully, "That you are bonded?" An eyebrow rose quizzically.

Nick was silent, evading the dark eyes. The simple words had opened the wounds again and they were hurting even more.

"Nick? I'm sorry if I overstepped. I wasn't interrogating you, or prying in some other way. I apologize…"

"No, it's okay. It's just… those politics are a thorn and a curse and something I don't understand. Since I ran into you throughout the missing persons case a lot happened. I learned more in those months than in the past years. Some stuff is hard to accept. Some other stuff makes a lot of sense. Like the arbitrators the Grimms were once, a long time ago." He chewed on his lower lip. "And yes, we bonded. I'm surprised you heard about it."

Rabe smiled. "I might not be involved in politics, but I have sources I can trust. And we talk. Portland is known to be a protectorate, which draws many wesen here. We all know that the Guardian is a hard ruler, but fair. Other cities aren't that lucky."

Nick recalled Maurice, Renard's older brother, and grimaced. He didn't really want to think about his kind of ruling.

"What does your source tell you about the death of Marie Kessler?"

Rabe raised his eyebrows. "The reapers were after her. She was a dark Grimm, ready to kill at the slightest provocation. I know she would have shot me and my wife and my son and his friends… no questions asked. Why do you ask?"

"She was my aunt."

The jagerbar paled, eyes wide. "Marie Kessler was your aunt?"

"Yes."

The jagerbar was rallying with that. "I… what I said… no offense…"

"None taken." Nick gave him a quick smile. "That's one of the things I've learned lately. My aunt was more than the mild-mannered librarian I knew. And the Guardian killed her."

"I can't believe that, Nick! Not unless she attacked someone under his protection!"

He shook his head. "Well, she asked him to help her die. To transfer the power abruptly, not through a slow death. She had cancer," Nick added.

"So she made a deal with the ruler in charge of the city you lived in."

"Yes."

"Your… mate?"

Nick nodded.

"Now you feel betrayed?"

"I'm not sure what to feel."

Frank chuckled. "When it comes to politics, that's nothing new. Human politics are bad enough. In the world of wesen… there is a lot more than what we see on the surface. Sometimes things get stirred up… and I believe you did a lot of that stirring yourself without even knowing about it. You're different, Nick, and now the mate of a powerful Guardian."

"Who lied to me."

"And who will keep doing so," the jagerbar added, blunt and painfully direct. "There are good lies and bad lies, lies to protect and lies to hurt. Your aunt lied, your mate lied… and people you meet every day lie. I know. I'm a lawyer." He smiled. "I get lied to every single day. My own wife was a liar. It almost cost me my only child; what it did take away was my wife."

"I'm sorry," Nick murmured. He knew that she had committed suicide, unable to bear the shame, unable to live with the permanent disability she had suffered from the stakes.

"Don't be. I don't hate you or blame you. You opened my eyes in many ways. What you have to do is open your eyes to things that you weren't raised with. Like the ancient traditions of my kind. Jagerbars have the roh-hatz. I saw it as an outdated relic from ancient times, in the caves and relying on instinct. My wife saw it as a family value to be upheld. You are looking from the outside in, applying human emotions and logic to a regnant's behavior. The Guardian does what he has to do, what he was taught and raised for."

Nick let his eyes linger on the trees around them. Everything was still quiet. "I know what you're saying," he answered quietly. "But it doesn't change the fact that he could have easily told me about my aunt's last wish, her plan, her reason to do this, after we shared more than bed space."

"Did you talk with your mate?" Frank asked.

"No."

"You should. You're new to the Grimm, even now. Like I said, you didn't grow up in the creature world; you apply human thinking to our world. Your mate is a powerful creature. He has to follow certain rules, even if it hurts you. But I doubt he would ever endanger you through his actions."

All Frank had said so far was nothing but the truth.

He was so fucked up.

"I realize that her death was planned, by my aunt herself. She wanted it. I'm just pissed off, you know."

"That he didn't tell you."

He nodded. Part of him wondered why he was telling all of this to the lawyer. Maybe because he was a neutral party, unlike Monroe, who was his best friend and would most likely always side with Nick. And Frank had a better idea of wesen politics than many.

Noise from inside interrupted them. It sounded like Barry and Monroe getting into an argument over a video game and who was cheating. Nick shot the older man a brief smile, then they went back inside where Barry was beating Monroe at some kind of battle game.

The blutbad looked up when Nick approached and the Grimm gave him a smile.

He was okay.

Nothing had happened with Frank.

And yes, they would talk later.

Monroe's character was blown up a second later, much to Barry's crowing delight, and Monroe vowed vengeance. Nick grabbed another controller, grinning when he joined the fight.

x x x

The four men parted ways around late afternoon when Nick and Monroe went back to the parking lot.

"Talk to him," Frank only said, voice and expression serious.

"I will."

And he would. He had to. By now the bond was painfully empty.

"And if you want to… call…" The jagerbar smiled slightly. "I might give you a few pointers concerning legal and political moves.

Nick gave him a surprised, then thankful look. "Thanks. I just might take you up on that."