The weather had changed abruptly, which was nothing new, and the bad weather front had already been expected.
Renard woke and blinked into the near-darkness of the room. He was alone, in his condo, in his bed; a bed he had shared with his mate just mere weeks ago.
It was empty and cold, just like Sean was feeling
The sky was dark and foreboding, the clouds racing across the black and dark grey sea. The violent wind pushed them ahead faster and faster, and rain fell like sheets, drowning the streets. Everywhere, sewers gurgled, trying to manage the gallons of water, and some basements were flooded. An underground line had to be closed down due to water damage. Traffic had nearly died down by now and everyone who really, really didn't have to be outside wasn't any more.
Getting up, walking barefooted through the quiet, empty place, Renard felt the restlessness come back. It was a feeling that had been with him ever since the bond had shut down. It was a feeling he had tried to get accustomed to and was failing. So far he had buried himself in work. It hadn't helped.
Thunder rumbled ominously through the twilight darkness, sometimes lightning flashes accompanied the noise the weather made.
Sean gazed out over the flooded streets and drowning gardens of the neighborhood. Another thunder clash rattled the windows, but he didn't even so much as flinch.
Looking inward, facing the darkness where usually his connection to Nick resided, the regnant watched and waited and hoped.
Five days now.
No contact at all.
He knew Nick had left Portland, had gone away to wherever, and maybe he even knew it if he searched his memories. He had contacts everywhere and he would be able to track his mate, but something inside him, cold and dark as well, curled up and suffered the separation.
Nick had cut himself off; completely. Not a single hum came through. He wasn't dead, but he was… removed.
The rain beat harder against the panes, almost like hail but not quite yet, and the regnant could feel the worsening weather with every sense. Soon there would be snow accompanying the rain.
The drumming noise of large drops splashing on the roof above had a strangely lulling effect. But he couldn't relax.
Sean ached. Something inside him was cold and freezing and he felt his hands starting to shake. He balled them into fists, gnashing his teeth, angry at his loss of control, angry at his inability to… know and do and simply fix what had to be done and known and fixed.
He was at a loss how to heal the gap between them because… because all he had done was fulfill a contract he had had with a dying Grimm. What he had done had been for his protectorate. Renard hadn't given the idea of a mate a thought, least of all a Grimm mate. At the time Nick Burkhardt had been the new Grimm about to 'come online'. Nothing more, nothing less.
Now he had become so much more and Renard had failed.
He functioned, simple as that. He went to work, did what was expected of him as the captain, but as far as anything else was concerned, he had shut down.
Thunder rumbled across the by now black sky and he let the low sound run through him. The rain, if at all possible, increased, as if trying to wash away the damage caused.
But it wasn't so easy.
Never easy.
Renard smiled tiredly. He could just hope that he hadn't destroyed something that was by now more important to him than anything else, even his political position.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Nick had gone back to work and found Hank welcoming him warmly, then dumping a new caseload into his lap. Nick was actually grateful for it, though he shot his partner a glare, just for good measure, and he buried himself in work. It was how he could ignore the echoing emptiness in his head. The bond had never been active enough to be more than a hum, but that he actually missed. They had never been telepathic, more light a light kind of empathy. He had discerned moods and general well-being when it came to his mate, but that was about it.
Now that was gone. Not that Nick needed it to survive. He hadn't had it for all his life and he hadn't grown all that used to it. Not really. Not that much.
Sean on the other hand… Did Nick truly understand what it meant to the regnant? Did he really know how far he was pushing the man?
Answer: no. He had no clue. Still, right now he couldn't care less. He was angry; he wanted to be angry.
Seeing Renard on a near-daily basis didn't help.
Nick was polite, distant, letting Hank do the reporting and he tried not to look at the other man too much. No one at work knew about their private connection and they had never shown it in any way. There had been no meaningful looks or lingering touches. It had been a work relationship so far and nothing of their more private and intimate relationship had spilled.
When there was no other choice but to talk to him, Nick was completely professional. Renard reacted likewise, but the green eyes reflected something deep inside.
Nick made sure the shields were up.
No, he wasn't childish.
But he didn't want the regnant to think it was forgive and forget all the way. This was more than Captain Sean Renard hiding he was a wesen. This was a lot more.
Renard seemed to accept the distance, almost stoical and very much composed at times, and Nick made sure they didn't run into each other without at least someone else present.
The bond stayed silent, though only once he felt a diffuse pressure as if the break was trying to heal itself. Or Renard was trying that.
He wouldn't give in that easily. He had never been easy.
Nick had yet to sell the house he had inherited from his aunt after her death, the house he had stayed in alone as of late. He had spent so much time at his mate's condo, the house now felt almost alien to him.
Right now it was home.
As was Monroe's place. The blutbad simply rolled his eyes, opened the door wide and waved the Grimm inside, overnight bag and all.
Camping out with a friend hadn't been Nick's plan at all, but a night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into two weeks. Monroe just gave him pointed looks now and then, as if he was trying to get Nick to think about what he was doing and solve the problem.
He was trying to.
And he spent his free time at the trailer when he wasn't helping a wesen or hunting down a bad guy. Sometimes he thought he felt Renard close, like he was being watched by the Guardian, but he could never pinpoint that feeling. Even if the regnant was around, he didn't actively interfere; thankfully.
x x x x x
"Aren't you pushing it just a little bit too much?" Monroe asked one night over a beer.
Nick raised his brows, gray eyes unreadable.
"I know you're punishing your mate over this whole killing-your-aunt-by-her-request-and-shu
tting-up-about-it business, but dude! She wanted it that way. He didn't murder her. They had a plan and they went through with it; for you."
"It's not about that any more, Monroe."
"Enlighten me. What is it about?"
"I'm supposed to trust him, right? He's my mate."
"Yes to the second statement. Conditional yes to the first." Monroe took a deep swallow. "You can trust him not to harm you. You can trust him that he would never betray you to gain an advantage. You can't fault him for following your aunt's request to help you. He is the Guardian of Portland. She came to him for a favor to save you, to keep you safe, and to help you with your heritage."
"He never told me," Nick repeated his earlier argument.
"He might have one day. And it was something between him and your aunt. Like a contract. He fulfilled it. He has no obligation to tell you about it or anything else in his past, Nick."
Nick was silent. They had talked about this on and off, in different ways, throughout the past weeks.
"And hurting him through cutting the bond is cruel, Nick."
The Grimm looked up sharply.
"I'm no expert," Monroe acquiesced, holding up his hands as if to ward off an evil glare.
"I've no idea about bonds. But you told me that you can feel him sometimes, like a background noise."
Nick nodded.
"And he can probably feel you, too."
"Yes, he can."
"So you're cutting him off from his mate. He's been pretty civil about it," Monroe remarked. "For a wesen that are known to be primal and territorial."
Nick didn't answer.
"Do you hate him for it?"
That brought the Grimm up sharp. "No!"
Monroe gave him a 'go on' look.
"I just… I'm not sure letting him back in like that would… it's just… I'm not going to forgive and forget, Monroe. He lied tome. He manipulated my life to the point when I found out about him. After that, he couldn't any more. He wouldn't have said a thing."
"Which I totally understand."
"I don't hate him. I just need some time."
"And for him to stew?" the blutbad asked.
"Kinda."
"Huh."
Nick shrugged and emptied his beer, pointedly concentrating on the movie again. Monroe caught the hint and let the matter drop; for now.
If Nick was anyone but the regnant's mate, he would be playing a dangerous game. But he was that mate and the mate was more powerful that an outsider would give him credit for. Renard didn't depend on him to live, but he also wasn't the controlling bastard many might see. He was devoted and loyal in his own way, he protected Nick and he would never dominate him.
Monroe understood both sides. He only hoped that Nick would be able to, too.
He wasn't really surprised to run into the topic of their discussion no twenty-four hours later, outside his home, watching him with hooded eyes.
"He's still pissed off," Monroe remarked without preamble.
"I figured," was the wry reply.
And Renard looked like he hadn't slept a single night for more than an hour, Monroe thought. The lines of his face were sharper than ever, the eyes holding a darkness that told of too little sleep and too many thoughts about what had happened. He was impeccably dressed, but that didn't hide the otherwise disastrous condition of the powerful creature.
"And you look like crap," Monroe added. "Your highness."
Renard smiled dimly. "Probably. Is he okay?"
So the bond was truly broken because otherwise Renard would have been able to tell easily.
"Yeah. Camping out in my guest room, eating my food, drinking my beer and my coffee, but otherwise we're happily sharing living space. I always wanted to have a Grimm roomie who mopes about moodily all night."
Renard briefly closed his eyes, looking older, more tired, almost to the brink of exhaustion.
"I know I made a mistake, Monroe, but I never considered the possible outcome of my deal with Marie Kessler. I agreed to her plan because at the time it made the most sense, and it worked best for my protectorate. I knew Nick as my subordinate, I knew he was a damn good detective, and having a Grimm on my side, working with me… Marie and I realized it was the only way."
"It sounds good on paper, but emotions are another matter. He likes you more than he hates you, though," the blutbad added neutrally. "Make something of it."
"I won't hunt him down."
"It would probably get you an axe to the head," was the dry remark.
Renard chuckled. "Probably. Thanks for being a friend to him, Monroe."
And then he was gone, leaving a thoughtful blutbad behind.
tbc...