The small space heater was running on high, trying to chase the cold out of the room. It wasn't very effective, but without the little bit of heat, icicles might be forming soon.

Sitting in the trailer that looked rather cleaned up and sorted out, Nick let his eyes wander over the assorted knick-knacks that were all part and parcel of a Grimm. Nothing here was superfluous, even if it looked like someone in the props department had gone wild. Whatever his ancestors had collected in the past decades and whatever Marie had crammed into the trailer, it meant something. He might need it one day.

Except for the coins. Those he had buried somewhere else. They were gone but not forgotten. He wouldn't go back to them for anything because their existence was poisonous.

Sean had never asked.

He would never tell him either.

Nick was under no illusion that the pull of the coins was something his mate was immune to, now that they had the bond. Their lure was there for every wesen.

No, they were better lost and forgotten.

His own sorting and labeling sessions had been haphazard at best. He had tried to find and create his own system, but there was so much. Monroe had been enthusiastic and eager to help identify assorted weapons and doodads. They had spent one very long afternoon, a very memorable, too, cleaning out a cabinet and Monroe had crooned and fawned over half the stuff Nick had piled on the desk.

He had left the blutbad to the task of getting everything labeled, smiling secretly to himself as Monroe had been lost in his own world of wesen history and Grimm lore.

Nick sank back, eyes on the ceiling as he lay on the bed – freshly made up, thank you – thoughts wandering more. He was dressed in several layers of clothes against the cold from outside. The forecasts had predicted snow by the evening.

He had never brought Renard here, though he didn't doubt for a second that the other man knew where the trailer was. He had simply never come here uninvited and Nick had never uttered the invitation.

He felt the connection between them, strong and healthy, calm and even, and he knew Renard was still at the office. There had been a meeting with the mayor and now there was backlog. Just like Nick didn't involve his mate in Grimm work, Sean didn't involve him in the administrative side of the police work he did.

Nick dug out the letter that had launched so much pain for them and read over the words. It was still strange to have his dead aunt tell him she had arranged for it all, that she had almost literally signed a contract with the protectorate's Guardian. It would probably have been even more weird to have her tell Nick that she had also arranged the bond, but that was an impossibility. The psychic connection was a positive side-effect of his Grimm abilities and Renard's status and birth.

He folded the pages and locked them away in one of the many drawers, hidden inside yet another of the countless books. Nick switched off the space heater and the lights, then left the trailer.

It was snowing.

Lightly.

He went to his car and drove off the silent lot, heading home.

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

The graveyard was almost abandoned this time of day. Temperatures were freezing by now and a few flakes were already drifting down from the sky. Nick walked the path between the graves and finally left it, heading for the simple headstone that marked Marie Kessler's grave. He stopped, gazing at the gray marker that was covered by a thin layer of white, then smiled slightly.

"Hey," he only said and placed a white rose onto the grass in front of the stone.

Silence greeted him.

"Wish you had told me about your deal," he continued after a moment, completely alone in this section of the graveyard. "It would have made a few things easier. Letters, especially hidden ones, don't really help."

He looked at the grave, then let his eyes wander. Nick had come to terms with the contract and what his mate had done. It was in the past, history, and like many said: you learn from history.

"Did you suspect I might end up being so much more than a Grimm in a regnant's territory? I believe you knew about the whole balancing thing. In a way, now, after discovering so much, about and me and this world, I think you suspected it. Maybe you wanted it. Maybe that was part of the deal that you never mentioned to Renard either."

Nick quirked another smile. His aunt had known he swung both ways, had found out when he had experimented in college. She had never asked, she had never said anything, just accepted his good friend Thomas at that time.

"You knew Grimms made perfect mates for a Guardian. You knew it might be a good fit with us, right? I don't believe you sold me to him because that's not how it works."

He fell silent again, feeling the steady, warm presence of the psychic bond, feeling the anchor within his soul. Renard wasn't even close, but he was here. In a way he was always there. His breath was clouding in front of his face and he felt the cold permeating his clothes. Stuffing his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, he watched the snow.

"Anyway… thanks. For everything. Before and after. You did what you thought was best for me and for everyone involved. I understand things now… many things… all those connections and relations. I think there will be so much more and that what I think is complicated now might just be child's play in a few months. Sometimes I wish I could talk to you about it, find out how much you understood of wesen politics. I've got people I can pester, but you were the only Grimm I knew. You were in that business so much longer."

Nick felt a bout of melancholy and pushed it away. He hadn't come here to feel sad or to wallow. He had mourned his aunt and he had gone on in his life.

"If you knew this might happen, that I could be the mate of a regnant… well, thank you. If you didn't, well, it changed my life. It changed everything. Still, thank you."

He bowed his head and fell into silence, then finally straightened up.

"Thank you," he repeated with a soft whisper, then turned and walked 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 x

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that despite his warnings to forget about the coins, Farley Kolt hadn't. And he hadn't left. Apparently he had been biding his time, trying to find a good approach to talk to the Grimm without getting killed. Cornering an exhausted Nick after a grueling chase and a senseless confrontation with a jagerbar – who now lay unconscious and bleeding in an alleyway – had been his plan.

Nick looked into the yellow eyes, glowing slightly in the darkness, aware that Kolt could see him clearly. He was also aware of his own abilities. Despite the steinadler's speed, Nick had been able to hit him the last time.

Trying to calm himself, get his breathing under control, ignore the ache from where the jagerbar had barreled into him and knocked him against a dumpster, Nick regarded Kolt warily.

"I thought you had left," he said, breaking the silence.

"You know I can't."

"The coins are gone."

The expression tightened. "Where are they?"

"Like I said: gone. I didn't hide them. I dumped them in different places. Nature took care of the rest."

It was the truth.

"I need them, Nick."

"No, you don't."

The narrow face reflected hunger and longing, just like Renard's had. Nick would never forget that expression in his mate's face, the longing and hunger and mindless need. Sean had beaten the influence because of Nick; Farley didn't have anyone like that. Maybe Marie would have been able to heal the wounds, still the hunger and thirst for the power they promised.

But Marie Kessler was dead.

"You wanted them for Marie?" Nick asked, an idea forming in his mind.

Kolt's lips became a thin line.

"She wouldn't have wanted them," he continued. "Grimms can't be influenced by the coins. And she wouldn't have loved you any more than she already did because of them or because of what you might achieve with their poison."

The steinadler shook his head. "They are mine."

"They belong to no one. If my family could have destroyed them, they would have."

It was one thing he had been thinking about long and hard. Why had no one ever destroyed the coins? Easy answer: because it was impossible. Whatever made them so influential on some people also made them hard to get rid of in any way.

He saw the other man move. It was incredibly fast and Nick was tired, bruised and battered, but Grimm instinct had him get out of the way just as fast.

Not fast enough for the blow Farley dealt out that caught him in his already bruised side.
Nick doubled over and hissed, pulling his gun and aiming it from his crouched position. Kolt made a noise that was part eagle, part something else, and lunged at Nick, tackling him to the ground.

The gun went flying.

Nick's head bounced hard and he gasped as the weight of the other man drove the air from his lungs.

Hands with eagle talons on them ripped into his jacket.

Something inside him snapped as a lance of pain shot through him and he gave in to the other side, the Grimm, the primal instinct that followed an ancient way. He reacted without thinking, he did what had to be done, and by the pain gurgle he had hit a very vulnerable spot.

Nick bucked up, using police training and gut instinct, throwing the other man half off, then rolled out of the way of another blow.

"The coins won't help you!" Nick yelled, stumbling back, ready for a new attack.

Kolt screeched in anger.

"You already lost Marie! The coins won't bring her back!"

The taller man threw himself at the Grimm and Nick went down again, feeling the claws bite into his forearm. He ignored the pain and slammed his fist into Kolt's jaw, stunning him for a second. It was enough to kick his feet into Farley's ribs.

One possibly cracked.

But the wesen was resilient.

And Nick was, for all his abilities, only human.

He had already fought a jagerbar and it had tired him, but he wasn't exhausted yet. And he didn't want to give the steinadler the pleasure of killing a Grimm.

So the exchange of kicks and blows and swipes with dangerous claws against blunt human nails went on, a deadly dance that Nick knew he couldn't win if he didn't resort to lethal force.

"Where are my coins?" Kolt demanded, slamming Nick against the wall, his eyes holding an expression of intense need and hunger.

"I don't have them," Nick hissed. "Like I said, they are gone!"

The dangerous looking, sharp beak was very close now. "I need them!"

"No! No one needs them… And I'm sorry…"

Sorry for his loss. Sorry for the pain Marie had caused him when she had left her fiancé. Sorry that it had been him, Nick, who had caused their separation, even though it couldn't have been a child's fault. He was sorry for the addiction Farley had developed. He was sorry for what he had to do.

For a brief moment the other man looked confused, then Nick acted, giving in to the instinct to protect himself from a dangerous creature, and the next minute Kolt lay on the grimy alley floor, wheezing, holding a broken wrist. Nick let the surge wash over him, let the adrenaline course through his body, gray eyes cold and lethal, filled with a final warning.

"The coins are gone," Nick repeated, voice deadly quiet. "And you should be gone, too, Farley. It's my final warning."

He bared his teeth in an angry snarl.

"Listen to him, steinadler," a low rumble echoed through the alley. "It's your only warning."

Kolt froze, halfway back to his feet already and cradling his wrist.

"Attack him again and I will call upon my right to protect what is mine," the voice continued, deceptively soft.

"W-who?"

Eyes glowed golden in the dark and Nick saw the shift in the other man's features as his own eyes were now yellow, bird-like, his features prominently featuring the beak and sharp angles of an eagle's face.

Kolt gave a soft wheeze and stepped back. Realization hit him and Nick could see it flood his mind. He felt his mate's power, felt the shields drop for a split second.

"Your highness."

There was a rustle in the shadows, the sound of leathery wings unfolding.

"You have been warned. The coins are no longer."

"Do you have them?"

Nick knew it was the addict talking. It was the desperation and pain, emotions flowing free. Kolt wasn't thinking logically and if things went completely out of control he might do something even more stupid than attacking a Grimm: he might attack a Guardian.

"No. The Grimm disposed of them on his own and I don't know of their locations either."

Kolt glanced at Nick. He swallowed, visibly fighting. His hands clenched and unclenched. Nick had seen his share of drug addicts, trying to appear normal and yet craving another fix, and the steinadler was just like them.

"I loved Marie," he finally said.

"Then honor her memory. Visit her grave. Pay her your respects. And leave the coins alone."

"I don't know if I can."

Nick's posture tensed. "You'll never get their location from me, Farley."

The steinadler nodded, a jerk of his head.

"Any threat against my mate will be a direct threat against me," the Guardian's voice whispered.

Kolt's eyes widened briefly, then he stared at Nick. "Mate?"

"Yes."

"You should leave now, steinadler," came the order.

Kolt stumbled back a little, aware that the Guardian had moved closer. Nick had the same awareness of his mate, knew he was behind him, still hidden mostly in the shadows, but his sense of Sean was strong and unwavering.

Farley finally nodded again and staggered away, injured wrist held close to his chest. Nick waited until he was out of sight, until his senses told him there was no immediate danger, then he turned to look at the tall, imposing figure behind him.

"You followed me."

"No. Your shields dropped. I knew you were up against more than the jagerbar you had been after."

He had dropped his shields? Damnit! That had only happened a few times in the past months. Normally Nick handled confrontations better.

Sean, his features shifting back to his human façade, cocked his head. "I take it that wasn't intentional."

"No. He got to me." Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Him and Marie… they were a couple once."

"A Grimm and a steinadler?"

"Yeah. Back then I thought it was amazing, given that my aunt was called a nightmare and her name evoked terror. She loved him. When my parents were killed and she had to take care of me, she broke it off."

Renard closed the distance, not yet touching, but clearly projecting shared pain.

"He loved her. He told me. He loved her a lot, and the coins… their power over him had him believe that she would come back to him if he possessed them."

"Their influence is stronger than any will, Nick. What they do, how they enhance every little desire, is nothing you can imagine."

The Grimm nodded, meeting the green gaze. "Probably. I feel sorry for him, for his loss, what he had to give up… She could have stayed with him. I don't think I would have seen him as anything but her boyfriend or something. But she let go of everything."

And he had never been able to do that. Being a Grimm shouldn't entail the need to forget about your old life. He had tried so hard to incorporate the new with the old, and somehow it had worked. Even if getting mated to Renard hadn't been the plan.

Kolt… had given up on everything, had let himself get pushed away, and he had tried to use the coins to win back his love. It had backfired so, so badly.

Renard leaned in close, one hand gently coming to rest on one hip, the other carding into Nick's tousled hair. He pressed a kiss to his grimy forehead.

"I know what he feels, Nick," he murmured. "I wanted you. It was my addiction. You and power. Control over my protectorate. My subjects. You had to be mine. I couldn't control myself with the coins. Neither could he."

"You got past it."

"Because of my mate."

Nick caught his lips in a kiss, smiling a little. "Sweet talker."

"It's the truth. You helped me beat the addiction. Kolt doesn't have anyone. His chosen mate is dead."

Shadows crept over Nick's features. "So he won't ever be free."

"No."

He closed his eyes, let himself briefly sink into the offered, unshielded warmth that was Sean Renard. It was beautiful and something indescribable. Fantastic and powerful and still so gentle and warm and… everywhere. It was another soul, for lack of a better word, and it was part of him.

Nick pulled back reluctantly. Renard gave him a tight smile.

"Done?" the regnant asked and nodded at the still unconscious jagerbar.

"Need to call it in, actually."

He smiled. "Then I should be gone."

"Thanks for dropping by," Nick teased.

"Always." Sean reluctantly let go. "I'll see you later?"

"A lot later. This," Nick gestured at his suspect, "will take a while."

x x x

And it did. Long enough for it to be past midnight and Hank shooing him home to catch some sleep. They would wrap the whole thing up tomorrow.

Nick dropped into bed, already half asleep, feeling every bruise and scrape. Part of him still turned memories of what the coins had done to Sean, what they had made of Farley, over and over in his head. Renard had been lucky; the steinadler would never be. He would keep on looking, Nick was sure of it, until it would kill him.

It would, if he came back or attacked Nick in anyway. The Guardian would make sure of it.

He pushed those thoughts out of his head and let sleep overtake him.

tbc...