Renard had taken his own precautions concerning Farley Kolt. Not only had he researched the man and had come up with a few interesting facts, he had also set three hexenbiester on his tail, to keep an eye on him, to make sure he left. Nick had emotional ties to the steinadler, even if they had interacted only a few times, the last time rather violently. This was the man who had loved Nick's aunt, who would have stayed, despite the fact that she was a Grimm. Renard had tried to imagine Nick's life if he had had a steinadler as a mal rolemodel.

Things would have been different.

Maybe not so much, but at least a little.

Adalind had reported back an hour ago that yes, Kolt had truly left. He had checked out of his hotel and driven out of Portland. It was no guarantee that he wouldn't return, but if he did and his presence became known to the regnant, Renard would act accordingly. Kolt was more than a persona non grata. He was on his list.

Normally he wouldn't interfere in Grimm business; Nick had made it clear that he didn't want it. Renard respected his mate's wishes. But he would protect him against a wesen who was still under the influence of the coins. Kolt wouldn't be able to shake off the effects if he didn't fight it, if he didn't find a reason to live again. His only reason was the coins.

Renard leaned back in his chair, feeling the distant ache of so long ago, the echo of the coins' influence on him. It was like a bad memory, a nightmare, but so potent when he had possessed them. They had whispered such terrible, great and poisonous things to him.

He understood Kolt; in a way no one else could.

And Nick had been his salvation. He had wanted the younger man, he had craved his presence. At first because of the political power the loyalty of a Grimm would get him, but then something else had kicked in. Powerful and overruling every scheming little braincell of his: the psychic bond. The Grimm had been more than a tool; he had been his mate. Renard had fallen under a new power and it was as addictive as the coins, but far less destructive.

The steinadler didn't have the same luxury.

Shutting down his computer, Renard rose and walked over to the windows, looking out into the night. Nick was at home, hopefully asleep, healing. As much as he would have enjoyed being with his mate, right now the Grimm needed rest. He felt the bond, faint and still so very strong, much stronger than before, and he knew everything was okay with the other man.

Tomorrow was another day. And hopefully it would give them some quiet time together.

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

Nick went back to the precinct to finish the case report, aware that Renard was there, as always professionally distant. Because of the professionalism he let the shields stay, tight and locked down. Hank and Nick delivered their final report, Renard asked a few pertinent questions, then it was all done.

"Lunch?" Hank asked.

"Sure. I could eat."

And they left for Hank's favorite burger place.

Nick felt the soft echoes of Sean's presence and he opened up slightly, let the warmth embrace him, and he replied the same way. He knew the other man wanted him closer, wanted to chase away dark memories, needed the confirmation that even throughout all the ups and downs of the last months, culminating in the reminder of what had nearly been through Farley Kolt, nothing had changed.

Nothing at all had changed, he tried to project. Yours. And you are mine.

It got him a surge of emotions that were hard to tell apart and Nick had to close himself off again, lest he drown in them.

Later, he promised himself.

x x x

A new case popped up half an hour later and it was business as usual.

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

Nick spent the next night at Renard's condo, letting his mate reassure himself that he was fine, that those were only bruises and a few harmless scratches.

The moment he stepped through the door, Sean was there, right there, so close, still waiting but needing the physical contact. Nick shut the door and dug his fingers into the loose, dark grey sweater, pulling the taller man to him. Strong arms wrapped themselves around him and warm lips brushed over his temple.

Nick slipped his hands underneath the sweater, felt the warm skin and hard muscles, felt the bond between them, and he dropped his shields.

Renard gave a soft whisper of a gasp, then just took his lips in a possessive kiss.

x x x

They simply lay together, Sean's hands running over his skin, exploring and calming; calming mostly himself.

Kolt had scratched at old wounds for Renard. He reminded the other man what he had tried to do with the coins influencing his thinking. Nick was his, would always be his, and their bonding hadn't been through the coins; more because of the fallout, actually.

Still…

Nick pulled his mate into an embrace, let him rest his head against Nick's chest, eyes closed, trying to relax.

"You've got me," he murmured. "Freely."

It was all that counted for them both. They had both gone through some bad times, and again through worse, and they had weathered it all. The old memories would be dealt with as well.

Just like before.

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 xx x x x x

It had been one of Nick's hardest fights, but he had won the battle.

Kinda.

Sort of.

At least halfway.

He knew when to give up and just let things happen, though it went against everything he believed in, as well as everything he had told Bud he shouldn't do.

Watching the eisbiber and his friends work on his house was… a sight to behold, actually. Nick wasn't blessed with two left hands when it came to repairs, but the things that had accumulated over the years, while small, were more than he would have been able to handle in the amount of time.

The decision to sell his aunt's house had been a hard one. He had fought with himself, with memories and duty and the fact that it was the almost only normal piece of her inheritance he had left. He hadn't discussed the matter with Renard, had simply mulled it over and over in his head. Sean was only indirectly involved in the decision. It wasn't his house. It wasn't his to keep or sell.

The house was too large, for one. A family of four could easily fit in here, including a family dog or two. The garden was wonderful, but Nick couldn't upkeep it. His aunt had paid off all debts, it was mortgage free, and still…

Too much. Too large. Too… many memories. Good ones and bad ones.

At first Bud had come over to take a look at the most dire repairs, like leaking faucets and the thermostat. Nick helped the other man, despite the eisbiber's protests that he was very well able to handle these menial things.

Then Frank Rabe had come over with an estate agent he knew pretty well. Victoria Snyder looked faintly familiar. Only when she told him she was Mason Snyder's cousin did thinks click together.

"I'm sorry about your loss," Nick told the woman earnestly.

She nodded slowly. "Thank you."

And that was that. No more was spoken about the senseless murder.

Victoria took a look around the house, made notes, asked a million questions, not the least daunted by the fact the Nick was a Grimm and she was a lausenschlange.

"You can trust her," Frank had told him, face open, serious. "She knows what she's getting into. She knows who and what you are, that you are… a friend."

That small smile the jagerbar had given him had lifted something heavy from Nick that he hadn't been aware of before.

With a list of necessary repairs in hand, which would get Nick a much better price and would sell the house almost immediately, he had called upon Bud's help.

And now the house was teeming with eisbiber. Nick watched them, astounded by the response Bud had created, by how quickly they worked, how smoothly things went. Bud gave him a wide, proud smile.

"We'll get everything done in time."

"There's no fixed date," Nick told him, something he had repeated what felt like a million times.

"Do you need help moving?"

"Uh, I haven't really started to pack yet…"

"Just call," Bud told him and went over to where one of his guys, family, friends, whatever was looking at some warped floor boards.

From upstairs two men with ladders descended, nodding at Nick. They had been busy with coating the walls in a fresh layer of paint.

"Wow," Nick murmured and walked outside, inhaling the crisp air.

Things were moving; as would he one day. Out of the home he had grown up in.

It felt strange in a way, but it was also something he wanted to do. A next step in his own growth as a Grimm, as a regnant's mate, and as Nick Burkhardt.

x x x x x

It took the eisbiber four days to finish everything. The house looked like new. There was nothing left to work on and Nick steeled himself for the argument that would come next: the bill.

Of course it came.

And Nick fought tooth and nail to pay the men and women who had spent four whole days working so hard.

Bud called it a returned favor.

Nick called it slave work, which had the eisbiber wince.

"Listen, Bud," the Grimm said, praying for patience. "I have a list of the things you did. I have a rough estimate from an estate agent what this might cost. I can get your bank information and just transfer the money if you don't write up a bill. You are getting paid for it, one way or the other. Don't make this harder than it is!"

Bud looked almost desperate. "Nick, this is our gift for you! You did so much for us…"

"And I'm not keeping tabs! Nor do I want favors! You are my friends and you worked hard and it's not something I want for free!"

Because having wesen indebted to him didn't sit well with Nick. It felt completely wrong to use his status as a Grimm, and seeing that Bud had been scared shitless of him just months before, it was doubly wrong.

"Bud, please…"

The eisbiber resolutely shook his head.

"Is this about trying to stay on my good side?" Nick asked. "Because if it is, you don't have to do any of this! You're my friend. What I did I would have done as a police officer, too!"

"You did it as a Grimm," Bud pointed out. "You're a cop and you're a Grimm. We know how lucky we are to have you as you are, Nick. You could be a cop and a Grimm who kicks our asses from here to hell. Or whacks off our heads."

Nick's stance tensed. "I'm not…"

"No, you're not," Bud interrupted with a lot more backbone than months ago, face decisive. "You're our friend. We help each other."

He narrowed his eyes. "Is this because of Sean?"

Bud blinked. "What?"

"Because I'm a regnant's mate?"

"No! Of course not!"

Nick ran a hand through his hair. "Bud…"

"Don't be stupid, Nick. We helped you as a friend. Everything else, you're that, too, and it makes you a very awesome friend, but all of us know you didn't bully or threaten us into this. Everyone came freely. Some couldn't make it and some only for a day or two. We did this for Nick Burkhardt, not whoever or whatever else you are."

And Nick was left standing, bewildered, with a hint of anger, a good dose of resignation, and the still present decision to hunt down Bud's account number, watching the eisbiber drive off.