Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Bond:

Initiation And Testing:

It is rather late but that's okay because after a week of investigating, chasing leads and a minor scuffle Hank and Nick have their perp in custody and are almost finished with reports and such.

“Nick. A word, if you please?” Renard asks stopping by at their worktable.

“Sure.... Umm, are you okay, Sir?”

Their Captain looks sick, something that hasn't happened in almost forever. Nick frowns in concern, which the Prince acquits with a vague abortive gesture.

“Just tired. No need to worry.”

“If you say so.”

Nick looks dubious but lets the matter drop and gets up to follow his Captain.

“Hank, go home. You two have wrapped up your case, so I would say you've put in enough work today.”

“What can I say, Captain? I know a dismissal when I hear one and I cannot say I'm averse to a bit of leisure time.”

“See that you do that. And don't worry, you'll get your partner back in one piece. For once he managed to stay out of trouble.”

Hank chuckles, Renard smirks. Nick shoots them both a dirty look.

>>>

In his office Renard sinks into his chair with much less grace than usual, which says a lot about a man who normally is an epitome of the words 'regal' and 'in control'.

“Sit down. This might take some time.”

Doing as requested Nick regards the zauberbiest with an inquisitive gaze.

“Okay. So what's the matter that you cannot or do not want to discuss in front of Hank?”
"No need to sound so suspicious. To be honest, I need your help. Adalind has put a curse on me."

"Wow, that's certainly no dancing around the matter.... Wait, what do you mean, Adalind has cursed you?"

Renard's glare is much more familiar than his paler than normal appearance and so is the deadpan tone when he responds:

"Which part of that sentence did you not understand?"

It gets him another dirty look from the Grimm.

"The part about the how and the why."

"That might be because I haven’t gotten to that part yet... and I am not sure why you would inquire about her reasons."

Two things become clear very quickly:

Renard is in a snappy mood (and has hid it from Hank) and his patience for anything but a solution to his problem has run out some hours ago. Nick is not bothered... much.

"I don't know, maybe you deserved getting cursed? No offense, but you are not generally known for your altruistic ways."

The black stare increases in intensity and gets that miffed edge telling anyone sensible to run or submit to the Captain's wishes.

Nick has never been very good at submitting... or at being sensible for that matter. He doesn't back down and instead gives his superior a pointed look. It has no effect whatsoever. He sighs.

"Well?... And don't think about lying. You might be a master at that but in this case I would know."

"Aren't you a charming one today?"

Uh, oh, heavy sarcasm. There's one decidedly unhappy Royal in this room.
"Yes, well, I learned from the best."

Renard actually snorts.

"Would you believe me, if I told you she believed in undying love and I did not?"
"Umm, noo?" A long suffering look from Renard.

"No shit? Really?"

"Not as cliche but yes. When she brought Diana to me she intended to buy her way into her happily ever after with all the prestige and money a relationship with a Royal would have entailed. Needless to say, our views differed greatly. I offered financial support and protection for both of them... but she wasn’t happy."

"Okay. Sounds like a soap opera but also disturbingly like dear Adalind. Now about the curse. What does it do? And how could she have deceived you, anyway? I mean, you are the epitome of a survival specialist given all that experience with your creepy family!”

If Nick has thought he would never see the unflappable zauberbiest uncomfortable he's been wrong. Not that Renard looks uncomfortable like normal people do but there's a trace of... something (if you take away that smug smirk at Nick's involuntary compliment).

“You don't want to know about the last bit.”

“Your creepy family or how Adalind managed to curse you?”

“Both I would say.”

His tone is light enough but a sharp gaze makes clear, the matter is closed. Nick looks like he would like to differ but he is sensible enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Okay, what's the problem then?”

Sean notes that there is a certain edge of worry to the Grimm's words. Like he wants to ask if the curse is fatal but is afraid to do so.

“She has cursed me with 'Einsamer Tod'.”

Nick frown deepens.

“I know the word 'Tod'. That one comes up in nearly every German Grimmoire entry and it is not good!”

“It means 'lonely death'. And no, it isn't good as you so eloquently put it.”

“I'll just attribute your terrible manners to the shock of being put under a... death curse (an involuntary shudder) and ask you nicely and civilly: What does that curse do and how would I be able to help?”

Renard has the grace to... look a little less disgruntled, which translates into looking ashamed as far as any normal living being is concerned.

He steeples his fingers and takes a deep breath. He might not look the least bit concerned to anyone not knowing him but to Nick this says a world about how the Prince must be feeling right now.

“In order to break the curse I need to find someone to establish a bond with me. If I do not find someone to do that I will grow weaker... until at some point I die.”

That are remarkably calm words for a man facing death. Nick cannot help swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat.

“What kind of bond is that? And why me?”

“The bond is nothing more than a magical link to be upheld for a month. It will enable me to function without experiencing weakness but it won't affect you... not if we are careful.”

“That last part sounds like a disaster in the making, if you ask me.”

“The bond has a few drawbacks, I will admit. For one it requires a certain amount of closeness.”

At Nick's shocked expression Renard actually rolls his eyes. He must really be in bad shape if he does that.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, will you? Not that kind of closeness.”

"Why does 'bond' sound disturbingly like 'bondage' then?"

"Because you are being an idiot, Burkhardt."

"For someone with a favor to ask you are not very nice, Sir."

"And for someone with a normally bright mind you are being awfully obtuse. Now back to the matter at hand."

“Sorry, I just tried to lighten the mood.”

“Yes, well. I would appreciate if you tried to solve the problem at hand now.”

“Your wish is my command, your Highness. So tell me, what kind of closeness is needed? And what is the other drawback?”

The zauberbiest inclines his head at Nick's perceptiveness even while his whole bearing projects: Cut back on sass or else.

“So you did listen to me. It will force us to be in vicinity of each other for a certain amount of time each day but all that is required is staying in the same room. Though, after a longer period of separation touch may be needed. Like placing a hand on your bare arm or something similar.”

“Umm, okay. I think I can do that. I mean... if it keeps you alive I can certainly do that.”

Renard looks relieved in his very own way, which is to say, that Nick notes a lack of mocking for the way he's phrased this.

“Three questions left: About what time frame are we talking? What is the other drawback? And how do we establish that bond?”

“A few hours. We will have to test out specifics. For the bonding a zaubertrank must be ingested by both of us, which your friend Rosalee will be able to brew.”

“The other drawback? Oh, and why me?”

Nick could swear to have heard Renard mutter something about a dog with a bone and glares, almost entirely sure that he has just been insulted.

„I have asked you because in case something goes wrong I need an exceptionally strong bond partner. If we move past the time limit I will feel weakness and you will feel discomfort. If we do so in a drastic manner I might pass out while you... will experience unspeakable pain.“

„Sounds nice… and really easy to incorporate into our oh so predictable timetable on a day to day basis. By now I understand why it’s so difficult for you to find a partner.“

„Yes, you see. It is very difficult for me to find a partner.“

The Royal’s response is bone dry as he waits patiently for Nick to catch on.

When he does his eyes widen almost comically and he starts stammering out an explanation.

„Which is not to say that you have that problem… romantically (at this points he's blushing hard)…. Errr, I’m sure you have no problem whatsoever with that….“

„Nick, you might want to stop rambling and start considering, if you are prepared to bond with me to break the curse.“

„Seeing that you might die, if I say no, the answer is, yes. But I want more information and…. Just how bad is unspeakable?“

Into profound relief, for once openly visible, mixes slight amusement at the Grimm’s last question.

„I will be honest. Bad is not ‚bee sting bad‘ in this case but rather like a whole ‚bee hive sting bad‘. Some have described it as feeling like their innards want to tear themselves apart in order to reach their bond partner, wherever he or she may be.“

Nick nods slowly.

„Now I’m really glad I have asked beforehand. No fear, no pressure at all. Lovely.“

He manages to say it all in a dead serious tone but at the end a grin breaks through, that is as much humor as it is resignation to his fate. 

Sometimes having a 'saving-people'-thing just sucks!

Renard himself cannot keep a slight smile from appearing. Burkhardt may have many faults but cowardice and a lack of empathy is not among them.

„Thank you. And of course you shall get more information.“

From one of his desk drawers he pulls out a thick old tome, that rivals Nick’s Grimmoires in size and age, and puts it on the table for the Grimm to see.

„Take it home with you to read. I have marked the relevant pages. Tell me tomorrow morning, if you have any further questions. Then we will visit the Spice Shop.“

„If it is okay with you, I would like to take this to Monroe and Rosalee directly. No offense, but they are better versed in these things than I am, and while I won’t deny you my help, I want to know exactly what I get myself into.“

“Do what you have to do. I can certainly understand your concerns.“

“See you tomorrow then, Captain.“

“See you then, Nick.”

>>>

„Hey, guys. I need your help and your advice. Captain Renard has been cursed by Adalind with something called ‚Einsamer Tod' (their twin shocked expressions tell Nick quite a bit already) and he wants me as his bond partner to break it. What do I do?“

Monroe makes his opinion known at once. Loudly, in many words and with showy gestures and expressions.

Nick… kind of ignores him. 

But hey, that’s okay. It’s not as if Monroe expects anything he says to have any impact whatsoever on the Grimmlet brat. That would make life so much less exciting and take away many opportunities to fuss over and/ or berate said Grimm. 

Note here: A heavy portion of sarcasm and a chunk of truth that’s bigger than the blutbad would ever admit, even under torture. And honestly, who can resist those damn puppy eyes when they look at you imploringly and tell you that he cannot let Renard die just like that.

„Okay. Now that we’ve cleared up any doubts (loud scoffing from the wolf in the room), how do we do this and what can go wrong?“

„Everything.“

„There are some serious matters we need to talk about.“

Nick grins at Monroe and Rosalee talking at the same time and saying exactly what he has expected of each of them. Before starting again the pair has a silent conversation that makes his smile widen even more. Those two are simply adorable to watch sometimes. For about half an hour they let him stew while they consult the books before finally Rosalee starts on explanations.

„The brewing and consummation of the zaubertrank is fairly easy. I can have it finished within the day and you can take it tomorrow evening at the latest. The ritual involved in drinking you can imagine a bit like that Russian tradition of drinking to fraternity. You stand facing each other, entwine your right arms so that they are slung around each other and then you drink at the same time.“

„That was the easy part.“ Monroe cautions with a frown.

„Monroe is right. The tricky part is bringing the time limit into day to day routine. You cannot be apart from each other for more than seven hours, though it has to be noted that at five hours symptoms start for both of you whereas at seven hours….“

„… You kind of wish never to have been born, dude.“

Nick swallows thickly. He has to admit, Rosie and Monroe would make a good show of heralding apocalypse or some such negative turn of global events. They sure know how to describe worst case scenarios in vivid details.

„Can he… can Renard kill me with this?“

Monroe looks at him in approval like he’s happy that Nick finally begins thinking along realistic lines.

„No, he can not. If he were to… let you suffer from this until you die he would seal his own death as well. You see, this is not something you get to try out twice. The Captain has one shot at this. Either you two manage to uphold the bond for a month or his chances at survival are null and void.“

„Okay. Then I would say, we are on. Renard may be a jerk sometimes… and sometimes he may be even more than that but I won’t let him die.“

„Well, he could try to find someone else....“ Monroe trails off at Nick’s glare.

„Just saying, dude. I mean, I know the list won’t be long. After all, he cannot force someone to take that bond with him but he could find someone else… most likely.“

>>>

“You ready, Sir?”

“You mean, am I ready for a chance to survive Adalind's curse? Certainly!”

It's Sunday evening when Nick and Renard meet in the Spice Shop with Monroe and Rosalee. Nick wants to hurry things up a bit. Renard looks like he won't be able to stay upright for much longer and pushes the term 'looking like death warmed over' to new proportions.

Now both are set to start as Rosalee has instructed, but before they can so much as raise their cups she stops them with an anxious frown.

“Sorry, I know you want to do this rather sooner than later but there's one last thing: Nick, if in the next four weeks you get into a situation where you feel pain because of the bond... great pain, I mean... you need to actively think about upholding the bond in spite of that! You see, the reason why the Captain can not kill you with this is because you can end the bond at any time. So in case you are suffering greatly, your mind might suggest to cut off the connection. If you do not want him to die, however, you have to actively uphold it especially at times when you are suffering because of it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do. Either I go through with this, no matter what, or that curse will kill him.”

“That's right. Unfortunately this is nothing you can try twice should the two of you fail in staying bonded.”

A heavy silence ensues only to be broken by Monroe asking what has seemed to be burning on his tongue for some time now:

“One question: Throughout history, just how many cases have there been of some wife or husband teaming up with a lover to off their better half by accepting and then purposefully ending such a bond?”

It gets him twin shouts of “Monroe!!” and “How can you ask that now?!” from Nick and Rosalee but he isn't deterred, just throws the Royal a curious glance.

Renard answers, anyway: “Throughout history... especially my royal family's history, there have been more than enough cases. So you see, Adalind made sure I have a wonderful time while curing myself of the curse.”

His tone and expression suggest that, if he survives this shit, it will be Adalind having a wonderful time, indeed.

Nick heaves an explosive sigh. All this has driven home what all this must mean for a fiercely suspicious man like Renard. Honestly, he's surprised (and then not because hey, it's Renard) that the Captain is no nervous wreck by now. To place his life into the hands of someone he does not completely trust – and that being his best option – that's something Nick would panic about.

Resolve firmed he seeks out the zauberbiest's gaze and starts speaking before he can change his mind:

“Umm, we may not always get along... and sometimes I might want to strangle for being a sneaky bastard, but I won't let you die! I know how hard it is for you to trust me with your life, and frankly, you are taking this all so much more calmly than I would....”

He trails off unsure, needing a moment to gather his thoughts. Renard grants it despite his growing weakness.

“Anyway, I will not suddenly wake up and think, this is too much of a hassle. Whatever happens I will see you through this! We just need to work together. How hard can that be?”

Renard gives a mirthless chuckle at that and squeezes his eyes shut before it all can overwhelm him. Nick can see his broad chest expanding with a deep intake of breath. When he opens his eyes again he has regained his composure.

“I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't trust you... with my life. Now let's just get over with this. The need to sit down before I fall starts getting imperative and I would like to establish our bond before I reach that state.”

Without further ado they perform the ritual, waiting for something... anything to happen once they are finished. It doesn't. No sudden flash of light, no feeling of love and rainbows and unicorns. Nothing at all. While Nick just looks unsure Renard starts looking this side of disturbed. And who could fault him? It is his life hanging in the balance, after all.

After a while Rosalee speaks up, quietly and almost shy:

“Umm, in some cases....”

Sean feels bile rising at the thought that she might say: 'In some cases the bond simply doesn't work.'.

The fuchsbau must have noticed his increasing pallor for she hurries on:

“Well, in some cases, when there are not enough positive feelings involved, another push is needed to trigger the bond. Sooo... it would be best, if you hugged each other. Nick needs to initiate it.”

“A hug? Rosie, are you serious?”

Both men eye each other with skepticism and it would have been funny if the consequences of failure wouldn't have been so dire. Nick takes a step forward and raises his arms, only to abort the movement halfway up. He heaves another sigh, obviously frustrated by his inability to simply do this as well as by the situation in general.

“Hugging my boss. Not awkward at all.”

That bone dry assertion actually gets a surprised chuckle out of Renard and finally enables the Grimm to get over himself and envelope the other man in a hug. Maybe he's thought a bit more momentum would make it easier, but whatever he's thought, in the end he practically face plants into Renard's broad chest.

“Holy shit, you are freakin' tall! This is... not funny at all for a grown man.”

“What did you expect, Burkhardt, that I go down on my knees for....”

The rest simply dies on his lips. A sudden surge of reviving strength runs through him and he cannot keep in a shocked gasp, not for all his self control. Nick seems to feel it, too, for through his shirt he can feel the Grimm's surprised exhale.

And feeling Nick does! While at first contact there's been a painful tug behind his navel, now he is feeling... incredibly good. If this is what rainbows and unicorns feel like he's in complete support of both.

Or maybe he is just going crazy, because who in their right mind describes feeling good with rainbows and unicorns?!

After that and giving the Captain some time to get his bearings again the rest of the evening is spent discussing their new daily routine and plans for testing out how the bond signals nearing the time limit.

>>>

Monday has Nick and Hank writing reports and further wrapping up their case, which is damn convenient as it allows Nick and Renard to stay in vicinity of each other. This morning has been a first exercise in control. Waking up to stomach cramps 5 hours after parting ways the evening before and then groggily remembering why you are in this state without ever laying hands on prawns or other such tricky food, makes you wonder if the drive to work has always been this damn long. Meeting Renard at precinct (much earlier than is usual for either of them) has been a relief, that's for sure.

So far all has went well. It seems the bond recognizes staying in the same building as near enough to work, which will make their daily routine so much easier.

“I'm off to get some coffee.”

This is Hank drawing him from his thoughts and obviously quite aware of the fact. While picking up their mugs from the table he throws his partner a knowing look.

“Thinking about a certain someone?”

“Haha, very funny. If you ask now, if that someone is tall and handsome I'll punch you.”

Hank takes the threat with grin and the calm certainty of someone knowing Nick for a long time that he will be save from retaliation as long as he fetches coffee for the Grimm as well.

First thing in the morning Nick has pulled his partner into an unused storage room and after much teasing about clandestine meetings and Nick being very straightforward in his advances he has gotten around to telling Hank about the bond. The Afro-American has gathered the crux of the problem at once, going tight lipped and dead serious at hearing about Adalind's latest misdeed.

“I would say that sucks but somehow that simply doesn't cut it considering there's a life on the line.”

To avoid more ribbing about his thoughts straying elsewhere he responds to Hank's initial comment:

“Coffee sounds truly wonderful. Just remember to take from the left can. Johnson took from the right one last week and an hour later he threw up on the Captain in grand and absolutely gross fashion.”

Hank's eyebrows rise to his hairline.

“Was Johnson ever seen afterwards?”

“I don't know... I haven't spoken to him since last Tuesday.”

“Fair enough. I'll be careful.”

While Hank walks off in search of a caffeine fix Nick immerses himself in paperwork again. Oh, joy!

10 minutes later when he looks up to find his partner returning to their desk without their mugs anywhere in sight he frowns in suspicion. Something is not right about that.

“We've got a case.”

“Wait, what? Come on, how did you go from getting coffee to getting a case?”

“Yeah, well. That's life. Sometimes you get a coffee....”

“...and sometimes you get the corpse. I know, I know. I'll just check in with Renard, then we're off.”

>>>

It takes them all of five and a half hours to return to precinct. Nick is very sure about how long it has taken them, because after five hours he's had a call from Renard asking what the hell was taking them so long, and for another half an hour then he's been running around with a decidedly unhappy midsection. And yes, Nick is sure, if his midsection could express feelings, stomach cramps would be just its way of saying: Life sucks!

One quiet conversation with Hank later Nick makes his way over to Renard's office alone under guise of reporting. They have established that the Captain might be more comfortable with Nick arriving alone this first time, because while neither of them knows how badly affected he is by the curse, both of them know how much he values his dignity.

Apropos dignity:

Nick barely keeps himself from slamming Renard's office door shut behind himself and cannot for the life of him keep in a soft exclamation of relief when he slumps against the inside of the door.

“Oh, God, this is good.”

Apparently after being apart for more than five hours only staying in the same building just doesn't cut it. Nick leans back against the hard wood as much as he can safely get away with while he waits for the pain to subside. Unfortunately, at looking up he finds himself faced with the less than amused gaze of his Captain.

“Be a little less conspicuous next time, if that's within your range of abilities.” The man snaps quietly.

Nick does not deign that with an answer and instead throws his superior a dark look. Renard has not been the one to suffer from painful cramps for the last 30 minutes. He looks, if anything, slightly tired. When the zauberbiest just continues to stare at him in the unfailing manner of a superior waiting for his subordinate notice that he's in trouble, Nick forces himself to consider his actions.

Okay, maybe he hasn't been the only one suffering. Not knowing when (or if, given their profession) they would return to precinct couldn't have been easy either. And while he's being honest with himself: Feeling your strength slip from your body like water out of a leaking pot must be pretty awful as well.

“Sorry. This was the first time. I was a bit overwhelmed just now. Anyway. I think we need to start keeping each other up to date with what we do and when we will be finished with it to meet again. Otherwise this will be stressful four weeks.”

“You think?” If that hasn't been a deadpan response Nick has never heard one. The thin eyebrow lifted for emphasis doesn't do anything to appease the Grimm either.

“Hey, don't get all snappy. You know as well as I do that we need to test things out in order to improve how we handle them.”

Renard concedes the point with a barely perceptible nod.

“Anyway, I have some findings to report regarding our latest case.”

That being a wonderful excuse for spending time close together none of them mentions that Nick's report is just a little more detailed than usual.

Chapter Text

Co-Existence:

It's three days into their bond and if anyone thinks it weird for Nick to stand in Renard's living room at 11pm, at this point both men do not care anymore. Not if the alternative is either meeting at precinct at five in the morning to avoid the tiny matter of a time limit or waking up to weakness and pain, which they do, anyway, but less so than before. What they do is 'recharging', or in other words: Staying really close together to extend their time limit at least by a margin.

“So how long is long enough?”

“Once I do not feel improvement of my condition anymore we have stayed together for a sufficient amount of time.”

“Hmm.”

They lapse into silence, not really knowing what to say and not comfortable enough to look at each other.

“Feeling any better?”

Sean levels an exasperated glare at his Detective before actually pondering the question.

“Yes, there has been improvement, so, no, we are not yet finished. Would you now please refrain from impersonating a bratty boy on a car ride and just wait for me to tell you?”

Nick huffs a sigh but nods. Being called a 'bratty boy' stings more it has any right to do! And trust Renard to take just the right tone with him to make him feel like some delinquent youth as well.

So we will be standing around in my bosses’ flat for some more time. Hey, isn't that what I've always dreamed about?

Even in the recesses of his own mind there's more sarcasm than can be good for anyone. Renard for his part has turned to face the floor length windows, clear sign of 'Do not disturb me or talk to me!'. Some manners that man has!

Idly staring alternately up at the ceiling or Renard's book collection Nick cannot help wondering how they could make this easier.

There has to be a way to hurry things up so that we can actually function properly without staying within arms reach of each other for what now, going on an hour?

An idea forms in his head while he contemplates the Captain's words about feeling an improvement.

May I risk it? I can be sneaky... but the Captain seems to have the perception of a bat sometimes which could cause problems. Maybe if I just managed to do it before Renard noticed then he wouldn't be as angry for he feels the added strength.

Yes. That might work. Renard is a practical man (that is politely put and avoids calling him an opportunist). He’ll see the advantages.

Sean is trying to take his mind elsewhere, to search within himself for a stop of any further improvement and thus an end to their reluctant evening together. He would prefer to have his flat back to himself but he cannot help feeling further strength settle itself within his body while staying close to Burkhardt. He is almost at a point where he closes his eyes to better feel the ever decreasing nuances of his improving condition when at the edge of his vision he perceives movement.

What the hell?

It is Nick and for whatever reason he is moving his index finger in the direction of his bare forearm. The Grimm is moving slowly, obviously intent on going undetected and if Sean hadn't felt... something... at Nick's digit nearing, he wouldn't have noticed at all.

He has, though, and the prospect of being poked by his Detective makes him one very pissed off zauberbiest. If he plays his cards right, though, this could have a satisfying outcome....

“Have you heard, Burkhardt? Lately there have been new findings on Detectives losing limbs in incidents on duty. Some of these limbs are said to be as small as fingers.”

He says all this without taking his gaze off the window. Nick winces heavily and pulls his hand out of reach, digit curling in like a wilting flower.

“How did you notice? You didn't even look!”

One corner of Renard's mouth tips up in obvious satisfaction. He schools his face back to neutrality, however, and only then turns around to pin his Detective with an unyielding gaze.

“The question is: What were you trying to achieve?”

By now the mighty Grimm has turned beet red and is busy scooting away from the displeased zauberbiest, who enunciates each word carefully and generally projects a mix of cold anger and morbid curiosity.

“Umm. Do you want to know the truth?”

“No, Burkhardt. Obviously not. I would be thrilled to hear some fabricated lies.”

“Okay, okay. Tap down the sarcasm, will you.”

His Detective heaves a put upon sigh but the Prince still notices how he moves his hands slightly behind his back as if to protect them from mutilation.

“I wanted to test, if you felt that.”

A level gaze as if to gauge the state of his sanity.

“You are aware that I possess tactile sense?”

The skeptically raised eyebrow makes an appearance again. Nick rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I am. What I meant was: Do you feel the... presence of my hand... energy-wise?”

“Do you really want to risk a limb by trying? I wouldn't recommend doing that again.”

He doesn't like these ominous words... and not the cold smile either. Renard can be creepy as hell, if he wants to.

“If you put it like that, no. You are a spoil sport, you know?”

“I am first and foremost your Captain.”

The Detective heaves an epic sigh (and has the feeling that is all he's doing nowadays) but is sensible enough to stop teasing his superior, especially at hearing that glacial tone.

“So no experimenting. Just thought it might help us to better cope with the bond.”

“Forgive my skepticism. But as I am the guinea pig for your little test I find myself less than enthused.”

“Okay, okay, message received. No weird tests of bond basics.”

Nick holds his hands up in a gesture of apology and that rueful little smile, coming to his lips entirely against his will, does its part to appease the powerful Prince.

“At least there's some advantage to this. While addressing your actions we dawdled away enough time for the bond to finish settling.”

“Well, if you're feeling at your best, Sir, I am off for tonight. See you tomorrow.”

Renard inclines his head with a distinct quirk to his lips.

“If I recall your mumbling from Sunday correctly, you mentioned rainbows and unicorns. I am very sure, I will never feel those but feeling good means something different for each of us, doesn't it?”

The smirk on Renard's regal features could rival the devil's now.

While taking the elevator to the underground garage Nick wonders, if there will be one day of the next 20-something, that he manages to pass without embarrassing himself in front of his Captain.

>>>

It's Day 6 and once again they are in the Captain's flat. The last days have, thank God, been uneventful. No problems with their current case, no sudden change of plans that has pushed the bond to its limit.

Too little sleep and waking up to discomfort on Nick's part and feeling tired and weak on Sean's is still in session, which is why they are 'charging up' again late in the evening. It helps a little at least. The day before yesterday they've met at the Spice Shop, yesterday it's been Nick's house and now it's Renard's again.

Nick nurses a big mug of coffee in both hands while he watches the man. The zauberbiest is busy with the coffee machine, preparing his own mug after putting one down in front of him. Considering how weird their current situation is the Captain looks remarkably relaxed. He still wears that smart dress shirt from work, but sleeves are rolled up to his elbow and he looks more at ease here in his own home than he does at precinct.

After a moment's hesitation Renard deigns to sit down next to Nick at the breakfast bar. They do not fill the silence with empty chatter, both immersed in their own thoughts and content just to sit there without experiencing any negative effects. In some ways it is much less awkward than their first get together in Renard's condo. Maybe they have settled into a routine by now or maybe they have simply resigned themselves to the fact, that this is how their next weeks will come to pass.

After some minutes Nick decides to ask a question he's been pondering on ever since this whole mess has started.

“How does it feel for you when we overstep the time limit.”

Renard throws him a sideways glance, obviously contemplating possible consequences of telling him. Nick already assumes he won't say anything when he sighs and starts talking.

“I feel strength seeping out of me. Control slipping. Slowly at first, and then in leaps. In those first days it has been like that. There have been dizzy spells and feeling tired beyond belief. But worst of all was the knowledge, that without a partner there would be no chance of improvement, only degradation until the body gives out.”

The zauberbiest actually shudders. Nick can relate. Taking away Renard's control, the power he cherishes so much, and rubbing in how few people he can trust with this…. 

…Worse, making him put his life into the hands of someone else, is a really bitchy thing to do.

“Sometimes I want to kick Adalind real hard.”

Sean finds himself surprised at this show of empathy. He doesn't know how to react to it, though, so he goes for a practical approach:

“Give me your hand.”

Nick catches on quickly.

“Wait, you practically bite off my finger when I try to test that theory and now you want to hold my hand?”

He half expects the Captain get snappish and withdraw at that, but he seems to be in a light mood tonight. Or... he's really intent on holding his hand... which is too weird a thought, so Nick goes for good mood.

“I'm impressed with your deductive skills, Detective. Now be good and do what your superior tells you. I promise there won't be another case added to those new findings about lost limbs. Oh, and by the way, I never bite. Too messy and too undignified by far.”

The Grimm crosses his arms in front of his chest, glowering at Renard and holding out on what the Royal wants just because he can. Not to gain power over him but to show him that he may be his loyal (and more often than not) obedient Detective every day of the week, but that this is something entirely different.

Renard's sharp eyes narrow at this show of mutiny but then, quite unexpectedly, that piercing gaze becomes softer and an almost playful gleam appears.

“Come on, Burkhardt. You cannot fool me. You wouldn't have risked your finger, if you didn't want to know.”

Nick doesn't budge and yet Sean can tell he is not trying to make a point anymore, just teasing him. He files away the Grimm's expression for later.

This is exactly the same one Nick sports when weird things happen to Hank in precinct, like his mug disappearing to God knows where every time he turns around or his screen saver showing kitten videos no matter how often he tries to change that. It might be useful to be able to recognize that expression in the future.

Before his thoughts can stray any further he gets back to the matter at hand.

“Anyhow, you're as curious as a Katekelken on a hunt. I know that, so stop your little game and give me your hand.”

Nick cannot decide, if he's just been insulted or not, but he gives in nonetheless.

“Okay, okay. Just one more question: What the hell is a Katekelken?”

“A squirrel like wesen. Very skittish and always searching for one thing or another. The name is old German for Eichhörnchen... or squirrel as we call it.”

For one crazy moment Nick entertains the thought of how it would have been to learn about wesen from his Captain instead of Monroe. Then he thinks back to what the man has said... and catches up. A disbelieving chuckle. He shoots the zauberbiest a sideways glance.

“Did you just compare me to a squirrel, Sir?”

“You must have misinterpreted that, Detective.”

That's it. He doesn't know, if it’s the fact that Renard has just cracked something very similar to a joke or the man's dry tone, but he cannot repress bouts of helpless laughter any longer.

On the down side, he over-balances on the high bar stool and slips off before he can catch himself....

On the upside..., oh well.

Renard's hand shoots out automatically, grabbing his bare wrist to keep him from going down. The result is instantaneous:

A sudden, mighty burst of power flows through his body, and in a move of spectacularly miscalculated strength he pulls Nick back up and then right off on the other side of the chair!

Sean keeps any and all amusement hidden under a mask of neutrality when he looks down on the Grimm, who is sitting on the floor between the two chairs, looking a mix of dumbfounded and bemused.

He tries his very best to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards, in case it further miffs the Grimm, but already self-depreciating humor chases the glower out of Nick’s eyes.

“Well, that does answer our question, doesn't it?”

He offers his hand to pull him back up, which is received with just the portion of suspicion that it probably deserves given his performance moments ago.

“If I take your hand, will I end up crashing into the ceiling?”

“I am 90% sure you won't.”

“Only 90? I am disappointed, Captain. Then again, Monroe always says, I am not known for playing safe, so....”

He trails off and grabs the zauberbiest's hand.

Once both are sitting again – slowly sipping from their mugs of coffee to distract themselves from the elephant in the room – they actually start holding hands.

… And isn't that awkward? Anyway, strength and pain wise it really does the trick but apart from that....

“Okay, that's not going to work. This is just too much like fairytale.”

Nick mutters, pulling his hand out of Renard's grasp and grabbing the man’s wrist before he can question him. He frowns down upon where Nick has grabbed him – and man, such a frown is so much more impressive, if you are 6ft 4' and have the charisma of damn Royalty.

Before his hand can meet a fatal end by pissed off zauberbiest he nudges Renard to reciprocate his pose and just like that, they are grabbing each others wrists warrior style.

“See? Much less awkward.”

“If you say so.”

Renard may sound unconvinced but he does look less uncomfortable with the whole situation now.

>>>

On Day 11 (not that he knows it is 'Day 11') it is Wu's turn to ponder the peculiar situation, that he has no clue about and yet perceives on a subconscious level. Call it gut instinct or whatever else but these are his thoughts on the matter:

More than once Wu has thought he should write a book: 'Observations Of Sergeant Drew Wu' or 'The All-Seeing Eye'.

He always been good at spotting things and lately there's been a myriad of tidbits to pick up.

For one there's been Officer Johnson's auspicious absence from work after his astonishing and gruesome vomiting stunt, and of course, there's been the matter of Nick and the Captain (who he still secretly assumes has done away with Johnson). And haven’t those two been behaving curious, indeed?

Wu couldn't help noticing a few things:

When both are at precinct together all is well. But when they have been apart from each other for some time things get interesting. After long hours being out investigating Nick begins to look... pained somehow and he becomes close-mouthed and a tic more short-tempered than is normal for their good-natured Detective boy.

Renard on the other hand goes all broody and just this side of silent, that would mean snappy for a normal man, who isn't obsessed with staying in control of every inch of his life.

This may all be coincidental, but what if Nick is pining instead of pained and Renard is not broody but... lets say dissatisfied at not having his Detective near? Well, that would put things into a whole new perspective, wouldn’t it?

Whatever may be the case, Wu will keep an eye on those two.

>>>

Day 13 has Nick lounging on Monroe's couch with a bottle in hand and the very firm intention of moving as little as possible for the next few hours. All this 'being up late' or 'rising early', all this stomach pain, when he and his cursed zauberbiest Captain have been apart for too long, really do a number on his sleep deprivation levels. Or in other words: Upholding a bond is damn hard work!

“Hey, dude. If you are here and intending to have an evening of movies and pasta with me, what does that mean... for your bond thing?”

“Umm. It means that it's the Captain's turn to do the driving.”

Unconcerned Nick nibs from his bottle of microbrew.

“Ah, okay. Wait! Does that mean the Prince is going to come here?!”

The Grimmlet brat looks at him like he's a bit slow.

“Yes, I think what I said implies that Renard will show up here.”

The way he's enunciating each word as if he were a four year old makes Monroe scowl and growl (a favorite past time of him if one were to believe the infuriating Grimm).

Before he can tell Nick just what he thinks of his manners the doorbell rings. He goes to open it, although he is busy in the kitchen and Nick is just taking up space in his living room. After one too many wesen scared half to death by a Grimm opening the front door they have established the rule, that Nick is never... really, never to open the door, no matter who they are expecting.

>>>

Renard and Nick stand in the entrance area looking everywhere but at each other. They are... holding hands for lack of a better word. It's more warrior style but its still holding hands. And what makes it so much more awkward than the times before is that Monroe is in the vicinity.

That snickering can be heard from the kitchen does not do anything for their comfort levels either. At least Rosalee has offered them the privacy of the backroom. Well, she has manners, after all.

“Monroe, this is not nearly as funny as you make it out to be.”

“Believe me, dude, it is.”

Neither the Grimm's dark stare nor the zauberbiest's brooding gaze can deter the blutbad. Which might be because he can't see either one from his spot in the kitchen.

“Really, this is hilarious. First you two do scheduled meetings like a divorced couple with shared custody of a kid....”

“...Seeing where we are, it's more like shared custody of a dog.”

A disgruntled snort (Monroe is a master of that one) but nothing can keep his amusement at bay for long.

“... And now... you are holding hands. If next you speak about weekend arrangements and pair therapy I'll start crying because I'm laughing so hard.”

“What do you wager, Nick. Do you think we could make him cry without any laughter involved?”

Renard says this with such a deadly calm countenance that in the kitchen Monroe emits a frightened squeak before he can help himself. Of course, the blutbad cannot see Renard's devious smirk. Nick, on the contrary, cannot see anything but and this time he grins in return.

“I'm not sure... maybe?”

“Nick, that's not nice!”

“Mocking a man, who may yet face death, isn't nice either so kindly keep your amusement at our arrangement to yourself in the future.”

This is Renard and that tone is full, blazing Captain's mode. Nick can practically feel Monroe shudder in unease.

All in all holding hands is much less uncomfortable afterwards, which may or may not be attributed to the fact that they are quietly discussing the most effective methods of rendering an insolent blutbad silent.

>>>

It is Day 15 and, no wait, that's Day 16 already....

When Burkhardt appears at his doorstep at 4 am with a disgruntled look on his face and a pillow in his hand Sean has a scathing comment already on the tip of his tongue.

„Not one word! I’ve had it now with disrupted sleep and waking up to a cramping stomach. I’m feeling like I’m pregnant, for God’s sake.“

„I wasn’t going to say anything, although you did chose a rather ungodly hour to come here.“

The Prince replies haughtily. Nick’s black stare clearly says he isn’t fooled one bit. Pity.

When the Grimm just pushes past him and steps into his condo Sean wants to growl but he has too much control to do so. And maybe, just maybe he refrains because the moment they’ve almost brushed against each other on his doorstep feels like a rejuvenating elixir to the zauberbiest’s exhausted body.

„Oh, do come in, Detective. I am not at all adverse to visitor’s at this time of night.“

Nick ignores heavy sarcasm in favor of crashing on the couch with his pillow. Inwardly Sean is reluctantly amused. Disgruntled Grimm in the morning does look just this side of weirdly adorable.

„One night of 7 will be spent together. Six nights of hell are enough as far as I’m concerned. I don’t care who will come to whom, just as long as we sleep together…. And yes, I am aware of the innuendo, and no, I don’t care for you commenting on it right now. Good night.“

With that Nick plonks down further on the couch, pillow beneath his head and well on his way to sleep. At first Sean wants to snap at the Grimm for his non-existent manners but then he actually takes a moment to just observe the man on his couch: Nick looks exhausted just like him and still an edge of pain lines his face. 

He will admit that today hasn't been a good day by far. Nick's current case and his own appointments have kept them from 'recharging' in the evening, forcing them to either rise ungodly early or suffer the consequences. So yes, maybe he can understand why Nick is less than content.

He is doing this for you, so what about him being a bit grumpy and turning up unannounced?

„Nick.“ A mob of tousled dark hair appears from behind the back of the sofa along with the grumpy looking Grimm himself.

„What?!“

„You could use the guest room, you know?“

Open surprise clears away the dark expression and makes room for sheepishness.

„Oh. Umm. No, that’s okay. Your presence is enough to make sleeping loads easier.“

„Very well then. Good night.“

The zauberbiest retires to his bedroom and is surprised by morning that he has not only fallen asleep within moments but that he feels like 42 instead of 70 upon waking.

>>>

Days 20 and 21 has Nick and Hank investigate a robbery gone wrong.

Once they get lab results they can ascertain that their suspects, two brothers conducting some dingy repairman’s business and even dingier nighttime activities, are heavily involved in that robbery. The question is now: Are they only guilty of shop lifting or of murder as well?

„How about we pay them a little visit and bring them in for questioning? See what they have to say for themselves. And while we are at it, I still want to know how they managed to sneak past that watch dog without waking him? Remember when I tried to do so and he woke and raised a ruckus at once?“

Hank nods and is just about to take his jacket along with his partner when their desk phone rings.

„Griffin?“

Nick waits while Hank talks on the phone. When he ends the call there’s an all too familiar air of barely veiled excitement around the Afro-American. It must have been something important.

„Wu says, they might have a third man. They are just following him for now but Wu also says that he has talked on the phone earlier with someone, who might have been one of the Walker brothers. At least going by the few snippets of conversation they could hear.“

Nick returns his partner’s grin. That may as well be the break in their case they’ve been searching for.

„So, change of plans? You meet up with Wu and Franco to bring in Guy No.3 and I’ll take a look around the brothers’ living area and keep an eye on them until you arrive with cavalry?“

„Sounds like a plan. Just be careful, you know? Observation only. No barging in and taking on anyone alone. We still don’t know how dangerous they are.“

„Yes, Sir.“ The mock salute gets him the evil eye but Nick is fairly resistant these days.

„You be careful as well. And try to make sure that Wu doesn’t talk Franco into betting with him. Last time didn’t end well.“

„Duly noted to the first one, no chance to the second one. Last time I tried to prevent Franco from being drawn into a bet with Drew was when I ended up betting with him… which you know didn’t end well either.“

That decidedly too gleeful chuckle at the memory has the Grimm moving out of  reach quickly to avoid his partner’s friendly cuff to the head. It doesn’t help keeping Hank’s ego intact when at this successful maneuver Nick’s grin widens even more.

„Careful, Mister.“

„Yes, mum.“ With that Nick slinks away to Renard’s office to kill three birds with one stone:

Inform their Captain about their plan, escape Hank’s retaliation and do a bit of ‚recharging' with his bond partner (which by the way still sounds entirely too much like they are romantically involved).

>>>

Seeing that he’s ended up in the middle of nowhere with at least an hour’s drive between him and Renard, Nick thinks that maybe he should have taken the man along, after all. But they did recharge - meaning that now they have about five to seven hours ahead of them without needing to see each other - and Renard has had an important meeting some time later, anyway, so it’s Nick on his own on the bumpy road to nowhere somewhere in the forest.

At the last traffic light he’s encountered there have been children playing around at least, but that’s been half an hour ago, and the road has become steadily worse and swallowed up by greenery since then. Anyway, GPS says he’s still got some way to go, so onward he drives.

>>>

When he reaches the approximate outline of the Walker brothers’ home it becomes apparent at once that something is amiss. Even from the distance Nick can see that the front door has been left ajar, there are clear signs of hurried packing and piling of goods - old suitcases propped up by the door being a dead give away - and what’s more: There’s not a single sound to be heard. There are small noises of wildlife around for sure but nothing at all that indicates humans moving around in a hurry.

Nick retreats to hide his car at some distance to the premises. He calls Renard instead of Hank, in case his partner is just now trying to apprehend Guy No.3, reporting his findings and talking through the next steps.

„It seems they have abandoned their home and as of yet I have neither seen nor heard anyone… and my Grimm hearing would have picked up something, if there was anything. I will just take a look inside. Maybe I can find something or get a clue to where they have vanished.“

„This does not sit well with me. You said their car is still there? How do you know they have left the place, then?“

„I know because normally I can take up sounds from half a mile away ever since that Jinnamaru Xunte took my sight and I hear nothing that comes even close to humans moving around. But I will be careful.“

„Hmm. There’s still that unsolved matter with the sleeping dog you’ve told me about. To me that sounds like something unusual is at work here, so be extra careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Just in, take a look around and then out again and back to observation. I have that meeting to get to now, keep Hank apprised of your comings and goings. Oh, and Burkhardt? I don’t fancy seeing you get yourself killed… for multiple reasons.“

„Yes, Sir. I know. Until later then.“

>>>

Nick gets out of the car and sneaks up to the house with his gun drawn. He checks out the area and when he perceives no imminent danger, or any sign of life in general for that matter, he makes his way over to the door with silent efficiency. Gun at the ready, senses stretched to take up even the tiniest sound, he pushes it open just wide enough to slip through. Once inside he checks left and right. Nobody there, just a narrow, dimly lit corridor with four doors leading off.

Hm, homey feeling all around.

…Maybe I should spent less time with Renard… his sarcastic ways are rubbing off on me… Haha… spending less time with the Captain… such an entirely impossible endeavor in the weeks to come.

Forcefully shutting down his wayward thoughts he concentrates again on his surroundings. Ignoring the stairs for now, except for straining his senses for any sounds from up there, he moves further into the abode. The door to his right reveals an untidy, old fashioned kitchen, the next on that side shows wooden stairs leading down to some sort of cellar. No sounds from there either. On the left side there is a small storage room and finally the living room.

As he steps into that one his gun and gaze veer in all directions. Nobody there, nothing…. Although nothing is not entirely true:

Strewn on an old sofa, which has seen better days, and on a rickety couch table are almost all of the stolen goods from their robbery case!

That answers any questions about their general involvement. But, honestly, can anyone be stupid enough to let his loot lie around openly when he has to fear Police turning up?

Nick is in the process of tugging on crime scene gloves when he hears some noise upstairs. Although that may be the wrong phrase. It’s more like the shadow of a sound… quieter, much harder to take up. Instinctively he presses himself to the wall behind the door and waits with bated breath.

Again nothing! No telltale sounds of someone moving around anywhere in the house, no repetition of that earlier one. He takes a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart.

Just do as the Captain says. Snap some pictures and then get the hell out of here to call it in.

Nick has the uncomfortable feeling that Renard is correct. Something isn't right here. He knows this but he cannot put his finger on what it is. Most likely some wesen thing, but honestly, as long as he hasn't seen what these brothers are he's as clueless as the next guy. Still. He has to keep a cool head and do this in an orderly fashion. 

He takes out his phone and goes about snapping pictures systematically and takes inventory of everything he remembers has been stolen from the shop. That done he slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and takes a last look through the loot. Maybe he'll spot anything that will help them link those shady brothers to other cases of robbery. Maybe…

A prickly feeling at the back of his neck, making his hairs stand on end... perceiving a presence behind him and yet hearing absolutely nothing.

He is too slow. He whirls around and maybe that saves him from having his skull bashed in, but it doesn't save him from a sturdy club coming down hard on the side of his head. Pain exploding behind his eyes, coming face to face with a wesen that he's never seen before....

Knees buckling, falling... everything goes black.

>>>

There are voices nearby. Voices he doesn't recognize. There's pain... most of it coming from his head, heavy... shrouding his senses in a thick fog.

Concentrate on the voices. You don't know them. Keep still. Don't let them know you're awake.

“Bobby, you idiot! Why did you have to knock out that damn Detective? We could just have sneaked out. We are Nachtschleicher, it's what we do, for God's sake!”

Nachtschleicher... wesen... sneaking... it's what we do… so that's why I didn't hear them... Robbery... how fitting.

“Now we have to get rid of him!”

Nick's heart sinks at those words and it's all he can do not to twitch in panic.

Not good. Oh, damn. Not good at all.... For me and for Renard. I have to get out of here before they….

“But Devon called and said, that those cops think we have killed the shop clerk and that we should do away with anyone coming along.”

The older of the brothers – at least going by the voice he's heard earlier – gives a thoughtful grunt.

Devon must be Guy No.3. Clever man to put his cronies up to eliminating possible threats.

“That's true enough. Anyway, I've tried reaching him on his damn phone all day but he doesn't take up! We will talk to him first before deciding what to do with the cop. He's still out of it, anyway, so there's no hurry.”

No hurry... yes that's good. I hope that means Hank and the others managed to apprehend Devon then.

“But maybe others will follow him! Better do it now.”

Guy No. 1, you are an asshole! Stumble and break your neck for all I care!

“No. I say we wait for Devon and that's my final word. You better continue packing. We must be ready for when he comes.”

Yes! I like Guy No.2. That's the one! He wants to wait with killing me until later.

Nick really likes Guy No.2 right now…. That is until he kicks him hard into the stomach to check if he’s faking unconsciousness!

Now that the Nachtschleicher is not actually using his wesen skills Nick can hear him approach. His instincts warn him about what will happen but it’s no good. He'll just have to wait for what's to come because a) he's lying on the ground with his eyes closed and b) he cannot tense up his stomach muscles because – let's face it – even a stupid person knows if he's kicking into something hard or soft.

Trying not to groan, or gasp, or even twitch is the hardest thing.

Bloody hell! That hurts!! If I get my fingers on you, I'll strangle you!… Asshole!

Inwardly cursing his head off doesn't take away the pain but it is enough of a release to keep him silent and... well... looking like he's well and truly knocked out.

Another grunt, satisfied this time, then two sets of footsteps moving away, walking upstairs... finally the door opening and closing. He waits with bated breath and only when he's completely sure that he's alone does he open his eyes, rolls onto his back and gives a low moan.

Okay, inventory time:

Place? I must be in the cellar. Fairly dark with only a small window.

Pain? Sharp and pulsing in my head, dull and spreading in my stomach. There hasn't been pain in my stomach before Guy No. 2 thought it funny to kick me so we must still be within the bond's time limit or.... No, that cannot be. I would know if I accidentally cut the bond and I would be in unspeakable pain, if Renard and I had been separated for too long.

Now, back to the matter at hand:

Hands cuffed behind my back... with my own handcuffs... what a depressing thought. Legs, bound with a rope of some sort.

Other than that... wait... that cannot be true.... But it is. Gun, taken away but phone... phone still in my back pocket!!

The Grimm cannot believe how lucky he is... and how stupid his kidnappers are. He fumbles for his phone at once, finally holding it between his bound hands after nearly getting a crick in his neck from bending this way and that to reach the damn thing. Now how to proceed? He needs to contact someone for help. He may not be able to blindly write a message with his hands cuffed behind his back (pre-smartphone era cells did have their perks... such as having buttons you could actually feel) but he can press speed dial for Hank's number. He's done it so many times that he knows how and where to press his finger without needing to look.

Hank, I hope to God that you are finished with catching Devon, because there have been few occasions when I needed to talk to you more urgently.

The phone beeps and beeps, indicating that there's a signal but that the other end of the line has not yet picked up.

Come on!

“Hank here. Nick, what took you so long?”

Oh, thank God!

He manages to put his phone on speaker on second try and – heart racing as he listens for any sounds from upstairs – he answers in an urgent whisper:

“Hank. No matter what you do, don't talk loudly! I'm in trouble. The Walker brothers knocked me out and now they have me bound and cuffed in their cellar! They were stupid enough to leave my phone on me, but they've already talked about getting rid of me, so please, get me out of here as soon as you can!”

When Hank answers not in a panicked rush but in a level whisper he thanks God again for his partner's ability to keep his cool under pressure.

“Okay. Did they say when they… want to do it?”

“They want to wait until they have talked to someone named Devon before offing me. Please tell me that Devon is the guy you caught and that he won't talk to them anytime soon.”

“He is.” Both heave a nearly silent sigh of relief.

“Okay, partner. We are coming as fast as possible. Keep a low profile and don't end the call until I tell you to. I'm going to put Wu up to tracking your phone in case they've moved you to another location... and of course, I'll alert the Captain... and every officer available. Don't worry, partner. We're going to get you out of there.”

“Okay.” If he sounds a little breathless from tension and fear nobody mentions it.

“Hank. Two things: Those brothers may be stupid but they can move silently… they are wesen of some kind. And the second one: What time is it?”

The Afro-American tells him and Nick does some equations in his head.

“How long will it take you to get here?”

“Two hours I would say.”

“Hmm.”

He has feared that. They are now marking fourth hour of separation, which means waiting for his rescue team will move them well past the bond's comfort zone.

Brilliant. That will make it about six hours of being apart from each other.

He swallows and takes a shuddering breath. That is an amount of separation time they've never approached before and he really doesn't want to know how he will feel in two hours.

>>>

The moment Griffin steps into his office and closes the door behind him Renard knows that Nick is in trouble. There’s an expression on Hank’s face that he only ever wears when something is wrong with his partner.

„What happened?“ He keeps any and all emotions - fear for himself and worry for the Grimm - off his face and instead levels his Detective a piercing gaze.

„Nick got taken by the Walker brothers.“

Sean curses under his breath, low and vicious, and for once not caring that there’s someone there to hear him.

„They’ve caught him on the wrong foot. Nick has said something about them being wesen and able to move silently….“

„Wait. What do you mean by ‚Nick has said…‘? Did you talk to him?“

Hank rubs the back of his neck.

„That’s about the only positive thing in all this: They have left him with his cell phone and he's been able to contact me. Anyway, we need to get him out of there as soon as possible! For both of your sake.“

A terse nod. The zauberbiest rises from his chair, at once exuding an aura of decisiveness. One thing is clear: Renard will move heaven hand hell to get Nick back… for his friend’s sake and for his own.

„Get everyone together. We are setting out ASAP! How much time do we need to reach their abode?“

„All things considered, up to two hours.“

Renard looks at his wrist watch with a grave expression.

„I don’t care, if we go all the way with wailing sirens and lights on, but we are getting there in under two hours. The bond will be hard pressed, anyway, which in turn means Nick will suffer. No need to prolong it any more than absolutely necessary.“

The Captain’s hard stare leaves no room for arguments. Not that Hank has any reason to protest. He nods grimly and moves out of the office together with Renard. Before he sees about getting everyone together he stops the other man with a hand on his arm and a quietly posed question:

„Captain, how will you be faring after six hours of… not seeing him?“

Renard levels him a look from hooded green eyes.

„Let us say, I will manage to hide my condition from those around us.“

He doesn’t elaborate further but Hank is clever enough to figure out what’s left unsaid.

>>>

One hour and 40 minutes (not that Nick knows that) have passed without a second visit from the Walker brothers. If he could, Nick would have rocked back and forth to distract himself from the pain coursing through his midsection and head! He cannot do that, because it would blow his cover if they were to appear down here suddenly, so he has to find another way of distancing himself from the monster that's gone on a rampage through his stomach.

He must be quite the sight, too: Ghostly pale most likely, fine sheen of sweet on his brow, the whole area around his left temple darkly bruised and swollen.

What keeps him from cutting off the bond or moaning in pain?

Children's rhymes! Children's rhymes are his best friends right now. At some point he has remembered hearing some children playing recite them and that's what he does now... silently in his head, of course.

One two step, two two step. Tell me, tell me, what comes next! Three two step, four two step. Watch me, watch me, don’t look back. One two step, two two….

Loud crashes and shouts from upstairs pull him from his mantra!

„Portland Police! Freeze at once or we will shoot!“

More loud noises, mad scuffling and some terrified squeaks, then:

„You are hereby taken under arrest….“ Hank’s voice. 

Nick tunes out the rest in order to lever himself up into a sitting position and continue reciting rhymes in his head to push overwhelming waves of pain away. He feels nauseous and doesn’t know if that is because of his head or midsection but all he can do to keep from heaving is taking deep shuddering breaths.

The door to the cellar is pushed open and this time, when Nick nearly moans, it is from relief at seeing the shape of his 6ft 4’ zauberbiest Captain silhouetted against the light.

„Nick, are you down there?“

He sounds heavy tongued… or is that worried… or both?

He doesn’t know and, frankly, trying get out even a single word is enough work, no need to concern himself with such inconsequential thoughts right now.

„Yeah…. Yeah, down… here.“

Renard rushes down the stairs and is by his side in an instant, squatting down to get at eye level with him.

Is it just my imagination or has the Captain just crashed down rather than going down deliberately? Ah, the bond. Must be affecting him, too.

Renard bellows orders to his subordinates now, no weakness apparent at all, so maybe it's just been his muddled mind playing tricks on him. But then again it's quite dark down here so who knows.

Others follow Renard downstairs but Nick takes no heed of them. At some point after sitting up he must really have started rocking back and forth because why would the Captain establish touch with him so openly otherwise?

One hand rests on the nape of his bare neck, the other on his upper arm, steadying him as his Captain gives him a scrutinizing once over. An incredible feeling of warmth and rightness rushes through him as his body zones in on skin to skin contact and waves of pain slowly, oh so slowly dim down to manageable levels.

„Nick, I distinctly remember telling you not to get yourself killed.”

“Didn't get myself killed... just bashed about.”

Artificial light floods the room then causing Nick to groan and squeeze his eyes shut. However, a tiny squeeze from Renard's hand on his neck prompts him to rethink that action.

Evil man. From where does he get the power to make me do that? It hurts to look into light…. Damn Captain's vibes.

“Someone put off the light. I like the dark... less bitchy to... every part of my body that hurts right now.” He mumbles and finds himself under scrutiny of sharp, intelligent eyes once he forces himself to squint up at the other man.

“I bet. Are you okay, Detective?“

That’s Renard’s business voice. He’s projecting full Captain’s mode even when in reality they are both doing their best to recharge. Nick plays along… does not have to act at all because, honestly, there’s an awful lot of worry in Renard’s usually aloof tone.

„Hmm. I’m okay.“ That gets him a half-smile.

„Good to hear, though not entirely true most likely. Now show me your face. That bruise looks truly nasty.“

As his head is tilted back slightly to give Renard better view of the damage Nick studies the zauberbiest more closely.

„You okay? You look as I feel.“

Renard carefully touches the discolored area around Nick’s temple, never cuts off contact actually. The touch thing in general is great. If there weren't for a whole lot of cops milling about – thinking him slightly unhinged because they may or may not have seen him rock back and forth – he would lean into the touch. The prodding of his bruises is less great but at least he manages to keep silent and still.

„Yes, well, the perks of being cursed.“

A quiet assertion only for Nick to hear, and then louder to the room in general:

„Find the keys to Burkhardt’s handcuffs, anyone, or some other tool to get them off.“

There are some acquiescing murmurs and people rushing off to follow their Captain’s orders. Nick ignores them. His only focal point is the man in front of him. Renard must have read the gist of his thoughts in his face because his thumb rubs gently over his pulse point while that large warm hand never leaves the back of his neck.

“Easy, Burkhardt. Just take deep breaths. We’ll have you out of here in no time at all.”

A quiet murmur aimed to soothe.… It works much better than Nick would ever admit to. Still.

“Why?” Renard is a shrewd man. He catches on to his meaning at once.

“You might not have realized, but you are chalk white and breathing much quicker than you should be.”

“Hmm.... Perks of being cursed.... That's what you said, wasn't it? 'plies to me as well.”

Sean is a little bit impressed that Nick still has the presence of mind to whisper. He changes position slightly, sitting instead of squatting and yet never letting go of his Detective's neck and shoulder. He is aware that remaining in touch is good for both of them. Weakness is lifted from his limbs and the longer his hands rest where they are the more even gets Nick's breathing.

His next question is posed in a low murmur meant to be caught by none other than his bond partner.

“So how did you cope?”

A long suffering sigh from the Grimm, still having to look up at him although they are both sitting. Nick seems to have grown aware of that fact as well by now for he narrows his eyes into a half-hearted attempt of a glare.

“You're too damn tall, Sir. And you really don't want to know.”

“Oh, I certainly do.” There's really no room for arguments. Damn Renard for pulling off full commanding officer even when he isn't at his best himself.

“I started rattling off children's rhymes in my head.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Shall I give you a recitation?”

“No. We want them to think you are not crazy, not the other way 'round.”

“Ah. Sorry. Always confusing those two.”

“Oh well, the line between the two is blurred more often than not. Anyway, that bruise needs to be seen to by a doctor, so you're in for a trip to hospital as soon as we get you out of these cuffs and ropes.”

“Will you come with me?”

Renard knows exactly what Nick means but still he quirks a smile at his Detective's wording.

“Of course I will.”

“Captain, we've found the keys. Hank sends greetings. He's still occupied with keeping those shady brothers in check but he's found this on one of them and he asks after you, Nick.”

The Grimm in question looks up just as Sergeant Wu squats down next to him, keys jingling in his hand.

“Woah, Burkhardt, that looks like one hell of a bruise. Always suspected you were an especially thick headed guy but this really proves it at last.”

Wu might make fun of him now but in his eyes lies worry instead of mockery so Nick doesn't take offense. He manages an appreciative smile when Wu hands over the keys to the Captain before busying himself with untying the rope around his ankles.

“Best guy ever, Drew. … After Hank and Captain... because Hank got you all here and Renard makes sure I don't keel....”

The Captain chooses that moment to remove his hand form where it has rested on his neck and to his great shame Nick actually moans at the loss, albeit very lowly. Reaching around him to unlock the cuffs Renard hushes him with a few murmured words and before he knows it he is pushed forward to lean his forehead against the Captain's chest and conveniently on bare skin, where the first button of his dress shirt is undone. The bond is humming with activity once more, giving them both strength and relief.

“Oh this is brilliant.”

A snort from Renard and sure as hell a smirk from Wu.

Oops. Did I say that out loud?

He hears and feels Renard talking literally above his head to the Sergeant:

“As you've seen, Burkhardt got a hit to the head. He's a bit out of it. Either call for an ambulance or find someone with sufficient medical training to take a look at him.”

“Will do, Sir. And Nick, I won't tell anyone. Just take your time to get your bearings again.”

“Hmm.” Is his mumbled reply. A chuckle from the Asian and then Nick feels a hand patting his shoulder, before Wu moves away.

>>>

Nick doesn't know how much time has passed, only that his head still hurts and that he’s still feeling nauseous, but at some point Hank comes by to check on him and then Wu returns. The only one who never leaves his side is his zauberbiest Captain, which is a true relief after the last hours.

>>>

Wu watches Nick and the Captain from a distance as he approaches. Apart from great relief at finding the younger Detective not unharmed but at least not fatally wounded things are getting most interesting again:

Before they've managed to rescue Nick, Renard has looked positively sick with worry.... And he means that literally! The Captain has been pale, just a bit less observant of his surroundings... and frankly terrifying to behold when they have finally confronted the Walker brothers. Now he looks much better, and although Nick is still peaky, even he looks less like death warmed over than before.

And all that only because they've stayed close to each other these past minutes. Funny, indeed, and most interesting. He will put away that knowledge for later. Not to harm them, of course, but to re-evaluate what those facts tell him about Burkhardt's and Renard's relationship when he has the time to think about it later. Now, though, he needs to help a friend.

>>>

“Sir, just getting an ambulance up here would take another hour and a half, given the distance to Portland and the terrain it would have to move across. There's nobody here, who has sufficient medical knowledge to treat him, so why don't you take him to Tree View Hospital in your car? It is much faster, anyway, than waiting for an ambulance to take him.”

Renard, who is rubbing Nick's abused wrists with careful motions to get circulation back up, gives him a contemplative look before nodding slowly.

“Yes, that might be a wise move. Get Hank here so that I can discuss specifics with him for wrapping things up, then I'll take Burkhardt to get checked and treated.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sean doesn't like that knowing smile Sergeant Wu sports when he walks off in search of Hank but he has more important things to worry about right now. Whatever Wu thinks to know, their 'secret' is safe with the Asian. Despite all his bets and observations and witticisms, Drew Wu is loyal to the bone.

>>>

Nick falls asleep at some point of the car ride. He is still pale and Sean is sure that, Grimm thick-headedness or no, he has sustained a light concussion from his run-in with those Nachtschleicher, but he's looking much better than when he has first laid eyes on him down in that cellar. And to be honest, if only to himself, he is feeling much better as well.

When he's heard about Nick's abduction he has experienced a short moment of acute fear and worry, pushed away behind the purpose of getting Nick back once he's gained further knowledge of the situation. On the impossibly long ride out to this house he has felt strength and concentration seep out of him like blood from an open wound. He’s been prudent enough to let Hank do the driving but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t felt it all! To say this has been disconcerting would be the understatement of the year.

Oh, well. Nick is out of danger and they've managed to put one over Adalind yet again, so maybe, just maybe he'll be able to shut up his primal zauberbiest side shouting at him to protect the Grimm and kill everyone who wants to harm him.

Really, quite bothersome these instincts.

He does not bother to wake Nick until they've pulled up on the curb in front of the hospital and he has alerted some medical personnel to the injured man dozing away in his passenger seat. They put him on a gurney and whisk him away and if Renard doesn't leave his side and glares at anyone, who looks at the Grimm the wrong way, well, he isn't a Police Captain for nothing. Sometimes holding a position of power just does the trick.

>>>

It is very early morning of Day 22, Nick is slowly dressing in order to leave hospital and Hank is mother-henning and berating him:

“Did you really have to get yourself into each and every manner of trouble I've warned you about? I mean, did you take that as a challenge?”

Nick levels him a glare but it is half-hearted at best, really, much more exasperated than anything else. He knows Hank has been worried about him.

“Okay Hank, to make a long conversation short because my head is still killing me: Yes, mum, apparently I had to. No, mum, I didn't and... and I'm real sorry for making you worry.”

He looks contrite now, that impossible Grimm, and Hank cannot find it in himself to stay angry any longer.

“That you did, man! And if you want to make a habit of calling me 'mum' now, you know how to get your own coffee in the future.”

“Not the coffee, Hank. That's evil!”

The broad shouldered man smirks at his dismayed expression.

“Those brothers were evil, not me.... And they really were rather dumb.”

“Yeah, well. I cannot really begrudge them their lack of intelligence as it helped me get out of there alive.”

“Too true, partner. Now let's get you to Renard before one of you gets a stroke or whatever happens when you stay away from each other for too long.”

“Oh, yeah. Nearly forgot about that. It's Sleep Over Day. I just want to sleep the day off. Do you think I can convince him to simply stay home today? I'm on sick leave, anyway, and neither do I want to test the limit again nor do I want to appear in precinct today. They will all fuss over me, I hate that.”

“You are talking like some bratty boy and you know that they are all worried about their favorite rookie Detective, right?”

“Rookie Detective? I've been on the force for years now! And why's it that everyone is calling me 'bratty boy' lately?”

Hank chuckles as they leave the room, throwing over his shoulder as he steps out in front of Nick:

“It's easy. Find a new Detective... or better yet a trainee and you'll no longer be rookie. And about that bratty boy business, how about being nicer and less grumpy?”

“I'll give you rookie.... No, wait. I need to be nicer, so how about I give you roses or some such nonsense?” The battered Grimm grumbles but already a rueful smile fights its way to his lips.

>>>

It may not be staying home all day but at least Renard cuts his time at precinct down to a bare minimum. It seems the man is as anxious about staying close as he is. It's not that he shows any of it in his bearing or in so much as words but Nick knows him well enough by now to get the vibes.

Or maybe it is just a dead give away that the always in control and aloof zauberbiest displays a protective streak as big as Monroe when he's in fussy mode.

With a barely there warm smile Nick sinks onto his Captain's couch and squashes his pillow into place.

And in case anyone wonders: Lying down has been a specific order from Renard after he's taken a full two minutes of inspecting the bruising on the side of his head... again. Of course, accompanying that has been a constant stream of ranting about him being suicidal, stubborn and … some other attribute beginning with an 's' that Nick cannot seem to remember right now... along with many more sarcastic comments.

But hey, Nick wouldn't be such a good Detective, if he couldn't read between the lines.

Needless to say, the Grimm of Portland is asleep within minutes after lying down.

Sean on the other hand stays awake... watches that impossible man who holds his life in his (admittedly capable) hands and thinks, for the first time, that maybe he will weather Adalind's curse without losing his dignity or his life.

Chapter Text

Bonding:

Nick is leaning against the inner wall of the Captain's office while the man in question reads over his report for the Walker case. He’s been required to give a detailed account of his investigations and subsequent abduction. The bump to his head has healed quickly due to what Monroe calls morphallaxis and Nick calls Grimm regeneration abilities. Whatever it's called, in the end it comes down to the fact that in the morning their 23rd bond day Nick is back to work and idly waiting for Renard to finish reading.

As he is here, anyway, he might as well ask a question that's been bugging him:

“Sir, is it only my imagination or are we now able to go longer without feeling any negative effects from separation?”

The half-zauberbiest looks up, thin smile playing over his lips, eyebrow raised.

“Congratulations on your perceptiveness, Detective.”

As always Nick is not sure if he has just been mocked. He opens his mouth to say so but Renard already continues wryly:

“My sarcasm may have been unwarranted. You are right, it does take longer for any negative effects to occur. That, however, is not to be attributed to the curse weakening but merely to the fact that we have approached the third stage.”

Nick frowns at this.

“A third stage? How come I hear about stages for the first time?”

“Cut down on that suspicious glower, it clashes so badly with the kicked puppy image (Nick's affronted gasp amuses him immensely... not that he shows it). I did not hide anything from you. No one is really sure, if there are stages or not, but it is rumored that in the last week of the bond, symptoms occur later but are more sudden and intense in their forming.”

“So you are saying, symptoms to do not grow weaker but they merely skip a few beats to hit you full force when you no longer expect them to. That is a real bitchy thing to make a curse do!”

He frowns like for all the world he cannot fathom that someone inventing a curse would be evil enough to put in surprises like these. Sean tilts his head to the side as if to say 'Seriously?'.

“What do you expect, Burkhardt, sunshine and roses? Einsamer Tod has been designed to kill. Of course its inventor would do everything in order to catch the cursed party unawares.”

For once the Grimm doesn't react to being insulted.

“Some day... some day I’m going to kill Adalind. How could she do such a thing!”

His words are a low, vicious whisper and it seems, although Sean hasn't been overly nice to him, Nick is still able to feel empathy toward him.

“Sometimes you surprise me.”

Nick looks up in confusion. That baffled tone doesn’t want to fit Renard’s usual personality.

“What? How do you mean?”

“It is of no consequence. Anyway, as there obviously are stages to this curse, we will be able to go separate ways for a longer space of time but we will also have to be more careful as this makes it easy to forget about the time limit.”

“I do not intend to do so.”

“And I would not have expected you to.”

>>>

Day 25 dawns bright and sunny. That is great. Even bastard half-zauberbiest Princes do not only thrive for looking at ominously overcast skies and brewing storms. It could have been such a good day.

And even at 10am in the morning the Captain knows it will be a bad one.

He rarely finds himself caught by surprise. He likes to be prepared for all eventualities. He always has a plan or scheme up his sleeve... and that's not even mentioning the plans within plans and the famous plan b.

So why is it that right now he is not only in a dilemma but in serious trouble?

That is because all that careful planning is to no avail, if the Chief of Police sends you out to personally arrest a criminal he thinks is no more dangerous than your average pickpocket – which is a lie and Sean for his part knows that. And why all this? Publicity reasons, of course!

Not even shrewd and politically versed Prince Sean Renard simply says no to his boss. He tries to reason subtly, but it turns out subtle reasoning or any reasoning at all is not what the Chief wants to hear right now. Pity.

Carl Branson, the man he is send to arrest, has a criminal file as thick as an encyclopedia and is known for acting especially violent when going about his business – robbery and theft for the most part. North Precinct has been on him for a while but reluctant to make a move, so after a bit of boot licking from another member of PPD (namely Cpt. Robertson from North Precinct) the thankless task has landed on Renard's desk in guise of publicity work.

Any other time Sean would have gracefully accepted, planned the operation with his formidable team and made Captain Robertson look like a fool with a successful straight out of the book arrest....

Unfortunately the Chief has not only set a time and date for when all this is to happen, but also has a very clear picture of how it is going to.

The how is some kind of badly thought out kamikaze operation (most of it coming from dear Captain Robertson in all probability), that is heavily influenced by PPD's newest publicity campaign and sadly intents for Renard to be its starring actor.

As detailed in the campaign 'Everyone for Portland' every member of PPD, no matter how far up in the food chain, is doing his or her best for the citizens of Portland. Which is why higher ups in command are required to make an appearance in public and show their commitment by doing something... heroic... or stupid if that heroism entails a plan with more holes in it than consistencies.

The when is another matter entirely.

He has been told to make his move tonight at 9pm. So, provided with Carl Branson's current whereabouts as determined by North Precinct, there's nothing left but to set out.

If it hadn’t coincided so badly with his and Nick’s bond schedule he might have had a chance at success but as it is Nick and Hank are required to give statements in court as witnesses for one of their cases at 5pm today. Considering that they have to leave the station early to arrive on time and won’t be finished until late, it leaves them at a separation period of at least four hours and a half and no time to recharge.

Of course Nick is aware of all this and will join him as soon as humanly possible, but it is still far from ideal.

>>>

No matter the whys or ifs, right now at 9:30pm Sean finds himself facing an enraged steinbeisser and is well on the losing side. The first has come as a nasty surprise, the second sadly has not.

Steinbeisser are nowhere near as robust as siegbarsten but they can deliberately turn parts of their body to stone. To get behind these defenses one needs to be strong and quick. Normally Sean is both but today he is nothing of those and thus already sporting hellish bruises all over!

They are in an old warehouse, in a room that has once been used as an office and now is Branson’s main hide out.

He would have done a quick job – has had him a gun point actually – but instead of submitting Branson has taken his weapon out of the game with a single swipe of his stone hand! Well, talk about nasty surprises. Even the two bullets Sean has managed to fire off have done no damage whatsoever, which leaves him to take a more hands on approach. In comparison to gun fire, though, fists simply lack an important amount of strength and penetration power. Too bad. 

Sean dodges a mighty blow, that would have put a deep dent in his head, if it had hit home. A sudden bout of dizziness makes him stagger! There's movement at the edge of his vision. He raises his arm in just in time to avoid being downed by a follow up punch.

It smarts like hell!

The criminal gives a throaty laugh.

“You're the Captain of a damn P'lice station? Woulda 'xpected more!”

Another leering grin that Sean very dearly wants to wipe off his ugly face. He throws a few quick punches in hopes of getting one in before Branson is able to turn the parts to stone, but to no avail. Even letting out his inner 'biest cannot weight up the loss of power from that damn curse! His knuckles are bleeding and bruised already and right now he’s driven back by another vicious blow, that his fluctuating strength has been unable to block.

>>>

When Nick finally steps through the door Sean has to admit that there is nothing of a kicked puppy in his bearing – nothing at all. He still wears his dark gray suit from court, an attire the Detective is not often seen in, and yet he takes in the situation with the calm countenance of a seasoned fighter. As Nick slowly approaches, gun ready and pointed at Branson's head, Sean feels a measure of calm and power return to him. If that is purely due to their closeness or maybe because he has reliable back up now, he refuses to think too closely about. As it is, with added strength his head for strategy returns.

A minute gesture to halt Nick's approach, a few calmly spoken words. That is all it takes his partner to understand.

“Detective Burkhardt. In case you didn't know, Mr. Branson is a steinbeisser. He is able to turn various parts of his anatomy to stone. Gun fire has little to no effect on him.”

The Grimm feigns nonchalance.

“Oh. If it is like this, I should not waste time and bullets on him.”

He puts away his gun and looks Branson in the eyes and makes sure to show him exactly what he is. He has come far that way. Monroe says it's creepy how good he has become at grimming.

“Grimm!”

It is a low growl not dissimilar to that of Olec Stark. A shiver runs down his spine at the comparison but he forces himself to squash down any feelings of fear.

“Ah, yes. I am.”

He says this lightly, sounding almost bored. He plays for time. Going by Renard’s bruised up appearance, hand to hand combat doesn’t do the trick either. They need a plan and quickly!

Nick takes a slow step backward while the Captain instinctively moves forward, leaving them to stand beside each other and just out of Branson's range of motion. The steinbeisser views it as a sign of weakness, getting closer with a crooked triumphant grin. Not a nice look on him, Nick decides.

The Grimm takes his act farther and half turns to Renard, relying on him to keep an eye on their perp. An idea begins to form in his head, which the zauberbiest seems to understand without words. Branson has moved into their vicinity now but stops short at Nick’s weird, unconcerned behavior.

“Say, Captain, how long has it been since we've last seen each other?”

Renard doesn't miss a beat.

“It's going on five hours now. Are you thinking about that chair incident?”

“Yes, I do. Why don't we try again?”

Another growl from Branson showing his mounting confusion and anger. He has not expected them to ignore him completely.

“There's something to be said about testing theories twice before taking them for truth.”

They move like clockwork:

Nick holds out his left hand; Renard grabs it warrior style like they have done countless times before. Power flows through him in a heady rush. Branson’s angry expression turns to one of dark amusement at their antics. He doesn’t even try to dodge the blow when Renard moves forward with great speed and exercises a flawless right hook, that hits the steinbeisser squarely in the jaw.

Sean is not given to impulsiveness. Control has always been a weapon to him as to others it is emotion. He has never punched a wall in anger or some such nonsense, but right now, when his fist impacts not on skin but solid stone, he knows what it's like to do so!

Not that he feels any pain at the moment. He has slipped too deeply into the vague haze of cursed exhaustion to take any heed.

He does notice Branson's expression, however, when the man crashes into the wall behind him.

Suffice to say, it is not one of triumph anymore but of stupid surprise!

Nick has to admit, sometimes it is a delight to watch the Captain at work. He has their perp flipped onto his stomach, cuffed and pressed to the ground before he can so much as recover from the mighty blow.

„Carl Branson, you are hereby arrested for robbery and violent assault. Detective, call it in to get a patrol car here and take him to the station.“

Nick complies at once, stepping out to make the call and confident that the Captain has the situation under control. When he gets back Renard is leaning against one of the old work desks and Branson is unconscious.

„Umm, Sir? The last time I saw Branson he was dazed but awake. What happened?“ 

Nick’s tone shows mild surprise but nothing more. 

„The perp tried escape. I had to subdue him.“ 

A barely there smirk belies these calm words but who is Nick to call him out on it.

“Ah, yes. How remiss of me not to think of that.”

With a small conspiratorial smirk he sets down the load he has fetched from the car and proceeds to take a good look at his Captain once the man is otherwise occupied. Renard isn't aware of being closely watched, which in itself speaks volumes about damage levels. He looks exhausted and while Nick does feel one or the other sudden flash of pain from the bond, Renard is truly done in by curse effects and fight. This worries Nick. Staying in the same room does not seem to be a viable option to minimize separation symptoms any longer. When they have touched earlier the zauberbiest's increase of power has been instantly visible but now he looks pale and tired again.

The multiple bruises and scrapes may play a role as well but Nick will take no chances. His gaze strays down toward the Captain's right hand and he's barely able to hold in a shocked gasp!

Jup, I won't take any chances. Touch and patch up is in order, no matter if Renard likes it or not.

Nick thinks back to his time in that cellar, to the Captain's care and calm reassurance. It's safe to say that the zauberbiest will be much less receptive to it than he has been. But fact also is, that a man known and valued for exceptional fighting skills and a creepy level of perceptiveness stares off into space and doesn't take heed of his own deteriorating health. It's like he's sinking down in invisible quicksand, drifting and slowly losing more energy despite their closeness.

>>>

Later on Sean cannot remember what he has thought or to what place in his mind he has wandered but he does notice when his right hand is taken up by another one – carefully and slowly as if to avoid startling him.

Power. Pure and undiluted, flowing through his very veins.

Nick.

It is Nick touching him. Wait....

Why the hell is the Grimm doing that?! And why didn't I take note of him before it happened?

Nick knows exactly when Sean grows aware of his touch. And man, what a sight that is! Forget all positive feelings skin to skin contact brings with it. When a 6ft 4’ zauberbiest slowly turns to stare at you with a look that dissects you right down to your innards, you better scrape your bravery together and have an explanation ready. The fact that prior to initiating contact said deadly 'biest has not been aware of your presence does not help your case... in any way.

„Burkhardt, what are you doing there? There’s no need whatsoever to hold my hand. If I recall correctly, staying in the same room is entirely enough.“

Deadly calm words of a man who is very well versed in the art of killing and growing stronger with every moment they stay in touch. Nick is unfazed or tries to tell himself that with as much conviction as his inner voice can muster!

„Oh, Sir, but there is. First of all you were drifting into some creepy subspace part of your brain and growing paler by the minute and, secondly, if you would look down on your hand you would know.“

„What are you saying?“ 

Renard's gaze snaps down to where Nick is carefully cradling his hand and he frowns in confusion.

What the hell does he mean?

Burkhardt has the audacity to sigh.

„Sir, you just punched the human equivalent of a wall - a damn hard one at that - with super human strength. Your hand is bleeding profusely and swelling to an impressive size right before our eyes. If you allow me to, I will take a look at it and do something to stop the bleeding at least until paramedics arrive.“

„You called an ambulance?“

His tone is sharp but Nick stays calm despite the zauberbiest’s growing anger. He might be the Captain's subordinate every day of the week but right now that capable man is utterly incapable of judging his own state of health and needs.

„Yes, I did. Just as you would have done had you found me in the state I have found you. Will you let me take care of your hand now? As we seem to be cursed with remote crime sites lately it may well take some time for back up and paramedics to arrive.“

Nostrils flare, green eyes acquire a hard, unforgiving glint as they narrow down to mere slits. Renard pulls himself up to his full height, stiffens up and gathers control around himself like a protective cloak. In any other situation Nick would have found himself cowed by this show of regal power but this is too important. He holds the man's gaze, not backing down an inch. And if to achieve his goal he has to let a tiny bit of his innate Grimm bleed into his gaze then so be it.

When the Prince pushes his hand forward a fraction to give the Grimm access, it is with a barely there growl and a tightly set jaw.

“Thank you.”

The quiet words pull Sean out of another daze and finally drive home that Nick has been correct in his assertions. He has lost his ability to think clearly. Normally he would never have lost himself in anger like this! He would have pulled away, both bodily and mentally, instead of letting his primal side take the lead. If he were given to showing only a tidbit of his emotions he would have blushed at the thought. With a conscious effort he forces himself to concentrate on what happens around him.

The first thing he notices is pain. A whole lot of throbbing, pulsing intense pain that's originated in his right hand. He takes a look that actually perceives the damage this time.

Oh hell, I've really done a job on my hand.

His knuckles and fingers are grazed so badly that crimson red trickles down freely to end up in spatters on the ground. Heavy bruises are spread over the whole width of it and even the wrist is swollen and darkly discolored.

„Come on.“

Nick says equally as quietly as before. No command, no brashness, a silent query for permission. Only when he gives a minute nod does the Grimm pull him along to where he has apparently put a first aid kit earlier. He is guided to sit on a low table with minimum fuss. No berating that he needs to sit down or that he is too weak to manage. He is given a tiny push to his shoulder, more incentive to move than actually forcing him to do so.

Nick is careful as he inspects the damage, even looks up at him once with a small, wry smile. Sean watches him closely. The debilitating haze that has settled over his thoughts has finally lifted now that he has stayed in direct contact with his Detective long enough.

Still. Their touch is almost like a living, nurturing thing and even the reclusive Prince is reluctant to break it. Also he isn’t used to anyone taking care of him in any form, so he finds himself transfixed by the sight of Nick gently turning and examining his hand.

Next come disinfectant and sterile swipes. His wounds are thoroughly cleaned, which hurts but not as much as receiving them did, then there are more gauze pads to cover it all up and finally a tight bandage is applied. While the Grimm grasps the opportunity to treat a few minor scratches on his arm as well, Sean tilts his head up to the ceiling, rotating his neck and alleviating some of the tension there. To be honest, he is tired as hell.

„What about the other one?“

The words startle him. He hides the fact well but somehow he is sure that Nick has noticed, anyway. Terseness is his weapon of choice to distract the Grimm from his no doubt correct observations:

„I do believe I will manage. Leave something for paramedics to fuss over. They will be disappointed otherwise after their long drive here.“ Maybe it is due to exhaustion but a tiny bit of reluctant amusement bleeds into his tone. Nick smiles and stops pestering him.

“Captain, two things before the others arrive: First of all, you have a killer of a right hook and secondly, when you visit dear Adalind once the whole curse shit is over, please, tell her about this! Really, given enough time and practice, we could make a whole new fighting style out of this.”

For Sean's taste there's entirely too much boyish excitement in the Grimm's gaze, but then again, it has been more than satisfying to down Branson with a single powerful punch, so maybe a bit of excitement is warranted.

He schools his expression into one of stern reprove, anyhow.

“Detective Burkhardt, we are not going into martial arts and we are not going to make a fighting style out of something that is potentially deadly. And if you have trouble following my order, just be sure to re-read your entire booklet on risk assessment and procedures.”

Nick shudders at the mere thought.

“No kung fu, then. I'll be a picture of obedience if it gets me out of reading that book. Really, I'm all for rules and regulations, Sir. No need to remind me.”

“I would hope so.”

His tone strikes somewhere between commanding and amused but whatever Nick makes of it, he seems to be cured of any super hero fantasies.

>>>

It is almost midnight when Sean sits in a comfortable armchair in his living room and watches a late night recap of the evening news. The fingertips of his left hand draw inconsequential patterns on the fabric of his bandages where they are wound around his right hand. He is feeling much better, actually on a decent dose of painkillers and finally able to appreciate what the press has made of his arrest... or rather what Nick has made of it.

With a darkly amused chuckle he remembers Nick's quiet words before he's led him over to the waiting ambulance and away from prying eyes:

“Sir, do you still want to make Captain Robertson get the credit he deserves?”

“I think I don't need to answer that.”

He may sound dispassionate about it but Nick has worked with him long enough to get his message nonetheless.

“That's good to hear. Do I have your approval for a short statement to the press?”

He has eyed the Grimm long and hard before giving a short nod.

Wu has already informed him that their arrest has been a resounding success but the zauberbiest is most curious to learn how Nick did it. He hasn't been with the press all that long. In fact, when paramedics have been finished with him, Nick has been back by his side, ready to drive him home.

His Grimm Detective appearing on screen with a female reporter draws Sean's attention back to the tv station.

“We have Detective Nick Burkhardt here to give us an account of the events that have transpired here.”

“Tonight we got an urgent request for support from our neighboring precinct regarding a difficult arrest. Seeing that quick action was necessary, Captain Renard drove here and acted as first responder before calling it in. When I arrived at the scene I knew next to nothing about the situation, but my Captain provided me with all relevant information in only a few well chosen words and thereby enabled us to successfully arrest the perpetrator.”

“Detective, how come your Captain isn't with you right now?”

Nick's smile is just the right amount of rueful to make his next words seem credible.

“The perp was a violent individual and our Captain is not one to shy away from duty just because things get difficult. He has sustained injuries in the process, though, and always intent on leading a good example for his subordinates (Nick quirks a conspiratorial grin) he had little choice but to get himself checked by paramedics.”

“So are you saying things got out of hand?”

“No. Far from it actually.”

Nick gaze strays down to the side and he rubs his neck in obvious embarrassment. When he gazes back up at the reporter he looks for all the world like he's about to share a great secret with her.

In the solitariness of his condo Sean laughs quietly. Sometimes he thinks that a true actor has been lost on his Grimm Detective.

“I'm not quite comfortable with saying this but....”

“Yes?”

She sounds like a creepy cross of a harpy out for blood and a mother comforting her distressed child. Nick has her wrapped around his little finger completely.

“Well, you see, Trisha, when we were facing that depraved man in the warehouse there was a moment when I nearly faltered. He reminded me too much of a difficult case from some time ago.”

When Nick's shoulders actually sag in apparent shame for his missing fortitude and the reporter looks like she wants to hug him, the zauberbiest laughs out loud.

Oh this is good. This is simply too good!

Nick starts talking again.

“My Captain showed no fear, you know? When the criminal attacked, he stepped into harms way to give me enough time to regain my equilibrium and with that he made it possible to overpower the perp together.”

Nick's words are fitting in more than one sense.

“So no, things did not get out of hand. Captain Renard reacted accordingly to a dangerous man's advance and may even have saved me from injury in the process.”

“Oh what a wonderful conclusion to a thrilling mission. You must be proud of your Captain.”

“Oh, we are.”

Sean finds himself surprised to detect no falseness in the Grimm's expression. It seems – although he cannot fathom why that may be – that Nick really means what he's said.

“But honestly, now that all has gone well, we are simply glad that we could lend a helping hand to North Precinct when they were at their wits end on how to proceed.”

There's no malicious glee, not a single thing betraying that Nick feels anything other than honest to God relief at being able to help out a bunch of colleagues, and yet this time Sean is dead sure that the Grimm has purposely put in a dig against Captain Robertson and his crew.

How Sean knows then that the first hasn't been a well played lie then? It is something in Nick's expression. A small spark of positive emotion telling him that Nick's been honest in his assertion.

Suffice to say, although his Detective is a master at acting like a kicked puppy, he is much more of a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Or maybe....

Upon further consideration the zauberbiest amends the statement, if only in the recesses of his own mind:

Nick is no kicked puppy nor a wolf in sheep's clothing. He is a loyal hound....

Loyal to the bone actually, fiercely protective... even prepared to debase his own actions in order to help Sean meet the Chief's utopian demands. He is not used to anyone supporting him. Not like this and least of all in the way Nick has done earlier when he's patched him up and kept in touch with him until Sean has assured him about three times that he is feeling better now.

For the umpteenth time his fingertips stroke over the thickly woven material of bandages. He isn't even aware of the small smile ghosting over his lips at the action.

Earlier Nick has driven him home and stayed with him under guise of wanting to avoid an all too early rise because of bond difficulties. The Grimm has ranted about too little sleep and inconveniences of meeting up in the morning authentically enough but ultimately the shrewd Prince hasn't been fooled. Burkhardt has wanted to make sure that he is alright – a sentiment that Sean is weirdly appreciative of although it is awkward to be feeling this way.

The twisting life of its own their bond has developed still worries him. The curse has grown unpredictable. This is something so adverse to Sean's controlling nature that it makes his stomach clench in real fear for a moment. He needs a back up plan, but how does one make plans when there's no predictable factor?

To be sinking deeper into exhaustion despite Nick's presence has come as a true shock.

They need to be careful.

Tomorrow they will plot and plan but tonight Sean will take another dose of pain medication, heed to bed and enjoy the simple fact that they are both alive and the bond unbroken.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Termination

Day 28 does not only mark one of the last they need to survive but also promises to be just as boring as the last two... which is actually good, considering all things. While Nick's morning is filled with writing reports, recharging and one or the other coffee and donut break, Hank has a little bit more excitement in the form of Sergeant Wu being his usual self. It happens when Nick is in Renard's office to give a lengthy, recharging-time suited report:

„Say, Hank, do you have noticed that Nick and the Captain are getting along very well lately?“

Hank looks up from his paperwork at Wu, who’s leaning against the side of his desk and throwing an inconspicuous look over to Renard’s office. Nick is inside and standing on the same side of the desk as their Captain, clearly visible for once, as the blinds are not drawn. Hank is not sure yet where Wu is going with this, but he sure as hell knows, that he cannot tell him anything.

„Umm, yeah. Both have been stressed out in the last weeks. Things have been tense. I’m glad that they are getting along better now. Makes work easier when your Captain isn’t pissed at your partner and vice versa.“

The Asian transfers his gaze from the office window to the Afro-American, a sly look crossing his narrow face.

„Oh, I’m glad as well, but I couldn’t help noticing things to be… more amicable than one would expect.“

Outwardly Hank just grins and shrugs but inwardly this has him floundering. Just now Nick is placing a hand on Renard’s shoulder while he leans over and points at something lying on the table. He knows where Wu is coming from.

„So you see it, too.“

Damn it. Something in his expression must have given him away. Wu is too damn good at spotting such things! Time for a different tag:

When he turns back to the Asian his bearing changes, becomes protective. Hank doesn’t even have to act. He knows him very well. Drew is loyal to the bone, but if there’s even an ounce of doubt; if Wu were in any way threatening to get his partner in trouble, then he would be facing Hank’s wrath sooner than he could say ‚inappropriate relationship‘!

He doesn’t even have to rise from his seat, he just looks up at the Sergeant, long and steady.

„I can assure you, no matter how they appear, their relationship is purely professional.“

„That is good to know.“

As always Wu’s face is a inscrutable mask.

„And even if they were, what’s it to you?“ Hank’s tone shows no aggression. He’s much too level-headed and too close a friend to Wu to be anything but curious or maybe give off the ’don’t mess with my little brother’ warning.

Wu smirks. At his obvious protectiveness and at the question itself.

“You mean if they were…?“

A barely there nod.

The Asian’s smirk becomes a full out grin.

„I would congratulate them on a decision well made as long as they keep it secret. Those two need someone to take care of them.“

Hank’s answering smile is equal parts amused and relieved. 

Apropos ’keeping something a secret’, Hank scans the room but finds main office blessedly underpopulated by nosy co-workers.

„Oh, you might want get back to paperwork, Hank. Our Detective Boy is returning.“

All this is said quietly and with barely any lip movement visible. The sly Asian looks the epitome of innocence when Nick comes back over to them. 

„There’s never such a thing as wanting to get back to paperwork.“

Hank mutters while busying himself with reading through his report yet another time.

„Hey guys. Had a nice chat while the diligent Detective, namely me in case there were any misgivings, has put in some work?“

„Hey, Nick.“ They say in unison, causing Nick’s eyes to widen and his eyebrows to rise to his hairline.

„You two are creepy, you know?“ He stage whispers before re-immersing himself in his own mountain of paperwork.

>>>

It's half past eight in the evening when they drive back into precinct parking lot from collecting one or the other witness statement. Before Nick can get out of the car Hank stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Nick, just one thing before we go home: You might want to be careful with how openly you recharge with the Captain. I don't think that any of our other colleagues has spotted anything but Wu has been over earlier and asked a few disconcerting questions.”

Nick frowns.

“Disconcerting in what way?”

“He suspected that the two of you have a secret relationship. I reassured him that this is not the case and he's cool with it either way but be careful nonetheless.”

“Hah, secret relationship somehow hits the nail on the head. Only not in the way Wu thinks. Don't worry. As you know, once we've finished for today my 48 hours off begin and when I return on Tuesday that whole bond thing will be over. Finally.”

The last comes out on a relieved exhale.

“Oh yeah, got to be good to have your life back. Come on, let's get going. You staying at his flat tonight?”

“Jup. It's Sleep-over Day. Did you know that I have my personal mug now? Well, it's not my mug per se but it's the one I always get to use.”

“You sure that he even rinses it in between times you use it?”

Nick shoots him a dirty look.

“Not funny. That's gross. With that comment you have just volunteered for buying a round of donuts next week.”

“Oh, if you insist.... Your face was worth it, anyhow. 'Til Tuesday then. Call if anything is the matter.”

“Hmpf.”

Then in a lighter tone:

“Will do. See you on Tuesday.”

>>>

“Anything wrong with your coffee?”

Apparently he has eyed the mug a little too long.

“What? Errr... no, just something Hank said. Nothing wrong.”

Renard raised eyebrow clearly says 'not buying it' but ultimately he gets back to fixing them a late dinner. Nick gives his mug a last skeptical once over before shrugging and taking a large sip.

Oh, yes. This is the good stuff! Who cares about rinsed or not rinsed? I've suspected for years that at precinct cups get cleaned only about every second time someone uses them... and that coffee is nowhere near as good as this one!

That night both of them sleep well. Nick on the couch as always (Renard's couch is much more comfortable than his own, damn it.) and the zauberbiest in his bedroom. So it is – in Renard's words – an 'entirely too cheerful Grimm' that leaves his Captain's condo early the next morning.

Before leaving they discuss their schedule for the day:

They will meet shortly around midday for recharging, after which Renard will move on to a meeting with various politicians and highly ranked colleagues. The meeting is set to take about two and a half hours and that, including the drive to and fro, moves them to three and a half hours of separation before they will meet up once again at Monroe's, where Nick intents to pass the day.

Better safe than sorry, they say. That way they are taking no chances.

>>>

It is nearly four hours into their bond time and Renard hasn't arrived yet. Nick is in the kitchen together with Monroe, where he 'earns his keep for once' as the blutbad sarcastically comments, by cutting up vegetables of all kinds for their mixed stew.

“Didn't Renard want to be here already? I took him for a man who would rather chop off his right hand than arrive anywhere too late.”

“Yeah, he did. Maybe the meeting went on longer than expected. He hinted that that might be happening. He wanted to text me before he leaves city hall but so far he hasn't. Wait a minute. I'll take a look. Left my phone in the living room.”

Nick gets up from the table to fetch it with Monroe calling after him:

“Don't think that will get you out of veggie cutting. I won't do that for you. I'll just stay here and wait for you to finish that. And I don't care if we eat later. So no stalling in hopes that I'll take over your job.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't get your knickers in a twist. Ah, yes. He writes tha.... Arrgh! Oh fuck! The bond!!”

That's all warning he gets before there's a mighty thumb and clatter and low moans drift over from the other room. Monroe has the presence of mind to pull the pot off the stove and turn down the heat before he rushes into the living room, only to be assaulted by unexpected and worrying input for nearly all of his senses:

Nick is half slumped over the low coffee table. From his uncomfortable position and items formerly on top now lying strewn on the ground it is clear that he hasn't gone there willingly. He is clutching his stomach and has gone white as a wall in the space of a moment. Moans and pained noises issue out from him, growing louder and more urgent even as the blutbad approaches.

The heavy smell of sweat and pain overlays it all, cloying thickly around him and making Monroe hold his breath for a moment before he can come nearer.

Woah, how did that happen so fast?

“Nick! Dude, what's wrong?!”

The Grimm turns to look at him, features already tight with pain. His movements are slow and seem much more difficult than they should be.

"Renard! I need Rena...arrgh!!" He ends in a breathless wheeze, frightening Monroe nearly out of his mind. He reaches his side and wants to move him but his friend recoils sharply and begins truly writhing in agony now.

“Nick?! Damn it! What can I do?”

He slips from the table top to come lying awkwardly between couch and coffee table.

“Pho...ne...Nggh.”

Monroe looks around frantically.

Where has it gone? Damn it! It must have slipped from his grasp when he collapsed. Damn that Royal for taking so long!!

While he searches for the phone he takes the opportunity to move the table away from Nick so that he won't hurt himself with his trashing. Spotting that elusive cell is marked by a bone chilling scream from Nick. His body arches off the ground, his mouth is opened in a desperate attempt to draw a full breath!

Fuck! Why is this... happening? Too early. Arrrgh!!

Monroe searches through Nick's contact list, punching the call button as soon as he has found the Captain. His hand is shaking when he puts the cell to his ear. Renard takes up on third ring, starting the worried blutbad out on an angry tirade before he can so much as state his name:

“It's Monroe and you had better listen to me...!”

"Don't even get started. The meeting was important and took longer than expected. I am on my way already but traffic is a pain in the...."

"Not even getting started?!? You better got time for this!! Put on your sirens or whatever to get here faster! Nick has just collapsed in my home because of the very bond that keeps you alive! Get your ass here, your Highness!"

"Merde! Give me a bit more time. Sirens won't do any good. There is a complete road blockage."

"More time?! Are you crazy? In case you haven't heard already, this is Nick screaming in the background!" He holds his cellphone in direction of Nick for a moment.

"I have heard and no, I am not. I couldn't have anticipated that this would happen. We've barely reached the four hour mark! I'll be there as soon as possible, so cut down the sass!"

>>>

How can that be?

Sean is sitting in his charger waiting for the fire fighters to push away the last bits of debris.

How could this happen? I don't feel anything? How can Burkhardt be so bad off?

His mind supplies the answer almost immediately:

That damn curse has just grown even more unpredictable! It is just like that time with Branson, only this time it is Nick facing the brunt of it. I need to get there! There's no telling how bad he will get. If he cuts off the bond that will be it. Then I'll be dead in a few days.

If anyone had asked him a few weeks ago what his greatest fear would be, he would have said: Exactly this!

Now, he realizes with not a small amount of surprise, his priorities have shifted slightly. Of course, there is still the fear of succumbing to the curse in the end but also there is the vivid memory and accompanying worry of Nick's hoarse screams as he's heard them over the phone. This seems to be worse than anything the curse has dished up for the Grimm so far. Worse and coming on much quicker.

>>>

Nick's bowels are on fire! It is a liquid fire raging inside and, damn, it is just like Renard has said so long ago: It feels like his innards want to tear themselves apart in order to get wherever the zauberbiest Prince is at the moment.

He is vaguely aware of Monroe telling him something, understands after some time, that Renard is already on his way.

He screams loudly and without holding back. He has other things to take control over. One is his bladder, which wants to empty itself from the sheer amount of pain he is in, and the other is the heavy urge to cut off that fucking bond to end the agony! The fire rises up into his lungs, burns away the very air and his ability to take a single breath. Monroe's face swims into view above him. He hears a peculiar, wheezy sound that might be his attempt at breathing but could also be the blutbad.

There's another noise and Monroe leaves him alone.

>>>

At the sound of the doorbell about 30 minutes after talking to Renard, Monroe gets up from where he has crouched by Nick's side and opens the door. Upon seeing the zauberbiest, no worse for wear in any way while Nick is quickly consumed by pain, he grabs him by the front of his shirt and all but flings him inside.

"He's in the living room. Just follow the howls of pain, that’s where you'll find him."

Renard glares at him somewhere between angry and openly disturbed. If Monroe had known him any better he would have realized that showing emotions like that meant that the Royal was out of his game with worry and even a few feelings of guilt, but he doesn't so he just glares back and snaps at him to hurry.

Sean would have liked to teach that impudent blutbad some manners but even he conceives that the man is just as concerned about Nick's state as he is, so he reigns in his royal side and precedes when he is practically shoved into the other room. The sight of Nick on the floor writhing in agony makes him forget all else, anyway. He's at his side with three long strides, sinking into a crouch while bond magic all but overwhelms him.

“Nick! Can you hear me?”

The Grimm is fully in the throws of the curse, eyes squeezed shut and mouth perpetually open in an attempt to draw a lung full of air. Upon looking closer Sean notices something else, tough:

In between screams and howls Nick is mouthing words. Two words. Always the same like a mantra:

'Don't cut!'

'Don't cut!'

It freezes up the hardened Prince's insides.

He's still trying to keep it up.

Sean wastes no time now. He moves quickly to avoid a flaying arm, then places one hand on his forehead and the other to hold onto his left wrist. Bond magic floods him, hot and alive and good. Only now he grows aware that the curse has already been draining him as well.

The effect on Nick is instantaneous, though not what he has expected. He seems to have an entirely different reaction. His eyes fly open, are impossibly wide. He stares up at him without really seeing anything. He's not even trying to draw a breath now! His mouth opens wider, tongue at his lower lip, darting out as he chokes. Jaw muscles are trembling with the need to breathe. He is all but convulsing while his suffering doesn't ease any.

This is not right! It's like every muscle is cramped. He's unable to breathe!

>>>

Nick does not feel the touch in itself, he's too far out of it to do so. But he is affected alright! As soon as those hands touch him, his whole being zeroes in on that. There is no room for anything else. Breathing, moving, living. His innards feel like they want to break out of him. To reach out at Renard.

In his head echoes a single thought:

Cut the bond!! Cut the bond!!

NOO! I mustn't! Don't cut! Don't cut!

Bond magic, concentrated only on two points of contact, totally overwhelms him. He is afraid as he has never been before. Even that tiny feeling of warmth in a sea of agony can not alleviate his suffering. It is like a single drop in the ocean.

Renard seems to get it, too. He takes his hands away as if burned. Inside and outside Nick screams with the loss, although he cannot bear the touch either. At least he is able to breathe again! But that also means his aching body goes crazy on him once more. His moans quickly increase to hoarse screams.

Sean knows what is the problem. He makes a quick decision, turning to the flustered clock maker, orders on his tongue already.

“We need a room with a bed. I don't care, if that is a guestroom, your bedroom or a broom closet, just carry him there right now!”

“What? Why?” Monroe looks bewildered and very much like he wants to press his hands to his ears to shut off Nick's screams.

“Don't ask stupid questions! Do it now!!”

Renard looks positively livid at his resistance, or maybe just a little zauberbiestly deranged. They can be snippy bastards, those 'biester.

“Okay, okay.” He crouches down next to his friend and addresses him after a last wary sideways glance at the Prince.

“Nick, I'm going to lift you now, so try not to knock me out while I carry you, okay?”

His answer is another blood chilling scream and more writhing so he decides to stop wasting time and simply do it. With difficulty he wrestles the Grimm over his shoulder in true fire fighter style and rises to stand with a grunt of effort.

“Really. After dragging me inside like you did, one would think that your sense of urgency is a little bit better developed.”

Renard mutters testily behind him as he makes slow progress across the room and in direction of the stairs. Despite being occupied with other things Monroe begins to realize that the Captain's scornful words are a way to hide his true feelings and those – as unbelievable as it seems – are concern and fear.

He staggers and groans anyway, his friend seemingly getting heavier by the minute.

“A bit of help would be appreciated, you know?”

By this time the Royal looks like he wants to bash his own head, or preferably Monroe's, into a wall.

“Damn it, Monroe! Have you been on vacation while I tried touching him?! I cannot touch him!! We need body contact on a much larger scale, if we want to avoid a stunt like that again. You have seen how focusing on a singular point of contact has gone for him. Now move!!”

“I cannot go faster. In case you haven't noticed, he is trashing and screaming his head off. But don't worry, I go as fast as I can. Although I want to relieve Nick's suffering much more than save your sorry ass, your Highness!”

Concern for his friend makes Monroe vent his frustration on the other man. However, his reaction is different from what he's anticipated.

“For once I am not thinking about myself. And NOW. MOVE. UP. THOSE.STAIRS!”

The last command is a deep throaty drawl and its implications make the blutbad freeze up completely instead of getting him to move faster.

Oh shit! Monroe, you have a fully woged, absolutely livid half-zauberbiest directy behind you! You better move real fast now, because it seems, against all odds, that said 'biest has just gone into a protective rage over your Grimm friend.

Suffice to say, Monroe hurries the rest of the way, not even noticing the one or other blow a trashing Nick deals him.

>>>

By the time they have reached the guest room and he has placed Nick on the bed Renard's 'biest has retracted inside. He is still breathing heavily, though, and does not seem to be in a gracious mood either. With Nick it's just like downstairs: He throws his head from side to side, writhes around, then curls up in agony and his moans and intermittent screams hurt in his ears.

"Undress him."

"What?" One might call him suicidal but that order has come as a total surprise. Monroe's words sound much more high-pitched than he would have liked. Renard actually growls low in his throat.

"Don't squeak, undress him! I need to establish as much skin contact as possible."

When he just stares at him in shock, Renard looks back with an air of impatience like it's either moving right now or being eaten alive.

“Have you gone deaf? This is not getting any better! Undress him so that I can establish full skin contact, for God's sake!”

Even while busily undoing all those tiny buttons of his damn expensive dress shirt the zauberbiest still projects demanding Captain and deadly, primal creature in a single, punishing stare. Finally the blutbad starts from his stupor and follows his command. Undressing Nick is difficult as hell, which is why in the end he just uses blutbad strength and tears away fabric of all kind. He leaves his boxers untouched, anyway. There are lines you simply don't cross. When Renard moves, the deadly 'biest is focused singularly on the howling man on the bed. Monroe watches transfixed and horrified.

>>>

Cut the connection. End the agony. Just cut it off! Do it now!

This is what his mind screams at him while the bond makes him suffer.

He shakes his head wildly, hands bunching up bed sheets in a death grip. This is the only thing he can do to fuel his fight against his own primal instinct to survive. He is lifted from the surface he is lying on then, right into a fiery pit that are in reality Sean Renard's arms coming around him in a tight embrace and pulling him half on top of the other man.

There it is again. The bond being nurtured, fire fighting fire and causing him to hurt even more.

>>>

Monroe is not sure at all that this is going to work. If anything, Nick screams and writhes even more than before. Renard holds him tightly against his body. He absorbs the shocks of his trashing and even mutters what could be called reassuring, inconsequential things, if they would be a little less on the insulting side:

“Come on, you stubborn idiot. You can do this! In a moment, you will feel better.... Hah, who am I kidding? But it will get better. Just hold on. I know you, Burkhardt. You are more resilient than a cockroach. And now breathe, damn it!”

Monroe clamps his hands over his ears and shouts:

“This is not getting any better. What are we gonna do?”

Renard doesn't take his eyes off his bond partner, but he answers, anyway:

“It is! You just have no means to perceive the changes.”

He isn't lying. He can actually feel the bond magic beginning to flow freely between them now. Thing only is, the way they are going, it is like trying to douse an inferno with a watering can.

He concentrates on the bond, and only on the bond. He presses Nick tighter to himself while he still tries taking a single gulp of air. He closes his eyes, focuses on every inch of skin aligned together. His large hand cups the back of Nick's head, pushes him to rest his face in the crook of his shoulder. All that time he isn't even aware of talking to him.

It helps. Agonizingly slowly, but it does. Now only Nick needs hold on. He needs to hold on just a little longer in order for the bond to work. All that pain. His screams, even muffled as they are now, burn themselves into his memory forever.

And there it is. Despite the very real fear of dying should Nick end their connection, his own mind supplies a solution in a quiet whisper.

Come on, Nick. Cut the bond. End your suffering.

>>>

Nick feels his face being pressed into warmth, into a place where he can bury it to shut out the world. He cannot cope with this for much longer. It just hurts so damn much. He wants it to end and yet there is the knowledge deep down, that Renard will die, if he stops fighting. His own arms wind around the other one, seemingly with a will of their own. It is basic instinct guiding him now.

More touch. More touch means healing faster.

And that voice is right. He has experienced it in the past. A particularly strong, warm pulse of bond magic tells him that he's nearly there. He cannot read Renard's thoughts, of course, but he gets the feeling.

He musters his last reserves, holds on tightly, screams one last time with all he's got, against the skin of his bond partner. It is all coming to a head. Thousands of sensations assault him.

It's too much! Just hold on another sec! I cannot! Damn it, you can!!

“AAARRRGHH!!!”

He needs something to relieve the strain. Something, anything! He does the only thing he can think of:

He bites down hard on where his mouth touches warm, bare skin. Blood trickles into his mouth. Another person howls in pain, not himself. He is held just as tightly as before. A tight knot finally unfurls and undiluted, healing bond magic flows through his very veins and soothes his agony. He feels warm all of a sudden. Warm and tired and safe.

Safe.

>>>

When he has realized that Nick has just bitten Renard, Monroe gapes openly, especially when the zauberbiest just holds onto his friend tighter instead of pushing him away. He smells blood mixed with power in the very air. Something mind boggling is happening. He holds his breath. Nick trembles in the Prince's arms. Renard himself looks pained on one hand (Who can fault him? He just got bitten so hard it's drawn blood.) but determined on the other. After a few more agonizing seconds it all ends. Nick slumps against the body under him in earnest now and Renard lets his head fall back against the pillows, chest heaving with drawing in deep gulps of air. He looks down on Nick shortly, then on the bleeding bite mark just where shoulder meets neck, and finally closes his eyes as well.

“Monroe, get a blanket for us, then leave the room.”

The zauberbiest sounds a little breathless but more in control of himself.

“Errr.... Why?”

Green eyes open to slits. A meaningful stare.

“Because you've been staring at us like a pervert for two minutes straight and I won't have that.”

“You couldn't even see, if I was staring. You had your eyes closed.”

Another stare, this time as if he were an especially dumb specimen.

“And how do you know that I had my eyes closed, if you have not been staring? Now, would following my orders be within your range of abilities?”

The blutbad throws him a dirty look but blushes all the same. He leaves quickly, all the while muttering to himself about arrogant, insulting Royals and so on.

>>>

With Monroe gone he is finally able to focus on the Grimm in his arms. What a thought. A Grimm in his arms, almost naked no less. Not something he would have envisioned for his future but honestly, seeing him there in his arms, resting rather than screaming is a relief greater than anything he has felt in a long time.

Only slowly does the fact sink in that beside saving Nick he has also survived another episode of the curse. When it hits him he holds onto his self-control until just after the blutbad has returned with their blanket and left again before letting his head sink back against the pillow, just breathing deeply with his eyes closed.

Nick doesn't move an inch but he breathes regularly now, which tells him that he must have slipped off in exhaustion.

>>>

Two hours later Nick twitches for the first time. His movements are very slow and seem to take up most of his energy. Still he lifts his head a little ways from Renard's naked chest. At once bond magic reacts, flowing a tiny bit less freely. He ignores that bravely in order to simply look.

Wait, why is Renard naked? Why am I naked? Why.... Ah. The curse, the bond, skin contact. I still hurt like nothing good. My throat hurts, too. I taste blood.... Oh, oops.

"I hate you. 'm not going anywhere. But 'm sorry for biting you."

When he speaks, it is more like a very low mumble. Renard seems to hear him, anyway. That said, he lets his head drop back down. It’s got to be said that Nick has a heavy head but to his credit Renard doesn't complain. He just looks down on the impossible Grimm, who is already half asleep again, and shakes his head.

>>>

Half an hour later Nick lifts his head up a bit higher and even manages to keep it that way for a longer time.

"What held you up?"

"Budget meeting about safety measures for on duty officers and a major road blockage."

"A budget meeting? Bastard."

"I am aware. My dear brother took it upon himself to tell me that from early on."

"Not what I meant. But honestly, letting me hang for a meeting over budget? That was a damn painful time, you know?"

"I couldn't have known that the bond would act up after only four hours. And you will thank me when next month you actually have a bullet proof vest to wear."

"They wanted to cut that? Those Bastards!"

"Need a bar of soap in your mouth for using naughty words?"

"What I need is for you to stay exactly where you are for exactly as long as my stomach needs to stop feeling like it’s been turned inside out."

"Ah, I knew there was a catch."

"I hate you."

"Yes, yes, now be good."

And a large hand falls on the back of his head and pushes until he's resting back on Renard's chest.

"Be glad you didn't attempt that one story down or I would be filing a complaint for sexual assault against you."

"Be glad I didn't go for a coffee break before coming here."

"Are you sure you would have been strong enough to enjoy that coffee to its fullest?"

"Ah, maybe not. But then again, this time you seemed to have been the one more affected by the curse."

Nick has nothing to say to that so they fall into surprisingly comfortable silence. At this point there goes as much without saying as they actually put in words. He gets the gist and he gets a good part of what the controlled zauberbiest cannot openly say.

After some time a thought makes Nick perk up again:

“Now that I've suffered for hours for you I think I have earned myself a story.”

Even in their current position Renard manages to look down on him with an air of superior skepticism.

“Want a bedside story now, Burkhardt? Oh, well. There once was a Grimm, who was prone to find trouble....”

Only the zauberbiest can mix the perfect imitation of a story teller's voice with sarcasm heavy as hell. Maybe it is the raised eyebrow adding credibility. Nick snorts in surprised amusement.

“As much as I would like to see you making up a bedside story, this is not what I want. But remind me to tell Wu so he can incorporate 'telling bedside story to children' into you busy Captain's schedule... or maybe we can come back to it later. Anyway, I want to know how dear Adalind managed to curse you.”

“First of all: If you want a group of crying children in your expert care after I have finished, then you may set up Wu to do that. Secondly: Absolutely not!”

Even while Nick lies with his head pillowed on Renard's chest and is held in his arms, the man can look as unapproachable as a stone wall.

“Come on, I've earned that privilege! Don't say, I didn't! And just so you know, considering what some would have demanded for doing that bond thingy with you, a little 'bedside story' is the most harmless.”

Nick doesn't see his face but he can practically feel the glare burning into the back of his head.

“Tell me when you've burned through, Sir. I know you are throwing me a death glare.”

An explosive sigh from above, that expresses suffering as well as defeat. Nick is happy to hear it.

“The vomit.”

“The what?! I didn't ask for a horror story, you know?”

“Well, that's what you're going to get, anyway. Live with it.”

He pauses shortly (for effect, Nick thinks).

“It was Johnson's vomit. It seems Adalind put him under a spell so that, once in my immediate vicinity, he would throw up the first thing he's consummated all over me... and infect me with the curse that way.”

“Urrgh! That's gross even for Adalind. And a bit risky, if you ask me. Who says he would have... you know... hit you on first try.”

“Oh, the spell was designed to force him to continue until he had hit his target.”

Nick can imagine Renard's grimace all too well.

“So that's why his heaving has been of rather epic proportions. Urrgh!”

“Yes.” The silence ensuing after that speaks all on its own.

“So you didn't kill him. I had wondered.”

“No I didn't. I put him on sick leave to gain time to find someone able to break the curse on him.”

“How did you know, anyway, that Johnson's vomit had magical properties?”

“Blrrgh.”

Nick is sure his mind must be playing tricks on him now. Renard would never in a thousand years be caught making a sound like that. He lifts his head to look at him, amusement clearly visible on his features. Well, the sour grimace (as if Nick were at fault) surely matches the sound.

“It hit me... when he hit me. Something to do with recognizing the magical signature of another 'biest.”

Having gotten a satisfying answer he puts his head back down. It feels right to do so, he doesn't know why. And as long as the Captain doesn't complain Nick isn't going to give up the comfort of a well flowing bond.

“Ah. Okay. Nice wordplay by the way.”

A chuckle from above.

“I do live up to the challenge.”

“I have the feeling that you live up to every challenge thrown your way. I mean, considering your life so far.”

Uncomfortable with touching the matter of his family and past life Sean dryly comments:

“Don't make yourself too comfortable there. I do intent to leave sometime today.”

Allowing for the change of topic Nick all but rubs his cheek against the zauberbiest's chest and says with a clear note of relish:

“You wish! Anyway, I am not sure I will let you out of my vicinity at all until this bond is officially terminated... when it should be and how it should. Sooo, thinking about leaving is something of a moot point.”

Sean wants to protest vehemently – against Burkhardt using him as a rubbing point and against staying – but upon looking down and seeing Nick all content and for the umpteenth time on his way to sleep, he cannot bring himself to do so.

I must be losing my touch. Honestly, the things I am doing these days! Oh, well. Staying a little bit longer cannot hurt. It's all about recharging, after all. …Not in any way about comforting the impossible Grimm after his horror trip earlier....

His arms don't tighten around him and, of course, he doesn't rest his cheek on top of Burkhardt's unruly mob of hair.

Oh, who am I kidding?

>>>

When Monroe peaks into his guestroom some time later he expects to find the two of them in a stiff embrace, avoiding eye contact and may or may not upholding a rather stilted conversation.

What he doesn't expect is finding them both fast asleep and looking like sleeping cuddled up together is the most natural thing in the world. With a quiet chuckle he returns to the living room.

No positive feelings between them, huh? Who are they kidding?

>>>

Finally it is time. After that whole debacle the day before they have slept for twelve hours straight. On the morning of day 30 there's been a decidedly awkward breakfast with Renard and Monroe. Nick has silently wondered about the tension between the two, but refrained from asking just like he hasn't asked where his clothes from the night before have gone.

He has taken the time and breath, however to thank his blutbad friend for helping him and the Captain. Blushing a bit and being teased about it by Nick, Monroe has grumbled and waved it off as a matter of course.

When at bidding farewell the Captain exchanges a few very quiet words with their reluctant host, Nick finds himself surprised yet again. If he's heard correctly – and Grimm hearing ensures that he does – Renard has just apologized... for whatever. He doesn't comment on that either and leaves together with his Captain.

He has been honest about not letting Renard out of his sight until the 30 days have ended, so they agree to pass the day quietly in Renard's condo. It is no problem. Nick has his second day off and Sean cancels his meetings for the day with an entirely plausible excuse when he calls in at work.

>>>

“So, one last time?”

“One last time.” Sean agrees and grabs firm hold of Nick's hand. This time, however, he doesn't do it warrior style like all the other times, but like he is actually shaking his hand. Nick meets his steady gaze, surprise only one of many emotions on his face and waits for his Captain to speak. In a month, he realizes, you can get to know a person very well.

He simply knows that Renard wants to tell him something. It is in the way his piercing stare has become just a bit softer and his pose just a bit less imposing.

“I rarely admit to being less than exceptional at anything but I will say now, that I am not very good at showing my gratitude. Anyway, thank you.”

He pauses, even looks away for a short instant. When their eyes lock again the zauberbiest has firmed his resolve and nobody would be able to tell that he has been unsure of himself.

“You went through quite a lot just to help me. And that is not even counting yesterday's ordeal. Thank you for doing this for me... without any hidden agendas and without demanding anything in return. It is not something I had the chance to experience often in my life.”

The Grimm just returns his gaze calmly and with a small smile.

“I won't say it was no problem, because it was too much of a struggle to say that, but I am still glad I did it. All things considered we worked....”

He trails off as finally, after a month of fear and, unexpectedly, the beginnings of a friendship, the bond dissolves with a soft rush of warmth and rightness. Both men simply stare at each other, both take a deep, shuddering breath in unison.

It is a relief like none of them has felt before, but not feeling the flow of energy between them is also a loss they will admit to only in the deepest recesses of their minds.

It is done. Sean has survived. He knows it. A strength and vitality has just returned to his limbs that even Nick's support couldn't compensate. A relieved smile wants to steal itself onto his features but he temps it down until only a trace of it remains.

“It is done. The curse is lifted.”

“Yes, it is.”

Silence, then:

“Sooo, what are we going to do about Adalind?”

The zauberbiest is back in his element at once. With a devious smirk, that chills Nick a tiny bit, he motions him over to the chairs at the breakfast bar.

“I have something in mind.”

>>>

It is three days after bond termination. Nick and the Captain find themselves sitting in the outdoor area of a small cafe somewhere in an upper class neighborhood of Portland.

Sean has set his contacts on Adalind and brings himself and Nick in a position from where they can see her well while she meets a client.

Sean gives his silent okay to his man and then calls Adalind. They see how she takes her phone out of her handbag, looks at the caller id and mouths for the client that she needs to take that.

“Hello Adalind.” He drawls once she takes up.

“Sean!” She manages to hide how flustered she is only by half. Still there is a tiny note of smugness in her tone, that suggests she is still hoping, he has called to beg for mercy in the last days before his death.

“To what do I owe the displeasure of your call?”

“Now, now, Adalind. Be nice. Shouldn't I be inquiring about the health of my daughter's mother from time to time?”

“I think we both know that you don't mean it. How have you been faring, anyway? Had a busy time?”

Her tone is succinct. Both can imagine the expression of false innocence on her face very well.

Renard looks relaxed as he throws a glance over at the other side of the street, where she has moved away from her table to talk without being overheard. The hexenbiest hasn't spotted them so far.

“Oh, I have been ailed by a stretch of illness this past month....”

He stalls on purpose, getting her hopes up.

“But in the end I have been able to weather it. No problem at all.”

Steel slips into his voice, telling her that he knows. She plays ignorant, anyway.

“You will understand that I won't cry from joy over this. I....”

Just when she makes to continue someone bumps into her from behind and out of nowhere vomits all over her blouse. They watch her sputter and screech and they see fear settling in her gaze as she slowly holds the phone back up to her ear.

“Oh, what an unfortunate mishap, dear Adalind.”

Even the devil himself couldn't sound more innocent and more suggestive at the same time.

“What? How can you...?!”

She spots them sitting at their table finally. Both raise their glasses in a toast and with a rarely felt rush of cold satisfaction Nick mouths: 'Goodbye.'

She opens and closes her mouth unable to hide her agitation anymore.

“Sean, you cannot do this! What about Diana?!”

“What do you mean? Well, whatever it is, I am sure you can seduce your way out of it. And isn't it nice to have a goal to work for? Oh, and if I were you I would focus your attention back on your client. He looks a bit put out. Goodbye, Adalind.”

Renard ends the call before she can respond and they greatly enjoy watching her as she exchanges barely a few words with her client before leaving in a hurry.

Once all has calmed down Nick asks:

“What do you think how long will it take her to notice that she hasn't been cursed?”

The royal 'biest steeples his fingers.

“A few days I would wager. She will be busy searching for someone to perform the bond with and not take the risk of waiting, if or if not she's been cursed for real.”

“But she won't be feeling any negative effects.”

“Oh, her imagination will take care of that. It is similar to a nocebo, or negative placebo effect: She thinks she is ill, so she will feel like she's ill.”

“And what will happen once she performs the ritual, presuming, of course, that she actually finds someone to perform it with?”

“Nothing at all, which, if you remember, will be just as terrifying as anything else. She won't know, if establishing the bond simply didn't work or if she has never been cursed to begin with. Suffice to say, it will be an awful few days.”

Renard smirk is a cold one and his piercing eyes gleam with satisfaction. Nick may not be one for revenge in general but just now, after all that Adalind has put them through, his own feelings are a mirror image of the Captain's.

“To health and a plan bearing fruits.”

When the Grimm raises his glass, Renard inclines his head and returns the gesture.

>>>

Adalind calls two weeks later. Sean is in his office at precinct and as luck would have it, Burkhardt and Griffin are with him.

He takes up the phone, checks the caller id and smirks.

“Detectives, you might want to stay for this.”

It is late in the evening, precinct practically deserted and the door firmly closed. He puts the phone on speaker.

“You tricked me, you manipulative Bastard! That man has never been set to place a curse on me!”

“I don't know what you mean. If you are referring to my comment about seducing your way out of it, I was talking about being embarrassed in front of your client and smoothing his ruffled feathers. You, however, just gave yourself away in regard to your involvement in my latest predicament. Otherwise you would not have known the implications of what happened to you in that restaurant.”

They hear her gasping on the other end of the line. Renard continues before she finds her voice:

“By the way, Detective Burkhardt has been dying to tell you something for some time now.”

He turns the phone around for Nick to speak into it. The Grimm catches onto his meaning at once.

“Oh yes, dear Addie. I've wanted to thank you for a really interesting month. One time you actually did us a favor, can you imagine? I am sure you have watched the news and seen that spectacular arrest the Captain has made. Well, you see, he would never have been able to do so, if we hadn't used the sudden power increase of recharging after hours of separation to create....”

“You have been helping him?! You filthy little....”

Nick and Hank make a show of rubbing their ears in face of her screech even if she cannot see them.

Renard takes up conversation again when she has run out of steam.

“Yes, he did. Now let me tell you one last thing: You have failed, Adalind, and I will not let your actions go unpunished.”

Again he ends the call without waiting for her answer. Putting it back in his desk drawer he looks up at the two Detectives with an air of deep satisfaction.

“Well, gentlemen, I would say we may call it a night now. I will see you tomorrow.”

“See you, Captain.”

“Good night, Sir. And thanks for letting me tell her. It was worth it, even though she rudely interrupted me.”

“No hardship at all.”

>>>

After this life continues as normal... or at least as normal as it can for a Grimm and a zauberbiest Prince in a city like Portland. And if Captain and Detective are just a bit closer now, understand each other a little better and see each other slightly more often....

Well, no one calls them out on it, least of all observant Sergeant Wu, who watches all this with carefully hidden satisfaction.

Some day he really should write that book.