Archive of Our Own

His Secret Weapon
Part Ten of the Mutually Assured… Series

Hydration

As soon as Nick noticed the Latin on the bloody warehouse floor, he thought of Adalind. To be fair, she was often on his mind for one reason or another, for good or for bad, but, in this particular situation, he thought if anyone could quickly translate the writing so that he and Hank might know what they were dealing with on their latest case, it was her. So, after snapping a few photos - both wide view so she could see the complete picture and closeups, he sent them to her in a text.

Although Adalind usually responded to him within a reasonable timeframe, Nick wasn’t expecting her to call him 30 seconds later. “I’m just going to…,” he waved his cell towards Hank, indicating that he was taking the call. If Hank noticed that Nick then walked a fair distance away, putting ample space between them, he didn’t say anything or react at all, really. In fact, his partner might have been too distracted by the remnants of medieval weaponry they found on sight to have even heard him.

“I can’t exactly talk at the moment,” Nick whispered in lieu of an actual greeting.

“Get out of there right now! ” Normally, Adalind would have complained about his lack of etiquette. The fact that she herself got straight to the point without even so much as a flirtatious hello told Nick just how serious she was.

“I can’t really abandon a crime scene.”

“You will if you don’t want it to be your crime scene,” Adalind snapped.

Despite her serious, near panicked tone, he laughed. “I’m not sure if you’re threatening or trying to protect me right now. I’m also not sure which option I prefer.”

Passing up a prime opportunity to banter with him, she started, “the picture you sent me is of a fighting circle, Nick.”

“Yeah, the copious amounts of blood sort of gave that away.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, Adalind continued to explain, speaking so rapidly and softly - the former out of haste, and the latter due to the fact that she was at work and no doubt not wanting to be overheard by her fellow Wesen lawyers - that he struggled to hear her. “A Wesen fighting circle. Specifically, one run by Lowens. Think… gladiators but more vicious. Instead of man vs. man or man vs. beast, it’s beast vs. beast, weapons are used, and killing your opponent isn’t just a possibility; it’s required if you want to win and live to fight another day yourself.”

Looking over his shoulder, Nick noted that Hank still wasn’t paying any attention to him before pressing Adalind for more. “But what about the Latin? What does it say?”

“That translation doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “What matters is that, if the Lowen figure out that there is a Grimm sniffing around, they’ll stop at nothing to make you fight for them.”

Adalind was usually so calm, cool, and collected. If she was dramatic, it was intentional in a way to, most often, mock him. Or Monroe. So, Nick realized that he should be taking her warnings seriously, but he just… couldn’t. Call it male pride if you will - Adalind certainly would, but he didn’t like her thinking so little of him or of his ability to take care of himself. “Nobody is going to make me do anything. You of all people should know that.”

Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “ they. Will. Make. You. Fight,” enunciating everything precisely and with a hard edge.

Knowing that they didn’t have much time - even if Hank was willing to ignore him, Sergeant Franco would be back at any minute, and CSU would be following him soon after, Nick tried again impatiently, “I need the translation as evidence of what I’m dealing with here, so I can follow this case not just as a Grimm but also a cop. I can’t exactly list my Hexenbiest partner as an expert witness in order to prove that this isn’t just a random double homicide out in the middle of the woods.”

“Wait,” Adalind sounded surprised, sounded confused. “Did you just say that there are bodies?”

If she wanted some answers, Nick was getting that translation first. “The Latin? Please,” he added tersely after a pregnant, pointed pause. In talking to Adalind, Nick had realized that he had someone capable of translating a little closer to the precinct home. He’d put money on Captain Renard being able to read the fighting ring’s inscription, yet, for some reason, Nick really didn’t want to go there. He couldn’t put his finger on it. In fact, it was only in contemplating the need to ask the Captain for help that he was realizing going to Renard was so unappealing. It was subtle, just under the surface, but there was something about the Captain that… bothered Nick.

“Oh my god, it means ‘Man’s first happiness is to know how to die; his second is to be forced to die.’ There,” Adalind challenged him. “Are you happy now?” Without giving Nick a chance to respond, she ordered, “now, tell me everything about your two murder victims.”

If possible, Nick lowered his voice even more. It was one thing to ask an… acquaintance... for a little help with a dead language; it was a completely different matter to provide someone who wasn’t a cop with detailed case information. “An elderly couple was found mauled and gnawed to death in their home this morning. No signs of forced entry. Outside, we found horse tracks and what I now know to be a broken piece of some sort of medieval weapon. Prints pointed us to a recently paroled ex-con who also happens to be trying to make a go at becoming a professional boxer. He missed his parole check-in this week, no one has seen him in two, and his car was found chopped outside the warehouse I’m standing in right now, the warehouse with this, apparently, Lowen fighting circle.”

“That son of a bitch!”

“Okay, calm down,” Nick told her, though it was perfunctory at best. “You usually don’t care this much about dead humans.” Her passionate response had managed to catch him slightly off guard.

“Listen, to have the arrogance and the confidence to run a fight ring like this in Portland, the Wesen behind it would need to be powerful and connected… or just be the connection themselves.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re not talking about some kind of Wesen top of the food chain, Darwinism hierarchy?”

“Because I’m not,” Adalind informed him succinctly. “Just like any civilization, Wesen have a power structure, too. Lowen Games would either need to be sanctioned by someone who is in power or the Lowen aren’t actually running the ring at all; the person in power is. Either way, if there are dead bodies on your radar, that means that someone got sloppy and broke the rules. Trust me, that will not be tolerated or go unpunished.”

Curious but also not convinced, Nick asked her, “but what does that have to do with my case? Even if some big-shot Wesen has his tail in a bunch,” Adalind let loose a surprised bark of laughter - why, he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t about to let her inappropriate bout of humor distract him, “that doesn’t help me solve two murders; that doesn’t help Ed and Lois Weller.”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, she said, “you mark down their deaths as a wild animal attack, and you move on. Case closed. Because that’s all your suspect is at this point, Nick. If he cannibalized those Kehrsiete, that means that he’s eating his Wesen kills. He’s broken, and there’s no coming back from that. You might as well consider him a third victim in this case. The real killers here are the Lowen. For the mess they’ve made, they’ll get more than what’s coming to them, and the games will be shut down. At least for a while.”

“How do you know all of this,” Nick questioned. It was rhetorical, though, because Adalind was intentionally being ambiguous. She knew more - not only about the Lowen games themselves but, perhaps more importantly, about the real people in charge, those supposedly in power over the Wesen community, and she was intentionally withholding that information. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Ignoring him, Adalind emphasized, “for your own sake, Nick, let this one go.” And then she hung up on him.

Annoyed and incredulous, Nick brought his cell down and just… stared at it. He knew that the fading to black and then dark screen wasn’t going to reveal any further clues - either about his case or Adalind’s reticent behavior, but he also didn’t have a better option. Plus, the gesture allowed him to refocus, to gather himself for returning to Hank and Sergeant Franco, the crime scene, and the real world, which felt a little less real and a little more like the surreal part of his life with every new Grimm encounter. After a moment, Nick slid his phone back into his coat pocket, turned around, and walked towards Hank.

His partner had a smirk on his face… which was about as far away from the expression Nick was expecting to see as possible. “Does this mean that you’re finally going to pop the question?”

He expected dealing with Adalind to be one riddle after another, not his partner. “What question?”

“You’re going to ask Juliette to marry you tonight?” It would have felt less like Hank had punched him in the face if his fellow detective would have actually hit him. Although he had intentionally kept the breakup from Hank initially, Nick hadn’t realized that, now more than a month later, it was still a secret. Surely, he had mentioned something in passing, given Hank some hint that he and Juliette were over? If not - and obviously he hadn’t, what the hell did that say about his former relationship? Him? Or his partnership with Hank? “That’s who you were on the phone with, right? I know today’s your anniversary. I couldn’t remember my own. That’s one of the reasons why my first wife left me. But you and Juliette? Man, I live vicariously through you these days. You guys having your usual celebratory dinner at home? You can never go wrong with a ring in the dessert. That’s a classic.”

Feeling too shocked to feel anything else, Nick flatly said, “I moved out more than a month ago. Juliette and I are over. I ended things. For good.”

With every word he said - like nails in a relationship coffin, Hank’s eyes got wider and wider. For several seconds, his partner was even speechless. Just as Hank went to open his mouth, Sergeant Franco’s voice said, “hey, guys! Over here! He’s running!”

Nick might have taken off immediately, grateful for the criminally granted reprieve, but he felt Hank’s gaze burning into him from behind as they ran outside. And then beside him in the car as they drove Sergeant Franco to the hospital to have his head looked at. And then all damn day long as they tracked down leads. Hank’s look said that, as soon as they were off the clock for the night, Nick was going to spill his guts whether he liked it or not. Well, he didn’t like it, so he slipped out of the precinct before Hank could corner him, knowing that he was only putting off the inevitable but willing to antagonize Hank further in exchange for a few more hours of reprieve.

Besides, he had a Wesen gladiator ring to shut down, and that took precedence over lying to his partner about the lies he told his ex-girlfriend in order to break up with her and continue to hide and protect even bigger truths.

Energy

So, what exactly was a guy supposed to think about when fighting for his life and that of his friend against a rabid crocodile-like creature when inside of a literal cage? Because Nick was pretty sure it wasn’t a girl… even if she wasn’t just any girl but a formidable Hexenbiest who was absolutely, positively not his girl. But his mind was on Adalind nevertheless - not the Skalenzahne who wanted nothing more than to kill and then eat him; not Monroe who was only there in that ring because he was doing Nick a favor; not the crooked Lowen who, as far as Nick was concerned, had set the whole disastrous situation in motion; not even himself and whether or not he’d survive the night in order to figure out who the mysterious person or persons in power were that Adalind had only hinted at the day before.

And there he went again, thinking about Adalind. If Nick didn’t know any better, then he’d think she had him under some kind of spell. And it wasn’t that he didn’t know her to be capable of such persuasions. Capable didn’t even begin to describe her abilities. But he also knew her well enough to realize that she would take no satisfaction from influencing him so much if it was against his will.

Actually, no, Nick silently amended. Adalind would still take pleasure out of bewitching him, but she’d enjoy it so much more if his obsession was voluntary.

He had already stripped out of his coat. Despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, it was cold enough in the barn for Nick to see his own breath. Yet, as Monroe explicitly explained to him just how screwed they were, he felt an unbelievably strong urge, a compulsion, to take off his shirt. But the desire didn’t feel like his own. Instead, it felt like it was being suggested to him by someone else.

Taking time he didn’t actually have, Nick looked out into the teeming, blood thirsty crowd of Wesen. Some of them were there to see someone die, and some of them had money on him dying, but they all seemed to fade away. Their cheers and their jeers became muted, their threatening presence neutralized. As if they knew better… and maybe they did, their Wesen instincts letting them know that there was a smarter, crueler, more powerful presence among them, the sea of spectators parted.

And then she was there.

After their phone call - after Adalind’s insistence that Nick drop his latest case, and stop looking into the Lowen Games, and roll over like nothing more than a broken, whimpering dog and Nick refusing to heed her advice, he called Monroe for further information, inviting the Blutbad out to the trailer instead of the Hexenbiest. He hadn’t seen Adalind, nor had he talked to her, since the afternoon before. He had assumed that, certainly not for the first and for what definitely wouldn’t be the last time, she was pissed at him, and Nick had been pretty annoyed with her, too - annoyed that she continued to withhold information from him, annoyed that the half truths she offered were really starting to feel more like lies, and annoyed that she obviously still saw him as the inept and inexperienced Grimm she’d first met.

For just a mere second, their gazes locked. In her eyes, he read promise and faith. Even if she had been mad at him, she’d still pursued the case on her own anyway. He had no idea how she had found him and Monroe, but Nick suspected that, while Nick had tracked down the location of the fight through blind (his) and really awful (Monroe’s) luck, Adalind had started from the top and worked her way down. That would explain the sexy suit she wore - the fancy jacket tied, though the lapel was still split and open nearly to her navel; the glittering, gold jewelry; her signature stiletto heels - a soft pink to match her purse and the only splash of color in the entire room. She stood out in the crowd, but Nick realized in that moment that she would always be striking - not her clothes but her . He saw her, he saw that she believed in his abilities to take care of himself and Monroe but would intervene if necessary, and he saw her nod. Just once. Then he blinked.

The Skalenzahne came at Nick swinging… and not just his fists but a morning star, which he suspected was the crocodile’s weapon of choice. At first, he tried to think of him as Dimitri Skontos. The fighter he was facing off against might be the prime suspect in a double murder, but as a cop, Nick had to believe that the system would work. However, as a Grimm, he almost immediately realized that Monroe and Adalind were right. Skontos was gone - for good, and in his place was something even less than the Wesen creature that embodied him. He was nothing more than a flesh eating automaton. The spiked, metal ball didn’t hit him, though… not the first time the Skalenzahne wielded it towards him, nor any of the subsequent times either. Whether Nick was able to raise his shield in time, or he dodged the blows, or his opponent misaimed entirely, he remained unscathed.

The same could not be said for the Skalenzahne. With every blow Nick landed, he watched as the Wesen weakened. He never stopped fighting, never stopped salivating for the kill, for the eventual spoils of his denied win. Yet, Nick knew that wasn’t going to happen. Even when Leo Taymor sent his second thug in command into the ring to fight dirty, Nick never doubted his eventual victory. Because it wasn’t just Monroe in that ring with him. Adalind was there, too.

She might have been standing in the crowd, calm and impassive, but she was battling just as much as he was. Every strike from the Skalenzahne that failed to hit him? Adalind slowed the swing or adjusted its trajectory just enough so that Nick could defend himself. When he wouldn’t have had his shield raised in time to block an attack, she pushed his arm out faster and stronger. With her body, she let him fight his own battle; with her mind, she made damn sure that he would be declared the champ.

But when Nick eventually got the Skalenzahne on his back, sword to heart, she mentally pulled away, allowing him to make the decision alone what would happen to his opponent. If Nick believed that the Wesen killer should be arrested, should, if even possible, stand trial for his crimes, then she wouldn’t intervene. But if he kept her words of warning in mind, and weighed them against his own observations, and decided that, in this case, the creature’s greatest chance for peace, if not happiness, was to be forced to die, then she would bear silent, supportive witness to his mercy kill. Before Nick could act either way, though, the gloomy barn was suddenly awash with swirling red and blue lights, and the decision was taken out of the Grimm’s hands and made for him by the badge he only just then remembered he was wearing.

From beside him, Monroe was already scrambling out of the cage when Nick realized the Blutbad probably had no idea that their Hexenbiest friend was there. “Find Adalind,” he covertly advised, using the noise from the fleeing Wesen crowd and the swarming police as cover. “She’ll make sure you get out of here safely and without anyone seeing you.”

Monroe stopped in his tracks, turning around to throw Nick an amused, disbelieving glance. “Adalind - Adalind Schade, our Adalind, your Adalind - is here ?!”

They didn’t have time for a single delay, let alone any of Monroe’s insinuating qualifications. “Well, she won’t be for long if you insist upon belaboring whatever this point is that you’re trying to make.”

“No point, man. Just surprised that she’d sully her shine in a place like this. But I should have known your secret not girlfriend wouldn’t let the team down. Anyway,” Monroe grinned, nodded, and then hitched a thumb over one of his shoulders, “I need to boogie.”

Nick wasn’t alone in the ring with the unconscious Lowen and the subdued Skalenzahne for five seconds before Hank was charging into the cage, gun drawn, worry on display, and questions flowing freely. Just once, Nick thought, it would be nice if he could slip away with Adalind and Monroe after a Wesen problem was handled... even if his case still somehow needed to be wrapped up in a way acceptable in a human court of law. The three of them had come a long way since he listened to the Blutbad and Hexenbiest meet and initially start to bond outside of the Bramble House, yet Nick still sometimes felt like an outsider within their close-knit trio. He understood why that was the case, but that didn’t mean he liked it. As it was, it would still be hours before he’d be able to escape the precinct.

He wouldn’t be going home, though… or to the trailer - at least, not at first. No, there was something else Nick would need to do that night, someone he needed to see, before he could finally call it a day.

Recovery

After leaving the station, he doubled back and made sure to take an indirect route. It was late, and the streets were empty, but Nick took all of the precautions he could. When he arrived, he drove right on by the house, parking several blocks away and then sticking to the shadows as he circled back. He didn’t ring the bell. He didn’t even knock. Instead, he sent her a text, letting her know that, if she was still up, then he was there and wanted to see her. Even if she was awake, Nick knew that it would depend upon whether Adalind wanted to see him if he would be granted entry or not.

Since the beginning of their association, he’d always dismissed her insistence upon discretion as paranoia. Now that he was equally if not even more so protective of the trailer, he had come to realize that his judgment of Adalind was actually because he resented her need to keep him secret and keep secrets from him. If Nick cared more about his Grimm books than he did her, that didn’t say a whole hell of a lot about their partnership or his ability to be a good friend.

He only stood on her porch for a few moments before he started to watch her progression through the condo as she turned on lights, and then she was there, silently swinging the door open - its wide arc more than enough of an invitation for him to enter. Just as quietly, she closed it behind him. Nick was slightly shocked when she didn’t engage the lock… if for no other reason than to tease him about, now that she had him in her home at night, she wasn’t letting him leave until she could show him the full breadth of her hospitality.

Before she could question him, he reassured her, “I took every precaution I could think of to disguise my coming here.”

The smile she offered him was wan and slightly vulnerable - a far cry from her usual sarcastic, impenetrable armor. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Adalind pivoted smoothly on the soles of her ballerina slippers, walking away from him. He had no choice but to follow, though she didn’t lead him to her bedroom or even the master bath - he could really use a shower - but to her brightly lit, far more comfortable and homey than he would have expected kitchen. There, she already had a fresh pot of coffee brewed and ready for them - he could smell it, and Adalind poured them both giant mugfuls without asking if he wanted some or how he took it. She gave it to him black, and he kept it that way. “Who are you, and what have you done with the Type A Hexenbiest I know and… know?”

As Nick took a seat on one of her island stools, Adalind twisted around to open her stainless steel fridge, removing a small jug of creamer. While moving about and doctoring her own coffee, she flippantly answered, “it’s not that big of a deal, Nick. I just realized tonight that I am far less significant - for my other associate and in the Wesen community - than I thought I was.”

“And you’re here with me now instead of reminding the world what a badass you are?” His tone was wry, but it was mostly a cover, because Nick was starting to worry.

“Actually, I think working with you is the best way that I can remind… certain others… that I should never be crossed or ignored.”

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to bolster her confidence instead of taking advantage of it to glean the very information he had been seeking from her since she first suggested working together. “I don’t think anyone could ever ignore you, Adalind.”

She raised a sculpted brow in argument. “I followed my Zauberbiest partner to a clandestine meeting in a parking garage between him and Leo Taymor. I followed Leo Taymor to the location of the Lowen Games and then to the sight of his very grisly death.” He opened his mouth to ask about the location of the latest crime scene, but she cut him off. “Don’t even bother. This time, there will be no body nor any evidence to recover.”

“The Zauberbiest knows how to clean up a crime scene?”

“The Zauberbiest does not get his hands dirty,” she corrected him. “And you’re not listening to me. By the time the Zauberbiest’s latest loyal subject was finished with Taymor, there’d be nothing left to clean up.”

“Jesus,” Nick swore, shuddering. Lowens weren’t Wesen to be trifled with, so what the hell was powerful enough to literally wipe out every last trace of one?

“I told you the matter would be handled. If you had just done what I said, Monroe never would have been in danger, and the Skalenzahne wouldn’t be a ticking time bomb in a jail cell right now.”

Even when she was reprimanding him, Nick reassured her, “I’m sure you went unnoticed because you wanted to go unnoticed. Nothing more.”

“And at the fight tonight,” she persisted, not allowing him to comfort her.

“Well, I doubt you really wanted anyone to notice you there either, especially if your other partner was involved. If he found out you were there…”

“... he never would have thought anything of it,” she finished for him. “Because I’m a Hexenbiest. I’m supposed to seek out and enjoy that level of ruthless, sadistic, inhuman violence. And, even if he did, I could have played it off like I was there out of concern for him. But he doesn’t know, and he won’t find out, because nobody but you even saw me. I was the only creature in that crowd with any sort of class or taste, the only one who had bathed in the last twenty-four hours. I should have stood out like one of their precious, neon beer signs. But I didn’t. Hell, not even Monroe noticed me, and I am half of the reason he made it out of that cage alive.”

Notching his chin up once in a nod of recognition, Nick said, “thanks for that, by the way.”

Adalind lifted her mug to her mouth, though she just held it there and didn’t take a sip. Out of the corner of her eyes, she covertly glanced at him. “So, you’re not mad about that?”

That surprised him. “Why would I be mad?”

She finally took her drink, swallowed it, and put down her cup before answering, “because you didn’t speak to me for an entire day - a new record, I’m sure, since we started… this,” she gestured back and forth between them, “after I suggested that you drop the case and just let the Wesen world take care of itself without your intervention for once.”

“Helping me isn’t the same as giving me an order.”

“Hmm,” Adalind tilted her head to the side in a pointed look. “You’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.”

“Speaking of which, does all of this mean that you’re finally ready to tell me the name of the guy who ordered you to kill my Aunt?” Just because he had put Adalind before his self-interests initially, that didn’t mean that Nick wasn’t going to seize an opportunity when it presented itself. Or at least try to.

But she turned his question around on him, posing her own. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, by keeping silent, I’m not protecting him; I’m protecting you?”

“Does this have something to do with that whole Wesen power structure you were telling me about yesterday?” It was the day before yesterday, actually, but neither of them had been to bed yet, so Nick didn’t think self-correction was necessary. “Because, if so, I think, if nothing else, tonight proved that, between the two of us, we’re pretty damn powerful.”

“I’m not talking about having power, Nick; I’m talking about being the ruling power.”

“So, you’re saying this Zauberbiest is some kind of politician?”

“No,” she literally groaned, tossing her head back in frustration. For a moment, Adalind just stood there like that, seemingly collecting herself. Once she looked back down at him, she said, “stop thinking of the Wesen community as just Portland and under Kehrseite structures. All great civilizations can be traced back to royalty: kings and queens, emperors and empresses, tsars and tsarinas. While the human world has always been divided into many different seats of power - even more so today than in the past, there are just seven Royal Families that rule over all Wesen. And the person who ordered Marie’s death is one of them. Or, well, half of one of them. He’s part bastard prince and part Zauberbiest.”

Although that was a lot of information for Nick to wrap his mind around, he really could only focus on the implications of Adalind’s words, not the words themselves. “You don’t think I’m strong enough to take on your other partner.”

“Nick, it’s not like that,” she protested vehemently.

But he was already standing, already getting ready to leave. “But I think it is.”

Before he could walk away, however, Adalind quickly rounded the island and came to stand in front of him, using her much smaller frame to block him. He still tried to push by her, but she reached out and grabbed him by the forearms, anchoring him in place. Without her being woged, he could have easily shoved her aside, but Nick refrained. For the moment. But he also refused to look at her. Even when she started talking to him again, he glanced out and over her shoulder instead.

“He might be a bastard, but he’s their bastard. When you find out who he is, you’re going to want to kill him, badge or no badge… and not just because of your Aunt. I do think you’re strong, Nick, but I know that he is ruthless. Even if you would succeed in killing him, you’ll only bring the Royals down on all of us. The Royals may fight each other, but no one fights the Royals… at least not to live and tell the tale. So, yes, you might be strong enough to take out a bastard, half-Royal Zauberbiest, but not even you can burn down the entire Wesen monarchy.”

He finally lowered his gaze and locked it with her much lighter one. “And if I have you and Monroe by my side?”

“You wouldn’t just be going up against the Royal Families’ unlimited wealth and influence,” Adalind sighed, shrugged. Either she was ignoring his query or didn’t find it relevant. The movement of her shoulders, however, drew Nick’s eyes down from her face to her body. As she continued to talk, he found that he couldn’t stop looking at her almost entirely bare legs, her exposed clavicles, or the alternating stripes of fabric of her romper - satin, and then sheer, and then satin again. At first glance, for Adalind , her pajamas looked innocent enough. She even wore a robe, though it was untied and trimmed in lace. But when the overhead lights of the kitchen landed on her just right , Nick realized how deceptive and alluring her sleepwear actually was. “You’d also be going up against the Verrat who serve at and for the pleasure of the Royal Families. Reapers are just one branch of the Verrat. In going up against the Verrat, you could face their mercenaries as well, and I really don’t think you want to fight - and be forced to kill if you want to continue living - other Grimms.”

God, there was so much Nick still needed to learn. So, why was he still so focused on identifying her other, Wesen partner? “His name, Adalind.”

“I’m not going to tell you that, Nick.” She was still touching him, though, at some point during their conversation, Adalind had run her hands up from his forearms, over his biceps, and was holding onto his shoulders. Meanwhile, Nick’s own traitorous hands had, without his knowledge, taken hold of the belt to her robe. Rhythmically, he ran the strand of silken fabric around and through his fingers - every circuit of its length bringing her closer, and closer, and closer to him. “And it’s not because I don’t believe in your Grimm abilities or because I’ve invested too much time and effort into you to risk you getting killed; it’s because I don’t want to risk you at all and because I need you to believe in my abilities - my ability to be loyal to you and only you and my ability to control my former partner and not let him hurt you again - just as much.”

Without a shred of doubt, he admitted, “I do have faith in you.”

“Enough faith to spend the night?”

Unlike all of the previous times Adalind had tried to proposition him, this time, she wasn’t being seductive. Instead, she sounded hopeful. Yet, her question still served as the metaphorical bucket of ice water, shocking Nick back into the moment and making him take several long strides away from her. “I can’t do that.”

Adalind was resigned when she said, “because you still don’t trust me.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around,” he argued humorously. “Until you tell me who this bastard, half-Royal Zauberbiest is, I’ll know that you don’t completely trust me , and I respect you too much to sleep with you until you do.”

If Nick thought Adalind would gleefully, conceitedly point out that he was finally talking about the two of them having sex under the terms of when instead of if or even never , then he was very wrong, because she simply said, “well, I guess we know where we stand then, don’t we.” Brushing by him, Adalind murmured, “I’m going to bed. Show yourself out.”

Seeing no other path forward for them until she confessed her one last yet most valuable secret, Nick made sure the coffee pot was unplugged, turned off the lights, and then left.