Chapter Text
Nick left the coffee shop, doorbell ringing as he walked out towards his partner. Hank smirked as he looked down at the photo he shot of the detective. Nick rolled his eyes, “What’re you doing?”
Hank smiled again, “Just getting a photo of you while you’re still all young and innocent. I’ll need it by New Years, the way you're going.” The man’s gaze wandered up, glancing at a couple of women leaving the courthouse, locking onto one in particular. Nick followed his partner's stare, looking at a pretty blonde woman in… an Armani suit? Nick thought he was recognizing the brand right.
“Nick, I know you’re not the biggest on… much of anything, what’re you lookin’ at her for?” Hank joked, following the woman with his gaze. “Just saying, Armani suit, making six figures? Bet she’s got half her co-workers staring a little too low when she walks. Whole bag of trouble, I’m telling you.”
Hank rolled his eyes, taking the food bags and his coffee from Nick’s hold, “Why can’t you just look at her ass like the rest of us?” Nick chuckled as he watched the man get in the cruiser. He glanced back at the woman, who spotted and smiled at hi-
What the fuck
Nick blinked a couple times, then rubbed his eyes and looked up again. No, it’s gone now. Was he hallucinating already? He out of all people could admit his sleep schedule wasn’t the best (understatement) but it hadn’t even been more than, what, 2 days? “Nick? You good?”
Nick blinked a couple more times, sliding into the passenger side. “Yeah, just, thought I saw something.” Hank raised an eyebrow, half concerned, half desensitized to his usual bullshittery. Didn’t matter though, they had a call. Something off in the woods, a little north of where they were.
Nick appreciated the crunchiness of the leaves as he walked, the fall season providing satisfying steps everywhere you went. The forest service officer led the two detectives further down the trail, which was already flooded with personnel. Taped off area and clues already marked.
“I saw a lot of smaller animals flocking over near here earlier, didn’t think much of it. Then a hiker flagged me down and showed me this.”
The man gestured to the severed off shin that was leaned up next to a tree, claw marks and not all that decayed. Though flies were already settling in to feast. “The rest of her is off trail, though she provided enough food for the critters out there already.” Nick glanced back at the two, following as he led.
“How do you know it's a her?” Hank questioned, the guard pulling back some branches to reveal a bright pink, women’s shoe size nike. The two detectives exchanged silent words as they looked at each other.
“At first, we tried to look for some animal prints. What kind of animal could have done something like this, you know? Unfortunately, we only found one track.” The ranger stepped through some soft soil, revealing what looked to be a mens boot print in the mud. Sized 12, 13?
Hank called out to the forensics team to get a cast, Nick starting off to walk around the area. He was a good ways away when Hank noticed he was gone, the older man having to jog after him. Nick paid no mind to his partner’s struggle, crouched over an iPod and their earbuds, Sweet Dreams vibrating from them softly.
Hank sang along to the lyrics under his breath with a broken, out of rhythm tune as Nick pulled out a glove and slipped the music player into an evidence bag.
“I would say I didn’t know you couldn’t sing, but I’ve seen you drunk enough times to be lying if I did.” Nick patted Hank on the shoulder, his smirk holding a playful edge as they walked back.
The two were debating what they were going to write in the report when Nick stopped, looking over to his right as something caught his eye. A bit further, a complete opposite direction from anything else, was a small little baby doll figurine. Someone had dropped it without noticing, it seemed. Weird. But hey, might be evidence.
The two detectives sighed as they walked through the precinct doors, chattering of the next steps to the rather dull investigation. Well, as dull as you can get for the homicide department. Honestly, nothing fazed him anymore since The Statue-Of-Liberty-Pigeon case.
Brisking through the main office area, he glanced at some apprehended who was waiting to be processed, handcuffed to a chair.
Nick locked onto him as his features rippled, twisting and calcifying. Scales, were those scales? And a forked tongue flicking at him, slitted eyes focused.
Wu ducked around him with his usual grace, by completely avoiding him but nicking his ankles with a slight kick. The bruises from the other fifty times they did this stung worse with each repeat of the same damn thing. “Watch where you’re going Nick, you still owe me for filling the medkit from last time.”
Nick would usually smile, or make a remark back. However, his eyes locked back onto the criminal, now looking just as human as ever, even with some bad face tattoos.
The only difference was the look of sheer terror on the criminal’s face. He scooted away frantically, screaming out to the officers around near incoherently. His eyes darted back and forth, never leaving Nick for too long but never making eye contact. Was he trembling?
It’s fine. The guy must have seen something or remembered something, and mistook him for someone else. Nick’s just tired, that’s all it is.
Unbeknownst to the detective, a beat up station wagon pulled into his yard, a metal trailer pulled behind on freshly oiled hinges. An old, frail looking woman slowly made her way up the steps, pick-locking the door.
The lock clicked open, and she smiled as she felt the slight snap of a single piece of bubble wrap under the door mat. She’ll have to be careful inside, she knows exactly what tricks he’d pull.
“Hey Nick!” Hank called out, catching the officer just as he was about to leave the precinct.
“Hank, please, I’m already clocked out-”
He laughed softly, “No, I was just gonna say I got a missing persons report, matches the description of our forest vic pretty well. I’m gonna go check it out, I’ll update you if I find anything.”
Nick gave a small salute, tension dropping somewhat from his shoulders. First with a mutilation, then with the guy practically throwing himself to the ground to get away from him? It’d been a long day.
Nick pulled up to his house, knowing something was off before he even turned the street corner. However, most of that anxiety vanished when he saw the familiar old station wagon parked in his yard. Though the trailer dragging behind it was new.
Almost excited, Nick bounded up the steps, pushing open the door he knew would unlocked. He should invest in better locks if it was that easy, but Marie would lecture him enough when he got inside.
There was the smell of zharkoye wafting through the house, accompanied by the garlicky spice of pampushky. While the smell of his favorite comfort food was more than welcomed, it was likely being used to soften the blow of some bad news. With his aunt’s declining health, he couldn’t help but dread the conversation waiting.
“You should really-” “Invest in a better lock, yeah, I know.” Nick interrupted the woman, echoing her.
Marie smiled at Nick, tip-toeing just high enough to kiss him on the forehead, though it didn’t take much. Listen, the Russian genes won on his height, ok?
“If you knew then I shouldn’t be able to pick it.” Marie teased quickly returning to the stew she had on a simmer.
Nick’s smile turned bittersweet. “Any updates?”
Marie’s expression also turned somber. “Well, my health is doing much better, with no current complications. Chemo’s as rough as always, but looks like it’s right on track.”
Nick raised an eyebrow skeptically.
Marie sighed, “There is something I need to tell you, but that is a very long conversation and I’d rather not have it in here. A walk in the woods would do us both some good, especially tonight.”
So it was one of those conversations.
“But that can wait until after dinner, it’s almost done now. You’ve always taken after Farley with your baking, I burn everything I put in the oven.”
Marie gestured to the garlic dough on the counter. Must have been some of their old yeast batch. The starter must still be going strong then. Nick smiled a little more lightheartedly as he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
The street was silent, growing quieter as they neared the forest. Nick was always taught that a silent forest meant something was wrong, and yet whenever they found themselves surrounded by trees, silence followed his aunt’s every step.
For now though, as they neared the edge, the crickets were still chirping and rustling in the bushes still reached Nick’s ear.
Marie stopped walking.
Nick turned to her, but the woman only made the gesture for him to walk alone. Nick eyed her suspiciously, but obeyed. Walking backwards, eyes never leaving her as he tried to figure out her play., Nick drew farther and farther away. Marie only smiled as her eyes went unfocused, listening.
And heard nothing.
The forest was dead quiet, not a single twig snap or a breath dared to be drawn. Nick had been to the forest before, it was one of his favorite pastimes exploring. It had never gone quiet like this, like it did with Marie.
Marie did as close to a saunter with a cane as she could. “Notice anything?” Her voice was like thunder in the cold.
Nick nodded, glancing around them, “It’s quiet, like it is with you.”
“Ever wonder why that was?” Marie continued her walk deeper into the woods, trees growing taller and night turning darker.
“There is a lot to explain, so I need to know if you trust me. I promise I’m not crazy, I have the evidence to prove it, and I’m sure that you’ve been wanting answers for a while now.”
Nick silently watched the woman, beckoning her to continue. He hated it when either of them stalled conversation, especially for bad news.
“Have you been seeing strange things? Things that you can’t explain?”
Nick was about to answer, but instead spun his head around to the quickly approaching footsteps coming from behind his aunt.
Swiftly drawing his gun, he fired a shot into the dark, a piece of the shadow pierced by the sharp light ducked to the side. Marie almost surprised him, drawing what was practically a sword from her cane. Almost, because it was exactly the type of shit he expected to see from her.
Nick aimed his gun, faltering when he saw that the man wielded a genuine, whole ass, honest to god medieval style scythe, and giving him enough time to hit a good kick into Marie’s side.
Marie stumbled back, her bones making a crack that made Nick nauseous. The attacker seemed locked onto her, not even noting Nick’s existence. Or the existence of the second amendment, as Nick put a bullet in his head.
With the moonlight shining on the man’s, no - most certainly not man’s, face, Nick could see the same scaly features as on the guy before. But they faded just as quick.
Snapping out of his trance, he rushed to Marie’s side, surveying her wounds. If it had been a few years earlier, she would’ve shrugged it off on the walk back home, but she was weaker now. She was frailer and that mere concept had always frightened Nick to the core, ever since she got diagnosed.
Nick glanced between her and the things body, the one no one would know wasn’t human.
”Shit”
The police got there quickly, the dispatch unit quickly recognizing his voice. Nick was pacing by the time he got his statement in. Nothing he hasn’t been through plenty of times before, but still thrown off his game.
The Captain, Séan, rested a hand on the detective’s shoulder. “You can take a couple days off if you want to, Nick. A cop’s first kill, justified or otherwise, is not something to be taken lightly.”
It was a phrase he had heard often in his rookie years. XYZ was traumatic, it was scary, it was supposed to affect him, he should take a couple days off. But eventually, ‘You have the next week off’ turned into ‘You can take a couple days off’ turned into ‘Do you want a break?’ as he kept refusing. Leaving work meant another case that might go cold, and taking a break would just leave him restless anyways.
“I’m ok, Cap, I promise.” Nick stated, his voice shaken but concrete nonetheless. Renard sighed, but relented, his comforting grip turning into a soft push forward.
“You sure you're good coming into work again?” Hank questioned, Nick shrugging it off.
“Beats staying at home, keeps my mind off things.”
The two looked back at the translation of the scythe, though Nick had resolved to keep himself off of working that case. Though the confirmation that the… thing-man he killed was a grade A douchebag helped to explain the total lack of remorse over his death. What? He tried to kill Marie, like hell he’s feeling an ounce of regret about offing him.
Renard still made sure to give him a hard look when Nick brought up the results of the psych evaluation he most certainly did not do. Then again, Séan being lenient and making up lies for god knows why was the way he got this job, and Nick intended to keep it that way.
One of the other officers knocked on the door frame, “Hey, got the DNA and boot cast results for the forest-mauling case.”
The DNA was inconclusive, something that Nick had learned to accept just happened sometimes in his profession. So many unsolved cases with DNA that was just inconclusive. It was a sight he dreaded seeing on a report. He always shelved it with the fact that some members of the population could just do some things better. Hear better, see farther, run faster. It always irked him, but hey, he was one of those people so he had no room to speak.
The boot cast had a better clue, exact make and model, picture perfect example.
“Oi, Burkhardt! Griffin! You got another case!”
The other case led them to a disheveled mother and one missing little girl. The case got a hold of the Captain’s attention, putting everyone on it with different levels of priority. Of course, Hank and Nick got put on high priority. “Hey,” both Nick’s partner and the captain turned to him, “the girl by the hiking trail, she had a red hoodie, didn’t she?”
The captain nodded, then grimaced. “Let’s hope it's not the same guy.”
Nick and Hank started down the path the girl, Robin, was supposed to walk home from school. Normally, this would help them find any clues to where she went.
Nick brisked forward, then glanced at the narrow cut through shortcut through the woody park. Sure, the mother was very specific about the route, but children were a fickle bunch and didn’t know much about the world.
The two started walking down, splitting up to cover more ground. Nick was always calm on nature walks, finding something about them relaxing, comforting even. But something about this, something made his hairs stand on end.
Nick was renowned at the police station for a lot of things. A whole lot of cases solved, most of which he had to do some creative thinking for. The major thing, though, was his keen sense of danger. Whether it be when to duck to avoid being shot through an unassuming door or clocking in on the suspect far before he ever even had a shred of evidence against him.
It was something that he valued about himself, something he held dear. It was something that kept him alive, after all, long before he ever thought about joining the police force. But now, that sense was plaguing him, anxiety filling every inch of his body.
His movements became sporadic, trying to find the source for his instincts telling him to run to high hell. His head was on a swivel as he moved forward, slightly hunched like he only ever was when high up in the tree branches of the old park back in Brooklyn. His steps grew faster, not quite running but more than a jog.
“Nick, I got something here!”
Nick sprinted over, already antsy and wanting to move. Hank glanced over at him, showing off the pink and purple children’s backpack. In black sharpie, clearly written by her mother, were the initials R.H, Robin Howell.
While Hank ran off to make the call, Nick spotted some barely there, almost washed away boot prints. The majority of the line had been brushed over. But one, just one singular boot print pointed right of the path.
Nick took off, spotting boot print after boot print, slowly becoming more and more frequent, less damaged. He shouted to Hank so he would know where he was going, but didn’t stop.
He skid to a stop on a high point, eyes locking onto a man with pushed back curly hair, wearing a gray sweater while going through his mail. Boots, though not the same kind.
Three teenage girls rode by on their bikes, all wearing the bright red coloring of their local high school, the lettering across the back indicated they were the volleyball team.
The man's head tilted to the side, fur spreading across the sides of his face, eyes glowing a blood, crimson red visible even from where Nick stood. Hell, even Hank would have probably been able to see them if he were here. It was gone just a moment too late, the stranger spotting him locking eyes with that piercing red gaze.
Holy shit, was that the scariest fucking thing Nick had looked at since- was that a fucking werewolf? Were werewolves real? Does that mean the lizard snake thing was a were-snake-lizard-thing?
Nick took one step back, eyes still wide open and staring at the man as he morphed back. Another step, and he shouted for Hank to get over there and to call for backup.
The officers scoured the place top to bottom, swarming the house.
Nick refused to get any closer than 10 feet near the man in question, standing off to the side and staring. It wasn’t quite a glare, it was too analytical for that kind of perjury.
The soft shift of his weight back and forth, what objects in the house his eyes darted towards when what words were said. The delays in speech, the uneasy tone.
To his credit, the man only ever glanced his way a few times, immediately looking away. Relatively calm and composed, the normal amount for any seasoned person to be around cops. Not rehearsed, but not stressed.
“Hey, Nick, what made you go after this guy? He seems clean, doesn’t even have the boots we’re looking for.” Hank rested a hand on Nick’s shoulder, proving to be a mistake as Nick flinched and stepped away from his partner, eyes locking on to him for a moment before darting back to the suspect.
“I just-” Nick huffed, then tilted his head, eyebrows pinching as he became more unsure of himself.
“Either I’m hallucinating, a. From finally losing my mind or b. From lack of sleep—“
“Wouldn’t be the first time”
“—Or I’m right. But that last option is seeming less and less plausible.”
Hank sighed, looking at the crew and waving them back. “Well, unless he has another property or a hidden basement, he’s clean. There’s nothing here Nick.”
Nick stayed put, trained on the suspect even as he backed out of the house. He didn’t give off any particularly dangerous vibes, didn’t make his gut tell him anything, but it still didn’t make sense.
The shifting thing he did wasn’t triggered by a full moon, it had to be another trigger. Why had it been the girls passing by? Especially when both their victims had red clothing?
Nick backed off, but barely. He would have to come back and confirm the old fashioned way. Let’s hope he didn’t get caught, die, and that Renard wouldn’t finally get fed up with his shit.
Nick scaled the closest and largest tree to the suspect’s house, watching to see if he could see anything incriminating. No extra cars, no unusual noises. The lighting provided enough to see inside, but every time Nick got into a good angle to look, he had to move again as the man looked out his window. Shit, could he sense him? Maybe it was best to come back on a different day.
And risk that little girl? Come on.
The man exited his house, Nick maneuvering around the tree to keep a good eye on him. His hands burned with the cold despite the early fall, rough texture of the bark digging into his skin.
The werewolf theory might be correct? He was certainly marking his territory. The thing stalked back inside, looking over its shoulder all the while.
Nick hopped down, crouched on all fours as he snuck by. He’d made it past a good portion of the house, around and towards a window with a damn good vantage point that the stranger’s paranoia didn’t let Nick get to before.
Just before he could sit up and look, his brain screamed at him to get up and move. Dodging and ducking out of the way just barely in time to avoid getting fucking crushed by the man jumping out and breaking his own goddamn window.
Stumbling back to a stop, Nick was dazed enough to not block the man as he threw Nick into his house wall. Luckily, his survival instincts kicked in as he kicked back off of the wall (seriously dude, you threw him with his momentum carrying him horizontally, it wasn’t hard to shift around) and threw himself to the side. Nick landed on all fours again, skidding to a stop, and he was well aware of how much he looked like an animal himself by that point.
Shit, was he one of them? No way, he would’ve noticed by now if he was.
He was hurt, something in the back of Nick’s mind registered. A low stinging from his knees told him that push off was not worth it. If they were to fight, he would start off slow and sloppy. The fencing wasn’t tall enough to keep him from jumping over, but could he even manage a good jump right now–?
“Okay, okay, lighten up, I’m just making a point. Come on, let’s grab a brew.”
Nick watched the man go back inside casually, like they weren’t just about to fight literally five seconds earlier. Either way, it surprised Nick enough into actually listening, hesitantly looking around the room first, then coming inside with light, cautious steps.
“Oh, and you’re paying for that window.”
The man, what was his name again? Marilyn? Something like that, turned to him. “You know I’ve never seen one of you guys before. I grew up hearing stories about you, all wesen do, but to see one up close? Never thought I’d live to tell, y'know?”
He leaned into Nick’s face, Nick leaning farther back in response. “A Grimm,” the man let out an ironic laugh, “whaddya know?”
Nick glanced back at him with very confused eyes and a very guarded stance that was slowly dissipating the longer the man spoke (more like rambled). “Kinda weird that you’re not really killing me either. Woulda thought I’d be dead the moment you took a step towards the knife rack, but hey, you seem pretty chill. For a Grimm anyhow.”
Nick opened his mouth to bite something harsh, but then stopped. He was incredibly outmatched right now, and it wouldn’t do any good to antagonize the man. “Uh, yeah, uhm, about that. What do you mean by I’m a… ‘grim’?” Nick hesitated on the unfamiliar word.
The man spun around to look at him, tilting his head in a way that reminded Nick of a puppy, though that thought was quickly discarded as the man stalked closer in a very predator-like fashion. Nick took several steps back, hand lingering towards the dagger sheathed around his waist. Other than that he made no move.
“How new are you, man?”
Nick looked at him for a second, before deciding to go the social conversation route. It seemed to have been working for the past 2 minutes. “New enough to not know what the fuck you’re talking about.” This made the man stop and turn more serious, back against the wall on the other side of the kitchen island.
“Shit, like, fresh start, brand new? Are all your immediate family members dead?” The man asked like that was a completely normal question to ask someone. Nick’s eyes darted to the side for a moment. “You know what, my aunt came back to town unexpectedly and was trying to tell me something important. She is unfortunately decommissioned right now, so if you could kindly fill in the blanks…?”
Nick never talked this much or this casually, he never did. Even right then, it was coming off more biting and defensive than he was intending. But for now, this was his only source of information of what the fuck was happening and he needed a whole lot of answers pretty damn quick.
The man blinked at him a couple times. “Huh. Ok, uh, let’s start over. Hi, I’m Monroe. You’re Detective Burkhardt, right?”
“Nick’s just fine.” No, it wasn’t, but hey, he needed answers and he was going for the 'lets-pretend-that-this-is-completely-normal' strategy.
The man, Monroe, took a breath, muttering some things under his breath. “Brand new huh? Probably why you were on the defense, and why you raided my house. What did you think I was? Actually don’t answer that.”
“Ok, to summarize everything extremely quickly, certain people aren’t fully human. They’re things called wesen, that’s spelled w-e-s-e-n, it’s German, you’ll find a lot of German themes. Basically, we’re human-animal hybrids but that’s not always the case. Hey, your aunt leave you with anything? Books perhaps?”
Nick stuttered, still rearing from the information that was just dumped onto him.
“You know what, I haven’t looked but yes.”
“Okay, if there’s books, read them. They’ll detail more specifics than I can give you right now. Grimms are… things that can see wesen even if we don’t want to be seen. That thing where you saw me shift? That’s called a woge, once again with a w. There’s different types, there should be books about it. Case in point, Grimms can see us woge when kehrseite, humans, can’t. Because of that, you guys started slaughtering us by the millions. You have quite the history, and the reputation to match, forgive me if I was a little put off by you at first.”
Nick, for once, interrupted the man. “Wait, how is what some of my ancestors did relevant to how you see me? That seems kind of backwards.”
Monroe shrugged, finding the words. “It’s kind of just… like that. You were used as a story for most of us. Obviously, it’s been hundreds of years since Grimms were an active threat, but you’ve all been immortalized into our fairy tales, our story books. Hell, I remember getting told not to sneak out at night or a Grimm would cut my head off back when I was like 12. You’re the boogeyman to us, the monster under the bed.”
He sighed, “Wesen culture is… complicated. And I would absolutely love to tell you more,” the sarcasm dripped from the man's voice, “But it is late and I don’t want a Grimm in my house just because of an unfortunately timed woge-”
“I’m here because the boot prints of a kidnapper led to your house, Monroe. I would’ve probably brushed it off too if you hadn’t, uh, woged?” Monroe gave a nod, tilting his hand to say he was around close on the pronunciation, “when those girls in red blazers passed by. Both my victims had red jackets, it’s been one of our only correlations and we’re at a dead end.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely a blutbad taking them then. Seeing red kinda makes us go a little stir-crazy, triggers something feral. You know the Red Riding Hood story, right?”
Nick pivoted to the man, of which was taking this all too lightly. “Listen, I don’t give a shit on whether or not you're wesen. I don’t give two shits on whether or not this other guy is wesen, because that doesn’t change anything besides how I fight you and how I protect myself. I thank you for the information, you saved me from a lot of bad calls, but you probably have an idea of where to look and dammit, I need help. So instead of taking all this like it’s a normal Tuesday night, can you help me? At least just so I won’t be taking up the rest of your night.”
The man looked at him, surveying.
He sighed, “Get in the car.”
Nick glanced at the man, silently panicking as the dirt road grew bumpier and bumpier. Some of his anxiety might be lessened if he, you know, stopped sticking his head out the window and sniffing but hey, what did he know?
“I got a hit.” Monroe pulled back into the car, stopping at the bridge and getting out. Nick bit back a comment, venom lining his tongue.
Nick followed, staying still, unsure of his footing in this. As Monroe went down to the river bank, ignoring the bridge, Nick couldn’t help but be skeptical. “I think the bridge got built so we didn’t have to deal with this.”
“What, and go through using the obvious way into the forest? Why not call him, tell him to fix you an extra plate.” Monroe drawled sarcastically.
Nick followed, looking at Monroe oddly when he abruptly stopped and started rubbing some sort of plant all over himself.
A faint narcotic odor wafted from the half(?)-man, Nick rubbed his nose slightly. “Aconite?” Monroe glanced back at him, looking mildly surprised. “Yeah, but also wolfsbane. Messes with our senses, and will cover our scents. Come on.”
Nick huffed, “What, do I need silver bullets too?” Monroe looked back at him with a deadpan glare, “Now you’re just being dramatic.” Nick gave a ‘how the fuck was I supposed to know’ look before rolling his eyes and continuing.
Nick backed away abruptly from Monroe the moment his head tilted a little too sharply and a little too aggressively. “I can’t go any farther than here, being in another blutbad’s territory? Not good for my self control. You’re on your own from here.”
Monroe quickly left, running at a speed not even Nick could catch up with.
Taking a couple cautious steps, Nick pulled himself into the thick branches of the woods as he made his way over to the bridge, flipping open his phone. “Hank? Yeah, I think I got the guy this time. I already called backup.”
Nick did not, in fact, call backup. He’d already fucked up on this case once and he needed to earn their trust back by nailing this one in the head. Hank did not approve.
“You didn’t call backup, did you?”
“What, and have my reputation even further ruined if I was wrong? It’s some light questioning, Hank, come on.”
Hank rolled his eyes, then startled as Nick pulled him away from the bridge and through the stream. Hank sighed exasperatedly as he watched Nick hop across the stones, water barely even misting on his pants.
Sometimes Hank thought that he should just not pick up sometimes to remind Nick that not everyone goes 2 or 3 days without sleeping just because they can. How that man can retain all his wits about him without 8 hours of sleep every night was beyond him. The joys of being under the age of 35, he supposed.
As soon as Hank got across the stream, Nick patted his back a little aggressively, and his front and- what the hell kind of plant? “Nick, what’re you doing?” Hank asked, still way too tired to be dealing with all of this. Nick shrugged it off, “Nothing, just don’t want our scent to bother the wildlife around here.”
The two made their way up to the house, Nick more confident with Hank beside him. The knocker was a bit odd, but whatever. The man opened the door, Nick taking a quick glance at his shoes. A pair of brown loafers.
Hank ran through the typical formalities, meanwhile Nick watched for every detail around the house. The alarm nearly had Nick jump out of his skin, but Hank’s incredulous worries were worse on his psyche. Nick spun around, looking at the figurines on the back wall. Were those… a bunch of baby doll figurines? Exact style? Clue number one, take that Hank.
Well, no, the man was in the kitchen talking to the suspect. Something about crusts, Nick listened in. He was a postman, on his route. He should ask what the route was, fact check with his company. Then-
"Oh, feel free to look around. I don't wear boots anymore, hard to find a good pair nowadays." Wait what?
Nick looked through his closet, and it didn’t take long for his eyes to scan over everything. Not here, though Nick didn’t expect it to be. Hank made some remarks about not wanting to lose his job and needing more sleep. Before Nick could even get a question out, Hank had already excused them both, giving a harsh glance to Nick as they left.
Nick huffed as he followed after Hank, already starting apologies as the doubts started to get to him. Without warning, the man spun around before Nick could finish. “Wait a minute, the song he was humming. It was the same as the one on the iPod.”
The two looked back at the house, the man looking at them through the windows with a harsh, ruby glare and cutting all the lights.
Hank spent no time kicking the door down, light flashing. Nick took his back, scanning the room carefully. A small creek and a sense of danger warned him to the man's location, allowing Nick to duck out of the way, the blutbad letting out a howl as he slammed Hank against the floor and bolted out of the house at an inhuman speed.
Nick didn’t even draw his gun as Hank shot the man dead. Nick sprinted up to him, yelling, “Where is she!?” in a desperate voice. The man’s eyes widened in fear looking up at him, struggling to breath. “Grimm…” the man said weakly, giving off one last breath.
The two detectives ran back into the cabin, calling out the girl’s name with no luck. Hank sighed, going to find the breaker and call in the incident. Nick looked around one more time, seeing if there was anything different.
Lo and behold, the carpet beneath the tiny little table in front of the sofa was covering something. Was that a handle?
Nick pulled the carpet back, finding a trapdoor, going down quickly. The girl, tied up and gagged on the bed in the cellar, shielded away from the brightness of the flashlight. Quickly, Nick switched his demeanor.
“It’s ok, hun, we’re the police. We’ll get you back to your mom, ok?” The girl nodded and hiccuped, sobbing starting as tears rolled down her cheeks. Nick sighed, undoing the knots and holding the girl on his hip, whispering sweet nothings as the lights flickered back on.
Nick got tunnel vision as he and Hank left the cabin, police sirens already growing closer and closer. “It’s ok, Robin. You’ll go back home in no time. You’re ok, you’re safe.” Nick cradled the child closer into his arms, missing the admiring looks Hank was flashing his way, even through the exhausted haze.
Later that night, Nick sat next to Marie describing his day and how it went. Both spiting her for taking her sweet time explaining and wishing she were awake to see this. Was she the kind of Grimm that killed, no matter whether or not they were innocent? She never seemed like that kind of person, always kind to everyone who deserved it.
Some of the curiosities from his childhood were now clicking into place.
Maybe Monroe would be up to answering some more questions? He should also probably thank him too. The man mentioned to one of the officers that he was vegan, back when they were raiding his house.
One of the nurses came in, Nick paid her no mind. Well, until she grabbed a needle from her pocket and not the tray. Looking up, it was the same pretty blonde that was most assuredly a lawyer and not a doctor and Nick senses started going haywire as soon as they made eye contact. Her face fell slightly, but she continued. Nick latched ono her wrist, pulling her away.
Instead, she switched the hand that held the needle, stabbed him with it, and hurried away as quickly as possible. Nick tried to give chase but found he couldn’t as his legs gave out, consciousness slipping from his grasp.
The last thing he heard was someone calling out for help as he slumped against the wall. Hey, better him than Marie, right?