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And the toughest part is that we both know what happened to you, why you’re out on your own
“And just look at it, it’s perfect!”
Rosalee tilted her head to the side, staring at the vintage clock that Monroe had recently bought from a flea market for ‘barely nothing’.
“Yeah… I guess.”
Her attempt at being supportive was appreciated by Monroe, who went on and on about the details of the clock. The year it was made, the mechanism, and any minor flaws that it was known to have.
The sound of the front door opening stopped his rant, however.
Juliette’s voice rang from the hallway as she closed the door behind her. “Okay, so I made mashed potatoes with soy milk and,” She kicked her shoes off. “Empanadas con carne y empanadas con queso vegano — para los veganos.”
Rosalee gave a smile to Monroe before making her way into the hallway. “Ooookay, let me help you put these in the kitchen, alright.” She grabbed the pot of mashed potatoes from Juliette, leaving her with the two containers of empanadas.
“Thanks,” Juliette followed her into the kitchen, setting the containers down on the counter, right next to the pot — which had been set on a wooden trivet. “Is Hank here yet?”
“He’s running a little late.” Rosalee smiled, leaning slightly against the counter as her gaze remained on Juliette.
Hank was always running just a little late for their Christmas dinners. They’d started having them 3 Christmases ago, on every Christmas Eve.
“I love your… uh..”
Juliette tilted her head, staring at her. “My…?”
“Face. I mean, your earrings.” Rosalee straightened, fixing up her sleeves.
“Oh, thank you.” Juliette set a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing that her ear didn’t just hold one star earring, but three, one in each of her ear piercings. “I got my third piercing a few weeks ago.”
Rosalee nodded mindlessly, staring at Juliette as she spoke.
Any word she said went in one ear and came out the other. Unusual for Rosalee, the ever attentive friend. But not unusual when it came to Juliette — something even the latter had noticed.
Since her breakup with Nick years ago, she and Rosalee had gotten way closer in their friendship. And following up on Nick’s disappearance from Portland, the shared confusion and grief had only brought them closer to one another.
But there were still moments of silence, of awkwardness, that seemed out of place for Rosalee’s talkative nature. Moments where it seemed like her mind left the present tense and shifted elsewhere.
Not that Juliette minded it, but her worry sometimes got the best of her.
“You okay?”
Rosalee’s eyes snapped up and back at her face. “Yes! Uh, I’ll go see if Monroe needs any help with setting up the table.”
What a lie. The only thing Monroe needed was an off button. The table was already set.
She immediately made her way back into the dining room, where Monroe was still staring at his new clock, admiring it in all its glory.
“Juliette brought mashed potatoes and empanadas.”
“Great,” Monroe turned to look at her with a smile. “Now we only need Hank, and we can eat.”
Rosalee nodded mindlessly, glancing back into the kitchen, where Juliette was getting herself a glass of water after leaving her coat in the hallway’s coat hanger.
“Can I be honest with you?” She asked, still looking at Juliette.
“Of course, what’s wrong?” A frown appeared on Monroe’s face.
As Rosalee turned to look at Monroe, she took a deep breath before exhaling. “I feel like something is going to happen.” Her gaze was set on Monroe’s confused gaze.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but… let’s not let our guards down for now, okay?”
Rosalee’s intuition was nothing but accurate most of the time — a fact that kept Monroe on his toes every single time she remarked on having a feeling that something, quite literally anything, was bound to happen in the near future.
So, he didn’t argue.
With a nod, he glanced back up at the clock before looking back at her. “Should I take it down, then?”
Rosalee squinted her eyes at him. “I don’t think it has anything to do with your new clock.”
Monroe’s shoulders fell, relaxing. “That’s good, because I’ve been dying to put something up on this part of the wall.”
Rosalee’s spirits returned to their high levels thanks to Monroe’s priorities shifting back to his most beloved interest — clocks.
A knock was issued at the door, and in the very next moment, the door opened, revealing Hank, who was holding two bags.
“Alright, I brought enough alcohol for us to wake up on New Year’s Eve, and my grandma’s famous cookies,” Hank remarked loudly as he shut the door with his knee and kicked off his shoes before making his way into the kitchen. “Hey, Juliette.”
“Hey, Hank.” Juliette smiled, setting down her empty glass. “Need some help?”
“I got this. I think.”
Monroe made his way to the kitchen, taking in the scene before him. Hank, taking out of one of the bags, bottle after bottle after bottle.
“Hey, so — where did you get all of these from?”
“Let’s just say my pops was really famous in bars.” Hank smiled, folding the bag after taking out five glass bottles. Two bottles of red wine, one bottle of white wine, one bottle of vodka, and one of rum. “He made me bring all of these — straight from his basement.”
Two containers of cookies were set on the counter, right next to the bottles.
“You made those?” Juliette tilted her head, staring at the containers.
“With my grandma’s recipe. I had to ask her to remind me about it again.” Hank couldn’t help but chuckle. “She didn’t mind, at least.”
As soon as Rosalee walked into the kitchen, Hank’s eyes set on her, and his smile faded. “Rosalee. Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Oh. Of course?” Rosalee frowned but stepped back, walking inside the dining room once more. Hank followed her in, leaving Monroe and Juliette in the kitchen.
“Did something happen?” She turned to him as soon as they were at a fair distance from the kitchen’s entrance.
Hank took a deep breath, setting his hands on his hips. “Yeah. Nick’s back in town.”
Rosalee’s face dropped, her smile fading in an instant.
“How do you know?”
A pit formed in her stomach.
“I had lunch with him. He asked me to meet up. He told me that he’s here to solve some stuff with his aunt’s will and is leaving in a few days.”
This was what was meant to happen. But it seemed like more was bound to come.
She just didn’t know when and how.
“Should we tell Juliette and Monroe, then?” Rosalee suddenly asked, glancing behind Hank and into the kitchen, where Monroe was talking with Juliette.
Laughing, joking.
Without knowing that Nick, the man who’d disappeared almost half a decade ago from Portland and left Monroe’s house on Christmas Night, was now back in town, even temporarily.
Hank looked in the same direction as Rosalee before clearing his throat. “I don’t know.” He scratched his chin.
“The last thing Monroe needs is to find out that Nick is back.”
“What even happened between them?” Hank probed, turning back to look at her.
Rosalee waved him off. “It’s not important. But Monroe really doesn’t need to find out he’s back. I might tell Juliette, though.”
The truth was, Rosalee had no idea what had truly gone down between Monroe and Nick.
Four Christmases ago, when Nick was still living at Monroe’s house after his breakup with Juliette, something had to have happened — because the morning after Christmas, he was gone.
Gone from Monroe’s house, along with his things, his car, his everything.
He’d quit his job through text on Christmas Night, according to Sean Renard, and let no one know where he was going, as he disappeared from the city just as fast as he had left his job. And with it, everything behind.
Nick Burkhardt wouldn’t have left for no reason, would he?
Monroe refused to talk about him, even months after the incident, and it became an unspoken rule not to bring him up whenever they were hanging out. Whether it was all of them, just three of them, or just one person and Monroe.
The rule had been enforced, although not angrily, enough for no one to bring Nick up even when Monroe wasn’t around.
Nick’s name had last been uttered 3 years or so ago. Well, until now.
Hank nodded slowly before glancing at the wall and the new clock on it. “Is that new?”
Rosalee shook her head in amusement and relief. “I’ll go tell Monroe that you like his new clock.” She rushed back into the kitchen without another word.
Monroe turned to look at her, a confused look on his face at the rush she seemed to be in. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I was just talking to Hank about your new clock. He wants to know the details.” Rosalee smiled at him and watched as Monroe excitedly made his way to Hank, inside the dining room.
Juliette met Rosalee’s gaze and watched as her smile faded. “Are you okay?”
Rosalee’s throat closed up.
What did Nick being back even mean for her? Or for Juliette?
Juliette was over Nick; it had been over four years since they’d been together. But what if she wasn’t truly over him? And what if him being back meant that Rosalee had even less of a chance at something more with her?
“Yeah, I just… talked to Hank.”
Juliette nodded, leaning against the counter. “Okay. About?”
Rosalee crossed her arms, swallowing the knot in her throat.
“Nick is back.”
Silence settled in the room, the only noise breaking it being Monroe’s talking from the dining room about his new clock.
Juliette glanced out the window above the sink for a moment before looking back at her. “Why?”
“Hank said it was something to do with his aunt’s will — I don’t know.”
“How does Hank know that?”
“Nick called him to get lunch. Probably to catch up.”
Juliette nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “Alright…” She stared at her for a bit before straightening her back. “Do you want to come with me to take a breath of fresh air before we eat?”
Rosalee hummed in agreement, pairing it with a nod.
After Juliette announced to the two men in the dining room that they’d be going out for some air, she and Rosalee put on their shoes that had been left in the hallway, right next to the door.
Juliette grabbed her coat and Rosalee’s and made her way out with her, closing the door behind them. She put on her coat as soon as they left the house, and Rosalee matched her actions, keeping her eyes on her.
“Want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah.”
As they walked away from Monroe’s house and down the sidewalk at a slow pace, Rosalee kept her eyes on the ground.
She was waiting for something, anything, to be said by Juliette. Juliette, who was taking deep breaths next to her, and exhaling like her life depended on the cold air she was inhaling.
Nothing was going to come from her, probably.
“Are you okay?” Rosalee asked, breaking the silence between the two.
Juliette cleared her throat, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. “I could be better, you know?” A small, self-deprecating smile appeared on her lips. “My ex-boyfriend is back in town after he just disappeared on a Wednesday years ago.”
Rosalee shifted closer to her, intertwining her arm with Juliette’s. “At least you guys broke up before he left.”
Juliette couldn’t help but chuckle, not stopping for a single moment from her walk with Rosalee.
Silence settled in again, with Rosalee staring into the distance as if it would give her the answers to their problems, and Juliette staring at her instead, as if she could give her the answers to their problems.
“I can’t tell Monroe that Nick is back.”
Juliette blinked, a frown forming on her face.
“He’s probably still mad at Nick.” Rosalee added.
Juliette stopped walking, causing Rosalee to stop walking as well.
“What’s wrong?” Rosalee turned to look at her, watching as Juliette gently set her arm down, away from Rosalee’s.
Juliette met her gaze, a confused look still in her eyes. “Did Monroe ever tell us what happened between them?”
“No, he doesn’t want to talk about it.” Rosalee closed up the coat around her body before crossing her arms. “Maybe that’s for the best.”
Juliette sighed with a nod, a feeling of exhaustion and disappointment washing over her. “We should go back.” She glanced back.
Rosalee’s arm found its way back around Juliette’s without another word as they walked back to Monroe’s house.
Juliette didn’t comment on their arms being intertwined, and Rosalee hoped she wouldn’t even care about it. Hoped.
“Do you think Nick will show up?” Rosalee suddenly said, halfway through their quiet walk back. “Tonight, I mean.”
Juliette shrugged with one shoulder, a smile appearing on her lips. “I doubt it. But he’s always had something with being spontaneous.”
Rosalee gave her a slow nod, her eyes settling on the ground.
“Maybe he will.”
Maybe he will.
Maybe Nick will show up.
Rosalee couldn’t push away from her mind the feeling that something was bound to happen, sooner or later, that night. It felt inevitable, like someone making up their mind on something and acting on it in an instant.
The last thing any of them needed was to have to explore all those feelings and emotions that had formed and shown up when Nick left, which they buried the moment they’d decided never to bring him up again — for everyone’s peace of mind. But most importantly, Monroe’s. At least that’s how Rosalee saw it
As they reached the doorstep, Rosalee turned to look at Juliette.
The walk seemed to have helped her calm down a little from her initial shock, much to Rosalee’s delight.
“Let’s go eat.” Rosalee smiled at her, watching as the most beautiful smile on planet Earth appeared on Juliette’s face.
Although, maybe Rosalee was a little biased. But in the light that came through the stained glass at Monroe’s door, Juliette’s smile seemed ethereal to her.
She always seemed ethereal, though. Again, bias.
They walked back inside the house, taking off their coats, then their shoes, before making their way back into the dining room.
As the four of them settled at the table to start eating, Hank made eye contact with Rosalee before nodding subtly towards Juliette. Rosalee simply nodded, and in response, Hank gave her a quick nod.
After setting food on each of their plates, they dug in without another word. No need for prayers or anything like that — God probably knew they were grateful enough for their food.
“Oh, man, I always love it when you bring these, Juliette.” Hank said as he took a bite of the empanada con carne on his plate. “You need to teach me how to make them this good.”
Juliette shook her head in amusement. “You say that every year, Hank. Don’t you have anything better to say?”
“It’s true!” Hank responded mid-chew.
“Oh, man, finish chewing first!” Monroe commented half-heartedly.
Hank raised his hands in surrender as he continued to chew on his food, not daring to argue with the owner of the house.
Rosalee couldn’t help but smile as she looked around the table at her friends. Even through the banter, the teasing, the occasional arguments, she’d grown fond of their tradition of a Christmas dinner as a friend group. Of their hangouts and of their fights, even.
Maybe nothing was going to happen tonight. Maybe Nick was not going to show up and ruin it all, especially Monroe’s mood. Maybe her intuition was wrong, and she could relax and keep her guard down.
Monroe’s phone rang on the dinner table, right next to Monroe’s glass of Coke with rum.
As he looked at the caller ID, a frown formed on his face. “Unknown caller ID?” He muttered to himself.
“I’ll take this outside.” Monroe suddenly announced as he got up from his chair.
Rosalee stared at him as he took the phone with him and made his way to the hallway.
As Monroe stepped outside — in his slippers, of course — he responded, closing the door behind himself.
“Hello?”
Through the phone, it sounded like someone took a deep breath in before exhaling almost immediately after.
Monroe’s frown deepened. “Who’s this?”
“Hey, Monroe. It’s Nick.”
The world seemed to stop in that very moment.
Nick. Nick Burkhardt. The detective who’d profiled him during a case that resulted in them becoming friends. The Grimm who’d helped him feel less lonely. The man who’d left his house empty on Christmas Night and never returned.
“I, uh,” Nick began again, his voice sounding slightly shaky through the phone. “I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
Monroe woged unintentionally, tightening his grip on his phone.
“I’m in town for only a couple of days.”
In town. Nick Burkhardt hadn’t just called him to wish him a ‘Merry Christmas’. He was in town, probably hoping for a meeting with him.
Monroe turned back to normal as he took a few steps towards the street.
“What do you want, Nick?” He came off as cold as he’d planned — something that more than likely caught Nick off guard, as he didn’t respond for a few seconds.
“I just wanted to see how you were.” Nick’s voice sounded smaller than before, less confident.
“You don’t get to know how I am,” Monroe immediately said. “Why did you actually call me?”
A sigh was heard through the phone and shuffling noises, as if someone had just settled in bed.
“I miss you.”
Nick Burkhardt, the same man who left the city without a second thought, missed him? That felt like a sick joke.
“You don’t get to miss me, Nick.”
“Can I come over so we can talk about this? Face to face?”
“No, you can’t.” Monroe raised his voice. “There is nothing to talk about.”
After a moment of silence, the shuffling noise was heard once more, along with a grunt.
“I’m coming over.”
Before Monroe could argue, Nick hung up right in his face.
Monroe stormed inside the house, slamming the door behind him and kicking off his slippers.
Rosalee shared a look with Hank and Juliette before making her way to the hallway. “Everything okay?”
Monroe glanced up at her while putting on his shoes. Rosalee hadn’t done anything to him, so lashing out was not going to help him. He was mad at Nick, not her, and not the others.
“Nick is coming over.” He responded, finally managing to put on one of his shoes even with his agitation. “He’s back in town.”
Rosalee’s eyes widened.
So her intuition had, indeed, been accurate. Unfortunately.
Juliette and Hank made their way to the hallway, as well, standing in the threshold.
“What are you planning?” Rosalee asked, taking a few steps forward.
“I’m going to talk to him. Face to face,” Monroe responded after putting on his second shoe. “That’s what he wants.”
Monroe couldn’t remember the last time he cared about what Nick wanted.
It wasn’t like Nick had cared about what he wanted when he left Portland.
After grabbing his jacket, Monroe stormed back outside, putting it on after shutting the door.
And so, he waited.
And waited.
And waited…
5 minutes passed — Monroe checked the time on his phone, watching as the minutes went by, and Nick didn’t show up — neither all alone, nor in his car.
His anger had subsided in the past few minutes, most likely due to the fresh air. But his disappointment hadn’t, and neither had his grief, nor his sadness.
Everything had come back to him the moment he’d heard Nick’s voice again. He thought he’d long buried the memory of the Grimm, but it seemed like some monsters didn’t like to stay hidden for too long.
Rich coming from a Blutbad, but Nick was no better than any man he’d ever met. Perhaps, he was worse than some. Better than a few.
At least in his current view of him.
Just as Monroe made his way back to the front door, the sound of a car approaching made itself present from afar.
He didn’t need to look to know it was Nick’s car. The bastard still hadn’t changed that Toyota.
But he did turn, watching as the car stopped, parallel to his house, and the engine was killed.
The Nick Burkhardt that stepped out of the car looked exactly like the one Monroe’d had in his bed on Christmas night, four Christmases ago. And the same one whose memory had only lingered through his smell, which had remained all over Monroe’s body, his clothes, and his sheets.
“You’re not welcome here, Nick.” Monroe remarked, watching as Nick walked around the car and paused on the sidewalk, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, I could tell by the tone of your voice on the phone.” Nick responded casually, as if he were talking about the weather.
Monroe walked down the stairs of his porch, pausing in front of them. “What do you want, again?”
Nick let out a sigh before straightening his back. “I want to talk, Monroe.”
Monroe scoffed.
“What is there to talk about?”
Nick opened his mouth to respond, but Monroe cut him off immediately by continuing to talk. “You left with no trace, no explanation, nothing. Four years ago, Nick.”
“Monroe-”
“Four. Years. Ago. Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. It’s not going to matter. Not to me, not to Hank, not to Rosalee, not to Juliette.”
“What, they’re here?” Nick glanced towards the house, frowning.
Monroe ignored his question entirely. “You can’t come here after this long and expect me, or anyone, to welcome you with open arms.” He remarked while slowly making his way towards him. “Not even a letter, Nick. Had you at least sent a pigeon, I would’ve understood.”
Monroe stopped walking when he was just a few feet away from Nick.
“But I don’t understand. And I don’t understand you.”
Nick’s gaze fell briefly on Monroe’s lips before settling on his eyes again.
“I don’t think I want to understand anymore.” Monroe admitted, swallowing hard.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Getting slapped would’ve hurt less. It was as if nothing he’d said earlier even mattered to Nick.
“Didn’t mean to hurt me? What about everyone else you hurt, Nick?” Monroe gestured around them. “You left it all behind without a care.”
“I did care.” Nick responded, raising his voice slightly.
“Ah, you cared.” Monroe took a step forward. “You have a funny way of showing it, Grimm.” He raised his voice back at the last word.
Nick clenched his jaw, not breaking eye contact. “Yes, I cared.”
“When? Because it sure didn’t goddamn seem like it when you took your stuff and left!” Monroe yelled.
Nick scoffed. “I left behind all I loved because I cared. I left my job, my home, my reputation!”
“And you left me, too!” The words didn’t just slip from Monroe; they practically threw themselves out in that very moment. As if they’d been dying to get out for years now.
“You left me, and you didn’t look behind, Nick! That’s the fucking problem!” Monroe continued, his voice rising with every word. “You made me feel like what we had mattered to you, and then you left!” The tears threatened to flow, but he didn’t give them a single chance in his mix of anger and grief.
Nick’s shoulders fell in surrender as he looked away from who used to be called his best friend.
“I think I know what you are, Nick.”
Did Nick want to know what Monroe thought of him? Absolutely not.
Was he about to find out? Surely.
“You’re a coward. You ran away like a coward from your own life because you couldn’t handle it.”
Monroe was no longer yelling; his voice had turned cold and distant once again. Nick never liked hearing it like this. But he had no choice.
Nick met his gaze once more.
Monroe was right about this, if not about everything.
Nick had been a coward. Not just now, but his entire life. And the one time he’d decided to stop being one, he ran away from what he’d deemed to be a mistake and never looked back.
“I’m sorry.” Nick responded at a lower volume than the one Monroe was talking in, as if scared to even let out the apology.
Scared of Monroe, scared of himself, scared of the situation at hand.
He wanted nothing more than to go back all those years ago and stop himself from packing everything in his car and leaving.
“Yeah, okay.” Monroe gave him a nod before taking a few steps back. “Don’t forget to tell that to the priest during confession.”
He already had.
Nick wasn’t religious. Never had been. But the moment he’d left the city, he’d turned to religion, as if God was the last thing on this earth that could save him.
Monroe had no way of knowing that, but he’d always understood Nick better than Nick himself could understand his own actions or being.
Religion, however, hadn’t helped at all when it came to the guilt eating him from the inside out.
“Merry Christmas, Nick.” Monroe turned around, making his way back to his house without another word.
Nick wanted to run after him. To run and throw him to the ground, to yell in his face that he was sorry, and apologize over and over again.
But it was too late for that.
And he knew it.
But he still watched as Monroe made his way back inside the house and shut the door behind himself without looking back for a single moment.
The weight in Nick’s chest seemed to drag him down as he made his way back into his car and turned on the engine.
With a final look at Monroe’s house, he drove away, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him, along with the pain in his chest.
The radio wasn’t turned on for the entire duration of his drive back to the hotel he was staying in.
The tears threatened to spill as his mind replayed over and over again every word that came out of Monroe’s mouth just before.
Every Christmas decoration he drove past seemed to mock him, and every happy couple he saw on the street only hurt him further.
He could barely hold back the urge to turn his car around and return to Monroe’s house. To beg, plead, and pray for forgiveness from him.
But maybe the best thing he could do for Monroe was let him go for good. No matter how much it hurt.
He’d done enough damage to the man he’d been thinking of for years on end after he left that damned city. The memories had made it hard enough for him to build a new life.
And none of it had even mattered at the end of the day.
He’d long changed his number, but kept Monroe as his primary emergency contact in every medical file of his. From his knowledge, Monroe had been called several times after Nick got into the hospital post-fights with Wesen.
But he’d never shown up — not that Nick even expected him to.
Nick expected nothing from him.
Not even his forgiveness.
And when Nick left Portland just 2 days before New Year’s Eve, he didn’t call Monroe, no matter how much his fingers itched to do so.
He did drive past Monroe’s house, though. One last time, one last memory. Just to remind himself of what he’d lost.
Monroe’s number got deleted from his contact list, but remained on a piece of paper, in his car’s glove box.
‘503-607-3652 - Monroe’
Maybe one day, he’d need it. Maybe one day, he’d get to call him again.
Merry Christmas, please don’t call.