Epic, A Grimm story by BymagaJones 6/?
Chapter 5 here
Chapter 6
Monroe made steady progress the next few days and was seated on the sofa when Greta made another appearance. Nick made sure to greet her by name, watching Monroe ease back into the cushions once he realized that she wasn’t a threat. Bemusedly, he wondered what Monroe would’ve tried to do to her. He hadn’t woged since he was rescued, and the tips of his fingers and toes were still wrapped. He could get around slowly but only with the help of the sturdy stick Nick had found for him in the forest.
Monroe was pretty quiet, frequently falling into dark thoughts. He was also plagued with nightmares, although Nick was pretty sure Monroe thought he and Lidiya didn’t know about those. Nick hadn’t mentioned them; he figured he would wait until Monroe was ready to talk.
Greta dumped a pile of clothing on the floor next to the fireplace before taking off her jacket and hanging it up. “These are for your trip back to America.”
“Monroe, Greta, Greta, Monroe.” Nick made the introductions as he pulled a large dark coat from the top of the pile. That one was definitely Monroe’s.
“Yeah, about that,” Monroe started.
Nick tried not to tense. They’d only spoken that one time about the future. Nick hadn’t wanted to push, hoping that Monroe would bring up the subject, or just maybe go with the flow. He chose to remain silent, pulling out another black coat from the pile, this one more his size.
“Nick said we’re in Russia. I don’t have any papers or anything. How am I going to get through customs? And how am I going to explain all this?” He gestured toward his still-bruised face with his bandaged hands.
“You will return the same way Nick arrived,” Greta said, smiling her thanks as Lidiya handed her a cup of tea. She sat in the chair opposite the sofa.
Monroe looked from Nick to Greta. “Anyone care to share?”
“Truck to the water, then underwater across the Bering Strait,” Nick said as he finished dividing the clothes into two piles.
“Underwater? What do you mean, underwater?”
“They have this cold water scuba gear, and we hang on to the - ”
“Actually, I’ve grown kind of fond of Russia,” Monroe said, eyes wide. “Friendly people, when they aren’t, you know, torturing you. Maybe I should just stay here.”
Greta chuckled, and Nick had to hide his smile when he realized she thought Monroe was joking.
“What’s so funny?” Monroe asked, distracted slightly when Lidiya handed him a cup of the medicinal tea that he hated. Ever the polite guest, he gave her a wan smile. “Cpasibah bahlshoye, Lidiya.”
She beamed at him, and not for the first time, Nick could tell that somehow Monroe had wormed his way into her heart. At first, she’d been all business, tending to Monroe’s injuries with the determination of someone who just wanted her house back. But over the last couple of days, Nick had seen her warm to the Blutbad. Whenever he was conscious, Monroe would always thank her in Russian. He knew more words than Nick - not a difficult task, since Nick only knew how to say, “thank you” - although not enough to carry on a conversation.
Perhaps it was Monroe’s nightmares, the ones that had him shooting up in bed, panting and sweating. The first night it had happened, Nick had run into the doorway but stopped when he caught Monroe, eyes closed, trying to hold back his cries. He’d eased back quietly, wanting Monroe to have his dignity, and had almost stepped on Lidiya, whose quick reaction kept him from lighting himself on fire with the candlestick in her hand. Her eyes had flickered to Monroe’s room to Nick, who’d shaken his head. She seemed to understand, nodding and retreating to her room on the other side of the kitchen.
Greta stood and followed Lidiya back into the kitchen area, speaking to the Fuchsbau rapidly in Russian.
Nick sat in the vacated chair. “I know you’re not one for large bodies of water, but it’s not really so bad.”
Monroe gave him a soulful look as he took a sip of the tea and shuddered. “This stuff better give me superpowers.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Nick said, smiling at Monroe’s drama.
“What do you know about it? She gives you the fruity tea. I get the ones made from tree bark and moss or something.” His hands started to shake, and he put the mug on the coffee table.
Nick had noticed that Monroe had been getting the shakes fairly often, but he hadn’t said anything about it. Suddenly, he was tired of dancing around pretty much everything. “Are they getting better or worse?” He nodded toward Monroe’s hands.
Clenching into fists, Monroe stared down at his hands. “I don’t know. I can’t remember if they shook when the bad Grimm had me, or if this is something new.” He looked at Nick, his eyes filled with pain and acceptance and a touch of fear. “He was testing on me, injecting me with stuff.
It was the first time Monroe had really said anything about what had happened to him. Nick had attempted to broach the subject a few times, but Monroe just changed the subject. He didn’t want to spook his friend now that Monroe was ready to talk about it. “Do you know how often or how much?”
Monroe’s eyes looked up behind Nick, and Greta walked into his view, pulling on her coat. “I will be back, tomorrow after it is dark. We will leave then.”
After a small smile at Monroe, Nick hopped up and walked Greta to the door. “He’s having trouble with his hands. I’m not sure if he could hold on all the way across - ”
Greta nodded. “We will come up with an alternate plan.”
“Thanks,” Nick said, grasping her arm and becoming slightly distracted at the thickness of the jacket.
Greta smiled and slipped out the door.
Shivering slightly at the chill outside, Nick turned back toward the fireplace. He stopped when he saw the frown on Monroe’s face.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
Monroe blinked, shocked at the sudden surge of… what was that? Anger? Possession? Fear? Nick had grabbed that woman’s arm, and his urge to leap and sink his teeth into her throat had shocked him.
And that’s when the throbbing began, his heartbeat so loud in his ears that he couldn’t focus on anything else. He was barely aware of closing his eyes as his entire body began to shake…
He opened his eyes to find himself lying down, on the sofa if his elevated feet were a clue. A quick glance down at the warmth on his chest found his fingers intertwined with another. His eyes traced the hand to the arm and the arm to the body, and he was staring into the concerned eyes of his Grimm. “Wha’ h’pp’n’d?”
Nick leaned forward. “You had some sort of seizure.” He tightened his fingers around Monroe’s.
Deciding that the pain was worth the comfort, Monroe pressed their hands tighter on his chest. “Sorry.”
“I’ll tell Greta that you’re not ready for travel,” Nick said, regaining his hand, much to Monroe’s disappointment. He braced his hand against the sofa as he got off his knees. “I’ll see if Lidiya knows how to get in touch with her.”
With a groan, Monroe pulled himself to sitting. “It was probably only a panic attack. Besides, you suddenly learn Russian while I was out?”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll try sign language… or something.” He stood and headed toward the kitchen.
“Wait. I’m fine.” Nick shot him a look of disbelief. “I will be fine,” he amended. “I’ll be good enough to travel at least.”
Nick sat back down on the coffee table, automatically reaching for Monroe’s hand again. “I don’t want you to push it.”
“You know me. I’m not the hero type,” Monroe reminded Nick. “I have no problems complaining. Besides,” he said quickly when he saw Nick’s eyes start to lower toward their intertwined fingers, “aren’t you the one who wants me to come back?”
“I am,” Nick said. “But the goal is for you to be alive when you get there.”
“I’m not going to die,” Monroe said, squeezing Nck’s hand. He could feel that he was on the mend. Okay, he wasn’t sure about his fingernails and toenails and the shakes and now the panic attack, but he didn’t have any kind of internal injuries or anything else what would kill him on what sounded like a really uncomfortable trip. “Well, unless I drown hanging from the bottom of that boat.”
“Greta’s working on an alternate plan,” Nick said.
“I’m sure she is,” Monroe muttered, suddenly unhappy and very tired. Pulling his legs to the floor, he grabbed his cane - Nick refused to call it anything but a stick; evidently he’d left his imagination at home - hefted himself up, ignoring the pressure in his fingers, and hobbled into the bedroom. He looked at the messy bed, absently remembering his penchant for neatness back in Portland. Flopping down on the bed, he sighed, allowing himself to relax for just a minute. He was tired - not in the after a hard day’s work tired or even the after a really good Pilates workout tired. He felt it through his muscles down to the bone. It didn’t help that he wasn’t sleeping; the nightmares saw to that. There were also the tremors in his hands and the inexplicable emotions warring inside him. And pushed deep, deep down was the fear that maybe his inability to woge was the manifestation of something worse, the loss of the Blutbad part of him. Right now, whenever he tried to call on that inner part of him, all he felt was a deep, dark, silent hole. So he tried to think about other things, because just the idea of losing such an integral part of him was unacceptable.
A knock on the doorframe had him straightening.
“You okay?” Nick walked into the room, concern filling his eyes.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Monroe had come to appreciate that Nick worried about him. It wasn’t something he’d ever taken for granted, but after what’d happened, he didn’t think it was something he’d ever experience again. Even now, when he knew he didn’t deserve it, or maybe because he knew he didn’t deserve it, he found himself soaking it up, trying to remember every detail for when it was taken from him again. “Yeah,” he nodded, adjusting his grip on his cane, “I’m okay.”
One look at the dark circles underneath Monroe’s eyes, the way his shoulders dropped whenever he thought no one was looking, and even a stranger could tell that Monroe wasn’t okay. He knew that Monroe still blamed himself for what happened and didn’t believe he deserved Nick’s forgiveness.
But Nick had known Monroe long enough to know that no one could ever be as hard on Monroe as he was on himself. Even if he accepted that Nick’s forgiveness was genuine, he was still going to have to find a way to come to terms with what had happened.
They spent the next morning like they had the previous ones, Nick lugging water from the stream for Lidiya and chopping some wood for the fire, Monroe trying to look upbeat whenever he felt a gaze in his direction, Lidiya smiling her way through feeding them and dosing Monroe with the dreaded medicinal tea. Everyone ignored the fact that later that evening, he and Monroe would start their journey back to Portland.
What he estimated was a few hours before Greta’s arrival, Nick made sure to chop more wood for Lidiya, filling up the wood box inside the house. He also brought up as much water as she could comfortably hold inside the house. He figured it was the least he could do, considering how much he and Monroe had put her out in the last week. She gave him one of her toothless grins, and he realized that he was going to miss her.
Just as dusk began to fall, Greta knocked and came inside, pulling off her hood. She didn’t bother taking off her large, camouflage coat, which was fine with Nick, since he was already dressed. Monroe was behind the closed door of the bedroom, determined to put on the wetsuit by himself. Nick wondered if Monroe had been that modest two years ago or if this were a new development. It slightly amused him, since he and Lidiya had been responsible for all of Monroe when they’d first arrived while Monroe had been out of it. But at the time, Nick had only been focused on Monroe’s well being, on trying to stop the bleeding, help the wounds heal. Now Monroe was capable of handling himself for the most part; Nick still helped apply Lidiya’s ointments and wrapped the wounds difficult for Monroe to reach.
Lidiya walked into the living room, her eyes meeting Greta’s for a moment, before she slipped over to Monroe’s door, knocked twice, and silently slipped inside.
Greta turned her attention to Nick. “You are ready?”
Nick nodded. “Just waiting on Monroe.” He found he had to force himself not to offer excuses for his friend, instead focusing on the journey ahead. “Did you come up with an alternate plan for our crossing the Strait?”
Greta nodded. “You will be forced into close quarters, but I am certain it will suffice.”
“Do we still need the wet suits?”
She nodded.
“Monroe will be so pleased,” he said dryly, watching a small smile flitter briefly across her face.
The door opened, Lidiya leading an unsettled looking Monroe out of the bedroom.
“Ready?” Nick asked. He hadn’t put on his outer jacket yet; he knew just how warm the thing was, so he wasn’t in any rush.
Monroe nodded, pulling a little at his inseam. “It’s awfully tight.”
Nick grinned. “It’s a wetsuit.”
Monroe sighed, rolling his eyes. “This is just so wrong.”
Fighting back a laugh, Nick handed Monroe his black coat. “Final layer.”
Monroe slowly put on his jacket with Lidiya’s help. It was obvious he wanted to do it himself, but he let her hold it for him as he slipped his arms in each sleeve, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
Lidiya allowed Monroe to work the zipper himself as she turned to Nick, holding out her hands and speaking in Russian.
“She says she will miss you and hopes you have a safe trip back to your homeland.”
Nick smiled. “Can you thank her for me? I wish there were something I could do for her to repay her for everything she’s done for us…”
Lidiya shook her head as Greta translated, grabbing hold of Nick’s hands in each of hers.
“She says that it was an honor to help a Grimm and his Blutbad friend. It makes her hopeful that one day we can all come together in peace.”
Nick smiled, wondering how such an old lady could be so naïve, then wondering when he’d become so bitter.
Monroe snorted. “Our friendship does fall into the realm of miracles.”
Lidiya let go Nick and turned toward Monroe with a strict face. She spoke rapidly, pointing at him with a finger. The only word Nick recognized was “Grimm”.
His eyes wide, Monroe looked to Greta, who said, “She told you to take care of yourself and to listen to your Grimm, who only wants what’s best for you.”
Monroe looked over at Nick. “She has no idea about how you like to throw yourself at danger on a daily basis.”
Nick grinned. “Hey, you have to listen to me. Lidiya’s instructions.”
“That’s because she’s never watched you and Hank clear a box of donuts and empty a carafe of that sludge you call coffee in less than twenty minutes.”
That set Lidiya off on another speech, this time her finger pushed into Monroe’s chest.
Monroe cut her off by gently taking her hand and kissing the back of it. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done.”
No translation was needed.
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 6
Monroe made steady progress the next few days and was seated on the sofa when Greta made another appearance. Nick made sure to greet her by name, watching Monroe ease back into the cushions once he realized that she wasn’t a threat. Bemusedly, he wondered what Monroe would’ve tried to do to her. He hadn’t woged since he was rescued, and the tips of his fingers and toes were still wrapped. He could get around slowly but only with the help of the sturdy stick Nick had found for him in the forest.
Monroe was pretty quiet, frequently falling into dark thoughts. He was also plagued with nightmares, although Nick was pretty sure Monroe thought he and Lidiya didn’t know about those. Nick hadn’t mentioned them; he figured he would wait until Monroe was ready to talk.
Greta dumped a pile of clothing on the floor next to the fireplace before taking off her jacket and hanging it up. “These are for your trip back to America.”
“Monroe, Greta, Greta, Monroe.” Nick made the introductions as he pulled a large dark coat from the top of the pile. That one was definitely Monroe’s.
“Yeah, about that,” Monroe started.
Nick tried not to tense. They’d only spoken that one time about the future. Nick hadn’t wanted to push, hoping that Monroe would bring up the subject, or just maybe go with the flow. He chose to remain silent, pulling out another black coat from the pile, this one more his size.
“Nick said we’re in Russia. I don’t have any papers or anything. How am I going to get through customs? And how am I going to explain all this?” He gestured toward his still-bruised face with his bandaged hands.
“You will return the same way Nick arrived,” Greta said, smiling her thanks as Lidiya handed her a cup of tea. She sat in the chair opposite the sofa.
Monroe looked from Nick to Greta. “Anyone care to share?”
“Truck to the water, then underwater across the Bering Strait,” Nick said as he finished dividing the clothes into two piles.
“Underwater? What do you mean, underwater?”
“They have this cold water scuba gear, and we hang on to the - ”
“Actually, I’ve grown kind of fond of Russia,” Monroe said, eyes wide. “Friendly people, when they aren’t, you know, torturing you. Maybe I should just stay here.”
Greta chuckled, and Nick had to hide his smile when he realized she thought Monroe was joking.
“What’s so funny?” Monroe asked, distracted slightly when Lidiya handed him a cup of the medicinal tea that he hated. Ever the polite guest, he gave her a wan smile. “Cpasibah bahlshoye, Lidiya.”
She beamed at him, and not for the first time, Nick could tell that somehow Monroe had wormed his way into her heart. At first, she’d been all business, tending to Monroe’s injuries with the determination of someone who just wanted her house back. But over the last couple of days, Nick had seen her warm to the Blutbad. Whenever he was conscious, Monroe would always thank her in Russian. He knew more words than Nick - not a difficult task, since Nick only knew how to say, “thank you” - although not enough to carry on a conversation.
Perhaps it was Monroe’s nightmares, the ones that had him shooting up in bed, panting and sweating. The first night it had happened, Nick had run into the doorway but stopped when he caught Monroe, eyes closed, trying to hold back his cries. He’d eased back quietly, wanting Monroe to have his dignity, and had almost stepped on Lidiya, whose quick reaction kept him from lighting himself on fire with the candlestick in her hand. Her eyes had flickered to Monroe’s room to Nick, who’d shaken his head. She seemed to understand, nodding and retreating to her room on the other side of the kitchen.
Greta stood and followed Lidiya back into the kitchen area, speaking to the Fuchsbau rapidly in Russian.
Nick sat in the vacated chair. “I know you’re not one for large bodies of water, but it’s not really so bad.”
Monroe gave him a soulful look as he took a sip of the tea and shuddered. “This stuff better give me superpowers.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Nick said, smiling at Monroe’s drama.
“What do you know about it? She gives you the fruity tea. I get the ones made from tree bark and moss or something.” His hands started to shake, and he put the mug on the coffee table.
Nick had noticed that Monroe had been getting the shakes fairly often, but he hadn’t said anything about it. Suddenly, he was tired of dancing around pretty much everything. “Are they getting better or worse?” He nodded toward Monroe’s hands.
Clenching into fists, Monroe stared down at his hands. “I don’t know. I can’t remember if they shook when the bad Grimm had me, or if this is something new.” He looked at Nick, his eyes filled with pain and acceptance and a touch of fear. “He was testing on me, injecting me with stuff.
It was the first time Monroe had really said anything about what had happened to him. Nick had attempted to broach the subject a few times, but Monroe just changed the subject. He didn’t want to spook his friend now that Monroe was ready to talk about it. “Do you know how often or how much?”
Monroe’s eyes looked up behind Nick, and Greta walked into his view, pulling on her coat. “I will be back, tomorrow after it is dark. We will leave then.”
After a small smile at Monroe, Nick hopped up and walked Greta to the door. “He’s having trouble with his hands. I’m not sure if he could hold on all the way across - ”
Greta nodded. “We will come up with an alternate plan.”
“Thanks,” Nick said, grasping her arm and becoming slightly distracted at the thickness of the jacket.
Greta smiled and slipped out the door.
Shivering slightly at the chill outside, Nick turned back toward the fireplace. He stopped when he saw the frown on Monroe’s face.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
Monroe blinked, shocked at the sudden surge of… what was that? Anger? Possession? Fear? Nick had grabbed that woman’s arm, and his urge to leap and sink his teeth into her throat had shocked him.
And that’s when the throbbing began, his heartbeat so loud in his ears that he couldn’t focus on anything else. He was barely aware of closing his eyes as his entire body began to shake…
He opened his eyes to find himself lying down, on the sofa if his elevated feet were a clue. A quick glance down at the warmth on his chest found his fingers intertwined with another. His eyes traced the hand to the arm and the arm to the body, and he was staring into the concerned eyes of his Grimm. “Wha’ h’pp’n’d?”
Nick leaned forward. “You had some sort of seizure.” He tightened his fingers around Monroe’s.
Deciding that the pain was worth the comfort, Monroe pressed their hands tighter on his chest. “Sorry.”
“I’ll tell Greta that you’re not ready for travel,” Nick said, regaining his hand, much to Monroe’s disappointment. He braced his hand against the sofa as he got off his knees. “I’ll see if Lidiya knows how to get in touch with her.”
With a groan, Monroe pulled himself to sitting. “It was probably only a panic attack. Besides, you suddenly learn Russian while I was out?”
Nick shrugged. “I’ll try sign language… or something.” He stood and headed toward the kitchen.
“Wait. I’m fine.” Nick shot him a look of disbelief. “I will be fine,” he amended. “I’ll be good enough to travel at least.”
Nick sat back down on the coffee table, automatically reaching for Monroe’s hand again. “I don’t want you to push it.”
“You know me. I’m not the hero type,” Monroe reminded Nick. “I have no problems complaining. Besides,” he said quickly when he saw Nick’s eyes start to lower toward their intertwined fingers, “aren’t you the one who wants me to come back?”
“I am,” Nick said. “But the goal is for you to be alive when you get there.”
“I’m not going to die,” Monroe said, squeezing Nck’s hand. He could feel that he was on the mend. Okay, he wasn’t sure about his fingernails and toenails and the shakes and now the panic attack, but he didn’t have any kind of internal injuries or anything else what would kill him on what sounded like a really uncomfortable trip. “Well, unless I drown hanging from the bottom of that boat.”
“Greta’s working on an alternate plan,” Nick said.
“I’m sure she is,” Monroe muttered, suddenly unhappy and very tired. Pulling his legs to the floor, he grabbed his cane - Nick refused to call it anything but a stick; evidently he’d left his imagination at home - hefted himself up, ignoring the pressure in his fingers, and hobbled into the bedroom. He looked at the messy bed, absently remembering his penchant for neatness back in Portland. Flopping down on the bed, he sighed, allowing himself to relax for just a minute. He was tired - not in the after a hard day’s work tired or even the after a really good Pilates workout tired. He felt it through his muscles down to the bone. It didn’t help that he wasn’t sleeping; the nightmares saw to that. There were also the tremors in his hands and the inexplicable emotions warring inside him. And pushed deep, deep down was the fear that maybe his inability to woge was the manifestation of something worse, the loss of the Blutbad part of him. Right now, whenever he tried to call on that inner part of him, all he felt was a deep, dark, silent hole. So he tried to think about other things, because just the idea of losing such an integral part of him was unacceptable.
A knock on the doorframe had him straightening.
“You okay?” Nick walked into the room, concern filling his eyes.
Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but Monroe had come to appreciate that Nick worried about him. It wasn’t something he’d ever taken for granted, but after what’d happened, he didn’t think it was something he’d ever experience again. Even now, when he knew he didn’t deserve it, or maybe because he knew he didn’t deserve it, he found himself soaking it up, trying to remember every detail for when it was taken from him again. “Yeah,” he nodded, adjusting his grip on his cane, “I’m okay.”
One look at the dark circles underneath Monroe’s eyes, the way his shoulders dropped whenever he thought no one was looking, and even a stranger could tell that Monroe wasn’t okay. He knew that Monroe still blamed himself for what happened and didn’t believe he deserved Nick’s forgiveness.
But Nick had known Monroe long enough to know that no one could ever be as hard on Monroe as he was on himself. Even if he accepted that Nick’s forgiveness was genuine, he was still going to have to find a way to come to terms with what had happened.
They spent the next morning like they had the previous ones, Nick lugging water from the stream for Lidiya and chopping some wood for the fire, Monroe trying to look upbeat whenever he felt a gaze in his direction, Lidiya smiling her way through feeding them and dosing Monroe with the dreaded medicinal tea. Everyone ignored the fact that later that evening, he and Monroe would start their journey back to Portland.
What he estimated was a few hours before Greta’s arrival, Nick made sure to chop more wood for Lidiya, filling up the wood box inside the house. He also brought up as much water as she could comfortably hold inside the house. He figured it was the least he could do, considering how much he and Monroe had put her out in the last week. She gave him one of her toothless grins, and he realized that he was going to miss her.
Just as dusk began to fall, Greta knocked and came inside, pulling off her hood. She didn’t bother taking off her large, camouflage coat, which was fine with Nick, since he was already dressed. Monroe was behind the closed door of the bedroom, determined to put on the wetsuit by himself. Nick wondered if Monroe had been that modest two years ago or if this were a new development. It slightly amused him, since he and Lidiya had been responsible for all of Monroe when they’d first arrived while Monroe had been out of it. But at the time, Nick had only been focused on Monroe’s well being, on trying to stop the bleeding, help the wounds heal. Now Monroe was capable of handling himself for the most part; Nick still helped apply Lidiya’s ointments and wrapped the wounds difficult for Monroe to reach.
Lidiya walked into the living room, her eyes meeting Greta’s for a moment, before she slipped over to Monroe’s door, knocked twice, and silently slipped inside.
Greta turned her attention to Nick. “You are ready?”
Nick nodded. “Just waiting on Monroe.” He found he had to force himself not to offer excuses for his friend, instead focusing on the journey ahead. “Did you come up with an alternate plan for our crossing the Strait?”
Greta nodded. “You will be forced into close quarters, but I am certain it will suffice.”
“Do we still need the wet suits?”
She nodded.
“Monroe will be so pleased,” he said dryly, watching a small smile flitter briefly across her face.
The door opened, Lidiya leading an unsettled looking Monroe out of the bedroom.
“Ready?” Nick asked. He hadn’t put on his outer jacket yet; he knew just how warm the thing was, so he wasn’t in any rush.
Monroe nodded, pulling a little at his inseam. “It’s awfully tight.”
Nick grinned. “It’s a wetsuit.”
Monroe sighed, rolling his eyes. “This is just so wrong.”
Fighting back a laugh, Nick handed Monroe his black coat. “Final layer.”
Monroe slowly put on his jacket with Lidiya’s help. It was obvious he wanted to do it himself, but he let her hold it for him as he slipped his arms in each sleeve, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
Lidiya allowed Monroe to work the zipper himself as she turned to Nick, holding out her hands and speaking in Russian.
“She says she will miss you and hopes you have a safe trip back to your homeland.”
Nick smiled. “Can you thank her for me? I wish there were something I could do for her to repay her for everything she’s done for us…”
Lidiya shook her head as Greta translated, grabbing hold of Nick’s hands in each of hers.
“She says that it was an honor to help a Grimm and his Blutbad friend. It makes her hopeful that one day we can all come together in peace.”
Nick smiled, wondering how such an old lady could be so naïve, then wondering when he’d become so bitter.
Monroe snorted. “Our friendship does fall into the realm of miracles.”
Lidiya let go Nick and turned toward Monroe with a strict face. She spoke rapidly, pointing at him with a finger. The only word Nick recognized was “Grimm”.
His eyes wide, Monroe looked to Greta, who said, “She told you to take care of yourself and to listen to your Grimm, who only wants what’s best for you.”
Monroe looked over at Nick. “She has no idea about how you like to throw yourself at danger on a daily basis.”
Nick grinned. “Hey, you have to listen to me. Lidiya’s instructions.”
“That’s because she’s never watched you and Hank clear a box of donuts and empty a carafe of that sludge you call coffee in less than twenty minutes.”
That set Lidiya off on another speech, this time her finger pushed into Monroe’s chest.
Monroe cut her off by gently taking her hand and kissing the back of it. He looked directly into her eyes and said, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done.”
No translation was needed.
Entry with links to each chapter