Epic, A Grimm story by BymagaJones 7/?
Chapter 6 here
Chapter 7
Monroe remembered little of the next few days. He and Nick had been placed in a hidden compartment underneath an old, rickety truck that had Monroe waiting for it to sigh its last breath and collapse on top of them. It was made to be roomy for one medium sized person, so Monroe and Nick had to shove in together to fit. Monroe had to fold his legs, his head bent at an awkward angle, and somehow Nick ended up behind him as the big spoon.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as he pretended.
There was something kind of soothing, actually, about having Nick’s arm around him, holding him close. When he concentrated, he could hear Nick’s heartbeat, so strong and sure that it seemed to envelope him, wrapping him in a safe little cocoon.
He’d just managed to doze off by the time the truck finally stopped, and after a lot of shuffling noises, Greta’s head appeared. They took a short tea break and then were escorted onto a dock, told to hold their breaths as they swam underneath some sort of boat before they climbed into yet another compartment. Monroe hated being submerged in the dark, cold water. But then Nick’s arms were around him once again, and he fell asleep almost immediately - about the time when he realized that those bastards had drugged his tea.
Buzzing noises filled his dreams, and a sense of wrongness made him open his eyes to find himself lying on a very comfortable sofa in a vaguely familiar airplane.
A sleeping Nick was reclined in one of the chairs across from him, and suddenly Monroe realized that it was the lack of Nick lying with him that made him feel like something was missing. However, he also realized that this provided an opportunity for Monroe to stare at the Grimm at his leisure.
Silver strands highlighted Nick’s temples, and Monroe frowned, wondering if they’d appeared as a result of his mistake years ago. He could also see faint impressions of small lines radiating from the corner of Nick’s eyes, the dark stubble of his beard. Monroe absently supposed Nick really hadn’t had time for a shave while they were smuggled back into the US. Even disheveled and exhausted, Nick was a welcome sight, one Monroe thought would only exist in his memories.
A movement across from Nick caused Monroe to jerk in surprise. He figured he must’ve still really been out of it if it had taken this long for him to notice the man sitting there staring at him.
The man looked like the few Alaskan Natives that Monroe had interacted with once he’d built his temple of solitude: long, black hair, slightly angled eyes. He wore what Monroe considered the unofficial uniform of the bush: flannel shirt, worn jeans, and western boots. Sure, sometimes the choice of footwear changed, Monroe himself preferred hiking boots, but the rest could be found in anyone’s closet.
The man smiled at Monroe and held up his hand, palm facing Monroe.
Monroe nodded back, relaxing slightly. He figured that if the man had meant them harm, he could’ve taken care of it while both he and Nick had been sleeping.
“They drug him too?” Monroe whispered, head tilting toward Nick.
The man didn’t even flinch at Monroe’s words. “I think it’s just exhaustion.”
“Where are we?”
The man looked at his watch. “About an hour away from Portland.”
Monroe’s stomach clenched. He’d moved away for a reason and couldn’t imagine how he was going to maintain his sanity once he started seeing familiar landmarks filled with memories… Just the thought of going to the grocery store where he and -
He quickly abandoned the memory. They hadn’t even landed yet, and he was being assailed with things he’d tried to bury.
Maybe it was good that he couldn’t tap into his wolf, woge and howl at the moon. He’d maintained control by removing himself from society and rebuilding his will, but returning to Portland was definitely going to send him into a tailspin. The last thing he wanted was to lose control, forcing Nick to take him down. He knew Nick still considered him a friend - it blew his mind each time he thought about it - and Monroe knew that forcing Nick to kill him might also end up being the final piece in the Grimm’s destruction. He didn’t want to be responsible for that; he didn’t want that to happen to Nick at all.
Nick had asked him to stay until he was able to fend for himself. Without the daily abuse inflicted upon him by the bad Grimm, Monroe’s body was healing nicely, leaving behind mostly just various scars. All he needed to do was grow back his fingernails, somehow stop the tremors, completely cut out the panic attacks, and he was free to leave. He just needed to focus on handling those three issues, keep his memories at bay, and stay out of everyone’s way, and he’d escape Portland. Right, no problem, he thought, sighing as he flopped back on the sofa and closed his eyes.
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
Nick felt himself tilt along with the plane as it adjusted course, and he stretched luxuriously, enjoying the space and comfort of his seat.
“You’re gonna hate flying commercial after this.”
He opened his eyes and grinned at Darren, who sat smiling across from him.
“If I can’t go like this, I’m sticking to road trips, my friend.” He glanced over at Monroe, who looked like he hadn’t moved since they’d dragged him onto the plane, one arm over Darren’s shoulders and one over his, and eased him onto the sofa.
“He woke up once,” Darren said. “Wanted to know if you’d been drugged too.”
Nick smiled ruefully. “Monroe’s not one for water.”
“That explains the storage space on the boat,” Darren said, nodding.
The trip back had had a feeling of urgency behind it. Nick hadn’t asked why but had followed directions and helped a drowsy Monroe through it all. He’d managed to nod his thanks to Ca’Trena and give Meka a quick pat before they’d climbed onto the plane, and then they were on the last leg to home.
Home he thought, wistfully. Portland hadn’t really seemed that way for the past two years, but now that he had Monroe back… it suddenly felt right.
And then he remembered that he hadn’t had time to call anyone about their arrival, so he turned his attention back to Darren. “Is there a way I can make a call?”
“Your friends were contacted with your arrival time,” Darren said.
Once again, Nick was impressed. “Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”
Darren smiled and nodded just as the pilot asked them to prepare for landing.
Sure enough, Hank was leaning against his car, arms folded and ankles crossed, as they taxied to a stop.
“Those must’ve been some good drugs,” Nick muttered to himself when he saw that Monroe hadn’t roused. He grasped Monroe’s shoulder, and Monroe’s eyes opened instantly. “We’re here.”
“Terrific,” Monroe moaned, attempting to sit up, a feat he wasn’t able to accomplish until Nick released the two seatbelts Darren had jury rigged to keep Monroe from falling off the sofa during takeoff and landing. Once he was seated upright, Monroe took a good look around the plane. “This is what, a Bombardier Challenger 300?”
“Yep,” Darren said, standing close by in case Monroe needed help deplaning.
Nick couldn’t hide his surprise. “How did you even know that?”
Monroe arched an eyebrow, the most animated Nick had seen him over the last few days. “I have hidden depths.”
“I guess you do,” Nick said, holding back a laugh. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Actually, what are the odds that I could just live here?”
Nick saw the anxiety in Monroe’s eyes and knew that they had a lot to talk about. He probably should’ve forced the issue back in Russia, but part of him didn’t want to upset the Blutbad while he was healing. Of course, he also had to admit he was dreading the inevitable conversation. “Okay, so long story short. Your house is gone. Evidently, it was also on Dante Forn’s list.”
“Who’s Dante Forn?”
“That’s the name of the Drang-Zorn.”
Nick watched Monroe’s face as he processed the information, and he wondered absently if Monroe knew just how much he gave away with his eyes and his expression. He made a note to keep that information to himself; Monroe might actually consider it a liability and try to adopt a mask. No, Monroe was fine just the way he was.
“I guess we really didn’t know his name, did we?”
Nick shook his head. “We didn’t find out until after we identified his body.”
Monroe blinked a few times, his eyes refusing to meet Nick’s. “That’s another argument for me to just stay here, then.” He tried to smile.
“You’re going to stay with me,” Nick said.
Monroe’s eyes instantly widened in alarm, and Nick could tell he was still worried about the memories.
Nick reached out, grabbing Monroe’s knee. “I sold the house a long time ago.”
“Where - where do you live now?” Monroe’s guilt drenched his words.
“I’m not sure actually,” Nick said, smiling. He squeezed Monroe’s knee before standing. “C’mon. Hank’s outside waiting for us, and I’m sure Darren and the jet have some other people they need to save in, like, Guadalajara or someplace.”
Darren rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Nick could see the smile tugging to break free.
It took a lot of groaning, but Monroe was finally upright. “Man, I don’t even know what you put in that tea, but it packs quite a wallop.”
Nick shrugged, standing close to Monroe in case the Blutbad lost his balance. “It was Greta’s.”
“Of course it was,” Monroe muttered.
Nick had picked up on Monroe’s animosity toward Greta, and he couldn’t quite figure out the problem. He’d explained how not only did she help him with an unconscious Monroe, but she’d saved both their lives by killing the Grimm who’d tortured him. All the while, Monroe had nodded, but Nick could tell by his eyes that Monroe still didn’t like her much. But he was still polite when she came around, so Nick just let it go. After all, they probably would never see her again. “Let me give you a hand.” He stood, taking Monroe’s hand and pulling gently until the Blutbad stood beside him.
“What about our stuff?” Monroe asked, looking befuddled. Nick refused to think he was a little adorable like that. “Do we have stuff?”
“Just my wallet, cell, and this bag,” Nick said, holding up his small dufflebag and patting his jacket for the wallet and phone that Darren had returned him right before take off.
They descended the stairs slowly, giving Hank more than enough time to push off the car and stride toward them. “Welcome back,” he said, smiling as he grasped Nick’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. His eyes shot to Monroe, who was focused on the final few steps to the ground. “I see you found what you were looking for,” he said quietly.
Nick tilted his head. “A little worse for wear, but he’s doing much better than when we found him.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it,” Hank said, using that detective’s tone to show that it wasn’t a request.
Nick didn’t take offense. After all Hank had put up with, and all that he’d done for Nick - and Monroe - he deserved the story. Nodding, he looked at the car. “I’m surprised Wu didn’t show up too.”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Hank said, head tilted subtlety toward Monroe, who was talking to Darren, “so I told him that we’d have dinner at your place this weekend after you had time to get your bearings.”
“I guess that means you found something?”
“It’s perfect,” Hank boasted. “If I weren’t such a kick-ass cop, I would’ve made a fantastic realtor.”
“Now I’m a little worried,” Nick said, grinning. “Let me just -” He gestured toward Darren.
“Take your time,” Hank said. “I’ll make sure there’s space in the backseat for Monroe to stretch out.”
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 felt a little awkward as he held out his hand, his fingertips still bandaged, toward Darren. He’d only spoken to the man briefly on the plane when he’d awakened for that short time, but he had the feeling that the man had helped Nick track him down. “Umm, thanks?” He hated the way his voice had gone up at the end, making it more of a question than he’d intended.
Darren gave a small smile and shook his hand. Monroe suspected that his grip was way looser than usual, and he appreciated that. “Take care of yourself. And him.”
Monroe wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was obvious that Nick was more than capable of taking care of himself. Fortunately, he was spared having to respond by Nick’s appearance.
“Darren. It’s been a pleasure. Thanks for everything.”
“I’m glad it all worked out,” Darren said, shaking Nick’s hand firmly, confirming Monroe’s guess about his grip.
It took an awkward moment before Monroe realized that the two men needed to speak privately. “I, umm, I’ll be at the car,” he said, giving Darren one last smile before turning away.
He tried not to let his footsteps falter as he saw Hank. The last time they’d seen each other, Hank had heard Nick’s scathing words to Monroe and had turned Nick, leading him away from Monroe before the Grimm launched himself at the Blutbad. As he slowly drew closer, watching Hank slide the front passenger seat forward, Monroe found a thousand questions running through his mind. Had Hank blamed him for what had happened? Did he still blame him? What did Hank think of Nick’s risking himself to rescue Monroe? What did he think about Monroe’s return? Did he know about Nick’s decision to have Monroe live with him?
“Welcome back,” Hank said, closing the door and reaching out his hand.
Monroe wasn’t sure if he hid his relief as he read only concern and welcome in Hank’s eyes. He reached for Hank’s hand.
“Whoah,” Hank said, hand shooting back.
Blinking, Monroe wondered if maybe he’d misunderstood.
“Your hands look a little well worn,” Hank explained, reminding Monroe of his bandages.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Monroe said awkwardly.
“If you say so,” Hank said, obviously not buying it. He stepped forward, taking Monroe by the arm. “Why don’t we get you in the back so you can stretch out.”
Monroe wanted to say that he didn’t need to be coddled, but it sounded ungrateful even in his mind. So he walked with Hank to the car and let the man get him settled. He’d just managed to pull his cane in behind him before Hank closed the door, turned, and asked, “We ready to go?”
“We’re good,” Nick replied, getting into the passenger seat.
Hank started the car, and Nick turned partially in his seat so he could face Monroe. “So I called Hank after we’d gotten you to Lidiya’s and asked him to buy us a house.”
Monroe frowned, wondering if he were still suffering from the tea’s side effects. Damn that Greta, he thought briefly before saying, “I thought I just heard you say that you asked Hank to buy you a house.”
Nick rolled his eyes, a shamefaced grin on his face. "Us. And I did. See..."
“Nick was living in the back room of his crap-hole of an office,” Hank interjected, confusing Monroe even more.
“When did detectives get their own offices? Wait - did you get a promotion or something?”
Monroe watched Hank and Nick share a look he didn’t understand.
“I’m not a cop anymore.”
Monroe felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He knew how much Nick loved being a cop, how hard he’d fought to continue after he’d become a Grimm. “But you - ” He stopped, realizing when it all had to have gone down. Maybe Nick had been blamed for everything and they fired him. Maybe he’d been forced to quit in a haze of guilt. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. Part of him really wanted to know what had happened, but he knew that if he asked and learned that it was because of him, he wasn’t going to be able to even look at Nick again, much less stay at his house. How could he handle knowing that he’d taken even more from Nick that he’d realized?
“Monroe.” Nick’s voice was firm.
Monroe just shook his head, eyes closed. This was why he left. He’d destroyed so much.
He felt pressure on his leg and knew it was Nick, reaching back.
He heart started to thump heavily, and he wanted to escape, to let the wolf take over, but… it wasn’t there. Monroe looked inside himself and only found an empty chasm. His head started to spin, the heavy boom boom boom of his heart sending heat into his face, and he was lost, confused, directionless. He gasped, trying to draw in air, but found the more he tried, the less he could breathe…
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 7
Monroe remembered little of the next few days. He and Nick had been placed in a hidden compartment underneath an old, rickety truck that had Monroe waiting for it to sigh its last breath and collapse on top of them. It was made to be roomy for one medium sized person, so Monroe and Nick had to shove in together to fit. Monroe had to fold his legs, his head bent at an awkward angle, and somehow Nick ended up behind him as the big spoon.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as he pretended.
There was something kind of soothing, actually, about having Nick’s arm around him, holding him close. When he concentrated, he could hear Nick’s heartbeat, so strong and sure that it seemed to envelope him, wrapping him in a safe little cocoon.
He’d just managed to doze off by the time the truck finally stopped, and after a lot of shuffling noises, Greta’s head appeared. They took a short tea break and then were escorted onto a dock, told to hold their breaths as they swam underneath some sort of boat before they climbed into yet another compartment. Monroe hated being submerged in the dark, cold water. But then Nick’s arms were around him once again, and he fell asleep almost immediately - about the time when he realized that those bastards had drugged his tea.
Buzzing noises filled his dreams, and a sense of wrongness made him open his eyes to find himself lying on a very comfortable sofa in a vaguely familiar airplane.
A sleeping Nick was reclined in one of the chairs across from him, and suddenly Monroe realized that it was the lack of Nick lying with him that made him feel like something was missing. However, he also realized that this provided an opportunity for Monroe to stare at the Grimm at his leisure.
Silver strands highlighted Nick’s temples, and Monroe frowned, wondering if they’d appeared as a result of his mistake years ago. He could also see faint impressions of small lines radiating from the corner of Nick’s eyes, the dark stubble of his beard. Monroe absently supposed Nick really hadn’t had time for a shave while they were smuggled back into the US. Even disheveled and exhausted, Nick was a welcome sight, one Monroe thought would only exist in his memories.
A movement across from Nick caused Monroe to jerk in surprise. He figured he must’ve still really been out of it if it had taken this long for him to notice the man sitting there staring at him.
The man looked like the few Alaskan Natives that Monroe had interacted with once he’d built his temple of solitude: long, black hair, slightly angled eyes. He wore what Monroe considered the unofficial uniform of the bush: flannel shirt, worn jeans, and western boots. Sure, sometimes the choice of footwear changed, Monroe himself preferred hiking boots, but the rest could be found in anyone’s closet.
The man smiled at Monroe and held up his hand, palm facing Monroe.
Monroe nodded back, relaxing slightly. He figured that if the man had meant them harm, he could’ve taken care of it while both he and Nick had been sleeping.
“They drug him too?” Monroe whispered, head tilting toward Nick.
The man didn’t even flinch at Monroe’s words. “I think it’s just exhaustion.”
“Where are we?”
The man looked at his watch. “About an hour away from Portland.”
Monroe’s stomach clenched. He’d moved away for a reason and couldn’t imagine how he was going to maintain his sanity once he started seeing familiar landmarks filled with memories… Just the thought of going to the grocery store where he and -
He quickly abandoned the memory. They hadn’t even landed yet, and he was being assailed with things he’d tried to bury.
Maybe it was good that he couldn’t tap into his wolf, woge and howl at the moon. He’d maintained control by removing himself from society and rebuilding his will, but returning to Portland was definitely going to send him into a tailspin. The last thing he wanted was to lose control, forcing Nick to take him down. He knew Nick still considered him a friend - it blew his mind each time he thought about it - and Monroe knew that forcing Nick to kill him might also end up being the final piece in the Grimm’s destruction. He didn’t want to be responsible for that; he didn’t want that to happen to Nick at all.
Nick had asked him to stay until he was able to fend for himself. Without the daily abuse inflicted upon him by the bad Grimm, Monroe’s body was healing nicely, leaving behind mostly just various scars. All he needed to do was grow back his fingernails, somehow stop the tremors, completely cut out the panic attacks, and he was free to leave. He just needed to focus on handling those three issues, keep his memories at bay, and stay out of everyone’s way, and he’d escape Portland. Right, no problem, he thought, sighing as he flopped back on the sofa and closed his eyes.
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
Nick felt himself tilt along with the plane as it adjusted course, and he stretched luxuriously, enjoying the space and comfort of his seat.
“You’re gonna hate flying commercial after this.”
He opened his eyes and grinned at Darren, who sat smiling across from him.
“If I can’t go like this, I’m sticking to road trips, my friend.” He glanced over at Monroe, who looked like he hadn’t moved since they’d dragged him onto the plane, one arm over Darren’s shoulders and one over his, and eased him onto the sofa.
“He woke up once,” Darren said. “Wanted to know if you’d been drugged too.”
Nick smiled ruefully. “Monroe’s not one for water.”
“That explains the storage space on the boat,” Darren said, nodding.
The trip back had had a feeling of urgency behind it. Nick hadn’t asked why but had followed directions and helped a drowsy Monroe through it all. He’d managed to nod his thanks to Ca’Trena and give Meka a quick pat before they’d climbed onto the plane, and then they were on the last leg to home.
Home he thought, wistfully. Portland hadn’t really seemed that way for the past two years, but now that he had Monroe back… it suddenly felt right.
And then he remembered that he hadn’t had time to call anyone about their arrival, so he turned his attention back to Darren. “Is there a way I can make a call?”
“Your friends were contacted with your arrival time,” Darren said.
Once again, Nick was impressed. “Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”
Darren smiled and nodded just as the pilot asked them to prepare for landing.
Sure enough, Hank was leaning against his car, arms folded and ankles crossed, as they taxied to a stop.
“Those must’ve been some good drugs,” Nick muttered to himself when he saw that Monroe hadn’t roused. He grasped Monroe’s shoulder, and Monroe’s eyes opened instantly. “We’re here.”
“Terrific,” Monroe moaned, attempting to sit up, a feat he wasn’t able to accomplish until Nick released the two seatbelts Darren had jury rigged to keep Monroe from falling off the sofa during takeoff and landing. Once he was seated upright, Monroe took a good look around the plane. “This is what, a Bombardier Challenger 300?”
“Yep,” Darren said, standing close by in case Monroe needed help deplaning.
Nick couldn’t hide his surprise. “How did you even know that?”
Monroe arched an eyebrow, the most animated Nick had seen him over the last few days. “I have hidden depths.”
“I guess you do,” Nick said, holding back a laugh. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Actually, what are the odds that I could just live here?”
Nick saw the anxiety in Monroe’s eyes and knew that they had a lot to talk about. He probably should’ve forced the issue back in Russia, but part of him didn’t want to upset the Blutbad while he was healing. Of course, he also had to admit he was dreading the inevitable conversation. “Okay, so long story short. Your house is gone. Evidently, it was also on Dante Forn’s list.”
“Who’s Dante Forn?”
“That’s the name of the Drang-Zorn.”
Nick watched Monroe’s face as he processed the information, and he wondered absently if Monroe knew just how much he gave away with his eyes and his expression. He made a note to keep that information to himself; Monroe might actually consider it a liability and try to adopt a mask. No, Monroe was fine just the way he was.
“I guess we really didn’t know his name, did we?”
Nick shook his head. “We didn’t find out until after we identified his body.”
Monroe blinked a few times, his eyes refusing to meet Nick’s. “That’s another argument for me to just stay here, then.” He tried to smile.
“You’re going to stay with me,” Nick said.
Monroe’s eyes instantly widened in alarm, and Nick could tell he was still worried about the memories.
Nick reached out, grabbing Monroe’s knee. “I sold the house a long time ago.”
“Where - where do you live now?” Monroe’s guilt drenched his words.
“I’m not sure actually,” Nick said, smiling. He squeezed Monroe’s knee before standing. “C’mon. Hank’s outside waiting for us, and I’m sure Darren and the jet have some other people they need to save in, like, Guadalajara or someplace.”
Darren rolled his eyes and shook his head, but Nick could see the smile tugging to break free.
It took a lot of groaning, but Monroe was finally upright. “Man, I don’t even know what you put in that tea, but it packs quite a wallop.”
Nick shrugged, standing close to Monroe in case the Blutbad lost his balance. “It was Greta’s.”
“Of course it was,” Monroe muttered.
Nick had picked up on Monroe’s animosity toward Greta, and he couldn’t quite figure out the problem. He’d explained how not only did she help him with an unconscious Monroe, but she’d saved both their lives by killing the Grimm who’d tortured him. All the while, Monroe had nodded, but Nick could tell by his eyes that Monroe still didn’t like her much. But he was still polite when she came around, so Nick just let it go. After all, they probably would never see her again. “Let me give you a hand.” He stood, taking Monroe’s hand and pulling gently until the Blutbad stood beside him.
“What about our stuff?” Monroe asked, looking befuddled. Nick refused to think he was a little adorable like that. “Do we have stuff?”
“Just my wallet, cell, and this bag,” Nick said, holding up his small dufflebag and patting his jacket for the wallet and phone that Darren had returned him right before take off.
They descended the stairs slowly, giving Hank more than enough time to push off the car and stride toward them. “Welcome back,” he said, smiling as he grasped Nick’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. His eyes shot to Monroe, who was focused on the final few steps to the ground. “I see you found what you were looking for,” he said quietly.
Nick tilted his head. “A little worse for wear, but he’s doing much better than when we found him.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it,” Hank said, using that detective’s tone to show that it wasn’t a request.
Nick didn’t take offense. After all Hank had put up with, and all that he’d done for Nick - and Monroe - he deserved the story. Nodding, he looked at the car. “I’m surprised Wu didn’t show up too.”
“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Hank said, head tilted subtlety toward Monroe, who was talking to Darren, “so I told him that we’d have dinner at your place this weekend after you had time to get your bearings.”
“I guess that means you found something?”
“It’s perfect,” Hank boasted. “If I weren’t such a kick-ass cop, I would’ve made a fantastic realtor.”
“Now I’m a little worried,” Nick said, grinning. “Let me just -” He gestured toward Darren.
“Take your time,” Hank said. “I’ll make sure there’s space in the backseat for Monroe to stretch out.”
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 felt a little awkward as he held out his hand, his fingertips still bandaged, toward Darren. He’d only spoken to the man briefly on the plane when he’d awakened for that short time, but he had the feeling that the man had helped Nick track him down. “Umm, thanks?” He hated the way his voice had gone up at the end, making it more of a question than he’d intended.
Darren gave a small smile and shook his hand. Monroe suspected that his grip was way looser than usual, and he appreciated that. “Take care of yourself. And him.”
Monroe wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was obvious that Nick was more than capable of taking care of himself. Fortunately, he was spared having to respond by Nick’s appearance.
“Darren. It’s been a pleasure. Thanks for everything.”
“I’m glad it all worked out,” Darren said, shaking Nick’s hand firmly, confirming Monroe’s guess about his grip.
It took an awkward moment before Monroe realized that the two men needed to speak privately. “I, umm, I’ll be at the car,” he said, giving Darren one last smile before turning away.
He tried not to let his footsteps falter as he saw Hank. The last time they’d seen each other, Hank had heard Nick’s scathing words to Monroe and had turned Nick, leading him away from Monroe before the Grimm launched himself at the Blutbad. As he slowly drew closer, watching Hank slide the front passenger seat forward, Monroe found a thousand questions running through his mind. Had Hank blamed him for what had happened? Did he still blame him? What did Hank think of Nick’s risking himself to rescue Monroe? What did he think about Monroe’s return? Did he know about Nick’s decision to have Monroe live with him?
“Welcome back,” Hank said, closing the door and reaching out his hand.
Monroe wasn’t sure if he hid his relief as he read only concern and welcome in Hank’s eyes. He reached for Hank’s hand.
“Whoah,” Hank said, hand shooting back.
Blinking, Monroe wondered if maybe he’d misunderstood.
“Your hands look a little well worn,” Hank explained, reminding Monroe of his bandages.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Monroe said awkwardly.
“If you say so,” Hank said, obviously not buying it. He stepped forward, taking Monroe by the arm. “Why don’t we get you in the back so you can stretch out.”
Monroe wanted to say that he didn’t need to be coddled, but it sounded ungrateful even in his mind. So he walked with Hank to the car and let the man get him settled. He’d just managed to pull his cane in behind him before Hank closed the door, turned, and asked, “We ready to go?”
“We’re good,” Nick replied, getting into the passenger seat.
Hank started the car, and Nick turned partially in his seat so he could face Monroe. “So I called Hank after we’d gotten you to Lidiya’s and asked him to buy us a house.”
Monroe frowned, wondering if he were still suffering from the tea’s side effects. Damn that Greta, he thought briefly before saying, “I thought I just heard you say that you asked Hank to buy you a house.”
Nick rolled his eyes, a shamefaced grin on his face. "Us. And I did. See..."
“Nick was living in the back room of his crap-hole of an office,” Hank interjected, confusing Monroe even more.
“When did detectives get their own offices? Wait - did you get a promotion or something?”
Monroe watched Hank and Nick share a look he didn’t understand.
“I’m not a cop anymore.”
Monroe felt like someone had punched him in the chest. He knew how much Nick loved being a cop, how hard he’d fought to continue after he’d become a Grimm. “But you - ” He stopped, realizing when it all had to have gone down. Maybe Nick had been blamed for everything and they fired him. Maybe he’d been forced to quit in a haze of guilt. He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. Part of him really wanted to know what had happened, but he knew that if he asked and learned that it was because of him, he wasn’t going to be able to even look at Nick again, much less stay at his house. How could he handle knowing that he’d taken even more from Nick that he’d realized?
“Monroe.” Nick’s voice was firm.
Monroe just shook his head, eyes closed. This was why he left. He’d destroyed so much.
He felt pressure on his leg and knew it was Nick, reaching back.
He heart started to thump heavily, and he wanted to escape, to let the wolf take over, but… it wasn’t there. Monroe looked inside himself and only found an empty chasm. His head started to spin, the heavy boom boom boom of his heart sending heat into his face, and he was lost, confused, directionless. He gasped, trying to draw in air, but found the more he tried, the less he could breathe…
Entry with links to each chapter