Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nick slumped into the chair at his desk, about thirty minutes late, and wondering if he should have stayed in bed. He kept his hands clasped around his coffee like a lifeline. Although, he wasn’t sure if it was helping his headache or making it worse.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming in.” Hank raised an eyebrow at him. “You feeling alright there, partner?”

“Headache.” Nick grunted. “I’m fine.”

“Looks worse than your average headache.” Hank observed, he leaned back in his chair to look Nick over.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Because of the headache?”

Nick nodded and regretted it immediately. The pounding in his skull doubled. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, missing Hank’s concerned look. He did hear Hank mutter something about how Nick should have stayed home, but he chose to ignore that part.

“Alright, just warn me if you’re gonna pass out or something okay?”

Hank went back to his paperwork. Nick tried to follow suit, but when he opened his eyes he found himself squinting in the suddenly too-bright light of the bullpen. It hadn’t been so bright before, had it?

He blinked as his head throbbed and his body ached. He grabbed for his coffee with a shaky hand and forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls despite his growing nausea. Maybe if he wasn’t any better by lunch he’d see about heading home early. For now, he got his hands to his keyboard and slowly chipped away at his paperwork. He made at least a crawling progress before his breath hitched weirdly and the resulting coughing fit got him dizzy again. It couldn’t be a flu right? There wasn’t one going around that he’d heard about at least.

This time Hank’s expression was exasperated, but Nick refused to acknowledge it. Hank opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by Wu.

“Hey guys, just got a call, body in a parking garage.” He paused to take in Nick’s wheezing. “You okay Nick? You don’t look so good.”

“He says it’s just a headache.” Hank offered as he grabbed his coat.

“It is.” Nick insisted, but he made sure to stand slowly.

Wu snorted.

“Sure, just don’t get me sick.”

Nick rolled his eyes and stormed out as much as he could without making his headache worse than it already was.

“I bet he won’t make it ‘till lunch.” Wu offered.

“I can’t tell if you’re underestimating his stubbornness or whatever it is that’s currently striving to knock him on his ass.”

“Well?”

“No bet, I might be driving him home in a minute.” Hank headed for the door.

Wu shrugged.

“Keep an eye on him!”

“You know I will.” Hank tossed back at him as he pulled on his coat.

<><><><><>

Hank insisted on driving them both to the crime scene, and Nick gave in. It wasn’t too outside the usual after all. He spent the whole drive stubbornly enduring whatever his headache threw at him, though he eventually grabbed for his sunglasses to fend off the too-bright sunlight. Hank kept an eye on his partner the whole way, trying to determine exactly how bad Nick was actually feeling. He didn’t get much.

Forensics had only just gotten started by the time Hank and Nick arrived on the scene. Yellow crime scene tape roped off the back corner of a mostly-empty parking garage. It was largely used by employees who worked in the buildings above and around the area. Most of the actual parking spots were empty, either generally unused or asked to move for the sake of the investigation. Nick kept his eyes on Hank’s back and tried to listen as the unit summarized what they’d found so far.

“Teenage female, killed a few hours ago, as far as we can tell. It was called in by a night shift employee trying to get to their car. We haven’t checked the body for I.D. yet.”

Nick tuned some of the details out until he felt Hank nudge his shoulder.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Hank asked, grimly.

“Huh?”

“We’ve got to roll the body.”

“Oh, go ahead.” Nick blinked under his sunglasses, realizing that he should’ve taken them off by now. They were standing in a dim garage, but he didn’t reach up to remove them.

He redirected his focus to the scene before him. Hank pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket to check over the still form on the ground. The body was laying facedown on the concrete, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt. Her jacket lay, torn, next to her, and Nick spotted claw-like marks along the sleeve. The rest of her clothes looked intact, but soaked through with splotches of blood.

Hank carefully rolled the body over and Nick winced. Half-congealed blood oozed from a gaping wound at the victim’s throat. Hank cursed quietly, then checked the pockets to find a wallet.

“Got an I.D?” Nick asked as he took in the details. He was managing a bit more focus with a case right in front of him.

“Driver’s license.” Hank reported. “Looks like Alexis Wilmot, sixteen…” He shook his head. “She just got this license earlier this year.”

“We’ll figure out who did this.” Nick ignored the pain and crouched down across from Hank.

“I could be a what.” The uni suggested as he jotted down the name in his notepad. “That almost looks like an animal attack.”

He walked off to get the forensics team organized. Hank looked up at Nick.

“Or a Wessen attack.” He murmured.

“Could be.” Nick agreed. “Could be Blutbaden, they usually go for the throat.”

“Maybe Monroe could track it?”

“Yeah, let’s finish up here. I can ask him later.”

Nick pulled himself upright with a suppressed groan, but got right to work. He could focus on the work over the pain. So, he wandered the parking garage to search for any signs that the killer had left behind, or any signs that someone else had been involved. He’d noticed some scratches and bruises on the victim’s arms, defensive wounds most likely. In other words, she’d put up a fight. Nick made a mental note to make sure that forensics checked under her nails in case she’d managed to scratch her attacker. Maybe her effort would get them caught at the very least.

He checked the position of the body. Was she headed for a parking spot? The exit? The building itself? He turned his head to address a uni searching nearby.

“Are any of these cars unclaimed?”

“All of them are registered to employees in the building, and none of them have gone missing as far as we can tell, but we’ll keep checking.”

Nick looked past the cars and spotted a smudge of something dark on the wall. He stepped closer. It was blood, dried blood headed towards the body. So had it been hers or someone else’s?

He got between the parked cars to check the rest of the wall, taking his sunglasses off as he went. There were droplets on the floor. Nick straightened up to signal the forensics team, but a flash of light, reflected from a car driving by, cut across his face for a second. He hissed in pain and fell back, he caught himself on the car next to him. Dizziness threatened to knock him to the ground. It took a minute for his vision to get back to normal.

Hank's voice sounded closer than Nick expected.

“Nick? You got something?”

“Um, yeah, blood.” Nick blinked the last few spots from his eyes and straightened.

Hank joined him, then called over forensics after taking a look himself.

“I hope that that gives us something.” Hank said as the two of them got out of the way.

“No luck?” Nick guessed.

“Not much, I-”

Footsteps, the other investigators, talking, plastic bags opening and zipping closed, somewhere water dripped and the sound blended with everything else. Nick felt lost standing still, amongst all of the noise. He latched on to Hank’s familiar rumble and tried to pull himself back into focus.

“...I’d say next steps are to look for witnesses until the M.E. and forensics get back to us, then- Nick?”

“Yeah.” Nick tried to pay a convincing amount of attention. “Sounds good.”

“Right.” Hank eyed him, but headed for the other side of the parking garage. “I’ll check this corner, you check that one and we’ll get out of here.”

Nick just nodded and walked to the area opposite of where he’d been searching before. The murmuring of the other investigators stabbed at his aching head, such soft sounds having surprisingly sharp edges. He winced and tried to maintain his focus. He looked for scraps of something, more blood maybe, but the noise- He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Then the sound was gone.

His eyes snapped open and he whipped around. They were still there, talking and processing the scene. But the sound had vanished. NIck snapped his fingers next to his ear. Nothing. He watched his own fingers snap, just to make sure that it was actually happening, and found the silence stifling. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what almost looked like a glow around his hand, but when he turned to check, it was gone.

Just as suddenly as it had left, sound came rushing back to him. The pain of his headache returned like a blossom of heat across his temples. Nick sighed, and winced. His own voice sounded loud. He trudged towards the exit. Maybe some fresh air would help? Hank spotted him on the way out and followed.

“Alright, come on.” Hank put a hand on Nick’s arm to guide him towards the car.

“What?” Nick blinked at him. “I just need some air.”

“You’re completely out of it man, I’m driving you home before you hurt yourself.”

“I-”

Nick stepped out from the shade of the parking garage. Light tore into his eyes for the instant before he shut them. He stumbled, but Hank’s arm was there to catch him.

This time, when he opened his eyes, Hank merely stared him down. Nick nodded.

“Okay.”

Hank wrapped an arm around his shoulder and got him to the car without another word.

Nick sunk into the passenger seat. He winced when Hank turned the car on and the music blared for a moment, but Hank noticed his discomfort and shut the music off. Nick just breathed and enjoyed his respite from the commotion of everything outside the car. He was too spacey and out of it for much conversation, so the car ride was quiet.

When they pulled into the driveway, Nick insisted on walking to the door himself. Hank rolled down his window to watch.

“Do you need me to pick anything up for you?”

“No.” Nick reached the door and fumbled with his keys. He decided that the resulting clinking was, in fact, the worst noise in existence.

“I’ll come by and check on you after work, get some rest okay?”

Nick got the door open and waved over his shoulder as he stepped inside. Once the door shut behind him, Nick just stood in the quiet of the house for a moment. The walls gave him some shelter from the noise, the light. He basked in it. Juliette was helping an overwhelmed clinic a few hours out of town, so she wouldn’t be back for a week or so. Their home wasn’t exactly bustling most days, but it was quiet now and Nick found himself being immeasurably grateful for that much. That also meant that he’d be alone for the next couple hours until Hank came by again.

Nick didn’t bother to turn on any lights. The sunlight was more than enough to see by. He trudged towards the kitchen. Maybe he should eat, get something into his stomach besides coffee. Or, maybe he should just take something for the pain. Presented with the choice, he went for the pain meds rather than the food. He wasn’t sure if he could prepare anything significant in his current state, and his stomach still twisted with hints of nausea anyway.

He took his pain relief, chugged a glass of water, and made a b-line for the couch. He sunk into the cushions and rubbed his face. The empty house didn’t seem so quiet anymore. He could hear the wind rustling the trees outside, a few creaks and groans of the home itself, and his own harsh breathing. His hands felt cold against his face.

Nick reached behind him and snagged the quilt folded over the back of the couch. It was the one from Bud's family. He bundled up in it to fend off the strange cold, and, not sure what else to do, Nick closed his eyes and let himself fall to one side. Maybe he could get some sleep. Then he’d feel better and he could get back to work. It was just a headache, after all.

Chapter Text

Nick woke to knocking on his door. He rolled over, remembered that he was on the couch, and opened one bleary eye. He saw a vague smudge that he assumed to be Hank through the door’s window.

“It’s open.” He croaked.

Nick laid his head back as he heard the door open. He wanted to check the time, but there wasn’t a clock in his view and he wasn’t sure where his phone had ended up. Had he really passed out for that long? Maybe he was worse off than he thought, he didn’t usually take naps.

Hank appeared above him. He held a takeout bag that smelled warm and comforting, but Nick’s stomach twisted at the thought of food. Nick blinked up at him.

“Hey.” He tried to clear the gravel from his throat.

“You don’t look better.” Hank observed. “How do you feel?”

Nick hesitated, Hank sat down on the arm of the couch. He dropped the bag of probably comfort food on the coffee table. “Come on Nick, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Nick propped himself up against the back of the couch. The quilt fell from his shoulders to pool around his legs. “The headache is still bad and-” A lawnmower roared to life outside, and Nick tried not to flinch. “Everything’s too loud, too bright.”

Hank pressed his hand against Nick’s forehead. Nick leaned into the warm hand.

“You don’t feel hot, you actually feel a little cold.”

The lawnmower’s rumbling grew louder as his neighbor no doubt moved along the property line. The noise started to feel sharp. Nick cringed and clenched his teeth.

“Nick.”

Hank was trying to get his attention, but Nick couldn’t direct it anywhere but the sound resonating through his head. He grit his teeth harder and covered his ears with his hands. He could still hear Hank’s voice, but he shook his head until he felt Hank pulling him upright. He let one hand fall from his ear.

“What-?”

“I’m taking you to the damn hospital Nick.” Hank got Nick’s free hand over his shoulders and headed for the door. He grabbed the bag of food off the table on the way out.

“No hospital.” Nick insisted. He had some kind of a gut feeling that he really did not want to be in a hospital right now.

Hank paused, took a deep breath, then resumed his determined stride.

“Fine, the Spice Shop then.”

Nick couldn’t bring himself to argue at that.

<><><><><>

Hank shot a quick warning text to Rosalee. At some point during the drive, Nick had slumped over in the passenger’s seat. Hank risked a closer look at a stoplight, to make sure that he was still breathing alright, and caught sight of strange movements dancing across Nick’s pale skin. It was almost like a close-quarters heat mirage. Hank shook his head and put his eyes back on the road.

Nick looked almost gray, like when he’d climbed out of the water after saving the Naiad girl. He’d gone cold and gray then too, but this time around the gray wasn’t fading. Instead, every hint of pink seemed to be draining from Nick’s skin. Was this some weird Grimm thing? Maybe the Spice Shop had been a better call. A hospital wouldn’t know what to do about this.

The bell at the door of the Spice Shop rang out as Hank pushed his way through. The sign had already been flipped to ‘closed.’

“What happened?” Rosalee appeared at his side, taking some of Nick’s weight.

“I don’t know, he’s been out of it all day so I sent him home.” Hank and Rosalee brought Nick to the couch as Monroe locked the door behind them and followed. “But, when I dropped by to check on him, he was worse.”

Rosalee knelt in front of the couch to get to eye-level.

“Nick, can you open your eyes for me?”

Nick’s eyes opened a sliver, but he winced and shook his head.

“-s too bright.”

Monroe moved a spare chair out of the way, its legs bumped and scraped against the floor. Nick winced harder, his hands snapping to his ears.

“Too loud-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Monroe whispered.

“Did something cause this?” Rosalee asked.

Hank shrugged, so she turned her attention to Nick. She lowered her voice before speaking again.

“Nick, how long have you been hurting like this?”

“Last night.” His answer was short like it was all that he could manage.

“Do you know what started it?”

He shook his head.

“His skin’s all gray," Monroe noticed. "It almost looks like he went all zombie mode again, you know?”

A car right outside honked, loud and long, accompanied by a fair bit of shouting. Nick flinched and started to shake, curling in on himself. He muttered:

“Too much, too loud, too much.”

“Shit, what do we do?” Hank cursed.

“Maybe…” Monroe scrambled for some towels and blankets. “Hank, close the blinds and help me get these under the doors. Rosalee, could you find some kind of scent? Incense, a spray, lavender, something calming?”

Rosalee nodded and rushed off. In a few moments, the room was dimmer, sounds from outside were muffled, and the scent of lavender covered most other smells. Nick had stilled, still breathing hard, before collapsing into what seemed like a fitful sleep.

Hank, Rosalee, and Monroe moved to the front room, with sighs of some relief.

“What was that?” Hank asked.

“It’s how we help Blutbaden kids deal with sensory overload from new woges.” Monroe shrugged.

“I think it worked, thank you for that.”

“It is only a temporary solution though. Nick’s not Blutbaden, so we’ve seriously got to figure out what’s causing this.”

“We need information.” Rosalee had moved to the counter.

“The trailer then?” Monroe guessed.

“Might as well try, are you good to stay here and keep an eye on him Rosalee?”

“Yeah, go on, see what you can find. I’ll let you know if there are any changes here.”

“I’ll drive.” Hank decided.

<><><><><>

Hank and Monroe got to the trailer in record time and began the process of searching countless books. Usually, they would work off of a description, a killing method, or one of Nick’s sketches. But, that wasn’t what they were working with this time around. They needed to find something about Grimms themselves, or at least something that could affect a Grimm so severely. The trailer was full of generations of Grimm-written entries on every Wessen one could imagine, and even a few that Monroe had never heard of, but the pair could not find a single profile on Grimms.

There had to be something right? Hank worried as he flipped through yet another book. Something like a warning, weaknesses, something to watch out for, a bit of advice from one generation of Grimms to the next. Grimms didn’t seem to work like normal humans, so where was the information on how they did work? Hank set aside one book to grab another.

He and Monroe searched for a mention of anything, an illness, poison, or influence of an unknown Wessen that could have left Nick in the state that he was in. But they weren’t having any luck, and the trailer had too much information to get through in just a couple of hours. They needed that luck. Every minute that passed, hurt when they remembered Nick’s condition. Rosalee hadn’t texted them any updates, good or bad, but that didn’t stop the growing cloud of worry from darkening over both of their heads.

Eventually, Hank pushed yet another book aside and hesitated to pull the next closer. Would that one have the answer? Maybe something useful? Even a clue? He sighed and sat back in the chair to rub his tired eyes.

“We’re not finding anything here, Nick’s family kept these books on the Wessen that they were hunting, not themselves.”

“There’s gotta be something.” Monroe shut his own book.

“If we could talk to another Grimm, maybe…”

Monroe sat up.

“We can.”

“We can?”

“We can ask another Grimm.” Monroe pulled out his phone. “I’m texting Juliette, she can get into contact with Nick’s mom.”

“Wait, really?” Hank peered over Monroe’s shoulder.

“Yeah, maybe she can get us a lead, at least.”

Monroe sent the text and got a response within a few minutes. He angled the screen so that Hank could read the screenshot of an email Juliette had sent and the response.

N is sick, headache, dizziness, loss of color, and sensory overload. Where can we find more info?”
-J

Info in trailer, top of the shelf in the front left corner, behind box. Even AM didn’t know about it, be careful who finds out. If I knew that this would happen, I’d be there myself. Take care of him for me.
-M

“Front left?” Hank stood and pulled a chair up to the shelf. He climbed up, found a box, moved it, and found a small knob. He muttered something about booby traps, then pulled the knob. There were no explosions or poison darts, just a panel of wood sliding to one side and revealing a vertical drawer. A black book, only a couple of inches across, sat nestled inside.

<><><><><>

Back at the Spice Shop, Rosalee paced. It had been nearly two hours and Nick hadn’t improved at all. He was still asleep, thankfully, but it was fitful at best. He winced at every loud noise and mumbled in his sleep like he was having a bad dream. On top of that, his pulse was concerning. One moment it raced like he was running a marathon, then the next it plummeted to something worryingly slow, even for Nick’s already weird heart rate. The color was back in his face at least, though Rosalee didn’t trust that it would last.

Just as she stopped pacing to check his pulse again, she heard the bell at the door ring.

“Monroe?”

“Hey, we got it!” Monroe appeared at the entranceway to the back room. Hank was close behind him. Monroe flipped through a small book as he searched for the right page.

“What did you find?” Rosalee finished taking Nick’s pulse, fast right now, and stood.

The book in Monroe’s hands struck her as strange. She’d seen a few of the Grimm books that Nick had in his trailer, but most of them were massive volumes full of notes, drawings, and a few newer pictures. They were like multi-generational informational scrapbooks. But the book that Monroe held was small, obviously old, and quite neat-looking.

“A Grimm book on, well, Grimms!” Monroe rustled through more pages.

“We had Juliette reach out to Nick’s mom.” Hank explained, quietly.

Rosalee did a double take, noting how Hank looked a little shell-shocked. A second look at Monroe revealed a sort of jittery nervousness as he found the pages to show her.

“What is it?” She repeated.

“Here, read this.” Monroe handed over the book, pointing out one of the paragraphs, handwritten in dark ink.

…I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason that these secrets have been kept for so long. We Grimms tend to collect knowledge, it is our truest weapon against
those we commonly hunt. So, in all of our Grimm-compiled texts, why have we not researched ourselves? We know that we’re different from an average human, but don’t know how much. We know that some things affect us differently, but haven’t maintained a proper profile. Is it that we never asked those questions or that someone has done their best to make the answers disappear?
If that is the case, then I fear for my safety. And so, in the event that such a fear is justified, I will write down what I have learned here and hide it with my family. Maybe, that way, we can pass some of this information along family lines once again, a part of our story which seems to have been lost long ago.
Because, I have learned in my research of Grimm history and genealogy, that Grimms are in fact a far-removed breed of Wessen. There is no doubt that the Royals have some hand in our separation from whatever the original breed was, centuries ago, and perhaps a hand in the erasure of that knowledge, though I do not know if even they could recall such information now…

“What?” Rosalee stared at the words on the page.

Monroe gently took the book from her to flip to a new page. He handed it back to her and pointed out another passage.

Grimm bloodlines have been weakened considerably compared to their Wessen roots, whatever those may be. Modern Grimms do still have some resilience, strength, heightened senses, and combat abilities, but, for all we know, the original Wessen breed may have had other abilities deemed unnecessary during the separation. One Wessen ability does still linger in some Grimm bloodlines though. It is incredibly rare, and so rarely awakened that I struggled to even find accounts of it happening, let alone the Grimm surviving the event.
For this trait is none other than the woge of a Grimm.
So much information has been erased, and I mourn what must have been lost, but I do believe that pieces still exist. This woge seems to linger in some families, and, much like the trait of being a Grimm itself, it can skip entire generations. Of course, this also makes the woge more difficult to track, even in the ancestry I’ve studied so thoroughly. But, I fear for those Grimms who do experience it. To attempt such a transformation, for someone who has lived their whole life as a human, would be a difficult if not deadly adjustment.
I even believe that some hitherto unexplained deaths of Grimms, especially those where the Grimm in question seems to lose their mind, might have been due to a failed or incomplete woge. If I am right, then the woge is set off by strange or stressful circumstances, like a survival tactic, but one that may take months or years after the fact to come to fruition.
There is so little about the woge itself that I can’t theorize much, yet. It is either so rare that written accounts haven’t had the chance to survive, or those that do woge don’t survive long enough to tell the story themselves. In all of my time researching this, I have heard one whisper though. I found mention of a Grimm who did start to go mad, acting strangely and losing strength, only to recover, albeit changed. Maybe that Grimm survived the woge, maybe they were able to figure something out that few others have. But, the only information that I could find about this story was that the Grimm was oddly close to the local Wessen, perhaps even a protector rather than a hunter.
I do wonder if a few trusted Wessen could almost guide a Grimm through the experience of a woge, since Grimms have lost it for so long. But, that seems unlikely at best…

“A woge?” Rosalee breathed, she stared at Nick, unconscious on the couch. “He’s trying to woge?”

Hank leaned against a wall, his eyes landed on his partner as well. Monroe sunk into a chair.

“Looks like it. I haven't read the whole book yet, but it’s a bunch of Grimms trying to piece things together. They really don’t have much to work with though.” Monroe had taken the book back and held it up to show how thin it was, maybe half an inch, then he flipped to a page near the back. “There are some efforts to track down the woging gene though, to see which families have it, and I think one of them could have been Nick’s folks? His mom knew about this book after all.”

“So, what do we do now?” Hank seemed to be processing things a little better than he had when they’d explained Wessen to him at least.

“I mean, we help him right?” Monroe looked up. “We help him woge.”

“Yes.” Rosalee was skimming another page over Monroe’s shoulder, but not finding much else, she headed past him to get to the counter. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“How?” Hank asked.

“We’ll wake him up, explain everything, then we could try an assisted woge? Blutbaden do those too right?” Rosalee checked.

“For struggling kids, yeah.” Monroe turned to Hank. “Are you good to be here? You could wait in the front room if you’d like?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest.” Hank sighed. “I’d like to help, but I’m not much use at the moment.” He ran a hand over his hair, stressed but holding it together.

“Ice packs.” Rosalee spoke up as she re-entered the room and knelt next to Nick.

“Right, ice packs, woging for the first couple times is like using a muscle that you’re not used to. It can ache for a bit. Nick could definitely use some ice packs, and maybe some heated ones too?” Monroe explained. “Think you can do that?”

“Yes, definitely, thank you.” Hank adjusted his coat. He was happy to have something to do to help that also gave him a break from all the Wessen stuff that he was still processing. “Let me know if anything changes, I’ll be back.”

The bell at the door rang with Hank’s departure. Monroe checked that the ‘closed’ sign was up and that the door to the back room was locked, then returned to Nick’s side with Rosalee. She’d grabbed some smelling salts to wake the Grimm, but she paused before offering them to him.

“If Nick could die from this…” She started.

“I know, it’s scary.” Monroe stared at Nick for a moment. “And we don’t know much, we don’t really know anything. Not the progression of symptoms, not how long he has before we should really be worried. For all we know he could be good like this for a few days, or he might have minutes. We could be acting too soon, or too late.”

Monroe stooped down to wrap an arm around Rosalee’s shoulders and plant a kiss on her head. He could smell her stress building.

“But we’re going to help him now, it’ll be alright. We have no reason to believe that trying too early would hurt him, and as long as he’s still here with us it's not too late.” Monroe tried to reassure the both of them with those words.

Rosalee nodded, gathered herself, and put the smelling salts under Nick’s nose. Monroe sat back to give her space to work. Nick stirred.

“Wha..”

“Nick?” Rosalee put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” He rasped.

Monroe knelt back down next to Rosalee.

“It’s a bit of a long story, man. There’s some weird Grimm stuff going on, but we’re here to help you through it okay?”

Nick took a deep breath to regulate his odd breathing. He closed his eyes as he did so, and when he opened them again, they seemed a bit clearer than they’d been before.

“Yeah, what is it?”

Rosalee and Monroe looked at each other.

“Well, uh, you see, we are going to help you woge.” Monroe offered.

“What?” Nick sat up straighter, but the nausea knocked him back down. He slumped against the couch. “Woge?”

“It turns out that Grimms are sort of Wessen, and we think that you’ve been trying to woge, which isn’t easy for you guys, apparently. Good news though, we can help you through it.” He explained.

Nick didn’t say anything for a minute. Eventually though, he groaned and rubbed at his face.

“Hurts.” He grunted.

“I know, that’s why we’re here to help you. There’s more explanation, and we can show you once you’re feeling better, but I’m getting the sense that we should do this sooner rather than later so you’re gonna have to trust us okay?”

There was another span of silence before Nick nodded. He looked drained, but he turned his eyes to the two Wessen next to him and met their gazes.

“Of course I trust you, what do I have to do?”

Rosalee lifted one of Nick’s hands into her own while Monroe moved to grab the other.

“Alright, first, I need you to pay attention to what you’re feeling besides the pain. Is there some kind of sensation that feels like a lot right now? Is there something that feels overwhelming, or maybe something that you’ve been trying to keep under control but it’s fighting you?”

Nick nodded.

“What does that feel like?”

“Like cold,” he muttered. “Like everything is just too much, too bright, too loud, and then there’s just this… cold.”

Monroe and Rosalee looked at each other.

“Have you heard of anything-?”

“Not like that, no,” Monroe frowned. “Blutbaden can get overwhelmed by their senses, but it’s never cold. Most of us run pretty warm actually.”

“He could be different, cold-blooded or something?” Rosalee murmured, then she moved one hand to Nick’s arm. “Okay Nick, that feeling, you’ve got to let it wash over you okay?”

Nick’s eyes widened as he met hers, and in that moment he reminded Rosalee of a scared kid in pain, a Wessen child struggling with their woge. Giving in to the surge of a woge meant surrendering some control, and that didn’t come naturally to everyone, even some Wessen. She squeezed his arm.

“I know, it’s scary to give in. But this should help you, you’ve just got to trust it and we’ll get you through.”

Nick took a deep, wheezy breath, then closed his eyes to nod again.

“Ready?” Monroe asked. “We’ll give you the jump to get it going, you’ve just gotta let it take you.”

“Ready.”

Nick’s breathing hitched as he tried to slow it. Rosalee grabbed Monroe’s free hand and they counted down from five. Their woges passed over them with the ease of years of practice, but the waves of change seemed to hit Nick and pause. Nick’s face screwed up in a grimace. Rosalee felt his temperature sink to a stony chill. Then she finally saw the ripples of a woge flicker across his face.

The change left Nick’s skin gray-pale with swirling, almost marbled, black markings. His ears pointed and whatever warmth still lingered vanished. Rosalee shifted her fingers to his wrist and checked his pulse. It was an inhumanely slow, but steady beat under his skin.

“Nick?”

“Nick, you with us?”

Monroe leaned over the couch to get a better look, right as Nick’s eyes snapped open, black as obsidian.

“Holy-” Monroe stumbled back. “Dude, you scared the crap out of me!” He gasped. But when he looked up again, he froze.

Nick was sitting up somewhat, looking around the room until his wide, dark eyes landed on Monroe. Neither said a word. Monroe could see his reflection, it was like every other time that he’d woged around the Grimm. Except this time, it was Monroe’s human face that stared back at him from the reflective depths.

A shiver darted up his spine, but he couldn’t move. Every instinct screamed at him, danger, predator. Monroe wanted to woge again. He wanted to have his sharp teeth and claws to defend himself. Blutbaden were the hunters, they never felt like prey, not like this.

Monroe shut his eyes. He betrayed every instinct that demanded he keep his eyes on the threat, and he shook his head.

That is Nick. Nick is one of my best friends. He won’t hurt me.

Monroe took a few shaky breaths of his own before he opened his eyes again. Nick was still watching him. He didn’t blink, but his head slowly tilted to one side like he was listening. His senses, maybe the woge just messed with them somehow? Monroe held his hands up and took a step closer.

“Nick? Can you hear me?”

Monroe’s heart hammered in his chest for another few seconds before Nick’s eyebrows drew together and the Grimm frowned. His gaze fell to the floor before it jumped back up again.

“Monroe?” Sharp canines glinted in the light as Nick’s voice scratched its way out from his throat.

Chapter Text

“Ready?” Monroe asked. “We’ll give you the jump to get it going, you’ve just gotta let it take you.”

“Ready.”

Nick tried to slow his wheezy, shaky breathing. He heard Monroe and Rosalee quietly count down their woges. When they got to zero, his breath hitched. He felt the energy hit him and suddenly it was like every breath was being dragged through him in slow motion.

The cold…

He forced himself to focus on the cold.

He could feel it growing, it offered respite from all of the noise. It almost taunted him as he fought to stay aware of what was going on around him. It scared him. But then, so did everything else at the moment.

Nick took a couple of careful, conscious breaths, then he reached out. As soon as he wasn’t actively holding it back, the cold washed over him like he’d fallen into a frozen river. It stole his breath, and his heartbeat stuttered.

Everything slowed.

Noise still pounded against his skull, but it seemed almost manageable, like his brain was catching up, but nothing sounded the same.

Stuck, frozen in this new soundscape, Nick registered a sound, a voice? Then, a second one. Then he felt someone lean over him. His eyes snapped open and the figure vanished with a shout that hurt his head.

He blinked, sat up, and looked around. He heard more speaking and his gaze landed on a figure. He squinted. Everything seemed… dim, but sharp. When the figures moved, they stood out more from the background. The curtain moved with a breeze and his eyes snapped to it, suddenly the clearest thing in the room. But the figures looked… different from the curtain. The figures had a glow, a living glow. He could see their warmth, he could hear their blood rushing and their hearts pounding. One pounded in the other room, but two were in the same place as he was.

Where was he again?

Who was here? Why were their hearts beating so fast? Were they afraid of something? Were they afraid of him?

One of the figures stared at him, somehow familiar even when everything looked and sounded so different-

The figure, he? He closed his eyes for a moment and broke their shared stare. When had they met gazes? Then the figure opened his eyes again and Nick felt his head tilt as he listened for some clue, something to orient himself. The figure stepped closer, hands out to be as unthreatening as possible. His voice sounded clearer this time.

“Nick? Can you hear me?”

Nick fought to listen past the heartbeats, past the noises of everything creaking and groaning and shifting. That voice sounded like his friend. That voice sounded like…

“Monroe?” His own voice scratched, alien to his ears, but Monroe brightened.

“You doing okay there buddy?”

Still so many noises, and his sight hadn’t settled into anything familiar-

“I don’t- I’m not sure.” He went to rub his eyes, but felt a sharpness to his fingertips. Did he have claws?

“Hey, Nick, can you look at me for a second?”

Rosalee, that was Rosalee next to him. She’d been checking his pulse earlier. He remembered a warm hand pulling away from his wrist when he'd sat up. Rosalee smiled.

“Why don’t you rest for a bit, give yourself a chance to adjust? You might be stuck like this for a couple hours okay?” She squeezed his hand, he forced himself to nod.

“Okay.”

As he settled back down, Rosalee said something about getting him water and he muttered a thank you. With some of his senses settling to something at least somewhat manageable, Nick felt exhaustion welling up in their place. Sleep. Sleep sounded good. His eyelids closed and he drifted off to the scraps of conversation in the next room over.

<><><><><>

Monroe and Rosalee found Hank waiting for them in the front room, a grocery bag full of ice packs and heating pads sat on the counter next to the soup he’d brought with him initially.

“Is Nick okay?” The detective studied their faces.

“He’s alright, just resting right now,” Rosalee reassured as she walked over to check the grocery bag.

“And everything went okay?”

“He about gave me a heart attack, but yeah, he woged.” Monroe caught Hank’s sigh of relief.

“This looks great Hank, I’ll go put the ice packs in the freezer.” Rosalee gathered the bag, along with the soup container to put in the fridge. She put a comforting hand on Hank’s arm as she passed him. “Nick’s okay, he’ll probably sleep for a few hours. You can go home and get some rest yourself.”

Hank rubbed his face.

“Yeah, I think that I will. But, I’m just getting something to eat, and I’ll let the captain know that Nick has come down with something.” He swung his keys around one finger. “I’ll be back to check on my partner later, alright?”

“Of course, and we’ll keep you updated if anything else happens.”

Hank nodded.

“Oh, and if he wakes up before I get back, make sure that he eats something. I haven’t seen him have anything besides coffee today.”

With that, Hank left. Monroe and Rosalee just stood in the closed shop for a moment. They both glanced at the door to the side room, then at each other. They sighed, then laughed.

“Wow.” Rosalee shook her head.

“Grimms are Wessen.” Monroe agreed. “That changes everything.”

“And Nick just woged and-”

“We’re gonna be helping him through this for a bit huh?”

“Yup. We’ve got to teach him how to control a woge, like we learned. He doesn’t have family here to do it for him.”

“This’ll be interesting.” Monroe sighed.

“That’s an understatement.”

<><><><><>

When Nick came to, his head still hurt. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and groaned. The residual scratchiness of his voice reminded him of where he was and why. One hand fell to his chest to find his own, slow heartbeat. It thumped inhumanely slow… The heartbeat of a woged Grimm, apparently.

He lifted the other hand from his eye to get a look at it.

Instead, he found himself squinting as he struggled to make sense of his vision. Why was it so hard, just to understand what his eyes were trying to tell him? The colors and shapes did look familiar, but he had to stop and stare just to get an idea of what he was seeing. Nick stared at his own hand, knowing what was in front of him, but trying to recognize it. It seemed to be gray-white, with dark markings across his skin. He also saw cold, or at least the absence of the warmth he’d seen in Monroe and Rosalee… a few hours ago? How long had he been asleep?

Nick pulled himself upright and looked around, simply to make sure that he could still recognize at least the basics of his surroundings. And maybe to spot a clock. The door opened before he could find one. He turned his attention to the door and recognized, after a moment, that the figure standing there was Rosalee. She smiled when she saw him awake and slipped inside.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, like myself at least.” He sighed. It wasn’t a lie, but he still felt scattered, and his vision wasn’t helping his lingering headache.

“Good, you seemed a little out of it before.” Rosalee sat down in front of him to check him over. “Monroe noticed that you seemed to be having problems with your senses?”

Nick nodded and let her take his pulse.

“How long was I out?”

“A couple hours. You should be able to drop the woge soon. Monroe and I can coach you through it after you eat something.”

Nick agreed silently

“I’ll go get something for you then.” Rosalee glanced towards the front room. “Oh, and Hank’s been pacing a hole in the rug since he got back. Do you think that you’d be up for a visitor?”

“I think I can manage?” Nick could hear the rustling of someone moving in the front room now that he was listening for it. “I probably shouldn’t leave him hanging much longer,” he sighed with a hint of a grin.

Nick sat back and listened as Rosalee stuck her head out the door.

“Hey, he’s awake.”

She slipped out the door, Hank and Monroe took her place. Nick wondered if Monroe had warned Hank what he’d see, because Hank only paused a moment at seeing Nick’s woge.

“Nick!” Hank lowered his voice when he saw Nick wince. “You had me scared to death man.”

“Nothing too unusual then.” Nick smiled.

“Oh, don’t even.” Hank plopped into one of the chairs across from the couch. “And why are you squinting at me like that? Have I really changed so much?”

“You’re not blind or anything right?” Monroe leaned against the other chair. “You seemed to be having trouble earlier so I wasn’t sure-”

“I’m not blind Monroe.” Nick cut off his rambling. “But my vision is different, so I’m still adjusting.”

“How so?” Monroe asked, curious.

“It’s like…” Nick closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to find the words. “Like I can still see light, but that’s taken a back seat, like that’s not the priority anymore. Movement though, that’s really sharp, and heat too.”

“You’ve got heat vision?” Hank raised his eyebrows.

Nick shrugged.

“I guess so?”

“We’ll have to take that on a test run then.” Monroe grinned.

“A test run? Like what?”

“I was thinking of taking you into the woods tomorrow, so that you can get a hang of all this. We can get a better, well, sense of your new senses too.”

“Speaking of, you can’t go in to work tomorrow.” Rosalee interjected as she set a bowl of reheated soup in front of Nick. “Honestly, you should get a whole week off, at least.”

“What?” Nick protested. “I’m-”

“Someone who just learned how to woge, yes you are.” She stared until he shut his mouth. “You’re going to need some time to recuperate and learn to get a handle on this. You don’t want to woge in the middle of the precinct do you?”

Nick mouthed a few words, but didn’t manage to give any of them a voice before he looked down at the carpet. Hank laughed and patted Nick on the shoulder.

“Look, I know that taking off work is essentially a punishment for you, I’m the same way man. But don’t worry, I’ve already told the captain that you came down with something.”

“Thanks Hank.” Nick ran a hand through his hair, careful to avoid clawing his scalp.

Hank still gripped his shoulder, and he was looking Nick in the eye without flinching. Nick could appreciate that at least, he could already tell that people flinching at the sight of him would only be getting worse.

After that, they talked for a bit as Nick scarfed down a late meal. The food smelled good again rather than filling him with nausea, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the first spoonful hit his tongue. Hank went home a few minutes after Nick finished eating, while Monroe and Rosalee stepped away to finish up some work around the shop. So, Nick just sat back and appreciated how much better he felt with some food and water in his system. He decided to focus on that more than anything, he wasn’t quite ready to be left alone with his thoughts on other topics.

Eventually, Monroe stuck his head back through the doorway.

“Hey, ready to try dropping the woge?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Nick turned to face the other chairs as Monroe called Rosalee over.

“So, usually,” Monroe began, “you suppress a woge by suppressing whatever feeling set it off. If you were angry or scared you’d have to calm down, that kind of thing.”

“It’s the same idea as before, just pushing the feeling back this time.” Rosalee added.

Nick nodded. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, remembering the cold feeling. He remembered the way that it had slowed his breath, his pulse, and he tried to push it back. But the feeling didn’t budge. His breath hitched. He pressed harder. Nothing.

Nick swallowed. His growing panic felt oddly distant without a fast heartbeat to punctuate it.

He grit his teeth for another try, and felt a warm hand grasp his. He grabbed hold and felt a smaller hand clutch his other arm. They were warm, so much warmer than him, and he found himself clinging to that warmth. He focused on it, and the cold finally receded. But with it, so did the imposed calm.

His heartbeat picked up and so did his breathing. It seemed too fast. Was it fast? He’d been woged for hours, could he even remember what his heartbeat was supposed to sound like? He coughed. His throat was so dry all of the sudden, he-

Monroe snapped his fingers right in front of Nick’s nose, startling him. Nick opened his eyes.

“Hey, Nick, look at me. You’re okay.”

His vision swam as he readjusted. Eventually, Monroe’s face solidified in the swirling colors.

“There you go, now just breathe for a second, that’s all you’ve got to do, just breathe.”

Nick nodded and did exactly that. It took a few minutes, and some careful coaching, but Nick managed to get his breathing under control. He sighed and slumped backwards, exhausted. Monroe patted his arm.

“There you go, how are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Maybe you should stay with us tonight,” Rosalee suggested. “I’d like to keep an eye on you if we can.”

Nick considered turning the offer down, then he thought about trying to do anything in his current state, and he gave in.

“Only if it’s no trouble.”

Chapter Text

Nick woke to a full-body ache worse than he’d ever experienced, and Monroe humming. He grumbled and tried to get comfortable, vaguely recognizing that he was in the guest bed at Monroe’s house. The cozy ignorance of sleep drifted away from him, despite his efforts to pull it back over him. He sat up and grunted at the pain. The humming downstairs stopped.

“Nick? You up?”

“Kind of.” Nick sighed, shaking his head.

Monroe appeared in the doorway a few moments later, holding a small bottle.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

Nick could've sworn that Monroe’s chipper morning attitude was making his headache worse. But he realized that, despite everything, his head didn’t hurt quite as much as it had yesterday.

“Better, but sore.” He decided.

Monroe handed him the small bottle and Nick stared at it blankly.

“Drink this, Rosalee made it before she headed to the shop. It should help with the pain.”

“Then what?” Nick unstoppered the bottle and swallowed its contents in one gulp. He frowned at the lingering, earthy taste of it.

“Then I’m going to finish packing lunch and we are going to the woods. You’ve got to learn to get a hang of that woge of yours. So get dressed, we’ll head out in a couple minutes!”

Nick dragged himself out of bed and reached for the change of clothes that he’d grabbed from his house the night before. Soon enough, he found himself in the car next to Monroe, surprised by how much pain had vanished already. He’d have to remember to thank Rosalee. His phone dinged and he found a new text from Hank.

Hank: How are you doing today, partner?
Nick: Ok, sore, Monroe’s taking me to the woods to train for a bit.
How’s the case?
Hank: Looking into leads on a suspect.
I’ll keep you updated.
Nick: Thanks, appreciate it.

Monroe parked in one of the lots by a hiking trail and they hiked into the woods for a few minutes. Nick let the calm of the woods slink into him as they walked. They eventually veered off the trail to get somewhere a bit more private. Monroe dropped the basket containing their lunches on a stump and looked around.

“This seems perfect.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Nick asked as he glanced around at the greenery.

“You practice woging, and I try to help.” Monroe stated. He rubbed his hands together and turned in place. “Right, well, where to start… Uh, how about the difference between a woge and a full woge? That’s as good a start as any.”

“Right,” Nick murmured, thinking back. “At the Spice Shop, Hank could see me.”

“Exactly, see that was a full woge. First woge’s a full woge usually.”

“So how do I… not full woge?”

“Well, it’s kind of a feeling thing. A full woge is usually when you’re trying to show yourself, or you’re in danger, or having control issues… Just, keep what that felt like in your mind. If you get a regular woge today, you can compare the feeling of it.”

“Okay.” It was honestly such a slew of sensations that Nick wasn’t sure how many comparisons he’d be able to make, but he’d try.

“Now, next bit, you’re going to woge and we’re going to try to figure out what exactly you can do and how to manage it.”

“How?”

“It’s still feelings dude,” Monroe smiled lightly. “It’s a bit of a theme with these things. Remember how you felt yesterday, then try to feel that again. That should work to start.”

Nick sighed and closed his eyes to focus. He internally reached out, but didn’t find anything. The cold was gone. The emptiness of it shocked him and he opened one eye.

“It’s not working.”

“Try again.”

A pause.

“Still not working.”

“Well, give it more than five seconds!” Monroe exclaimed.

Nick shrugged. What he could feel was a growing restlessness that he recognized from being away from work. He was already tempted to call Hank, just to check in and see if he had any new leads.

“Maybe I’ve already gotten control of it, or maybe it’s just a life-or-death reaction thing.” Nick suggested.

“More like it’s a bit harder to woge when you’re not stressed out.” Monroe corrected. “Look, I can see that you’re already restless, but you’ve got to get this figured out Nick. Now’s a lot better of a time to screw up than when you’re dealing with a suspect or something.”

“I know, I know.”

Nick closed his eyes again. He remembered how his breathing had changed, so he tried to slow it down again. Long, slow, even breaths. After a few moments, he got a hint, like a puff of cold air. He reached for it, and the woge crashed over him before he had a chance to react.

Nick lurched, but Monroe caught his arm.

“Woah, woah, careful.” He got Nick stable on his own feet before he continued. “Now, open your eyes, but do it slowly. Your senses may still be a lot. Take it slow.”

Nick didn’t open his eyes, not at first. Instead, he focused on the sounds. The forest had seemed so quiet, almost muffled before. Now, the sounds buffeted his ears. But, as he adjusted, he could pick out every rustle of a leaf and note of birdsong.

He stood a bit straighter and tilted his head to listen. He heard Monroe’s breathing, his heartbeat, the leaves and twigs crunching under their feet. He heard wind hiss through the grass as it applauded through the leaves. He heard the pitter-patter heartbeat of something in the tree next to them, a squirrel maybe?

His hearing had improved after his run-in with the Jinnamuru Xunte, but this was an entirely new level.

Nick opened his eyes to check whether it was a squirrel or not, but found himself stumbling again with the vertigo. He swallowed back the wavering nausea to tilt his head up and squint at the branches over his head. His depth of field, it was different. He hadn’t been able to tell at the shop. He frowned.

His eyes locked onto a spur of movement, only to realize that it was just the branches swaying. Then, he spotted a slight glow, heat? He watched it move behind the leaves, then skitter out onto a longer branch. He smiled, it was a squirrel.

Monroe, who’d been giving him a moment to adjust, spoke up, but kept his voice low.

“Havin’ fun there?”

“Yeah,” Nick admitted. He dragged his vision back down to Earth. He turned in place to take in the view. He’d never realized how much the forest moved before.

“What are your senses like? Vision and hearing seemed to give you the most trouble back in the shop.”

“Yeah it’s, it’s pretty different.” Nick watched the squirrel. “My hearing is a lot better, even more than before. I can hear your heartbeat, his too.” He pointed up.

Monroe looked and laughed.

“Huh, would you look at that? And your vision?”

“That’s… harder to describe,” Nick murmured. “Like I said at the shop, I can still see normally, but the focus seems different. Movement is the clearest, and I’m pretty sure that I can see heat.” He glanced at Monroe and spotted a vague glow. “Also, my depth of field is weird, I’m not sure what to make of it.”

Monroe was smiling.

“That’s awesome man, what about your sense of smell? Is that any better?”

Nick sniffed the air, but shook his head.

“If it’s any different, then it’s not by much.”

“Alright, so vision and hearing and you’ve got to learn control.” Monroe listed. “I’ve got at least one idea then. You know that big rock just off the trail? The one that people graffiti sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“I want you to run there and back. First time, just do it and use your senses. Practice with them and see how it all feels.”

“And after that?”

“Let’s just start with this.”

Nick sighed and turned to face where he remembered the rock to be. He took a deep breath, and ran. He didn’t sprint all out, figuring that he’d be doing this a couple of times, but a few moments into the run, worries about what Monroe had in store for him slipped from his mind.

The run was… exhilarating. The senses were overwhelming, but as he ran, he adjusted. He was more aware of his environment than he’d ever been. Every leaf stood out crystal clear as each footfall launched him forward. As he approached the rock, he cast those senses out. He didn’t hear anyone around, so he skidded to a stop to catch his breath. Not that he really needed it. He grinned, adrenaline pounded through his system, and yet he still felt the strange, certain calm that his woge brought.

Like a hunter in their element.

Nick turned on his heel and took off for the return trip. His breathing had only barely increased, and his heart beat stronger, but not much faster. He knew that he was running faster and quieter than before, but his eventual skid to a clumsy stop was the only warning that Monroe got of his return.

The Blutbad jumped as Nick laughed.

“Have a good time?” Monroe guessed.

“That was insane.” Nick climbed to his feet. “What’s next?”

“Something that won’t be quite as fun, I think.” Monroe warned. “I want you to run that same route, but this time you gotta keep yourself from woging.”

“Oh, should be easy enough.” Nick’s confidence was… wavering, but he could run pretty well anyway so he figured that he could pull it off.

“Well, first you’ve got to drop this woge.” Monroe reminded him.

“Right.”

Nick hurriedly closed his eyes and tried to remember how he’d dropped his woge last time. Warmth, remembering warmth. He remembered the way that the warmth had returned, then the panic…

He shook his head to focus again. The cold brought calm, control, awareness, whether he wanted it or not. But, he had to push it back. It was like voluntarily stepping out from a place that felt safe into something more dangerous. Determined, Nick grit his teeth and let himself get a little angry instead. Then it’d make more sense for his heart to pound.

He rode that wave, he found it followed by warmth and he breathed through it. He blinked and adjusted to his usual vision again.

“Not bad, man.” Monroe patted him on the shoulder. “See, you’re already getting better at that!”

“Now I just gotta run there and back without woging, right?” Nick muttered to himself.

He glared into the woods, took a breath, and ran without thinking about it too long. He blinked furiously when his vision changed. He trudged back to Monroe, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up.

Dropping the woge was a bit faster at least, then he took off again.

Nick made it a little further before the cold crept up the back of his throat, behind his eyes, and even stretched to his fingertips. He tried to shake it off, but only made it a few more steps before it surged through his body. It knocked him to the ground.

He cursed, choked the woge back down, and kept going. He made it to the rock, looped around it, and felt the cold again halfway back. He fought it. He tried to remember warmth, even the sweat on his forehead, but that only got him so far. He stumbled back to Monroe and woged again.

“You’ve got this!” Monroe offered.

Nick barely looked up, he just dropped the woge and turned to try again.

Long, deep breaths slowed everything down too much. Nick’s breathing was already slow for a human being, he didn’t need help with that. And he’d already noticed that trying to control his breathing by breathing even slower only brought the cold ever closer. Instead, he tried to breathe a little faster, quick but measured breaths. He focused on that, he circled the rock. He focused on his heartbeat, he was nearly there- He could see Monroe, and the cold knocked him to the ground. It sent him stumbling to the starting point, woged.

He found himself on his back, staring up as Monroe appeared in his line of sight.

“Felt different that time.” He noticed after a moment. “I don’t think that this is a full woge.”

“Probably a good place to stop for the day then.” Monroe decided. “Or else you will be feeling it later. Let’s eat and get out of here.”

Nick got upright, dropped his woge, and dug into the sandwich that Monroe had offered him. The sandwich disappeared quickly, alongside a bottle of water. He sipped at a second one and sat back to listen as Monroe chatted about a recent clock repair in between bites of his own lunch.

By the time they stood to leave, Nick felt better than he had in days. He was tired, still, but his aches were suppressed for the time being and he felt focused. He sidled up beside Monroe as they walked back towards the car.

“So,” he started. “I’m actually feeling pretty good about all of this.”

“And you’re doing a lot better.” Monroe agreed. “But-”

“I’m sure that Hank could use a hand on this case, and I can’t exactly disappear for a week in the middle of it,” Nick argued.

“How about resting for more than a day?” Monroe suggested, dryly. “Nick, this is the kind of thing that gets Wessen kids outta school for at least a week, if not longer. I know that you’re not exactly a kid, nor a typical Wessen-woge experience but dude, you gotta slow down. Losing control is terrifying, and you work a very high-stress job where losing control is a very real and dangerous risk!”

Nick opened his mouth to argue further, to talk about how work calmed his restlessness most of the time, but his phone buzzed to interrupt him. He sighed and checked it. He’d just gotten signal back, so a few backed-up messages and notifications came through at once. A text from Hank stood out.

Hank: Got a lead.
Are you still in the woods with Monroe? The suspect might be in the area.
Stay safe, keep an eye out.

Under the messages was a mugshot of a clean-shaven man with longish gray-black hair and empty eyes. Nick cursed under his breath and showed the image to Monroe.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Monroe picked up the pace with Nick trailing closely behind. Things were tense and silent for a few minutes. But, even without his new abilities, Nick’s hearing surpassed most others. He stopped.

“Wha-”

“Shhh!”

Nick turned just in time to see a now-familiar face burst from the foliage, a smaller shape vanished a few yards ahead of him. The suspect skidded to a stop and woged with a snarl. A Hundjäger, his eyes widened.

Nick cursed, his hand went for a holster that wasn’t there. The man bolted.

“Hey!” Nick plunged into the trees after him.

Back into the green, the trees, the bushes, and logs to leap over, the suspect was fast and sure-footed but Nick was gaining.

His heart hammered as if indecisive whether it should speed up or slow down. Nick’s eyes stayed on the suspect, too focused on that to control his breathing.

The cold returned.

Running was one thing, chasing someone turned out to be something else entirely.

Nick zeroed in on the suspect. He darted around a tree. He heard harsh, growling breaths. He ducked under a branch. He heard a heartbeat so much faster than his own. He tackled the suspect from behind. He heard the breath knocked free.

It all came back in a wheezing gasp. Nick’s were silent. He knelt on the suspect’s back and legs, pinning one of the suspect’s arms under his body. Nick held the other arm down, while his other hand found the back of the suspect’s throat.

Nick stared at his own claws, black as the markings on his skin. They dug into the suspect’s neck, they drew small beads of blood. The suspect grunted, and for a moment, Nick wanted to dig them in further. He wanted to finish it, he wanted to finish the hunt.

Nick hissed a curse and shook his head. He forced his grip to loosen, so a twitch wouldn’t threaten more blood spilled, without releasing his hold completely. He stayed like that, muscles frozen rather than risk making another move. Monroe caught up a minute later.

“Monroe-” Nick whispered. “Can you- take him for a second, please, I’ve got to-”

He shook his head again and Monroe seemed to understand. He stooped to take Nick’s position, and gently nudged the Grimm away.

“I’ve got this, go, walk it off.”

Nick released his tense muscles and stumbled away, intent on putting a few trees between himself and the suspect on the ground.

<><><><><>

Hank crashed through the undergrowth and spotted Monroe, sitting on top of his suspect. Monroe grinned.

“Fancy meeting you here!”

Hank eyed the scene.

“Where’s Nick?”

Monroe’s expression sobered.

“Over there,” he nodded in the general direction. “Try not to startle him.”

Hank went after his partner. He found Nick leaning his forehead against a tree with his eyes closed. Hank scuffed his feet on the leaf litter as he approached. Nick twitched. Was he woging? He didn’t look it, but it could’ve been one of those invisible-to-humans ones. Hank took another step forward.

“You alright there Nick?”

“Fine,” Nick grumbled. He didn’t look up.

Hank took a few more steps until he could see the tension in Nick’s shoulders.

“Maybe you should stay back.” Nick rasped.

“Nah, I’m here to help you.” Hank put a cautious hand on Nick’s shoulder. Once it was there, he tightened it to a firmer grip. “You’re okay.”

Nick nodded and breathed. Hank felt the pulse under his hand increase. Finally, Nick sighed and turned to face him. He looked tired, but okay.

“Thank you.”

“No problem partner, now let’s go arrest that guy so Monroe doesn’t have to sit on him any longer.”

<><><><><>

Once the suspect was handcuffed, Hank hefted him off the ground and the odd group headed back through the woods to find a trail. Finding one, they followed it for a few minutes until it forked, one path heading back to where Monroe had parked, the other back to where Hank had parked.

Nick hesitated, then followed Hank. Monroe paused.

“Nick, you’re supposed to rest.” Monroe sighed. “Besides, didn’t you call off work for the next few days?”

“I can’t just leave Hank to deal with this case by himself.” Nick insisted, then he glanced at the suspect, who’d been quiet the whole time but glared at Nick with some combination of confusion and fear. Nick stepped away so that he and Monroe could talk out of earshot. “Besides, the last few woges haven’t been full woges. And I’ve been feeling better. I swear, I’ll be fine.”

Monroe glanced questioningly back at Hank, who shrugged.

“I can let him get back to work, or lock him out of the car, it’s your call man.” Hank called out.

“Hey!”

Ignoring Nick, Monroe sighed. He knew the guy pretty well at this point, and Nick did not stay still well, especially with a case on his mind. It’d be a miracle to actually get him to relax at home or rest for more than a day or so. In other words, short of he or Rosalee keeping an eye on him 24/7, or just drugging him, Monroe doubted that they’d get Nick to rest for much longer. And, there were people at the precinct that could keep an eye on him right?

“Fine,” he decided. “But, if you start feeling any nausea, or pain, or if the headaches come back, or-”

“I’ll go straight to the Spice Shop.” Nick agreed.

“Alright, go, keep me updated if anything happens. And don’t do anything stupid, or Rosalee will kill both of us.” Monroe relented.

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Hank promised.

Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his friends. They were acting like worried parents. His gaze landed on the suspect again, and Nick spotted the red marks peeking past the side of his neck. He shook off the chilling feeling. They had no reason to worry, he could handle this.

He followed Hank to his car, still brushing off the concern. He had work to do, after all. So, Nick climbed into the passenger seat and made himself ignore how his hands were still shaking.

Chapter Text

Hank went to get the suspect processed, leaving Nick to drop his stuff off at his desk. The precinct was busy enough that no one stopped to talk to him beyond a friendly nod or two. Nick couldn’t decide if he preferred the quiet or if he’d welcome the distraction of some commotion.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Hank called him to the interrogation room. They stepped aside and Nick glanced through the mirrored window at the suspect sitting in the room itself.

“We got his DNA from some of the blood at the scene.” Hank summarized. “Malcolm McCormick, 43. A few tickets and minor offenses got us his car, and that car was spotted at the park where we found him.”

“He’s also a Hundjäger.” Nick added.

“Good to know.”

“Alright,” Nick fell into routine easily, already sorting through what he knew. “You lead, I’ll follow?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They stepped into the room. The suspect barely looked up, only risking a glance at Nick before he cooly returned his gaze to the table.

“Alright Malcolm,” Hank slid into a chair.

Nick stood behind him after deciding that he was too restless to sit.

“You ran, we caught you, think you’re gonna talk?” Hank kept his tone calm and reasonable. “It’d be doing all of us a favor, including you.”

The suspect sat back and watched the two detectives. He didn’t meet their eyes. Instead, he found some detail on the wall behind them to stare down.

“I think that you’re making him nervous, partner.” Hank’s tone shifted.

Malcolm’s eyes flashed with worry. Nick leaned on the table to wordlessly put a bit more pressure on the suspect. Now Malcolm was putting some effort into keeping his gaze away.

“I know, how about we go over some of the charges we’ve got you in for? Just in case we’ve got something wrong.” Hank slid the file between them. “Suspected murder of a 16-year-old girl, anything to say about that Malcolm? Did you kill her, or do we have it all wrong?”

Nick fixated on the suspect’s face, searching for reactions, maybe even the flicker of a nervous woge. He could hear Hank next to him, getting more worked up despite his still-calm exterior. He continued down the list of charges. The suspect’s heartbeat kept fluttering with panic.

Nick listened, enraptured. He remembered the woods. He remembered the feeling of the man’s throat between his claws, prey he never got to finish off-

Hank elbowed Nick in the ribs. Nick blinked. The lights of the interrogation room glinted off of the suspect’s sweat-covered forehead, his hands were shaking, and his gaze was locked on Nick. It was like Nick was a spider that he didn’t want to lose track of. Nick blinked again and turned to Hank.

“Come here for a second.” Hank pulled him from the room and kept a hand on his arm as he turned Nick to face him. “A bit too intense in there buddy, whatever you’re doing to him ain’t working. He can’t talk if he’s petrified like that.”

Nick shook his head to clear it, but the cold lingered. He hadn’t even noticed it coming back.

“Sorry, I don’t know what that was.” He breathed.

Hank frowned, noted how out of it his partner still seemed to be, then sighed.

“Just go walk it off alright? I’ll finish this up.”

Nick nodded. Hank returned to the interrogation room. Nick shook his head again and wandered down the hallway. What was that? It was like some kind of literal killer instincts looming up out of nowhere he- if the suspect had been prey then what-

He grumbled to himself as he walked. The sounds of everyone around the precinct scraped at his amped-up nerves so he headed for a quieter hallway. He found it empty, the far end dimmed thanks to an out light.

Nick sighed and let his forehead rest against the cool brick of the wall. He closed his eyes. His heartbeat still crept slower than any human. It made him feel so, deceptively, calm. Calm, in control, cold. The feeling lingered. It lingered in a way that he couldn’t just shake off. And he couldn’t even work up the fear he should be feeling at the lack of control, because he didn’t feel out of control.

Calm smothered him.

He shook his head. Why couldn’t he get rid of this, he-

“Nick, you alright there?”

Wu had appeared at the end of the hallway, Nick hadn’t noticed his approach. He whipped around and watched his vision change as Wu’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Nick swore under his breath and backed up. He clung to the jolt of adrenaline to pull himself together and he felt the warmth return as he leaned against the wall.

He dared to glance at Wu, only to be surprised by how neutral Wu looked. He’d closed his mouth and raised an eyebrow, but still looked more like Nick had played an annoying prank than anything.

“Um, may I ask, what the hell was that?” Wu asked eventually.

“It was a woge, Wu.”

“I was specifically told that you’re not Wessen.” He griped.

“Turns out, Grimms are. It’s just more... distant?”

“And you found out thanks to…?” Wu gestured vaguely towards Nick. “That?”

“More or less.”

“Huh.” After a pause, Wu smirked. “Hell of a headache, you good now?”

“Yeah,” Nick cleared some of the roughness from his throat. “I’m good, fine.”

Wu didn’t call him out on his bluff, but took a step forward to hand over a folder.

“I was looking for Hank, but here’s the background on our suspect. Hank was asking for it.”

“I’ll get it to him.” Nick promised.

“Good, great, well,” Wu turned to leave. “Keep an eye out for yourself alright? Don’t get any more weird if you can help it.”

“Sure,” Nick half laughed as he rubbed his face. “I’ll try.”

Nick spent another moment alone. He focused on his breathing, on the warmth in his hands and face, on the lack of claws at his fingertips. Then he sighed and made his way back to his desk. He dropped the file onto its surface and was about to sit down when he heard someone approaching, still a bit louder than it should be. He turned and saw the captain.

“Doing okay there Burkhardt? Griffin said that you might be out for a couple of days.”

Nick plastered a tight smile onto his face and hoped that it looked more genuine than it felt. The amount of people asking after his well-being recently was reassuring, at least. He just didn’t want to think too much about how he was feeling.

“I’m doing fine. Looks like it was just a quick bug, you know how it is.”

The captain maintained a suspiciously neutral expression, but granted him a small nod like he was letting it slide.

“Alright, that’s good to hear. But, if you still need anything, do let me know Nick.”

“Of course sir.”

Nick waited for Captain Renard to return to his office before he let himself sink into his desk chair. He already felt more drained than he ever had while at work, and it was barely 3 P.M. He shook off the thought that maybe another day of rest might’ve been a good idea and reached for the file instead.

He flipped through the pages, skimming for important details and wondering if Hank had any hunches that he was pursuing. Most of the information was stuff that they could follow up on if needed, past addresses, some known associates, past contacts with contact information of their own. Nick thought back to that body in the parking garage… yesterday? Had that really been only yesterday?

He rubbed at his temples, reached for a coffee that wasn’t there, sighed, and went back to studying the files. Hank emerged from the interrogation room a few minutes later. Nick looked up from the file.

“You get something?” He asked.

“Not much.” Hank sat on the corner of Nick’s desk. “He won’t drop any names, but he was definitely not working alone, for one thing.”

He eyed the file, open on Nick’s desk. Nick nodded.

“Background stuff that Wu tracked down, might help.”

“It sure will, but I’m thinking that we’ll also need some legwork on this one.” He paused to flip through the file in the same way Nick had. He frowned at the list of names like it’d give him answers if he was stern enough with it. “I have a hunch that Malcolm and whoever his friends are may not be done yet.”

“You think that they’re going after someone else?”

Hank nodded.

“That or they had something out for the victim specifically. This wasn't random. It might be one group hunting another group, could be Wessen-related like you said. And if that’s the case, I don’t want a whole group of victims turning up dead.”

“So we need to act fast. Do you know why he was in the woods?”

“No clue,” Hank shrugged. “It could be a meeting place, or a hiding place. He could've been lost out there for all we know. But his car hasn't been moved, just in case that draws someone else in.”

“We can start there then, a quick search of the area.” Nick stood and blinked back the dizziness. He grabbed his coat as if he weren’t holding the chair for a bit of extra balance.

“Are you up for a search in the woods right now?” Hank asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m up for having fewer people around.” Nick admitted.

“Fair enough, fair enough. Just let me know.” Hank gathered his own coat and keys. “Do you want to get Monroe to come help?”

“Already calling him,” Nick put his phone up to his ear as they headed out the door.

<><><><><>

Monroe met them at the trailhead and kept a critical eye on Nick the whole walk to where Hank had first spotted Malcolm. Nick ignored the concern to the best of his ability. Instead, he let himself relax a bit, back in the woods and away from the bustling precinct. Next, Nick glanced around and replayed his own encounter with Malcolm in his head. Maybe he could find some new information if he could just remember a useful detail… but nothing stood out to him.

It had been fast and unexpected, he hadn’t had a chance to see much before he was worrying about the chase or his own woge. Then he realized that they’d reached the very spot where the encounter had happened. He paused to look around.

Being back in the spot helped bring more details to his recollection of it. The angles of branches, scuffs in the dirt, even a few scattered leaves jumped to his attention. He wandered over to where he’d been standing before and turned to face where Malcolm had emerged from. He remembered the moment itself, then the chase, but had there been a second shape? One ahead of Malcolm, a smaller one…

Nick felt himself go cold, but it wasn't a woge this time.

“Nick? What is it?” Monroe asked.

“There was a kid, Malcolm was chasing a kid. I didn’t notice, I-” Nick stared up at the sky between the branches. “There could be a kid out here, alone, and we only have a few hours of sunlight left.”

Monroe and Hank sobered as they sat with the implications. Then Hank took charge and started laying out a search plan. With Nick’s direction, Monroe checked the area for a scent trail. Monroe didn’t seem optimistic though.

“No luck?” Nick felt his heart sink, already grasping at the time it’d take to search the whole forest.

“Not exactly. I think that I might have something, but it’s just a trace. There are a lot of scents in the forest, you know.”

“Any kind of direction helps here Monroe, seriously.” Nick helped him to his feet. “So, where are we headed?”

Monroe woged and took another deep breath. Then, he headed off in a direction parallel to where Nick had chased the suspect down earlier that day. Nick gestured for Hank to follow, but found him already close by.

Monroe’s progress crept along the forest floor with frequent pauses as he struggled to keep track of the scent. Nick and Hank kept their heads on swivels. They couldn’t track a smell, but they could look out for another victim, or another suspect. Monroe stopped, sniffed, and grumbled in frustration.

“Lost it, again!” He stalked back the direction they’d come from in an attempt to pick the trail back up. “It’s almost like this kid knows how to avoid leaving a scent trail!” He rustled around in the undergrowth as Hank frowned at the comment.

“Hey Nick, what kind of Wessen is our suspect again?”

“Hundjäger.”

“Can those track at all?”

“They can…”

“Not as well as Blutbaden, usually.” Monroe grumbled.

“True, but yes, Hundjäger have good noses.” Nick rubbed his face, paused. “And they tend to go for the throat, just like we saw in our first victim.”

“So, what if this kid knows what they’re up against?” Hank suggested.

“Could be, they could be Wessen themselves, the first victim too.”

“Well, that doesn’t help me much.” Monroe straightened. “But I’ve got a trace again, let’s go.”

Monroe’s stops only got more frequent as they continued, and the lighting got steadily worse until they were stumbling over anything not visible in the circles of Nick and Hank’s flashlights.

Nick tripped over another branch and caught himself. He noticed a trickling cold beyond that of the chilly night and shook his head. The cold grew as the sun sank. Monroe shouted and it snapped Nick out of the feeling, for a second at least.

“I knew it!” Monroe reappeared in their circles of light. He held a small clump of leaves up for them to see. “Wolfsbane! That’s why the scent’s so hard to pin down! I could still pick up on a little, and there isn’t much of it, so maybe they’re a little short on resources, but…” Monroe’s victory at solving that particular mystery dampened when he realized how little it helped the situation at hand. “But, the kid’s still out there and the trail isn’t getting clearer.”

Monroe turned to stare into the dark woods like he would see something that could give them some direction. Nick looked too, trunks and branches lit up by flashlight beams, and beyond that the darkening shadows of every other tree in the woods.

Wind rustled the branches and the shadows moved. The occasional twig broke or leaf fell. A bird stirred in its nest a few feet away. Nick shook his head. The sounds crashed into his ears, too loud. He closed his eyes against the suddenly-harsh flashlights. He focused on breathing, quickly but evenly. Hank’s hand gripped his shoulder. Nick focused on the warmth.

“Nick?” Hank’s voice was warm too.

“It’s worse.” Nick groaned. “I think that the dark is making it worse.” He opened one eye but still cringed at the light.

“A nocturnal hunter then,” Monroe gestured to himself, then Nick. “I know what that’s like, bud.”

“You deal with this every night?” Nick gasped.

“I mean it’s worse for me on moons, but…” he glanced at Nick and sighed. He met Nick’s gaze. “Dude, I have dealt with this my whole life, you’ve had a day and a half. Predatory instincts aren’t a small thing to adjust to. Take a minute, catch your breath.”

Nick nodded, crouched down, and closed his eyes again.

Right, the wilderness, the night, the chase earlier probably didn’t help. He wasn’t some animal, some creature right? He wasn’t looking for prey, he didn’t want- His eyes snapped open. He stared at the ground. He wasn’t looking for prey, but he was looking for something. He looked up, still barely fighting the woge just under the surface. The wave of near-change that he’d seen countless times in stressed Wessen passed over his own face and he shuddered.

He shook it off the best he could and focused on Monroe, who’d dropped his own woge for a moment.

“I could help…” He said out loud.

“Oh.” Monroe realized it too. “If, if you think that you could hold yourself back enough to not scare the kid, yeah.”

“Think that you could help me with that?” Nick wheezed.

“Hunting with a Grimm huh?” Monroe looked skyward. “Every Blutbad I know would have a conniption if they found out about this.” He laughed. “But yeah, I’ll try to hold you back if you need it, just don’t kill me alright?”

“I’ll try not to.” Nick grunted, then released the breath he’d been holding, and let his woge happen.

His breath vanished into the air, his heartbeat crawled. A shiver of cold followed his spine, then ran down his arms and legs. He opened his eyes and gasped. Most of the color had vanished from his vision outside of their flashlight beams. It left gray shapes, much further out than he could see before, and the warm-colored heat of his friends. It wasn’t necessarily an actual color, not orange or red, but something that told him ‘warm’ all the same.

Nick blinked a few times to adjust to his depth of field. He flicked off his flashlight with his thumb. Then he glanced at the now-woged Monroe with a nod. They glanced back at Hank in unison and he suppressed a shudder.

“Well, that’s terrifying,” he sighed. Then he gestured ahead. “Try not to leave me too far behind.”

Nick and Monroe met gazes again, then Monroe took the lead and they darted off into the trees.

Chapter Text

The entire forest loomed around Nick in shades of gray as he followed Monroe through it. Without the flashlights leading the way, he found that he could see more. He could pick out precise shapes, duck under low branches, and avoid the underbrush striving to trip him up. So this was night vision then, sharper than any camera he’d seen and laid out in grayscale. Monroe stood out, with each movement, and his only rising temperature.

Their pace varied. Monroe still struggled to keep a consistent hold on the scent. Nick watched and listened for other signs. He started noticing a physical trail, broken twigs, a scattered footprint, or a smear of mud. Nick took the lead whenever Monroe started to hesitate until he’d caught a new hint of the scent trail to follow. The two of them fell into a rhythm where they traded their lead back and forth. Whoever had the stronger trail took the front.

Nick launched from a fallen log to clear a small stream. He landed without a sound. He and Monroe made little to no noise, even if Nick could hear his own footsteps. Hank's were a bit further behind them, and much louder. Nick found a series of footprints and took the lead. He heard Monroe fall into the new position. These footprints looked different. It wasn’t their size or shape, instead, as it took Nick a moment to realize, it was a lingering heat. The slightest, residual warmth clung to the dirt.

His ears perked, and he cringed at the odd sensation. But there was a new sound, breathing. It was fast, maybe panicked.

“I hear breathing,” he murmured. His voice scratched like a leafless branch in the wind.

Monroe hung back as Nick crept closer to the sounds and listened for more. The breathing fought to stop, to calm, but it just hitched and got worse. A dozen meters away, Nick spotted a flicker of heat, curled up amongst the leaves remaining on a fallen tree. He held out a hand to stop Monroe.

“Stay back with Hank, I don’t want to scare them.”

“Will you be okay?” Monroe asked.

Nick took inventory of himself, the slow, the cold, and the sharp. He felt more alert than he had in a long time. But, where the drive to kill had lingered before, he found only concern. It was concern for a kid out here alone, not prey to be hunted, but someone vulnerable to be protected. Nick nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he rasped. “It’s a kid, I just want to help them.”

“Alright, shout if you need me.”

Monroe vanished from Nick’s side and Nick continued his slow creep forward. Once he was close enough, he stopped and forced his woge back down. He was plunged into darkness, and flicked his flashlight back on, but kept it pointed down to preserve whatever non-woged night vision he still had. Then he approached the fallen tree.

Knocked down but still leafy, the branches created a protective bush, a perfect hiding place. Nick dragged his feet through the leaf litter. He didn’t need his enhanced senses to hear a breath catch.

“Hey, are you okay?” Nick kept his voice as soft as he could. “My name is Nick, I’m a detective with the police. I think that I saw you earlier today, did you see me?” Nick stopped moving forward. “What’s your name?”

No response emerged from the branches, besides maybe a slight shift. Nick couldn’t see anything in the low light.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I’m here to help okay? Is it alright if I get a bit closer?”

Another silence, Nick went over the next few questions in his head, trying to decide what the best course of action might be. Then he heard two small knocks.

“Was that a yes?”

There were two more knocks, they sounded like a fist on wood.

“I’m taking that as a yes, so I’m going to get closer now. Let me know if you want me to stop.”

Nick stepped closer to the bush, then lowered himself to sit in front of it. Even with his flashlight pointed down, the light reflecting off of the scattered leaves finally gave him his first proper look at the kid.

A boy, maybe ten years old, sat hunched under the branches. He had wide eyes and dirty clothes. His brown hair was long enough to get in his eyes and stuck up in places like it hadn’t been combed in a while. He held an oversized jacket tightly around himself as he stared at Nick.

“Wanna tell me your name?” Nick tried again.

The kid regarded him for another minute before he slowly began to gesture with his hand. It took Nick a moment to recognize it as fingerspelling.

“Oh, are you hard of hearing? Or deaf maybe?” Nick wondered if the kid had been trying to read his lips in the dark, but the kid shook his head.

“Mute?”

A nod.

“Okay, I apologize, my fingerspelling is a bit rusty. Can you show me that again?”

He did, repeating the word a couple of times until Nick figured it out.

“Milo? Is that your name?”

Milo nodded, with a hint of an excited smile.

“Nice to meet you Milo, like I said, my name is Nick.”

Nick offered a hand and the kid shook it. Nick grinned.

“Well Milo, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get somewhere inside and warm. Is that okay with you?”

The boy hesitated, but nodded.

“Do you think that you can walk?”

That got a shrug.

“Want me to carry you?”

Milo glanced at Nick’s shoulders.

“A piggyback ride?”

That got an excited nod. Nick smiled again, shifted into a crouch, then turned his back so Milo could climb on. Once the kid was secure, Nick stood and made his way back towards the others. He kept talking as he walked, both to comfort Milo and to let Hank and Monroe know that they were coming.

“I’ve got two friends here with me okay? Their names are Monroe and Hank, and they’re here to help too.”

He felt Milo nod against his back.

“All good?” Hank asked once he caught sight of them.

“I’ve got him. We should head back.”

“Is he hurt?”

“Not that I could tell.”

Monroe sniffed the air for traces of blood and shook his head. Nick felt Milo tense and gripped his leg in what he hoped would be a comforting gesture. Monroe wasn’t woged, but Milo seemed to have noticed the scenting.

<><><><><>

The walk back was far too long, fairly cold, and incredibly dark. Monroe led the way, Hank prepared a message to send to the captain once they had service again, and Nick kept an eye, or more like an ear, out as he carried the kid. The kid who still seemed tense.

“You okay back there?” He checked, quietly.

One tap on his shoulder.

“Was that a no?”

Two taps.

“Are you hurt?”

One tap.

“Scared?”

Two taps.

Nick remembered the small reaction to Monroe earlier, he shifted his grip to keep the kid from slipping.

“Are you scared of one of us?”

Two taps, after a pause.

“Is it Monroe?” Nick guessed, he nodded towards Monroe so that the kid would know who he was talking about.

He felt a small nod against his back.

“Do you mind if I ask why?” Nick had his suspicion, but he wanted to be sure.

That question got the longest pause yet. Nick started to think that Milo wouldn’t answer at all, when a small hand appeared over his shoulder to fingerspell:

W-o-l-f

“Because he’s Blutbaden?” If the kid knew to use wolfsbane, chances are that he wasn’t human either, or he was at least in the know.

Milo tapped twice.

“It’s okay, they may be scary sometimes, but you don’t have to be scared of Monroe okay? He’ll keep the scary ones away, and we’ll keep you safe Milo.”

Milo’s arms squeezed a bit tighter around Nick’s shoulders.

<><><><><>

By the time that they got back to the precinct, exhaustion weighed down every one of Nick’s steps. Hank’s message had gotten through, so the captain was waiting when Hank and Nick returned. Nick had Milo on his back again, though the kid was still mostly asleep from the car ride. The captain eyed the kid.

“This is him?”

Nick nodded.

“How’d you find him out there?”

Nick was too tired to fully tense up, but still tried to stop it from happening. He didn’t feel like explaining things while dancing around his own woge. Hank, thankfully, answered the question instead.

“Officially or unofficially?”

A small smile flickered across the captain’s face. “Both, if you have them.”

He led them to his office, through the half-empty night shift bullpen. Once they were behind closed doors, Hank continued.

“Monroe helped, along with some Grimm tracking skills.”

“And officially?” Captain Renard glanced appraisingly at Nick, but seemed more focused on the kid than anything.

“We could say that we got a tip from a hiker?” Hank suggested. “And that we were already in the area looking for information on our suspect.”

Captain Renard nodded, then glanced back at Nick.

“Burkhardt.”

Nick snapped to attention, at least as much as he could with a kid on his back.

“Nick,” Renard amended. “You look dead on your feet, head home and get some rest.”

“What about the kid?” Nick blinked the achey tiredness from his eyes.

“I’ve called up an emergency foster home to take him in, Hank mentioned that he might be Wessen?”

Nick nodded, “Pretty sure, and he’s also mute.” He adjusted the weight on his back.

Captain Renard nodded.

“I’ll let them know then, he’ll be fine.” He glanced at his phone. “They should be here in a few minutes, you can set him on the couch for now.”

Nick laid Milo down on the captain’s couch, tossing a throw blanket over him before leaving the office. Hank followed him out as Nick sunk into his own office chair.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

“-just gonna wait till the foster gets here.” Nick yawned.

Hank shrugged and pulled his chair a bit closer. NIck raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll wait too, I’m your ride home aren’t I?”

It took Nick far too long to remember that he hadn’t driven to work that day. He’d been practicing his woge with Monroe just that morning. It felt so long ago already.

“Right, sorry.”

“No big deal, Nick.”

It was in fact only a few minutes before a middle-aged woman bustled into the precinct, headed straight for the captain’s office, and stepped inside after a polite knock. Nick watched her have a brief conversation with the captain. She looked oddly familiar, but Nick couldn’t put a finger on why. Eventually, she stooped next to the couch to lift Milo into her arms, his head resting on her shoulder.

As she left the office, her eyes landed on Nick and she scurried over.

“Detective Burkhardt and Detective Griffin?” She guessed.

“That’d be us.” Hank stood to shake her hand.

“I’m Phoebe, I just wanted to check if you noticed anything about Milo here. Anything that I could use to make him feel more comfortable, you know?” She had a slightly nervous air, but held herself upright despite it. “Besides the mute bit, of course.”

Nick hesitated. The captain had said that he’d mention the Wessen stuff to the foster family, so they’d be in the know. He quickly mentioned Milo’s potential fear of Blutbaden and Hundjägers, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that Phoebe seemed familiar. The foster mom in question eventually picked up on his confusion.

“Oh, the full name is Phoebe Wurstner by the way.” She smiled warmly at Nick. “My husband has told me all about you, but it’s nice to properly meet you in person, Detective.”

“You’re Bud’s wife.” Nick realized with wide eyes.

“Your pies are excellent ma’am,” Hank noted. “I’ve stolen a few slices from Nick here.”

“All of your gifts are very appreciated.” Nick added, relaxing.

Phoebe beamed and accepted the compliments with a gracious nod, adjusting her grip on Milo to keep him secure.

“I’m glad to finally meet the both of you, but of course I don’t want to take up too much of your time! All of us should be getting to bed, and I do mean all of us.”

She glanced meaningfully at Nick, her expression like that of a worried mother. Nick wondered how bad he must’ve looked for everyone to be reacting like that.

“Yeah, we’ll be going home after this, thank you for stepping up to take him in.” Nick nodded at Milo.

“No problem at all, thank you so much for your help, detectives. Both of you have a nice night you hear?”

She scurried off again, barely weighed down by the kid in her arms.

Nick sighed and melted back into his chair for a moment, eyes closed and aching. The kid was safe for the night, they could get more information in the morning. So, now all he had to do was go home and rest. Easy enough right?

“Don't fall asleep there,” Hank suggested as he gathered his things.

“I’m not,” Nick grunted, but he lingered a moment longer before he opened his eyes and got to his feet.

Hank got him home before he could fall asleep in the car, dropped him off, and insisted he’d be there to pick him up in the morning. Nick didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, he shuffled into his house and made a b-line for the bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

Nick and Hank sat at their desks the next day, waiting for Milo to arrive so that they could talk to him about what had happened. They were hoping to get him to I.D. their suspect, and maybe let them know a bit more about what was going on. Meanwhile, Nick sat back to catalog what muscles were still sore and how much of it he’d be willing to deal with before calling Rosalee for more pain relief. His thoughts snapped back to his woge, which had been happening a lot recently. He remembered the expressions on everyone’s faces when they’d seen it. Eventually, he glanced up at Hank.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He kept his voice below the general bustle of the precinct. “That woge last night, it didn’t feel like a full one, but did you see-?”

“Nah, I couldn’t see your stripes, partner.”

“But you still… reacted.”

Hank paused to consider, then nodded as he thought it through.

“I guess I did. I mean, I couldn’t see the woge, no. But you seemed…” Hank gestured vaguely as he tried to find the words. “You held yourself differently. Dangerous, or like you knew that you were.”

Nick’s expression grew complicated at that

“Don’t get me wrong, it was badass, but standing out there in the dark woods with you and Monroe like that? Let’s just say that I did get a shiver up my spine before I reminded myself that we’re all on the same team.”

Eventually, Nick settled on a wince.

“Sorry about that.”

Hank just shrugged.

“It really is no big deal, Nick. I will get used to it, just give me the time to adjust and I will. I’ve done it before.”

Maybe he’d been more worried than he’d realized about the whole thing. Fear wasn’t exactly a new reaction to him. Whether it was a fight response or a flight, he often found himself talking down freaked-out Wessen when they realized what he was. Now, letting that slip just had a new, more severe layer to it. A layer even more likely to set off that bone-deep fear that so many Wessen seemed to have of Grimms. They had a good reason to be fair. And he could tolerate that. He’d gotten more or less used to it.

But he didn’t want Hank scared of him. Not Monroe or Rosalee either, none of his friends. He’d already worked through the fear with every single one of his Wessen friends to some degree. When he first met them, he’d needed to show them that he wasn’t the Grimm from their nightmares. The memory of Phoebe’s pies soured a bit when he remembered how badly he’d scared Bud. He wasn’t excited at the prospect of doing that again. But Grimms were Wessen boogeymen, they had been for so many generations that Grimms had lost their original connection to Wessen completely. And upon regaining a hint of that connection, he’d just gotten scarier, stronger too.

He would just have to give them time. He’d show everyone that he was still safe to them, that he’d be there to protect them before anything else. And he would give them the time to cope with whatever fight-or-flight instincts that they were left with.

Fingers snapped in front of his face, Nick blinked up at Hank.

“Hey, stop brooding, the kid’s here.”

Nick snapped himself the rest of the way out of his funk and followed Hank. They found Phoebe Wurstner checking Milo over, asking questions, and watching attentively as he signed the answers. Nick waited for them to finish up the conversation, then pulled Phoebe to the side.

“Did Milo do alright last night?” He asked.

“Better than expected, I think that he was pretty worn out though, poor thing. He’s still nervous and not exactly comfortable, but that’s to be expected in this kind of situation. So, we did the best we could to make him feel welcome,” she sighed. “But, I did bring some food for him, and he has a new notebook and pen to help him communicate with anyone who doesn’t know sign. Let’s see, was there anything else..”

“Did he tell you anything last night or this morning? Anything about what’s been going on?” Nick tried.

“I’m afraid not. He was incredibly polite, and he mentioned missing his friends and family, but he didn’t give us any more detail than that.”

“Alright, thank you again for taking him in.”

“Absolutely no problem, and do reach out if he needs a place tonight too, okay?”

Phoebe walked back to Milo to let him know that she’d be running a few errands while he answered some questions and that she’d be back later. Once she was out the door, Nick offered Milo his hand and led him to a side room. He and Hank got the kid settled and started the slow process of building up towards the information that they needed to know.

Milo didn’t go into much detail, even on basic identifying information, but he did give them a last name and confirmed his age. Nick sent the name to Wu, with hopes that he’d be able to track down some family contact information with it. But with that handled, they came to the part that he’d been worrying about.

“Okay Milo, I know that this has been a lot, but if you’re up for it, it would really help us if you could identify a suspect for us. We have a man in custody, he doesn’t know that you’re here so you’ll be completely safe. But we think that he’s one of the men who may have been chasing you.”

Milo’s nerves skyrocketed, Nick could hear his heartbeat hammer in his chest. But, despite that, Milo nodded.

Hank explained the process so that Milo would know what to expect, then they brought him to the observation area of the interrogation room. Hank slipped away to go check on Wu’s progress as Nick walked Milo inside. In the interrogation room itself, on the other side of the one-way mirror, stood a lineup. Their suspect had been given the number four. As soon as Milo caught sight of him, he froze. He stepped behind Nick, but not before Nick caught a glimpse of the woge that rippled across Milo’s face. It left behind mottled brown and white feathers, a dark beak, and wide eyes. Nick kept his own eyes up so that the kid wouldn't see his reaction.

Milo gripped Nick’s sleeve and breathed deeply. He scribbled a number in his notebook and held it up for Nick to see: 4.

Nick got Milo back to his side room with his lunch and went to find Hank, who’d left to check in with Wu. He found the pair of them at Wu’s desk, the sergeant grumbling at his computer.

“Milo identified Malcolm,” Nick announced as he approached. “What have you two been up to?”

“Tech support,” Hank grumbled. “Wu got a hit on the missing person database, but it went down right after. There’s been maintenance issues and the database won’t be up for a couple hours.”

“At least.” Wu groaned.

“Did you get anything from it before it went down?”

“I only saw it for a second, but the picture looked like the kid, and I think the report was put in a few weeks ago? We’ll have to wait to get any contact information or further details though.” Wu shrugged.

“That’s something, at least we know that there’s a report out for him. That means that someone’s out there looking for him. Let me know when you get the rest, Wu.”

“Will do.” Wu waved them off and sat back in his chair to get some other work done in the meantime.

Hank and Nick went back to the hallway, talking through the case so far.

“We have one suspect, but don’t know if there are more out there.” Hank noted.

“We don’t, but we can figure that out next. We also need to sort out if there are any other kids besides Milo and Alexis.”

“There better not be any more kids in those woods.” Hank sighed.

“Oh, and Milo woged, he’s Wessen.” Nick remembered. “So we have a Hundjäger, and a Wessen kid armed with wolfsbane, possibly to fend off a Blutbad.”

“Do you know what kind Milo is?”

“Scharfblicke, I think.”

Hank just raised an eyebrow and waited for the explanation.

“An owl-like Wessen. The kid can probably see better than any of us in the dark.”

“Maybe he saw something useful then.”

Hank and Nick didn’t have much on the original victim, besides the driver’s license. They were currently working to contact anyone at the address listed on the license, but hadn’t had any luck. Milo, at least, had come up in a missing person search, even if it’d be a few hours before they could follow up on that. Nick wanted to get that information from Milo himself, if they could, for the sake of immediacy.

Milo continued to be careful when questioned. He never seemed to lie, but he was cautious like a kid who’d been told not to tell anyone else what was happening. After an hour or so of just talking with him and trying to make him feel as comfortable as he could, Nick decided to be a bit more direct.

“Milo, I know that this is a lot, and that you might be protecting people that you care about, but those same people might be in danger. We have Malcolm, the Hundjäger in custody, so he can’t hurt any of you anymore, but we suspect that there are others. Do we have that right? Can you tell me anything about the friends that might still be out there?”

Milo hesitated.

“It doesn’t have to be much, how about a number? Then we’ll know when we have everyone accounted for.”

Milo slowly lifted a hand with four fingers up, then, after a moment, curled one finger back down and looked away.”

“Alexis?” Nick guessed after a moment to consider.

“Dead?” The word was written cramped and small on the large page.

“I’m sorry.” Nick offered gently. “She’s how we found out about this case. Was Alexis your friend?”

“Lexi,” Milo corrected. Then he added, “like a sister.”

Milo dropped the pen to fidget with his hands.

“How many people are after you and your friends Milo?”

He held up a four.

“Including the one we have?”

A nod.

“Alright, thank you so much Milo, is there anything else that you can tell us to help us find your friends?”

Milo clenched his fingers together.

“I just want to help them bud, but I have to be able to find them in order to do that. I’m sure that they’re very smart, and that they can take care of themselves.” Nick glanced towards the mirror into the next room, where he knew that Hank was hanging out to take notes and keep not-in-the-know officers out. Nick turned back to Milo. “They taught you how to avoid leaving a scent trail right? With wolfsbane?”

Milo’s eyes stayed downturned.

“So is one of the bad guys a Blutbad? That’s why you were nervous around Monroe right?”

Milo eventually nodded, then wrote:

“So you really do know? About Wessen stuff?”

“I do.”

“Are you Wessen?”

Nick hesitated, mouth dry. He shrugged.

“Of a sorts, yes.”

Milo stared him down for a minute, his gaze piercing for a small kid. He wrote another question.

“Can I trust you?”

Nick felt his heart break at that. He tried to not feel like a liar for claiming to be Wessen. It may be true, now, but it was a very different answer than telling the kid he was a Grimm, who he’d probably fear even more than a Blutbad. Nick bit back the uncomfortable feeling.

“My partner and I, we’re here to help where we can. We want to get you and your friends safe and the people who’ve hurt you behind bars. That sound good to you?”

Milo’s stare continued, but he nodded and scribbled a longer message.

“We all got separated, but we had a meeting place. You might be able to find them there.”

“Where is it?”

“An old storage building, next to a park by the forest. There’s a toy store across the street.”

“Is the toy store called Marnie’s?” Nick checked, remembering the small shop, not far from the Spice Shop.

“I think so.”

“I know it, when were you going to meet?”

“Every night that we were separated, if we could, to see if anyone else showed up.” Milo paused, then added. “No one did the first night, you found me the second.”

His handwriting was getting smaller, like a voice getting quieter.

“How about I go tonight? Then I can talk to whoever shows up. Is there anything that I can say so that I don’t scare them off? They’ll probably have me pegged as a cop right away.”

Milo smiled, then tugged a fresh sheet of paper free from his notebook. He laid it out and began drawing. Nick watched as the sketch of five figures standing under a tree took shape. Milo finished the drawing off with what looked like a pond or lake, indicated with wavy lines for the water. He held the now-finished drawing out for Nick to take.

“Show this.” He returned to his writing page. “And just you, Casey will smell if anyone else is there and won’t trust you.”

“Okay, I will, thank you Milo.” Nick carefully folded the drawing to put it in his pocket.

He checked to make sure that Milo didn’t need anything else while he waited for Phoebe to come back and pick him up, then excused himself to go meet back up with Hank in the hallway.

“You can’t go alone.” Hank insisted.

“Milo mentioned a Casey being able to smell anyone else. They may not even come out of hiding if they suspect an ambush.” Nick walked and Hank followed. “We’ll see what the captain thinks, but I can handle it. It’ll be fine.”

Hank frowned.

“And no matter what the captain says, you could hang back a couple blocks just in case.” Nick amended.

“Better.”

Chapter Text

Nick approached the meeting spot as cautiously and casually as he could manage. The sun had gone down about twenty minutes ago, but his instincts didn’t seem so bad being in the city rather than the woods. Hank was waiting in his car about two and a half blocks away, and Nick had his radio in his pocket, off, but ready if he needed to call for backup.

The captain hadn’t been quite as worried about Nick going in alone, possibly because he didn’t know the extent of how strange Nick’s last couple of days had been. But, he had decided to stay at the precinct later than usual to keep an eye on how things unfolded.

Nick kept his eyes on the shadows for signs of movement as he stepped into the old building. It was one of a few abandoned buildings nearby, left to crumble when the owner went bankrupt a few years back. The large-ish structure’s roof had collapsed, greeting Nick with moonlight when he got inside. He caught the slightest shift of movement, not far from one of the side entrances. Nick closed his eyes and listened. There, a faint, quick heartbeat. He realized that even without his woge, his already stronger hearing had increased again.

He stepped forward, properly into the moonlight, and turned in place to deliberately put his back to where the heartbeat was hidden in the dark.

“Casey?” He asked the room. “Milo sent me.”

He heard an inhale, then the crunch of someone stepping forward over the gravel-covered floor. Nick turned and saw a girl emerging from the dark, slightly crouched like she was waiting to run.

She looked to be in her late teens, with long, slightly wavy brown hair tied back. Her oversized but practical clothes looked generally scuffed and dirty. She also bore some resemblance to the pale face that Nick had seen at the parking lot crime scene two days ago.

“Casey?” He guessed.

“Who’s asking?” Her voice was severe with distrust. “Besides a cop.”

“Detective Nick Burkhardt,” Nick offered. He held out Milo’s drawing. “Milo told me that I could find you here.”

The girl’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she stared at the drawing. She didn’t seem to want to approach, so he folded it again and tossed it closer to her. Casey snatched it up to check it more carefully. Then she glared at Nick again.

“How’d you find Milo?”

“We tracked a Hundjäger named Malcolm McCormick to the woods nearby and arrested him.” Nick noted the slight change in Casey’s expression when he mentioned the Wessen. He hoped that showing that he was in the know would help build some trust at least. “We went back a couple hours later when we realized that McCormick had been chasing someone.”

“Milo said that there were two other kids, are they here too?” He asked.

“So you found Lex then?” Casey checked rather than answering.

“We did, I’m sorry for your loss, we’re trying to figure out what happened,” Nick paused. “Your sister?”

Casey nodded.

“They attacked us and we got separated. Lexi didn’t make it out.” Her voice broke for an instant, but she visibly steeled herself, and her glare returned. “You said that you got one of the Hundjägers?”

Nick nodded.

“You Wessen?”

“Of sorts.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“It’s the one that I’m using. It’s complicated anyway. Are you a Sharfblicke? Like Milo?”

Nick already suspected the answer. The way that Casey held herself reminded him more of someone else that he knew.

“No, Blutbad.” She confirmed, checking his face for a reaction.

“You taught Milo to use wolfsbane.”

“I didn’t want any of them getting caught, and one of the bastards after us is Blutbaden. This meeting spot was for if we got separated because Lex and I wouldn’t be able to track them ourselves.” She glared around at the building, frustration flickered across her expression now. “Fat lot of good that did.”

“So the other two haven’t shown up?”

Casey grit her teeth.

“We’ll find them Casey, don’t worry. We’re already working on finding Malcolm’s friends, and with you and Milo we can find the other kids alright?”

“June and Eddie.” Casey muttered. “Their names are June and Eddie.”

Nick smiled and gestured towards the door.

“Let’s head back to the precinct okay? We’ll get you a place to sleep, you can see Milo, and we’ll keep working on finding June and Eddie in the morning.”

Before Casey had a chance to respond, she tensed. Her head whipped around to the opposite side of the building.

“Shit! They’re here!”

Nick heard something crunch half a second later, glass or gravel in the alley outside. He drew his gun and herded Casey back into the shadows. He caught a glimpse of the red eyes of a Blutbad as they emerged from the darkness.

“Out the door, go!”

He followed Casey out, into the alley, and spotted a second figure blocking the way to the street. The figure woged. It was another Hundjäger, and for a second Nick thought that he was looking at Malcolm. He got in front of Casey and nudged her back, without taking his eyes off of the Hundjäger. He failed to notice that Casey’s eyes were on him.

“You’re a Grimm!” She yelped.

“I told you, it’s complicated. Now, run!”

Casey took off down the alleyway. Nick could hear the Blutbad getting closer. He took advantage of the Hundjäger’s apparent shock to follow Casey before anyone could take chase.

Deeper into the maze of abandoned, half-collapsed buildings, Nick pulled Casey around a corner and ducked into what looked like an old shed. He pulled the radio out of his pocket and flicked it on.

“Hank, I need backup, two suspects on scene and I have a civilian here with me.”

He heard a muttered curse on the other end before Hank spoke more clearly.

“I’ll call it in, are you safe?”

“We’re hiding, but the suspects will sniff us out sooner rather than later.”

“Got it, backup’s on its way but for God’s sake, stay safe until they get there, okay Nick?”

“Got it.”

Nick shut off the radio to silence it and turned to Casey.

“How smart are these guys?”

“Not many points above bricks, the one who calls the shots stayed behind, but they’re smart enough to split up and flush us out.”

“We’ll keep moving then, try to get out onto the street without getting cornered. Follow me.”

Nick listened to make sure that the coast was clear. If they could get somewhere more public they might be safe, or at least more difficult to track. But, Nick’s sense of direction was already turned around. He couldn't hear anyone close though, so he slipped back out into the alleyway.

“Let’s circle the warehouse.” Nick decided. “We can lead their noses in circles until we can get out.”

“Sure.” Casey still looked at him with reignited suspicion, but did follow him whenever he turned a corner.

Nick was glad that Casey seemed to have good instincts for this kind of thing, because he was busy fighting his own. It was easier than the woods by a long shot, but the cold of his woge hung back in a silent kind of threat.

They moved as quietly as they could, but that wouldn’t matter much if their pursuers caught their scent.

“I don’t suppose that you have any more wolfsbane?” Nick checked as they stepped into an open area, probably an old parking lot. They stayed close to the edges to avoid being out in the open.

“I gave the last of it to everyone else.”

“Thought I’d ask.

“Why are you helping me?” Casey whispered after a moment. “Like, I get Milo, and maybe you didn’t realize what we are before you got his case or whatever, but why help me here?”

“I’m a detective, it’s my job to figure these kinds of things out.”

“But you’re also some kind of Grimm!” She hissed.

Nick paused, he didn’t hear or see any pursuers. He turned to face Casey.

“Listen, I know that you’ve probably been raised on a lot of the same stories that most Wessen are. You’ve been told that Grimms are the boogeymen, the decapitate first and ask questions later figures from your nightmares. I also haven’t met enough other Grimms to actually refute that. But, I promise you that I will do everything that I can to keep you, Milo, June, and Eddie safe. And I will catch the bad guys while I do that, Wessen or not, alright?”

Casey stared at him, expression unreadable.

“You actually see us as people huh?”

Nick stopped at that, right, worse than just boogeymen, most Grimms were hunters and Wessen were their quarry. He tried to swallow back the memory of his own instincts over the past couple of days. He took a breath and remembered his friends.

“I can say with confidence that I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for some very brave Wessen willing to help me out, repeatedly. I owe it to them to listen, at the very least.” Nick turned to scan their surroundings. “Besides, I was a detective first. Come on.”

They only made it a few more steps before Nick heard a low snarl.

“Get back!”

The Blutbad and Hundjäger launched from empty windows on either side. Nick went for his gun, but one of them knocked his hand away and shoved him into the wall. He blinked at the dizziness. The back of his head hurt. When Nick’s vision cleared, he found himself face-to-face with a snarling Hundjäger.

Nick leaned back against the wall and kicked. The Hundjäger stumbled away. The Blutbad charged into the empty space. Nick got his hands up to deflect the claws. Pain burned through his shoulder. Then, like an extinguisher over a flame, cold shot through his entire body.

His vision shifted, his hearing skyrocketed, and his heart rate plummeted. Nick stumbled with the change. Someone shouted. Nick caught himself, then launched back into the fight with a snarl of his own.

He grappled the Hundjäger and shoved him towards his friend. Nick swung, but it wasn’t a punch. He watched as his claws cut through the Hundjäger’s sleeve, finding flesh.

Red, bright from body heat, fell to the pavement. Nick went for the same side again, zeroed in on the injury. His own arm flared with a painful reminder. He switched to his left and grabbed the Hundjäger. He yanked the arm back, and the Hundjäger howled. The Blutbad went for his neck, but Nick grabbed him by the shoulders and held him back. His claws dug in to keep their grip.

The Blutbad pulled away. Red ribbons tore from each arm. Nick kicked at the returning Hundjäger’s leg, he heard a crack. He whipped around, searching, and spotted Casey.

“Run! I’ll be right behind you!”

Casey bolted past them and Nick waited an extra half a second to follow. The Hundjäger and Blutbad were too busy with their injuries to give chase. For now, at least.

Nick focused on Casey’s footsteps, all that he had to do was follow those and make sure that none came up from behind them. He and Casey scrambled up a set of half-collapsed stairs and he was running down the following hallway when the footsteps vanished. Nick didn’t have time to wonder before he was pulled into one of the side rooms and the door shut behind him.

Casey pushed a chair under the doorknob, then turned to check on him. She’d woged too, her red eyes glinted in the light from the street lamps outside. Nick heard voices. This room must’ve been close to the street.

He opened his mouth to ask why they’d stopped here, rather than getting out to the street, but shut it when he realized. He was fully woged.

Nick pressed his sore back against a wall and slid to the floor. He closed his eyes, he breathed even, but fast, he remembered the threats that couldn’t be far from here- He shook his head.

Casey sat down across from him.

“I thought that you were a Grimm.”

“I am.” Nick wheezed.

“But you woged.”

“I did.”

Nick winced when he put too much weight on his right side. Right, he should deal with that. He opened his eyes and twisted to look at his shoulder. He found the sort of gray tones of his low-light vision interrupted by the bands of light from outside, and the slight body heat given off by his own skin interrupted by lines of warmer blood trickling down his arm. Four deep claw marks tore into his shoulder and upper arm.

He didn’t have time to do much, but he figured that he should at least wrap the injury before he got his heartbeat back up to speed. He tore a small strip from his shirt under his jacket and got to work.

“How?” Casey asked.

“I said that it was complicated, didn’t I?” Nick smiled, tiredly. He tied off the fabric strip and continued his breathing. “I’m a Grimm, and I woge. Think that you can still trust me?”

Casey rubbed her face as her own woge faded back into her skin.

“Fine,” she decided. She sobered. “People don’t always trust Blutbaden either, for good reason sometimes too. So, I guess that I could deal with trusting you for a few more minutes at least.”

“Thank you.” Nick nodded.

“What are you trying to do?”

“My heartbeat gets slow, I’ve got to speed it up again.”

“Oh, that’s the opposite of any Blutbaden tips I could give.” She muttered. “Is there some way that I could help?”

“Uhh, warmth helps, but I don’t think that there’s anything…” Nick put his hand on the floor where the street light landed but the light was more visually warm than physically warm. Being able to reach out and touch Monroe or Hank’s shoulder had helped. It had grounded him.

Casey dug through her pockets until she fished out a small packet. Nick recognized it. It was a hand warmer.

“Think that this’ll help?” Casey offered.

“Might as well try.” He accepted the hand warmer, opened it, and shook it.

In seconds, the small packet warmed. He could actually watch as the spot of warmth grew in his hands. He closed them over it, making sure that his claws didn’t pierce it or his skin. Nick continued his even breaths and focused on the heat. It felt like anything from seconds to minutes before color seeped back into his skin. He blinked, adjusting to the lighting difference. His throat still felt rough, but his heartbeat wasn’t crawling anymore. Nick pushed himself to his feet and offered the hand warmer to Casey. She shook her head.

“Keep it, if you screw this up more than it already is, or hurt Milo or the others, then I’ll take it back.”

“Thank you.” Nick slipped the hand warmer into his pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”

Down the stairs, out the door, and suddenly they were across the street. Nick could breathe again. There was a small, mostly empty plaza lined with shops. Some people still milled about or ate take-out dinners at the tables, but it seemed more like a lunch spot than somewhere people went for an evening out.

Nick found a table within sight of the abandoned buildings. He dropped into the chair with a sigh. Casey followed suit. He could already hear the sirens of backup approaching.

“You’re new to woging aren’t you?” Casey guessed, leaning back in her chair like she was just talking about the night’s weather.

“Yeah.” Nick didn’t feel like dancing around the subject.

“How new?”

“Only figured out that I could do it about three days ago.” He shrugged, his eyes stayed on the streetfront. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No, ‘m fine.”

Nick pulled out his radio to turn it back on. Hank’s voice reported to the rest of the force that he was moving in along with the others. Nick got back to his feet and gestured for Casey to follow. She hesitated, eyeing the red and blue lights of approaching police cruisers.

“It’s alright, Milo will be happy to see you.”

Casey sighed and followed.

Four police cruisers stopped in front of the building along with Hank’s car, which he stepped out of a moment later. He spotted Nick approaching and waved him over.

“They still inside?”

“As far as I know, two of them, no guns that I saw.” Nick coughed to clear some of the roughness still in his voice. Then he stepped closer to Hank so he didn’t have to raise his voice. “Both Wessen, one Blutbad and one Hundjäger. Be careful out there.”

“Alright, you two stay here.” Hank ran off to give everyone the relevant information and lead the team heading in.

Other officers set up a quick barricade and began their wider search. A medic jogged over to Nick, sent by Hank, but Nick deflected them to Casey first. The medic wanted to check her over more carefully, given that she’d apparently been on the run for a while, so Nick promised to meet back up with her at the precinct. Casey didn’t look excited at the prospect, but she clutched Milo’s drawing and went with the medic.

Left in the relative quiet, with everyone else running around and busy, Nick leaned back against Hank’s car and sighed. His adrenaline had faded and his shoulder throbbed. The fabric bandage was already blood-soaked. He probably should have gone with the medic or requested some better first aid or something. But, he really didn’t feel like getting carted off to the hospital right now for the stitches he’d no doubt need.

He’d go eventually, he just needed that to be later.

A hand landed on his left shoulder

“Detective, are you-”

Nick jumped, adrenaline, followed by a splash of cold throughout his body. He found himself staring into the face of Captain Renard, who’d taken half a step back at the unexpected reaction.

More startled than calm or collected, Nick shook off the woge immediately. Then he opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say.

“Captain, I uh…”

Whatever shock had appeared on the captain’s face, vanished quickly under the carefully-schooled calm that he wielded with decades of familiarity. He gestured towards Nick’s hastily-bandaged shoulder.

“I came over to check on your injury, I saw you send off the medic.”

Nick nodded and Captain Renard stepped closer to pull at the cloth and get a look at the still-bleeding wounds underneath.

“You’ll need stitches.” He stated, he eyed Nick. “Do you think that you’re up for a hospital visit right now?”

The simple question carried a second, thinly veiled one: Do you think that you can keep whatever that was from happening again?

Nick considered shrugging, too tired to think too hard about it, but settled on shaking his head.

“Alright, come with me. I’m taking you to the Spice Shop.”

Nick followed the captain over to his car, which was parked a bit further back from the rest. He settled into the passenger seat and heard Hank’s voice over the radio. The suspects had slipped past their perimeter. The team was expecting the search. Renard grabbed his own radio to reply.

“Copy that, I’ve got Burkhardt, we’ll meet you back at the precinct.”

He pulled the car onto the non-barricaded section of the road, and headed for the Spice Shop. The ride was quiet for the first few minutes, before the captain spoke up again.

“I do expect an explanation if you can give it, Nick, but that can wait until we have a spare moment, alright? You may also want to let Ms. Calvert know that we’re coming.”

Nick nodded, finding that his voice still escaped him. He sent Rosalee a quick text to let her know that they were on their way, that he was hurt, but not too badly, and to make sure that she was still at the Spice Shop. She confirmed that she was, and Nick could feel her holding back more questions, even through text.

But, when he and the captain arrived, she was waiting by the door. She unlocked it for them, re-locked it behind them, and flipped the sign to ‘closed.’ She eyed the captain critically, then went to check Nick’s injury.

“What happened?” She peeled back the impromptu bandage to take a look.

“I got clawed by uh, well it was either a Blutbad or Hundjäger. One of those two. But I’m fine, I need stitches, I just don’t know if a hospital is a good idea right now.” He winced.

Rosalee glanced between Nick and Renard with a slowly rising, questioning eyebrow.

“He saw.”

“Ah.”

The captain put his hands up.

“I’m fine waiting for the explanation. I’ll wait here, you help him.”

“Right, thanks for bringing him in.” Rosalee nodded. “Come on Nick, I’ve got the first aid stuff ready in the other room.”

She guided him into the side room, sat him down in one of the chairs, and dug through her first aid kit. It had been less than two days ago that he’d been sitting in the same room dealing with his new woge for the first time.

“How’d the captain see? Is everything alright there?” She unwound the blood-soaked cloth to clean the wound.

“I got hurt on the case that Hank and I were working. The captain tried to check me over, but he startled me. I woged.”

Nick’s mind was still reeling from that. He didn’t have a great track record of keeping the situation secret, and he’d only been in the situation for a few days. Now he’d have to explain it to his captain too. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man, well, sometimes he did, but putting his new secret into the hands of a royal, disgraced or not, still put him on edge.

Rosalee numbed the area around his wound as he spoke, then began to stitch it up as well as she could.

“Do you trust him with this?”

“I guess that I’ll have to.”

“He could be a good ally, besides, a Grimm that woges, or the fact that Grimms can woge at all could be valuable information. He’d probably want to keep it close to the vest.”

“I hope that you’re right.” Nick blinked slowly, his eyes hurt and it was hard to open them for a moment. When was the last time he’d had water?

“Nick? Are you dizzy? Did you hit your head?”

“Uh, knocked it on the wall.” Nick muttered, “back of my head I think.”

He felt Rosalee brush his hair aside to check and winced at the slight sting of it.

“Bit of blood, doesn’t look like anything major. Any concussion symptoms?”

“I don’t think so, I’m tired but I think I’m just rattled from everything.”

“Well,” Rosalee checked her handiwork with the stitches, then stood to grab something. “Keep an eye on it, you should be fine. And this.”

Rosalee held up a simple fabric sling and waited pointedly until he let her put it on him.

“Keep that on for a couple of days so you don’t tear the stitches. And you better not be going to work after this.”

“Just back to the precinct to get stuff together.” Nick stood and dared to meet Rosalee’s gaze. “After that, I’ll head straight home I promise.”

“You better, you really do need rest, Nick. You’re hurt and you’ve worn out your body in ways that it’s not used to.”

“I’ve noticed.” Nick yawned.

Rosalee laughed and herded him back to the front of the shop, where they found Captain Renard still waiting.

“He’ll live.” She stated dryly to the captain when he looked up. “Please make sure that he gets to bed at a somewhat reasonable time though. The sooner, the better.”

“You don’t trust me?” Nick reveled in the bit of lightness after the night he’d had. “I’m hurt.”

“You are, and you need sleep.” Rosalee’s expression cracked with a small smile. “Let me know if you need anything else, Nick.”

“I will, thank you, tell Monroe I said hi alright?”

Nick followed Captain Renard back out the door and back to the car. It felt like a blink before they were walking into the precinct. Nick spotted Casey being led from the bullpen by Wu. Then he saw Milo appear from one of the side rooms, closely followed by Phoebe Wurstner. Milo ran up to Casey to tackle her in a hug.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be asleep by now?” Nick asked as he followed the captain to the bullpen.

“He insisted on staying to see if you came back with anyone, and Mrs Wurstner agreed to take in the other kids if needed.” He explained.

“Good, I’m glad that they can be there for each other.” Nick yawned widely. “Now we’ve just got to find the rest, huh?”

“I think that we’ve got things handled for the night, Burkhardt,” Renard stated. “You should probably head home.”

“I can’t find much of a reason to disagree,” Nick sighed.

He did eye his desk for a moment, there was still plenty that he could do, things to look into. But the pain, exhaustion, and firm look from his captain drove him to listen. Rosalee would probably personally hunt him down with a sleeping draught if he went on much longer without rest anyway.

<><><><><>

Nick barely remembered getting home, or to bed, but his dreams lingered.

The setting shifted between deep forest and towering city blocks. The light flickered from moonlight to street lamps. He was running, being chased? Doing the chasing? It kept changing. Whenever he looked forward, he could see a figure, also running. They glanced back like they were afraid. But, when Nick felt like he was the quarry, he’d turn to look behind him only to see the terror-stricken face of someone familiar. It was Hank, it was Juliette, it was Monroe, afraid. They were afraid of him. Then the setting shifted again, more jarring than the last, and the chase continued, darker and colder each time.

Nick woke, feeling both rested and more exhausted than ever. He shivered and looked at his hands. The skin danced with the waves of change attempting to take hold. He shook his head, dragged himself out of bed, and worked robotically at his morning routine. At some point, he’d sat back down on the corner of the bed and found that he hadn’t moved for a few minutes. He sighed and rubbed his face.

His shoulder ached, but he kept his hands there, just to remind himself that his face was still… human, that he was warm, that he had no claws. He remembered the faces in his dreams and held his face tighter.

Eventually, he freed one hand and grasped blindly for his phone. He pulled up his text thread with Juliette on instinct.

His eyes flickered over their previous conversation, his brief update from a day or so ago to let her know what was going on, the good mornings and good nights they sent consistently whenever they weren’t going to be under the same roof. He sent her a quick message.

“Hey.”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

Her response was pretty quick, but Nick hesitated. He remembered the dream, then sent:

“Not the best, the last couple of days have been rough. You?”

“Not Grimm-stuff crazy, but crazy. This place really needed the backup.”

There was a pause, dots, then another message.

“I’ll bet you’ve been working despite everyone telling you to rest huh?”

“I think that I’d go crazy if I had to lay around and do nothing.”

“And how’s brute forcing your way through all of this treating you then?”

Nick could imagine her expression, he smiled a little.

“Fair, at least I’m helping though.”

“I know, me too. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there, but this clinic really does need the extra hands. I’d hate to hear about the situation after the fact, knowing that I could’ve helped. I wish that I could be in two places at once though.”

Nick let himself fall back to lay across the bed.

“It’s alright, I’m managing. What’ve the past few days been like for you?”

And he lay there, and he read her stories and rants about strange cases or problem patients of various furred, feathered, or scaled varieties. He lay there as he commented and reacted accordingly, even talking through a particularly mysterious case with Juliette until she figured it out. Nick relaxed and breathed deeply without fear that it’d turn into a woge.

As the stories winded down, Juliette was pondering whether certain Wessen would benefit from some of the scent-based therapies used to calm down anxious dogs and cats. Then she sent:

“Oh, I guess that I might have to wait and see for myself, but do you think that Grimms might share similarities to a specific animal? Like an Eisbiber or Fuchsbau?”

“I think that they’re more monsters than animals.” Some of Nick’s relaxation faded. He glanced at the clock, and slowly pulled himself upright. He’d be late for work if he didn’t get moving. His phone buzzed again.

“You’re not a monster, Nick, I can just about see you sitting there, overthinking that. Remember how much you help okay?”

“You’re no boogeyman, and you’ve shown that to so many people. Both Wessen and otherwise know what you’ll do to help them. They’ve seen it for themselves. Besides, you’re Wessen too right?”

Nick’s breathing grew shaky for a moment. But, he nodded to himself and rose from the bed.

“Thank you Juliette. I think that I really needed to hear that from someone.” He hadn’t realized how much.

“No problem honey, just don’t lose yourself too far into your own head okay?”

“I’ll try, don’t get bitten by too many patients alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

Nick probably shouldn’t have been driving with an injured arm, but he brought the sling with him and put it on at the precinct. So, at least he wouldn't pull at his stitches any more than he already had.

He headed for his desk, getting a lot of well-wishes and joking offers to sign the sling as he went. He spotted Wu down the hallway and picked up his pace to catch up. He realized that Phoebe Wurstner, Casey, and Milo were walking with him. Nick had guessed that Casey would be in to give her statement and answer some questions, but Milo didn’t really need to come along. So, Nick had assumed that he’d be somewhere safer and calmer than a busy police station for the third day in a row. Nick caught up.

“Hey everyone, how’re things today?” He got nods from the kids, but focused most of his attention on the Sergeant, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think that Milo needed to be here today.”

“Hey, the kid insisted.” Wu explained. “We need Miss Wilmot’s statement, and Milo here wanted to keep her company.” Wu dropped into a not-quite-whisper. “Plus, I was gonna take another stab at getting info on the guardians. Think I could bribe them with ice cream or something?”

Casey rolled her eyes.

“Okay, well both of you,” Nick looked both kids in the eyes. “You let any of us know if you need anything alright? We’ll figure this whole thing out.”

He waited for a nod from each, then turned back to Wu.

“Is Hank in yet?”

“I think so. He’s been trying to identify the suspects that we lost last night.”

“I might be able to help with that, I’ll check in later alright?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Wu gestured for the kids to get going again and gave Nick a sarcastic salute as he passed. “Keep off that arm Detective!” He called out.

Nick laughed and watched them leave to take note of which room they headed toward, then ducked into the bullpen. Hank was talking with a few of the other officers from the night before. He glanced up and waved Nick over when he spotted him.

“How’re you doing, partner?” He asked.

“Well enough, just a few stitches.” He gestured to the sling. “Doctor’s orders.”

The other officers nodded and passed along their well-wishes.

“I’ll -uh, give you the full story later,” Nick promised Hank. “Any progress on the suspects?”

“We’ve been comparing notes,” one of the officers explained.

“You got anything that we can use, Burkhardt?”

“Yeah, I saw both of their faces, I can do drawings of them later.” Nick ran his free hand through his hair. “It was two guys, both bigger, both could fight. One looked like he could be Malcolm McCormick’s brother, if he has one.”

“He does actually,” Hank remembered. “I’ll check the name on that, when do you think you could have the sketches done by?”

“It shouldn’t take long. I can get those started after I talk to the captain.”

“Not in trouble, are you Burkhardt?” one of the other officers teased lightly.

“Just talking about the case.” Nick half-lied. He was sure that the case would come up, but judging by Hank’s expression, he caught the anxiety that Nick was somewhat hiding.

“Well, good luck with the principal. We’ll send in backup if you’re in there too long.”

“Appreciate it, Hank.”

Nick pulled away from the group and towards Captain Renard’s office. The blinds were closed, but Nick barely knocked before the captain told him not to come in.

Captain Renard sat at his desk, paperwork laid out neatly before him. He nodded Nick to the chair as he finished signing something. Nick opted to stand behind the chair rather than sit. The captain didn’t comment on it.

“So,” he sat back in his chair to stare Nick down with his usual intensity, trying to pick apart every detail that he could. “What happened?”

“It’s been a long week.” Nick half laughed.

“Such a long week that you woged?” An eyebrow rose. “Was that a woge? Or just something that looked very much like one?”

Nick leaned forward on the back of the chair. He considered lying for a moment, maybe he could insist that it was something else. But, the captain wasn’t stupid, and Nick was already tired of the new layer of secrecy amongst people he’d largely been able to speak openly with for a while now. It was nice, and Renard made a powerful ally when Nick could get him involved. He sighed and stepped around the chair to slide into it.

He recounted the bullet points of what had happened over the past few days, starting with his headaches and ending with his woge in front of the captain the night before. Renard had leaned forward during the story, but now returned to a more relaxed position.

“So, Grimms can woge…” he pondered. “And you said that your senses were improved?”

Nick shrugged, “Vision’s different, significantly so, to a point that it’s hard to adjust at times. And my hearing has improved too.”

Renard seemed to consider that.

“What does it feel like? When you woge?”

Nick hesitated.

“It’s, it’s a lot,” he decided. “It’s cold, mostly, it feels cold. And it’s overwhelming, and yet calm, but I’m not always calm in the way that I want to be.”

Renard nodded along slowly as if that made complete sense, then sat forward again. His face softened a degree.

“Thank you for explaining this to me. Of course, I will be keeping this away from the ears of my family. They’d be more than insufferable if they knew. If you need any help though, of the usual kid or of the Wessen kind, do let me know, Nick.”

“Of course sir, thank you.” Nick wasn’t sure how to react. Maybe his boss just understood being a sort of gray-area Wessen a bit more than Nick had considered before.

“Anyway, how is the case going? Do you know where things are headed next now that we’ve got more witnesses and leads on the suspects?”

“Oh, well, I’m going to do a few sketches of the suspects and get those faces into the database. One of them may be related to our first suspect, which may bring up some connections. Sergeant Wu is trying to track down the kids’ parents too. On top of that, Casey Wilmot’s statement will hopefully give us some more detail on what’s been happening.”

Nick thought over everything he had to get done today, but felt glad that he was at least busy, especially when that meant that the case was going well. Renard nodded.

“Good progress then, we need to get this case settled before anyone else gets hurt if we can.” He eyed Nick’s bandaged arm. “Let’s find the rest of these kids and get the rest of the suspects off the streets. Dismissed.” He waved Nick to the door and went back to his paperwork.

Nick returned to his desk chair, relieved to have that bit of stress over with. He reached for his pad of paper. The bullpen was relatively quiet for a moment, so Nick took the opportunity to get his sketches done. He carefully pulled the sling from his arm to set his elbow on the desk so he could draw without moving it much.

Then he thought back to the night before. He thought of the glimpses he’d caught of the suspect’s human faces before they’d woged. Most of the close-up looks from the fight itself would not help much, but Nick had enough glimpses before that to work with. He’d have Casey check the finished drawings for accuracy.

Nick zoned in, and for the first time in a few days, he let his mind empty beyond the placement of lines and shading. There was a hint of a scar, some stubble, the shape of an eye. This hadn’t changed, drawing a face. It was nice to focus on something so consistent for a few minutes.

When Nick refocused on his surroundings, he had two completed sketches and the hints of some refreshed aches in his arm. He put his sling back on, stood, and went to go find Hank or Wu. He found both of them talking outside the room where the kids were being kept. They looked up as he approached.

“How was the principal’s office?” Wu joked.

Nick rolled his eyes.

“It wasn’t anything like that, I just had to update the captain about my uh…” Nick gestured vaguely. “My whole… situation.”

“Right, that, do I dare ask?” Wu asked.

“I’ll clue you in later if you want me to.” Nick patted the sergeant’s shoulder and turned to Hank. “Last night, after you left, the captain came by to check on me and I slipped up. He took me to Rosalee to get stitches rather than a hospital so I wouldn’t slip up again.”

“How’d you get hurt by the way? I didn’t hear on scene.”

“In the fight with the suspects, one of them clawed me. Speaking of, here are the sketches.” He handed them over.

“Any progress with the kids, Wu?” Nick asked as Hank checked the sketches.

“Yeah, I was actually headed over with the news. We’ve got Milo's last name and a hopefully functioning database.” Wu flipped his notebook open. “Milo Otus and Casey Wilmot. Lexi was Casey’s sister and both of them were in foster care before they ran away. Milo and his older siblings, June and Eddie, were on a trip with an uncle. They have concerned parents at home waiting for a call, which I will make as soon as I get their number.”

“Sounds like you’ve got another date with the database there.” Hank returned to the conversation.

“At least it’s not another first date.” Wu sighed.

“Good luck with that, Sergeant, and thank you!”

Wu waved over his shoulder as he headed for his desk, armed with his new notes.

“Alright, let’s get Casey to corroborate these sketches so we can send them to be checked out.” Nick suggested. “Then we can finally get the full story.”

Chapter Text

Nick walked into the room with Hank close behind him. Casey and Milo sat at the table, Milo sat sideways so that he could sign more freely at Casey.

“Hey, you two doing alright?”

“-doing fine,” Casey muttered. Her eyes flickered between the door and the window, uncomfortable, even with Milo there.

Milo himself looked more relaxed than he had been so far, sitting close to Casey and able to communicate fully through her.

“Well, first off, I was hoping you’d look these over and let me know if they’re accurate.” Nick set the sketches on the table.

Casey frowned at them.

“Who drew these?”

“I did.”

She glanced at him, almost impressed.

“Not bad. Yeah, these are the guys. And you said that you’ve already got the other one?”

“Right, Malcolm McCormick, you don’t happen to know these twos’ names do you?”

“Didn’t know Malcolm’s, they never used names around us.”

“And how many are there? Total?”

“Four, these three and the head guy. But, the head guy stayed behind to watch over everything.”

Hank had already sat down on the other end of the table, Nick sat down across from Casey.

“Mind telling me the story?”

Casey hesitated. She picked at her sleeves.

“We just want to understand so that we can catch these guys. None of you are in trouble alright? I just want to get June and Eddie back safe.”

Milo nudged her, she looked at him for a moment, then nodded. She started slowly, but sped up as more words tumbled out of her mouth.

“Yeah, fine. Um, this started a bit ago, a few months at least, maybe a year by now? Me and Lexi, our parents died. It… sucked, then we got put in some foster home, one that was actually willing to take two teenagers. They were human-” Casey threw a look at Hank, then Nick.

“He knows right?”

“I know.” Hank confirmed.

“Right, well, the couple was human. They were nice enough, but there were a few close calls right off the bat because of everything. So, we left. I was nearly 18 then, and Lexi is- Lexi was 16. We just got some stuff together and hiked up the coast. We were camping in this one spot for a couple of weeks when we found these guys’ setup.” She pushed the sketches away from herself. “They were growing something illegal and didn’t appreciate us finding it, so they caught us and threw us in with Milo and everyone.”

“You were already there, Milo?” Nick asked.

Milo nodded and signed a few things, which Casey interpreted.

“We were there for about a week before Casey and Lexi.”

“And how did you end up there?”

“They were on a trip,” Casey explained. “A road trip with their… uncle?” She looked at Milo to confirm, he nodded and added a few notes. “Uncle, right, and human, adopted. He’s not Scharfblicke like the rest of them.” Casey read. “They stumbled across the whole operation too, and those assholes- sorry Milo, the a-holes thought a bunch of Scharfblicke would be handy for working at night. So, they kept them all around and forced them to help by keeping the uncle hostage.”

Casey shifted in her seat.

“About a day after Lexi and I got there, we all managed to escape, but not their uncle. He was being held somewhere else and we couldn’t get to him. He’s probably still with the Lowen, that’s the boss guy that stayed behind. Or maybe the others have him, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “But we got away, and have been trying to stay away since. And it was working well enough, until they caught up with us a few days ago.”

“Thank you Casey, we appreciate the help.” Nick handed the sketches back to Hank to run checks on them, and his partner stepped out to do that. “Do you think that you could tell me anything about what happened to Lexi?” Nick kept his voice gentle.

Casey visibly tensed. She stared at the table in front of her.

“They- they caught up, like I said. We’d relaxed a little, figuring that we were home free when we hit Portland, but they caught up in the middle of the night and we had to run. We aren’t locals, we don’t really know the area, and we got lost. Lexi stayed behind to lead them off in the wrong direction, she was always a fast runner…” Casey’s voice shuddered. “But it didn’t work, they got her and we all got separated.” She finally looked up at Nick, her eyes nearly red with rage. “If you find wherever those bastards are holed up and need a tracker, I’d be happy to help you track those f-” Casey glanced back at Milo, her rage settling on a low simmer. “-guys, I could help.”

Nick felt an odd spike of… protectiveness? He wanted to keep the two kids in front of him safe, and the rage Casey gave off only increased that feeling. He shook his head.

“I appreciate the offer Casey, and I know that you’d like to help. But if it comes down to literally sniffing them out, I do know a guy.”

“One of your Wessen friends?” Casey guessed.

“Yup, a good friend of mine, Blutbad, an excellent tracker, and a clockmaker too.”

Casey’s expression shifted to something vaguely bewildered and Nick smiled. He hoped that the concept of a Blutbaden clockmaker would at least distract her for a moment from the darker topics of their conversation.

But now Milo was frowning up at Nick. He seemed to consider something, then he tapped Casey’s shoulder to get her attention and started to sign.

“Uhh, Milo says…” Casey frowned at whatever Milo was saying and signed something back, but Milo seemed to insist, so she relented.

“Milo wants to know if you’re really a Grimm since Grimms are supposed to be scary, but you’re nice and I told him about how you’ve woged.”

“Oh,” Nick blinked at the question, at Milo staring up at him with open curiosity in his eyes. “Well, yeah, I’m a Grimm, and I do woge, but the reason is a bit complicated.” Nick started with that rather than fully explaining. Then, he continued, “and even though I’m a Grimm, and Grimms can be really scary if they want to be, I try to… listen when I can.”

He stooped his shoulders a bit to be at Milo’s level.

“Plus, do you want to know a secret?”

Milo nodded. Nick dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper.

“This whole woging thing, it’s pretty new to me, so I’m still figuring it out and I’m not very good at it yet.”

Milo laughed, Casey snorted, and Nick stood.

“Alright, I might be back later with some more questions or to get some more details on the Lowen, but try to stay out of trouble you two, okay?”

Milo nodded enthusiastically, still smiling. Casey rolled her eyes.

<><><><><>

Back in the bullpen again, Nick sent an officer to go get Casey’s written statement once she was done with it, and sat down at his desk next to Hank.

“What do we got?”

“Names, some tickets and previous jobs, a car to put an APB out on.” Hank grinned.

“I like the sound of that.” Nick stood over Hank’s shoulder, picking out some of the information for himself.

Malcolm McCormick, Thomson McCormick, and Allen James. Each of them had scattered bits of information in the system. Some of that information was more useful than others. One had an old red truck registered to him. Nick jotted down the plate number and description to get the APB put out.

“Any of them have a criminal record beyond tickets?” He asked.

“Allan James has a robbery charge, but he got off of it without serving time because he handed over his co-conspirators. Thompson has a few counts of assault, fighting people in bars mostly, and possession.”

Nick nodded along and got the APB out on the truck.

“Burkhardt, Griffin, here!” Wu waved from his desk.

Over Wu’s shoulder was a different database, but one with much happier information.

“Contact info?” Hank guessed.

“Contact info is old news. I’ve already called their parents and they’re on their way from California. We’ve got pictures of the other kids.” He clicked to two school pictures of kids that did look a fair bit like Milo, though older.

Eddie had darker hair and eyes, but the same face shape minus the baby fat that Milo still clung to. June was matching in the eye and hair color department.

“And check out what I’ve already got here.”

Wu pulled up a third image, taken from a security camera, of a reddish truck waiting to turn at a light. Wu wordlessly zoomed in to get a better look at the back seat. Two kids huddled together, their faces now familiar.

Nick stared. “We’ve got to move fast, when was this taken Wu?”

“Yesterday, around 4 P.M.”

“Do we have a trail?”

“Not much, some other glimpses, but not enough to see where they went. They may have been looking for the other kids.”

“Casey was still out and about at that time.” Nick agreed. “Maybe they wanted to use June and Eddie as bait.”

“But they didn’t have the kids with them when they attacked you.” Hank commented. “So they do have a place to keep them.”

“We just have to find that place.” Nick agreed. “Okay, let’s keep checking cameras, especially around where we were last night, see if they drove from there or walked.”

“They did lose us near the edge of the woods.” Hank recalled.

“And that’s where you found the first kid right?” Wu was already flicking through more security footage.

“Maybe we should get some officers on the ground to check the trailheads around there too, the truck could be in one of the parking lots.”

Nick mixed all of the new information with the old as he sorted out his next steps. Every hour could change things, for better or for worse, and waiting another day could mean the difference between a happy ending and a tragedy. They needed to work fast.

<><><><><>

Nick’s arm ached. He’d reached for more pain medication a few minutes ago and was waiting for it to kick in as he searched through footage. At least the sting in his shoulder drowned out the remains of his woge-related aches. He caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up. Hank was waving him over. Nick pushed off his desk and rolled his chair over to Hank’s desk. Hank had a few cameras’s perspectives on his screen.

“Look.”

He played one. A red truck appeared in the background, moving along the top of the screen with a small camper trailer behind it. In an apparent order, Hank switched from clip to clip to show the truck’s movement. Based on the places that Nick recognized, he started to notice a pattern.

“When was this?”

“The day before we found Lexi Wilmot.”

“And how far-?”

“No more direction than this, so far at least. But, there are a few quiet trailheads in that direction, and if they were looking for a place to hide that camper…”

“The camper has to be parked somewhere.”

He and Hank stared at the screen a moment longer before they stepped into action. Hank sent a call out to some of the officers out searching, to focus their attention on the parking lots at more specific trailheads. Nick returned to his own search, trying to find another hint to push them just a bit closer.

It was a few tense, focused minutes before they got a call back from an officer. Hank answered and switched it to speaker as Nick leaned in.

“We found the vehicle, a red truck matching the description and plate up by Greenrock.”

“Good to hear, thank you. Think you could stay in the area and keep an eye on it?”

“No problem, Detective.”

With that, the precinct rose into action, but Nick wanted to keep most of the actual planning within a more specific group. It was a Wessen-heavy case that they were dealing with. Even if they’d need backup, Nick wanted to make sure that the precinct’s in-the-know were at the head of making the plans. He, Hank, Sergeant Wu, and Captain Renard ended up in the captain’s office with some phone calls to Monroe and Rosalee to keep them in the loop. They put their heads together and formulated a plan.

Chapter Text

Nick stepped into the cooler space under the branches of the forest. Evening bathed the whole area in a growing darkness, but it still felt darker under the canopy itself. Like he’d crossed an invisible boundary, Nick could already feel his senses straining to stretch out properly, to take in more, to hunt. He shook his head to refocus.

Nick moved further under the trees, the strange shadowed influence nudging at him incessantly. He kept his eyes on the back of Captain Renard’s coat rather than letting his surroundings get to him.

They had broken up into two teams, plus Sergeant Wu standing by with few other officers as backup. Nick and the captain had the job of locating the camper itself and with it, hopefully, the kids inside. If they could do that without notifying the kidnappers, then they’d signal the location to Hank and Monroe who’d get in and get out with the kids while the first team kept the suspects busy. They were all armed with wolfsbane amongst other things, and ready to woge once they were far enough into the woods to not be seen by any of the human officers standing by. Eventually, the captain stopped walking. He eyed their surroundings, then turned to Nick.

“Seems far enough, are you ready?”

“Yup.” Nick lied.

Captain Renard raised an eyebrow as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Are you nervous that you won’t be able to woge, or scared of what will happen when you do?”

“Huh?” Nick was staring into the dark. He knew that he could see more if he just woged already, but he couldn't pull his gaze away.

“You’re clearly conflicted, so which is the problem?”

“The second one I guess?” Nick rubbed his eyes. “Control gets… difficult when I’m chasing something.”

“So you’re a hunter? That doesn’t seem too different from the usual for you.”

Nick shrugged.

“Then use that. A woge is ultimately a survival tool for Wessen, either to keep ourselves or others safe in some way. Those kids need us, and the men who kidnapped them are your quarry. Of course, I’d prefer if we bring them in alive for paperwork’s sake, but don’t hold back the biggest tool in your arsenal.” Renard’s woge spread across his face, leaving stretched-thin strands of skin and patches of rot. He inclined his head to Nick. “Use it.”

Nick drew his thoughts to those kids, the pictures he’d seen, to Milo and Casey waiting at the station. They’d insisted on staying until they knew that their family was safe. They needed him to make sure of that. Then Nick thought of the kidnappers, the killers he’d fought before. They had escaped him once. He nodded again, but this one held certainty.

With that gesture, Nick pulled the cold over him like a cloak. Change crept over him like sliding ice, smoother than it had ever been. And once his senses seeped into place, he peered through the darkness without dizziness and listened without a headache.

He could feel the captain’s eyes on him as he looked up to meet that gaze. They had a staredown, along with a mutual, careful study of each other. Then, all Renard had to do was glance ahead for Nick to start moving.

Renard made more noise than Nick did as he walked, so Nick listened beyond that. He sifted through each sound as he searched for any sign of what they were looking for, a signal to follow. He found it soon enough, a faint whimper.

Nick changed direction and Renard followed, tracing Nick’s footsteps as well as he could. The darkness didn’t hinder him, he was aware of every stick and leaf that could make undue noise. His focus drew him along towards the sound that he’d heard, but he kept an eye out for anything else, any other presences. If he’d found the kids, then surely the kidnappers would be nearby.

The lighting changed minutely.

There was a clearing up ahead, open to the night sky above and what moonlight sunk into the grass below. To one side of the clearing, surrounded in dirt tire tracks and disturbed grass, sat a camper with newspaper-covered windows.

The captain shared their location with the other team. They’d found it. Nick’s ears flicked slightly. He caught a few cracks of sticks breaking. He nudged the captain and stepped closer to whisper, barely loud enough to hear.

“They’re close.”

The captain nodded, gestured, and the two of them split up. Nick headed for the quieter of the two sounds. He wanted to place himself between the source of that sound and the second team. Renard would do the same with the other suspect. They needed to cover the kids getting out. Nick followed but stayed out of sight.

He got himself close and crouched in the undergrowth. A few trees away, Nick could hear his target, another hunter’s heartbeat, but this one was picking up with the tension, not slowing down. Nick listened to the rhythm of the heartbeat and harsh breathing. He recognized it from the fight, it was James Allen, the Blutbad. His quarry was so close, but he stayed where he was. He watched as flickers of movement and heat got closer, but shifted to keep himself between those signals and the camper.

Time passed, it was hard to tell how much. It could have been hours or seconds. His focus stayed on Allen, but Nick heard Monroe and Hank approaching. He maintained his position, but split his focus. He heard them reach the camper and check the door. Then Hank broke the lock.

The suspect perked up. He’d heard Hank too. He froze to listen, trying to pick out another sound. But, Nick could hear more than him. He caught whispers of Hank reassuring the sources of two panicked breaths.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m Detective Griffin. I’m with the police, and that’s Monroe. We’re here to get you out of here alright?” The faint sounds of tape being torn and zip ties being cut followed. “Just follow me and be as quiet as you can.”

They were on the move, but Allan was already suspicious. Nick sent Hank a message to warn him that the suspects were nearby and alerted. Nick then pulled his sling off of his shoulder and shoved it in his pocket. He needed to be able to move.

He got a message from the captain.

“Keep your guy busy, mine’s getting too close.”

Half a second after Nick read the text, he heard a shout and his suspect ran towards the sound.

Nick gave chase. He let the distance grow. He knew that he could close it, but Allan was running in the direction that Nick wanted him to, so he let him run. He waited, he kept up, he spread his awareness across the darkness on all sides. Then Nick put on a burst of speed and tackled Allan from behind.

The Blutbad hit the ground just as the second suspect burst into sight with the captain close behind. Renard slipped out of the shadows to deck the Hundjäger across the jaw. Shock silenced the forest for an instant, then the quiet crumbled when the fight broke out in earnest.

Nick pinned the Blutbad to the forest floor and dug in where he gripped him with his claws. Blood bubbled up from the wounds. Its scent mixed with dirt and old leaves. Nick had his quarry, finally. It wouldn’t escape, not this time. He wouldn’t let it escape.

He snarled when the Blutbad fought back. Then, arms wrapped around his torso from behind and yanked him away. The angry Hundjäger threw him off. Nick scrabbled in the leaves to stop himself. He landed roughly, and the captain appeared beside him to help him up.

“Nick, focus.” Renard hissed. “The woge is the tool, not you.”

Nick shook his head to try and do just that. He found a new hint of clarity as he eyed the woged Blutbad and Hundjäger. They were stalking back and forth, opposite of him and Renard. The Hundjäger had a slight limp and a bandage-wrapped leg. Nick crouched to wait.

The Hundjäger moved. The instant that he was off balance, between one step and the next, Nick launched towards him. More blood sprayed the dirt. The dripping exacerbated the haze of instincts lingering behind his eyes. He wanted to hunt, he needed to hunt. He had to- Nick shook it off. He grappled the Hundjäger rather than clawing at him.

Nick took a swing. He blocked a punch in return, then he took a wider swing. He swore when pain shot through his shoulder. His stitches. He heard them tear. Warm blood traced its way down his arm.

The Hundjäger grabbed for his shoulder. Nick danced back. He sidestepped another hit. The captain appeared by his side to catch it, then deliver his own strike. They switched opponents. Nick turned to the Blutbad approaching from behind, and threw his body weight into him. Nick’s arm burned, but he ignored it.

Nick ducked away to put a tree between him and the Blutbad. The Blutbad stumbled. Nick lashed out and clawed one leg.

Renard tackled the Hundjäger, which sent him tumbling into the Blutbad. Both caught themselves and turned to Nick. They were focused on him now. Nick moved. He dodged and redirected what he could, but one good hit to his shoulder sent him staggering. He fought to get his balance back, reeling from the pain. He heard a faint buzz. Renard checked his phone and grinned.

“They’re out! They’re safe!”

The suspects cursed and whipped around. The Blutbad pulled a lighter out of his pocket to see by. The heat and light danced strangely in Nick’s vision. The suspects’ heart rates hitched.

“They’re gonna run.” Nick warned.

The fight shifted. The suspects had no reason to stick around. They tried to run. Nick darted through the trees. He slipped into the shadows cast by the Blutbad’s lighter, then darted out in front of them to cut off their escape. Renard caught up. The Blutbad shouted and threw his lighter. It landed in the leaf litter between them and caught.

Nick stumbled back. The forest was suddenly, blindingly bright with one small fire. The dancing heat left him dizzy. He shut his eyes and shook his head to dispel the spots from his vision. The light, the flickering, the heat, he didn’t know how to shut it out and it was getting worse. More leaves caught, he could hear them. Each one snapped like a firecracker. Nick snarled and backed away as panic fought to break through the cold of his woge.

Chapter Text

Nick somehow kept his feet under him and felt his shoulder hit a tree. He grasped at it and swung himself around to the far side. He risked cracking his eyes open. The tree stood between himself and the flames, making the light bearable. He could adjust, it’d be fine. He repeated that mantra as he shook his head again. He felt like a dog who’d been stung.

The fight was still going, he could hear it through the crackling flames. It sounded one-sided. Nick narrowed his eyes to slits and looked past the tree. The captain was holding his own, but it wouldn’t last. Renard spotted him.

“You alright?” He panted when he got his back to Nick.

“The fire, it’s too much.” Nick grasped for ideas. “Get them over here!”

Renard grunted in acknowledgement as he ducked under a punch. He rose to catch the Hundjäger’s arm over his shoulder, then half-threw him at Nick. The Hundjäger stumbled past Nick’s tree and Nick put himself between the fire and his opponent, back to the flames.

His shadow stretched off into the woods, eclipsing the Hundjäger as he got to his feet.

The crackling still prodded at Nick’s ears and his vision wavered, but Nick smirked. He launched forward before the Hundjäger could recover. His teeth and claws glinted in the firelight.

Nick and Renard’s fights stayed separate, but close. Nick heard his captain kicking at the dirt whenever he could to douse the flames. But Nick was too busy staying in the shadows of the trees to help. His arm ached between stabs of intense pain. His body slowed, the fight was going on too long and he was exhausted. But the prey wouldn’t stay down.

That thought gave him a push. He clawed at the Hundjäger’s side. He nicked the skin, but misstepped when the Hundjäger grabbed for him. Nick grunted as he hit the ground several feet away. His vision blurred.

He was further from the fire at least, or was it getting smaller? It was getting quieter, that he could tell. The static of too-much-noise that had filled his brain faded. Other sounds returned, and Nick could pick up two new ones. A set of familiar footsteps approaching from the woods, and the Hundjäger scrambling to escape.

Nick wordlessly put his arm up, and a warm hand grabbed it to pull him to his feet. Nick wavered for a second and closed his eyes to chase away the dizziness that he couldn’t quite shake. Hank held him upright until he got his balance back.

“You good, partner?”

“Yeah, tired.” Nick panted. He opened his eyes and turned to glare into the woods, after the footsteps that slid through the leaves. “Get your handcuffs ready and give me a second.”

Nick bolted after the Hundjäger. He leaned into every chase instinct in his body to keep his legs moving. His focus zeroed in once more.

The quarry was escaping again.

His breath was even, his movements precise despite his exhaustion.

He couldn't let the prey escape, not a second time. This prey was dangerous, it would hurt again, it would kill again.

Nick could not let that happen.

He darted between the trees. His footfalls launched him forward without making a sound. Once the body heat of the Hundjäger appeared in his sight, he refused to let it leave.

The suspect shouted in surprise when Nick tackled him. They hit the ground in a heap, breath knocked from the Hundjäger’s chest as Nick got himself on top and shoved his quarry into the ground. Only a few moments later, Hank caught up and cuffed him, nearly wheezing from the run.

“I’m gonna go help the captain, you got this?” Nick checked. His breathing was even again.

“Got this, go!”

The run back blurred. Nick spotted the lingering heat from the fire, and suddenly he was there. The captain spotted him before the Blutbad did. The Blutbad caught his reaction though, and Renard tripped him while he was distracted. He pinned the suspect to the ground and Nick stepped in to help and get the cuffs on before the Blutbad could get up again.

Nick found that he was breathing hard. He was woged and breathing hard, not just panting, but taking big, deep breaths. It was not nearly as cathartic as he’d hoped it would be. He took the captain’s place to keep the Blutbad on the ground as Renard finished putting out the fire. Nick watched, but his mind drifted in no particular direction.

Hank caught up with them.

The trip back to their cars stayed in that odd blur for Nick. He just kept his claws on the quarry as he walked. Even as the Zauberbiest features faded from Captain Renard’s face, Nick found that he couldn’t manage the same.

Hank slipped away to check in with the other officers and with Monroe, but not without a worried look in Nick’s direction.

Renard murmured something like “he’ll be fine.”

Nick pulled his hood up, vaguely grateful that the captain’s car was parked a bit further from the rest. He followed Renard to the vehicle. He helped get the suspects into the back seat, then he slumped into the passenger seat himself. He fought the urge to drift off, though whether he still fell asleep or not was unclear.

Eventually, Nick’s woge gave way to the warmth of the car’s heaters. But that left him with the full exhaustion that his fight-or-flight mode had been keeping at bay. It flooded over him like a different kind of wave and he had to double his efforts to not pass out in the car.

By the time they got back to the precinct, Nick had shaken off the worst of the fog with the efficiency of someone used to working with minimal sleep at times. He helped the officers get the suspects into lockup, and he threw his arm back into the sling once it had been re-bandaged. Then he drifted between the odd jobs of getting everything sorted.

He did stop for a moment though, to see Casey and Milo reunited with Eddie and June. There were relieved tears, big grins, and long hugs. Nick kept his distance, not wanting to intrude. But, it took a huge weight off of his shoulders to see them safe and together again. It reminded him that the case, at least his part of it, was all but finished.

He’d have to check if the Wurstners would be good with taking the whole group in for at least another night. He was pretty sure that Phoebe had said that they would, but he added it to his mental checklist anyway. It would be good to be sure. Still though, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the scene in front of him, not quite yet.

Captain Renard appeared next to him.

“They’re all safe, just got word from a team of officers a few miles southwest of here that the ringleader has been found and arrested. Their uncle is okay, and is on his way here.”

“Good,” Nick said, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Nick.”

“Yeah?” He pulled his focus back together to meet the captain’s gaze.

“We wouldn’t have pulled it off without you, or your woge. You did well, especially with something that you only learned that you had a few days ago.”

The captain patted him on the shoulder, then walked off. This time, Nick forced himself to stay a little longer, to appreciate that he’d done well. He’d managed something good with the whole mess his last couple days had been. Nick sat with that thought, then headed off to get just a little more done.

A few hours later, much later than anyone who’d been working all day should have still been at work, there was a slight commotion at the entrance to the precinct.

By the time that Nick had joined the small collection of officers who’d pulled away from their work to see, things had settled somewhat. The kids had re-emerged from their debriefing room, but any exhaustion had been chased off by the sight of the two adults who stood before them. The adults checked over each kid, hugging and kissing them, crying in relief and worry. Nick nudged Wu, who he found himself standing next to.

“The parents?” He guessed.

“Drove all the way up from Cali when they got the call.” Wu confirmed. “They’ll probably want to thank everyone, but I for one hope that they get a hotel room and do it in the morning.”

Nick laughed at that, and Wu turned to start herding the other officers either home or back to their desks, to give the family some privacy.

The Otus kids were in the middle of properly introducing Casey to their parents as their ‘new big sister.’ She blushed beet red when they insisted that she should stay with them from now on, since she had no parents of her own.

Their parents laughed, their eyes were warm.

“Well, I don’t know about you, Casey,” the mom began, her eyes still glistening with tears. “But this has been a long few weeks for all of us, and probably not the best time to make proper decisions. So, we can address this a bit better in the morning, but-”

The dad grasped his wife’s hand and stepped forward.

“We would love to have you,” he finished. “If you’ll have us at least.”

Tears welled up in Casey’s eyes and she fell forward into a tangled hug with a wordless nod.

Nick, distracted by the scene in front of him, hadn’t thought to step away. He also hadn’t noticed anyone approaching until he felt a hand tug on his. He looked down to see Milo staring up at him and tugging him insistently towards his family. Nick hesitated, but let himself be dragged over. As soon as he got close, Milo let go of his hand to grab his parents’ and get their attention. He pointed towards Nick.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.” Nick apologized.

“Milo is very insistent.” The mom, what was her name again? Sarah? Shelly? Sandra! Waved off his apology.

Nick stuck out his hand and both parents shook it.

“I’m Detective Nick Burkhardt. I was the lead on your kids’ case. I’m glad to see that everyone’s safe and together again. Well-” he risked a glance at Casey, hoping that it was suitably apologetic. They still had yet to figure out which of the suspects had actually killed Lexi, but that was work that would have to be handled later. “Mostly everyone.”

The dad, Eric? No, Errol, grasped Nick’s hand firmly.

“We can’t begin to thank you enough, Detective. Our whole family is in your debt.”

Now it was Nick’s turn to wave off the insistence.

“No thanks are needed, and no debts either. I was just doing my job and I’m glad to have helped.”

Sandra and Errol continued to thank him anyway, ensuring that he knew how grateful they truly were. Nick, despite insisting that it wasn’t needed, felt his heart grow warmer with every thank you. But then Errol woged, just a quick flicker from the overwhelming emotion, and tension spiked.

Nick stepped back, hands raised slightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I promise that I’m not going to hurt any of you.”

Sandra and Errol drifted closer to each other, pulling their kids and Casey closer on instinct. Nick tried not to let the expressions on their faces crush his heart too much. He swallowed the disappointment.

Then Milo stepped away from the group and signed something to his family. The best that Nick could guess was that it was something along the lines of ‘Don't worry, he’s nice.’

The parents seemed hesitant, but Sandra was the first to push past the fear to manage a shaky smile.

“I’m so sorry, we were just talking about how grateful we are, only to flinch away like that, to judge you like that.”

“You’re fine. Most Wessen haven’t met a Grimm outside of their stories, and if they do, well, Grimms have a reputation for a reason. I-uh I think that I’m a bit of an odd case.”

The tension faded gradually, but the Wessen seemed reassured at least. Then Milo stepped up again and started signing. It was longer than just a sentence or two, and too much for Nick to even guess at what he might be saying. He wondered if he should try to learn ASL after this.

Casey sidled up next to Nick.

“He’s telling them the story of what happened,” she explained. “He started with their trip, then finding the camp, meeting Lexi and I…”

Casey interpreted the story for Nick as the boy’s parents watched his signs with rapt attention. Nick watched and Nick listened. He was glad to hear the whole story from the kid’s perspective. As the story got to the part that Nick knew, Casey’s explanations trailed off until she too, just watched.

Then, she laughed.

“What?” Nick asked, voice low so he wouldn’t interrupt.

“He’s explaining you. He’s saying that Grimms seem scary, but that you’re nice, that you listen, that you help, and that you understand us because-” This time, Casey snorted.

“Because what?” Nick complained. “I’m what?”

“He said that you understand us because you woge, just like we do. You’re the Grimm who woges.”

“Huh,” Nick murmured. “I guess that I am.”