Chapter Text
Upon reflection, Juliette decided the damage to the house was nothing compared to the sight of Nick in the hospital. She knew that Nick would inevitably bring his work home. The cases he worked on would stay with him: the stresses of life and death situations, the accumulated memories of homicide and violence. She thought she could accept that, and it hadn't been a problem until recently. And certainly now, with the first floor of the house in shreds because a criminal had followed him home, and Nick laid up in the hospital because he'd had the holy crap beaten out of him by the suspect-- some asshole jacked up on who-knew-what and angrier than anything she'd ever seen.
Eddie Monroe -- oddly quiet -- had come like a ghost to the house to help clean up the glass, and give her half-hearted words of comfort. It was obvious he was uncomfortable there, but he was determined to help, to at least make the place livable.
Hank came after his shift, and together he and Juliette sorted through the debris, setting aside those things that needed repairs, those that didn't, and discarding what was irreparable.
Juliette's sister and brother-in-law brought help, and the men boarded up the windows until replacements could be ordered while the women gave the first floor a thorough cleaning. Afterwards, the men stood around the back porch drinking while the women stood in the kitchen, making more food than Juliette had any foreseeable need for.
By the time Nick was released -- his healing proceeding surprisingly well -- there wasn't much left to do. They went through the insurance forms together, made dinner, called the glass-repair place, and sat together on the sofa where they tried to achieve something like normalcy.
"I went over to Eddie's place," Juliette said during a commercial break. "He untangled those necklaces, no problem."
"That's good."
"Yeah. You know, I was kind of surprised by his house. It was strangely old-fashioned, a bit shabby in places perhaps, but very put-together, you know. And those sweaters he wears! So… is he gay?"
Nick blinked at her, and flashed back to a mistletoe kiss at Christmas. "What?" he asked, completely thrown.
"Well, he doesn't have a particularly 'gay' vibe. Only, he doesn't strike me as exactly straight, either."
"Ah," Nick answered, unsure how to proceed. "Well. One of his ex-girlfriends showed up a while back."
"And how did that go?"
Nick made a face. "Not well."
"Right."
So they had a normal conversation and ignored the boarded-up windows, had a normal dinner and ignored the missing blender and vase, had a normal evening even if they were short a coffee table and lamp.
And when she wanted to make love that night, he turned away, still in too much pain to do anything but sleep.
=
Eddie was in the middle of a new cello piece when the phone rang. His previously solitary life had accustomed him to ignoring it, but now that he knew Nick, every ring held the fear of bad news. He rested the cello on its side to pick up the phone. "Hello?"
"Eddie? It's Juliette."
"Hi. What's up?"
"Is Nick at your place?"
"No. Haven't seen him since he got out of the hospital."
"Do you have any idea where he might be? He's not answering his phone and Hank said he left work like usual, didn't mention anything."
"I'm sorry, Juliette; I haven't heard from him."
"All right. Thanks anyway. Sorry to bother you."
"It's no bother. I hope he turns up. Good night."
"Night."
Directly after hanging up, Eddie put his instrument away properly, slid on his shoes, pulled on his coat, and headed out to his little yellow Bug.
=
The trailer storage lot was deserted aside from Nick's car. The door to the vintage silver trailer was unlocked and Eddie slipped inside. Nick was asleep at the table, his head resting on a pile of old books. His cellphone sat beside him and Eddie gave it a quick poke.
Eddie stood and stared a moment, taking in the sleeping form, at awkward rest with his bad arm tucked in toward his stomach and the other dangling loosely at his side. Eddie cleared his throat. When that elicited no response, he tried, "Wake up."
Nothing.
"You. Grimm. Up. Wake up!"
"Huh!" Nick jerked upright, a piece of notepaper momentarily stuck to his cheek. "Oh, owwwwww…" he whined, pressing his right hand to the left -- previously dislocated -- shoulder. "I thought I had magic healing powers, but everything still hurts."
"Accelerated," Eddie corrected. "I wouldn't say magical. How's that doing?" he asked, indicating the scrape along Nick's forehead and the bruise blooming in a riot of color on his cheek.
"Oh, that's fine. Mostly it's my ribs; sometimes I just forget not to move so fast. Hurt like a bitch…"
"Well, you're lucky you're a Grimm. Anyone else would have been pulverized."
"Gee, thanks. …So, what brings you by, exactly?"
"Juliette called me. Wanted to know if I'd seen you."
"Oh. Shit." Nick pushed himself to his feet and looked at the windows, realizing the day's light had gone. "Thanks."
"Your phone's dead."
"Damn," Nick said and picked it up, vainly pushing buttons and getting no response.
"So, what's going on with you?"
Nick slipped the phone away and blew out a huff of breath. "I'm going to tell Juliette."
"Yeah." Eddie slowly nodded. "You would."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just means: I know that's the kind of guy you are. You get in trouble, your girl gets in trouble… that's a wake-up call. You think it's the right thing to do, so of course you're gonna tell her. So, what's the hold-up?"
"How on earth do I get her to believe me?" He threw his arms wide as though to encompass the entirety of the trailer. "Even if I show her all of this, it's easier to believe my aunt was nuts and that it runs in the family than that I'm the descendant of a race of people destined to fight fairytale creatures."
"It would be easier to believe that you're nuts, yeah," Eddie easily agreed. He went on, "It's true that humans usually can't see our… other traits. But there are ways around that."
"Really?" Nick asked. "Cause I've been going through all this stuff and haven't found a thing."
"Well the easiest way would be some kind of fairy salve. Normally, it's hard to come by, and it's not exactly in high demand these days, but I wouldn't be surprised to find some in here. Your aunt was totally stocked!"
"Well, that's great," Nick said, turning to a spice rack that definitely wasn't furnished with spices, "…What am I looking for?"
"Well, that's the hard part," Eddie said, stooping to examine the spinner on the card catalog. "Uh, every manufacturer had their own recipe and gave it their own name, so it could be labelled anything; I've heard it called Fee Salbe, Elfrahm, Kobold Balsam, Duergarcreme…"
They went through a variety of cupboards and drawers before Nick popped up and said, "Ah-ha! What about this?" He handed Eddie a tiny tin jar that turned out to be an antique pillbox, but labelled in the same careful hand as almost everything else in the trailer. The label read 'Seelie-See-All.'
Eddie twisted the lid off and grinned. "That should do it. There's just a tiny bit left, but all you need is a dab," he said of the coagulated pearlescence gathered around the bottom edge. It shone like ground opals or beetle shells.
"Great," Nick said. "…So how does it work?"
"I am occasionally boggled by the depths of your ignorance," Eddie told him, recapping the tin.
"Well, I didn't grow up hearing stories about Blutbaden and Jagerbars. This is like… someone handed me a foreign-language dictionary and expected me to make sense of it all without context. I can't be fluid in a language I didn't even know existed less than a year ago."
"Okay, fair point. Also, that's a pretty good analogy." Then, Eddie became abruptly silent, lips slightly parted and brows narrowed in deep thought.
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing. I'm not thinking anything."
"You were. I could see it, just… there." Nick poked Eddie in the center of his forehead.
"Hey! Well, I was thinking: you can't just tell Juliette and expect her to doubt you; that's a little too cynical for you, don't you think? This stuff," Eddie held up the tin, "should be… a Plan B sort of thing. Cause really, what were you gonna do? Take her to the local dives and hope to run into something less than human? Cause that really wouldn't go well."
"No, you're right. I hadn't thought that far ahead. What's your Plan B then?"
"Well, dumb-ass, you are friends with a tame Blutbad."
Nick couldn't hide the smile that curled at his lips. "Yeah, I am," he said softly, then smiled wore widely. "Don't think you can trick me, though. You might be Wieder, but you're not tame."
Eddie mock growled and turned to go before his own grin could grow too wide. "Give me a call, then, if you need me. I'll hold onto this. You better get home."
"Right." Nick said. "Home."
=
The strange thing was that even when a Blutbad mock-growled, it was still a real growl, and Nick felt the resonance of it low in his belly as though some latent Grimm sense was kicking in and telling him to be careful. He carried that tuning-fork ring with him the whole way home.
His injuries from the Siegbarste's assault slowed his usual trot up the front steps of the house. He shut the door behind him and asked, "Juliette?"
Juliette looked up from the dining room table. Nick's cold dinner sat waiting at his usual place. She still sat before her plate, empty but for a few crumbs and smears. Juliette had eaten -- probably long ago -- and she sat with her arms crossed, watching him.
Nick slowed as he approached and said again, quietly, "Juliette."
"Where were you."
"I fell asleep. My phone was dead. I'm sorry."
Juliette wearily rubbed her eyes and forehead. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"
"Yes."
Her posture shifted from something angry and defensive to something more open and interested. "Yes?"
"Yeah. Do you… want to come into the living room? Or--"
"I'm fine here."
"Okay." Nick pulled out a chair to sit close to her. When he sat, he leaned in to look closely at her, finding both pain and patience in her expression.
"Well?" she asked.
"Um. Not sure where to start," he confessed. "So," he looked toward his own feet. "My Aunt Marie, she was special, different from regular people."
When he stopped, Juliette said, "So, this is about your aunt?"
"That's how this all started, yeah."
"How what started?"
"Uh, kind of everything. Did you know that fairytales are… based on real things?"
"Lots of myths are," Juliette hesitatingly agreed.
"Right," Nick answered. He stared at Juliette's expectant expression, licked his lips, and blew out a long breath. "This is really hard."
"Oooo-kay. So, what do fairytales have to do with your aunt?"
"She knew the truth behind them," Nick said. It sounded more like a suggestion than a statement. He went on more firmly, "She knew that all of those creatures in the stories-- they're real."
Juliette blinked owlishly at him. "What do you mean, 'real'?"
"I mean," Nick told her, his eyes wide and earnest, "they exist. Today. All around us. Beasts and… pigs and bears and wolves--"
"You mean animals?"
"No, I mean… things that are -- sort of animals, I guess -- but they look like people. They look… normal. To you. But I-- I can see them. So could Aunt Marie. We can see the creatures for what they really are. We're called Grimms."
Juliette frowned deeply, taking all this in. Her lips thinned into a taut line. She sat forward, paused, then stood and retrieved her purse.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know. Marianne's, I guess. She's closest. Listen, let me know when you want to grow up and tell me the truth."
Nick didn't even think to make a reply until long after the door had closed, leaving him in silence.
=
Eddie wasn't the least bit surprised when his phone rang. "Monroe."
"It's Nick."
"How'd it go?"
"She didn't believe a word of it."
"You want me to bring the salve o--"
"No. She took off, went to hang with one of her girlfriends."
"Probably just needs to cool down."
"I guess."
"So… you want me to come over?"
"I have beer."
"Sold."
=
"Place looks good," Eddie said after Nick let him in. "New windows working out all right?"
"Yeah. If only they were ogre-proof."
Eddie snickered. "Trust me: no such thing."
They each grabbed a beer from the fridge and parked themselves in front of the TV. Nick hunted for the remote and turned on something bright and flashing that required no attention whatsoever. He retrieved a box from the end table and began eating something that looked like chocolate but made crunching noises as he chewed.
Eddie stared.
"Oh," Nick said, holding out the box. "Want some?"
Eddie wrinkled his nose. "I'm not eating something called a Chocoroom."
"It's just as well," Nick said, popping another one into his mouth. "They don't really go with beer."
Eddie sniffed the air, detecting the cooked food that had been sitting out. "You eat dinner?"
"No. Don't make a fuss, please. I just want to chill out."
Eddie said, "All right," but muttered something that sounded like, 'I don't fuss…'
They watched the TV, drank their beer, and snacked on whatever Nick pulled out of his stash. When one show ran into another and Nick's eyelids began to droop, Eddie turned off the lights. The change in atmosphere perked Nick up, and he glued his eyes to the current infomercial proclaiming the accolades of the latest diet pill.
He abruptly turned to Eddie and asked, "Why clocks?"
Eddie regarded him with both confusion and skepticism. "What do you mean 'why clocks'? Why clocks what?"
"Why do you fix them?"
"You mean, why'd I choose it as a career?"
"Well, yeah."
Eddie shrugged. "Well, when I was eighteen, I killed my high school sweetheart. And that's why I became a clockmaker."
"Okay," Nick said, muting the TV and sitting up straight. "First: What? Secondly: …WHAT?!"
It wasn't something Eddie wanted to talk about, but it was easier in the dark, when he couldn't see the intensity in gray Grimm eyes, and he suspected it was something he'd have to confess eventually. "She was in the marching band. It was the summer after we graduated. We were both virgins. We decided to have sex. She wanted to do it at my place; my family would have smelled it for a week. I wanted to do it at her house, but her mom was always there. The street I lived on ended at a dense forest that climbed up a hill; I convinced her to meet me out there. She would bring the blanket, and I'd bring the condoms.
"I was running late, but I could smell her; I knew she was out there. She'd left the blanket rolled out in the clearing. I followed her scent and called out. I heard her laughing. I saw something flash between the trees. Something red. I remember what happened. I wish I didn't. I laughed back at her and called out again. I chased her through the trees. She thought it was a game. So did I. Until I felt the growl in my throat, the hunger… I don't think a human can understand. There was something of lust in it. And a visceral thirst. I was chasing her, thinking I'd have her in the end. But her red dress taunted me at every turn, and when I finally caught her, it was with my claws outstretched.
"She screamed and ran for real, then. But a teenage girl can't outrun a Blutbad in his prime. I pinned her down and I-- I wasn't even undressed, but I sort of thrust at her, and I tore into her throat, and she was dead. And I… realized what I'd done.
"And I ran away from home. To my uncle in Renton. And he taught me how to walk the path of the Wieder, and he taught me how to fix clocks. See, if you don't want to kill people, the best thing to do is to stay away from them. So I stay inside, and do things that I can do alone. Pilates. Cello. Cooking. Fixing clocks.
"Then, you came along. You! The most… I never thought there could be such a thing as an innocent Grimm. And I knew the best thing I could do was stay away from you. But there was something in you that spoke to me, and I knew you'd get yourself killed if I didn't help you. So I helped you. And I keep helping you. And if that needs to stop now that you know what I did, then I'll live with it."
Nick listened to all this, his wide eyes trained on Eddie's profile the entire time. "I knew there was something in your past," he finally told the Blutbad. "But this isn't going to change anything between us. Thank you. For telling me."
Eddie's jaw clenched as he closed his eyes, a spectrum of emotions coloring his pained expression. Nick saw loss there; he saw regret, self-loathing, an old ache, grief, fear… but why fear?
"You aren't afraid of me, are you?" Nick asked, haltingly quiet in the silent room, with the only light from the gleaming television.
"I'm always afraid of you," Eddie confessed, his eyes open again but still avoiding his companion. "It's the wolf in me that smells the Grimm in you. That's not going to go away."
"I'm sorry."
Eddie heard it in the depth of Nick's voice, how sorry he was. For everything. Even those things so far in the past they were beyond his reach.
=
When Juliette crept in at one in the morning, she found the TV casting its flickering blue light over Nick and Eddie, who lay slumped on the couch. Eddie's head had lolled over onto Nick's shoulder-- his good one, fortunately.
The coffee table was littered with empty beer bottles and the wrappings of what looked like the entire candy aisle of the Fubonn Shopping Center.
"Men," she muttered.
Nick made no motion at the sound of her soft voice, but Eddie's eyes slipped open and he swung his head around to look at her. He set the TV remote aside and stretched and eased himself to his feet, careful not to disturb Nick. "Hey," he whispered as he approached Juliette in the darkness. "I didn't mean to nod off on your couch; he wanted some company."
"What's going on with him?"
"Well," Eddie said, "Whatever it is, it's probably the biggest personal conflict he's ever known." He picked up his coat from the arm of the couch and dug into the pocket for his car keys. "Oh, d'you want me to clean up at all?" he asked, glancing at the mess on the table.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Are you okay to drive?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. And look: I know things are tough right now, but he really is trying to do the right thing by you."
"…Am I supposed to know exactly what you mean by that?"
"Not yet, I guess," Eddie said. "Good night." He slouched out the door and it clicked closed behind him.
Juliette sighed and looked at Nick, dead to the world with his head fallen along the back of the couch. She looked at the TV and the old black and white movie playing on TCM. "Oh yeah, he's gay," she muttered before shuffling up to bed.