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Chapter Text

A long day without a short night is nothing to any other man.

“Female, between the ages of 25 and 30, found dead in her house with stab wounds and an open wound on her neck.” Sergeant Wu looked up from the file. “Guess Dracula replaced Santa this year.”

Hank and Nick shared a look before walking past him, through the door that led outside of Captain Renard’s office.

Wu looked over at the Captain before sighing. “And I guess comedy is dead today.” He deadpanned before leaving, closing the door behind himself.

That wasn’t the only thing dead today, anyway.

The crime scene felt grim(m). The house was decorated from top to bottom, from mistletoe on the wall to the very last snow globe on the table. Now all of it was shattered by the blood splattered on the floor and on the decorations that made up the holiday spirit.

“Are you okay?” Hank asked, watching Nick’s expression change from serious to something else, closely related to concern. “It’s not the first time we have had a crime before Christmas.”

Nick shook his head, “I’m fine, just thinking.” He said, his eyes darting around the room. “Any sign of forced entry?”

“Not that we could find. But,” Wu walked in holding a ringing phone, “Someone’s calling our victim, and I doubt it’s the murderer.”

Nick quickly slapped on a glove and grabbed the phone, answering it with the call immediately set to speaker for all to hear.

“Hey, sweetie, I was wondering if you are still coming over tomorrow.” A woman’s voice rang through the phone. Soft-spoken, sweet, caring. This was going to be hard. “I know you and your brother aren’t on great terms, but your dad and I would love it if you still came over this Christmas.”

Hank’s jaw tightened as he looked up at Nick, who looked equally as stressed.

“Ma’am, this is Detective Burkhardt. Could you come to your daughter’s house?” Nick said, his tone carefully neutral. This wasn’t the first time, nor the last time, he’d spoken to the parents of a murder victim.

There was a moment of silence before the woman spoke again, “Is something wrong? Did something happen?” Her tone was anything but calm now.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid your daughter has been the victim of a homicide.” Hank revealed, his tone just as neutral as Nick’s.

A gasp rang through the call, a sob following it up. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” She managed to say before hanging up.

The call ending left Nick, Hank, and Wu staring at the phone, then at one another. Wu sighed, “I’ll go tell the others that the parents are coming over here.” He walked away from the two detectives.

“Murdered two days before Christmas… Not even the worst of men do that.” Hank set his hands on his hips, looking back at Nick.

Nick set the phone in an evidence bag. “Yeah, well, I guess times change.”

“Great Christmas present to get.” Hank looked over at the victim’s body before his gaze fell back on Nick. “Do you think she was Wesen?”

A shrug. “Even if, I wouldn’t know. She’s already gone.”

Nick’s phone rang that very moment. It was Monroe, who else?

“Monroe. What happened?”

“We’re still on for that dinner tonight, right?”

Nick looked over at Hank before beginning to walk away, towards the exit of the house. “Yeah, of course. 8 o’clock, Seymour’s street, the new restaurant.”

“And the restaurant is called…?”

Nick bit his bottom lip, “Uh…” He looked around in search of an answer, in his own mind.

A chuckle from Monroe, followed by an exasperated sigh. “The Triumphed Steaks. They have veggie steak too, remember?”

“Right. I’m sorry, we have a case right now.” Nick admitted, his eyes darting around at the police officers who were either surrounding the place with police tape or talking to one another about the homicide. Or maybe their upcoming dinner plans, too.

“What happened? Does it have something to do with Wesen again?”

“A woman was murdered by a vampire.” He deadpanned. “She was killed with a knife, probably, and her throat was bitten open, I assume with teeth.”

Monroe was quiet for a while before he finally spoke, “It couldn’t be a Blutbad, could it?” He suggested.

Nick frowned, “Why the stabbing if ripping her neck open was enough, then?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe for revenge, to send a message. To prove that she’s dead for good.”

“Yeah, you might be right.” He looked over at the road, watching a car pull over in a hurry. “I gotta go, I think the victim’s parents are here.”

“Alright, see you tonight.”

“See you.” Nick muttered before he hung up, his eyes focused on the two people coming out of the car. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this.” The woman exclaimed, rushing towards Nick.

“Ma’am, Detective Burkhardt, we spoke on the phone.” Nick said, his gaze darting to the man who was following the woman with a concerned look in his eyes.

The woman nodded immediately, “Yes, I need to see my daughter.”

Hank stepped outside, rushing to the grieving parents. “Are you sure about this, ma’am?” He asked, his voice almost a murmur.

“Yes, I need to see her!” She walked past them in a hurry, up the stairs that led to the open door, and into the house. No police officer stopped her; no one dared to. She was followed in by her husband and the two detectives.

As soon as her eyes fell on her daughter, her hand set on her open mouth and she let out a loud sob, tears falling down her cheeks. The man pulled her into a hug, his own cheeks already wet with tears.

Nick kept his gaze on them, watching as their appearances changed for a few seconds. Blutbaden. Could this be a Blutbad on Blutbad murder?

“You have that look again, what are they?” Hank whispered to him.

Nick leaned in, his eyes stuck on the grieving parents. “Blutbad.” He whispered back.

Hank nodded quietly before clearing his throat.

“We’re really sorry for your loss, but we’d appreciate it if you could come back to the station with us and answer a few questions.”

The parents looked over at them, the woman nodding briefly. “As long as you find the maniac who did this.” The man said, his voice almost like a growl.

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, but he kept quiet. Grieving parents.

The interrogation room’s atmosphere felt accusing in a way, even without any questions having been asked yet.

“When was the last time you spoke to your daughter?” Nick asked, his arms crossed.

The woman, whose name was Grace, sighed, “Yesterday morning. She didn’t want to come over for Christmas because of her brother. They never got along.”

Hank shared a glance with Nick before nodding. “Why didn’t they get along?”

“Theodore is very… non-traditional, and Chloe never liked that.” She said, her voice weakening slightly. “We don’t stand for that kind of thing either, but he’s still our son and we love him. Even when he’s…”

She didn’t finish her sentence as she squeezed her husband’s hand.

Nick simply nodded. “So, he’s doing what exactly?” He leaned back into his chair. “He’s gay? Dating a Bauerschwein?”

A deep silence flooded the room as the two parents made eye contact with Nick, emotionally, however briefly, woging.

Their eyes widened in an instant, “He’s a Grimm!” The man stood up, his chair screeching beneath him, eyes turning red. He was ready to pounce at any moment.

Nick immediately stood up, “I am not going to hurt you.” He raised his voice. “I am a cop, all I want is to find out who murdered your daughter.”

But that was nothing for two Blutbaden.

“If I wanted to hurt you, you wouldn’t be standing alive right in front of me.” Nick soon added.

“Or sitting.” Hank added, looking between Nick and the parents.

Nick glanced at him before letting out a deep breath. The man, whose name was Tyler, stared at him, a clear threat in his red eyes, before he slowly sat back down. “Does he know?”

Hank nodded, “More than I wish I did.” He affirmed, leaning against the wall.

“Was there any other reason why Theodore and Chloe didn’t get along?” Nick sat back down as well.

Tyler cleared his throat, his red eyes fading into their usual color. “Theodore dated a Blutbad that Chloe liked. They haven’t stopped fighting since then.” He grunted.

“When did this happen?” Hank asked, writing down some information in a notebook.

“Nine years ago. They stopped talking when Theodore enlisted in the army a few months later.” Grace wiped away a few leftover tears. “They haven’t been in the same room since, not even for Christmas. I thought this year would be different…”

Hank sighed, “Did your daughter have any other enemies?”

Grace shook her head, “Not that we know of. She had very few friends, always kept to herself.” She sighed. “Who would want our sweet girl dead, Ty, who?” She looked up at her husband with tear-filled eyes.

Tyler sighed and pulled her close by her shoulders, “Is there anything else you need to know, Detectives?”

Nick nodded slowly, “Could we get the address and a full name for her brother?”

Tyler nodded, “Yeah, it’s Edward Theodore Parker. He never told us where exactly he lives; he always moved for work.”

Hank nodded, setting the pen down. “Thank you for answering, Mr. and Mrs. Parker. We’ll be in touch if we find anything, okay?”

Tyler glanced at Nick as he and his wife stood up before nodding. “Thank you, Detectives.”

Right as the two detectives walked out of the interrogation room, they heard a door being slammed shut. The door to Captain Renard’s office.

Sergeant Wu walked up to them, holding a binder in his hand. “It’s the FBI.” He nodded towards the office.

“What for?” Hank frowned, “We can handle a simple homicide.”

Wu shook his head, shrugging. “No idea. But I guess we’re going to finish early today.” He let out a scoff before walking away.

Nick hummed, sharing a glance with Hank. “So we’ll just have to hand this case to the FBI like nothing, again?”

“What, you want to argue with them?” Hank crossed his arms. “Tell them what? ‘I think the murderer is a Blutbad, and oh, did I mention I think the brother did it without any proof? Oh, and I am also a Grimm, so if you don’t let me have this case, all of you will end up killed by Wesen’.”

Nick groaned, “I guess we let them have it.”

Right as he spoke, he watched as the door opened, revealing Captain Renard and what seemed to be the two FBI agents.

“And these are Detectives Burkhardt and Griffin.” Renard cleared his throat, closing the door behind himself.

“FBI agent Booth, this is my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan from the Jeffersonian.” Agent Booth said calmly. “We’re taking over this case, effective immediately.”

“With all due respect, on what grounds?” Nick couldn’t hold back a retort.

Booth glanced at Hank briefly before he looked back at Nick, “We believe the murderer is a serial killer who originates from Washington, D.C. and has been leaving behind a trail of homicides; all victims share the same wounds and have been killed in similar circumstances.”

“Knife stabs, we believe that they all originate from the same weapon, and throat slashes that seem to be done by sharp teeth, fang-like, could be from an animal, although no animal DNA has been found thus far. The Jeffersonian Institute is requesting the body of Chloe Parker for further examination.” Dr. Brennan explained.

“Washington, D.C. is a long way from here.” Hank remarked with a small smile, his tone slightly passive-aggressive.

Booth hummed, a condescending smile on his lips. “This is FBI business, Detectives. We’d appreciate it if you handed all the evidence you have to the FBI and moved on with your day. This is not your case anymore.”

Nick’s jaw tightened, but he bit back a response — just handed Booth the victim’s file and stepped back.

“Thanks. Enjoy your donuts, gentlemen.” He walked away in sync with Dr Brennan.

Renard sighed, “Back to work, Detectives. I don’t want to hear that you guys are trying to get involved in the case again.” He smoothed down his sleeves. “We don’t need any sued cops before Christmas.”

Nick hummed in annoyance. “So what if the killer is from D.C.? We’ve caught many psychopaths from different states, countries even.”

“Nick’s right. There must be something going on that they don’t want us to know, Captain.” Hank crossed his arms, keeping his gaze on the door that the agents walked through on their way out.

Captain Renard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two of his fingers. “Even if something is going on, it is not your business to find out anymore. Case closed for you two.” He walked back into his office, shutting the door behind himself.

Nick’s jaw clenched.

What a long day.

Chapter Text

A dream a night, without the sunlight.

Monroe watched Nick from across the table as he ate, “Hey, what happened to this morning’s case?”

Nick set down his fork. “The FBI came and took the case; we’re not allowed to get involved anymore.” He clarified. “Not a huge fan of that either.”

Monroe shook his head, “They don’t know what they’re getting into.” He remarked before taking another bite from his mashed potatoes.

“The victim was a Blutbad. And I think the killer is a Blutbad too.” Nick revealed, his gaze fixed on Monroe.

Monroe paused his chewing before swallowing. “How come?” He leaned back into his chair slightly.

Nick picked his fork back up, “The parents are Blutbads, and they mentioned that the vic and her brother don’t get along. Could be a siblings' feud.” He pushed the food around on his plate with his fork.

Monroe’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s Blutbaden. And what does the FBI think of your theory?”

“Didn’t tell them.” Nick swallowed hard. “They think it’s some serial killer from D.C. who’s been moving through the states and leaving behind victims in a similar fashion.”

Monroe took a sip of his wine, “It could be, right?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, but I was thinking...” Nick leaned closer, slightly over the table. “What if the brother is the serial killer?” He lowered his voice.

Monroe looked around briefly before leaning in too. “Isn’t he from Portland?” He whispered back.

“Well, maybe he moved to D.C. for the army, and he began his murder spree there, so now the FBI thinks he is from D.C.” Nick smiled, leaning back against his chair. “We need to talk to him.”

“We?” Monroe blinked.

Nick crossed his arms over his chest, “Come on, you’re a Blutbad, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“Nick, I don’t think he’ll just confess to murder because we’re the same type of Wesen.” Monroe frowned, reaching back to eat some more from his plate.

“I know, but maybe he’ll lower his guard and give us some more information. Blutbads don’t really like Grimms, remember?”

Monroe sighed, “Blutbaden, and I’m aware. Fine, I’ll go with you.” — Nick’s face lit up at that, his lips forming into a grin.

“At least there’s one Blutbad who likes you,” Monroe remarked before taking another bite from his veggie steak. “Remember, I had to sneak you in here.”

Nick looked around and smiled, slipping off his sunglasses, “You wanted to eat here, not me.”

“And you came an hour early to pay extra for a table near a window.” Monroe gave him a grin back. “You know I like the night sky.”

Nick simply stuffed his mouth with mashed potatoes, keeping quiet after putting his sunglasses back on.

Right after dinner and before Monroe himself even knew it, they were in Nick’s car, driving to an address Monroe had just told him off of a notepad.

“Did we really have to go now? We look like we just came back from a wedding.” Monroe asked, setting the notepad on his lap. “One that ended really early, too.”

“The sooner the better. I found what should be the brother’s current address right after the FBI seized the case from us.” Nick explained while pulling out of the parking lot, taking his sunglasses off, and hanging them on his collar.

Monroe sighed, undoing his tie and pulling it loose from the collar. “Alright, you have to do what you have to do…” He threw his tie on the car floor.

Nick’s eyes flicked to the movement, the car slowing down as his gaze set on Monroe.

Monroe glanced back at him and shook his head, “Eyes on the road, you don’t want to explain to your captain, or the FBI, why you crashed your car near the victim’s brother’s house.” He teased with a smirk.

Nick scrunched his nose briefly before redirecting his gaze to the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel slightly. Monroe’s smirk never left his face.

“Alright, I think it’s here.” He soon said, pointing to a house. “Pull over.”

And Nick did, killing the engine after and stepping out of the car, in sync with Monroe.

Monroe looked around, sniffing briefly before nodding. “I smell something, but not quite Blutbad…” He frowned, looking at Nick, who was already walking to the door. “And some blood, strong.”

“Guess Theodore has a lot of explaining to do.” Nick reached out and rang the doorbell. Monroe materialized next to him, his frown still in place.

“If a Blutbad lives here, he more than definitely knows we’re here.” Monroe sighed, “Dammit, I didn’t bring Wolfsbane.”

Nick glanced at him, then back at the door, “We’ll just have to risk it this time.”

“We? I wasn’t even supposed to be here!” Monroe scoffed, “You should’ve come here with Hank, not me! I am not a police officer!”

Nick put a hand on his shoulder, “You are a friend of the police, as far as anyone else knows, and you are a Blutbad. If he sees you next to a Grimm, he might calm down quicker than without you.”

Monroe rolled his eyes and looked away. “I should be paid for this.” He muttered.

The door opened that very moment, startling Monroe.

“May I help you?” The man asked, clearing his throat after, sounding a little hoarse.

Nick nodded briefly, “Theodore Parker. I’m Detective Burkhardt. We want to talk to you about your sister, Chloe. Could we come in?”

“Call me Teddy.” Teddy looked between the two before nodding towards Monroe. “Who is he?”

“James Monroe, he’s helping the police. Could we come in?” Nick repeated himself, his jaw clenching. Monroe nodded awkwardly at the presentation.

Teddy stared a moment longer before backing away, giving way to his home, letting the two men walk right in. He closed the door behind them afterward.

Monroe leaned in, close to Nick. “He’s not a Blutbad.” He whispered.

Nick turned around, looking at Teddy. “What is he?” He whispered back.

Teddy made his way to the couch, keeping his eyes on them warily.

“Fuchsbau.” Monroe whispered back before straightening his back. Nick stiffened up briefly, “We’re here to talk about your sister’s death.”

Teddy’s eyes widened for a brief moment as he sat down, “Chloe is dead?” He asked, his voice tight. He emotionally woged — Monroe had been right. This wasn’t a Blutbad, but a Fuchsbau.

“You are a Grimm.” Teddy stood up immediately, “And he is a Blutbad!” He pointed at Monroe, who had remained near the door, next to a lamp.

“Oookay, calm down,” Nick said, stepping away. “I’m not here for any of that. Your sister was murdered sometime in the last 24 hours. We’re here to ask you some questions, nothing more.”

Monroe stared at him, stepping forward, his eyes turning red as a warning. The last thing Teddy needed was to fight both a Grimm and a Blutbad.

Nick glanced at Monroe and shook his head briefly, watching Teddy turn back human. “Fine.” Teddy crossed his arms.

Monroe’s eyes turned back to normal, and he remained near the wall, watching the two.

“Where were you last night?”

“Home. Where else? And why do you have a Blutbad with you?”

“I ask the questions now. Was anyone else with you?”

“No. How come you haven’t murdered him yet?”

“I said I ask the questions now. No one can confirm that you were here all of last night?”

Teddy grunted, sitting back down. “Look,” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t spoken to her in years. I don’t even have her number saved in my phone. You can check.”

Nick stared at him for a bit before glancing at Monroe, who simply shrugged, looking uncomfortable himself, just like Teddy.

“Have you spoken to her parents?” Teddy looked up at him.

“Aren’t her parents your parents too?” Monroe frowned.

Teddy waved him off, “Details, details, that’s not important.”

Nick frowned as well, “Yeah. We have. They told us that you two didn’t have the best relationship.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, well, I just confirmed that for you. Does that give me enough credibility to be left alone?” Teddy asked, his tone leaning towards irritation.

“What do you say about coming down to the station to answer some questions, maybe write a formal statement?”

“Whatever makes you two leave me alone, sure.” Teddy took slow steps to the door, grabbing his jacket that was next to Monroe, on the coat hanger. Monroe stepped aside briefly, his gaze immediately shifting to Nick.

“Well, let’s go.” Teddy grabbed his keys, opening the door wide open.

Nick blinked a few times before nodding, “Never seen someone so eager to get questioned.” He muttered to Monroe as they walked to the door and outside.

“Huh, tell me about it.” Monroe huffed.

Teddy turned to them after locking the door behind them, “I’m not deaf, you know. Quite the opposite.”

Nick coughed briefly, “Got it, sorry.”

Monroe spared Nick a glance before smiling to himself, getting in the car.

As soon as Nick started the car, the questions began to pour in. However, not the ones meant for Teddy.

“So, what’s a Blutbad doing with a Grimm?”

“That’s not important to the case.” Nick waved him off as he pulled out of the driveway and into the road.

Teddy leaned back into the car seat. “A Blutbad working with the police is not something you see every day. Let alone a Grimm not beheading him the second they meet.”

Nick gripped the steering wheel, glancing at Monroe, who just shrugged.

“Times have changed, haven’t they?” Monroe said, his tone light-hearted.

Teddy held back a laugh. “Yeah, did he tell you how many Wesen he’s murdered? Wonder when you’ll be the next.” He looked at Nick through the rearview mirror.

“Hope you’re as eager to let us know what happened last night as you are now to find out about me.” Nick glanced at Teddy through the rearview mirror, watching his face shift into a neutral expression.

Teddy looked out the window, “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

The moment Teddy sat down in the interrogation room, a file was dropped in front of him. A photo of his family, with him nowhere to be found.

“Why did you and Chloe not get along?”

Teddy blinked a few times before his gaze settled on the table. “Her dad turned her against me ever since we were kids. She caught me…” A sigh. “When we were teenagers, I was hanging out with some guy she liked, but I didn’t know she liked him, and when he tried to kiss me, she found out.”

“And any relationship you guys had went out the window.” Captain Renard added.

“Something like that.” Teddy leaned back into the chair, glancing at Nick. “Does he know about you?” He nodded towards Renard.

Nick glanced at his captain before nodding. “First-hand.”

“Is he a Grimm, too?” Teddy asked, raising his eyebrow.

“No.” Renard looked up from the file, “You’re a Fuchsbau in a family of Blutbaden. Either you’re a bastard child or adopted, which one is it?”

Teddy looked back at Renard, “My mother had an affair with her boss, hid it from her husband, and confessed when I first woged into a Fuchsbau. I think he always suspected it, though.”

Monroe raised his eyebrows from behind the glass.

“A bastard Fuchsbau child living in a family of Blutbaden. You don’t see that every day.” Renard leaned back into the chair.

“More like surviving in a family of Blutbaden.” Teddy chuckled.

Nick simply nodded, “And you’ve had no contact at all with your sister in the past few years?” He crossed his arms.

“No, I already told you.” Teddy bit the inside of his cheek, “I haven’t spoken to her since I enlisted, which was like nine years ago.”

Nick glanced at Renard, then looked back at Teddy, making his way to the door and exiting with the captain, leaving Teddy brewing on low-heat inside the room.

Sergeant Wu looked between them, “So, did he confess?”

Renard looked over at him, “Burkhardt, my office.” He walked to the office, followed by Nick inside once he entered.

“I thought I made it clear when I said that I don’t want you to get involved in this case anymore.” Renard walked to his desk and sat down.

“What was I meant to do? Just sit and watch the FBI take over a case while they have no idea that they’d be in way over their heads? Because I doubt either of those agents is a Grimm.”

Renard hummed, looking at his computer. “Why is Monroe here?”

“He was already with me when I decided to go to the brother’s house. We thought we were dealing with a Blutbad, so it seemed right.”

“At the moment.” Renard added.

Nick nodded briefly, “At the moment.” He repeated. “I think Teddy is hiding something else from us. Just give me some more time to figure it out.”

A moment of silence before Renard cleared his throat and nodded. “Fine. But if you get caught and I have to excuse you from the FBI’s hand, then you’re suspended.” He hummed. “And I don’t want to have to suspend you.”

Nick blinked a few times before nodding, “Thanks.”

As soon as Nick stepped outside, he walked back to the interrogation room, which Sergeant Wu was still guarding.

More dangerous than a fox is a wolf who doesn’t get an answer.

Chapter Text

Saying thanks to the time on the clock that suspects you of everything.

Nick stepped inside the observation room instead, closing the door behind himself and facing Monroe.

“Dude, how is he even a Fuchsbau?” Monroe immediately asked, his eyes wide with curiosity. “The dominant genes would’ve made him a Blutbad, no matter what.”

Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets, shaking his head, “I think he’s hiding something else. An affair kid can’t get along with the rest of his family and has now killed his sister as revenge, sounds accurate, right?”

Monroe looked over at Teddy, through the glass, “He doesn’t seem too nervous though.” He shrugged.

“He has a good cover — no contact with his sister, low contact with his family, doesn't live too close to them…” Nick sighed. “I should call Hank, get him up to speed.”

Monroe nodded slowly, his gaze set on Teddy still. “You know, Fuchsbaus have awful reputations.”

“Yeah, like Blutbads, right?”

Monroe looked back at him and rolled his eyes. “It’s Blutbaden, and no. They’re sly and risky to be around, not really trusted.”

“And we shouldn’t really trust what he’s saying?” Nick looked over at Teddy.

Monroe raised his shoulders, “Just be careful.” He looked him up and down, fixing his coat on his body.

“Yeah… I will.” Nick nodded, “I’ll call Hank.”

As they walked out, Nick was met with Wu’s confused gaze. “What’s Monroe doing here? What was he doing in the observation room?”

Monroe raised his eyebrows, “Uhhhh…”

“He knows the vic’s brother, our suspect. Friends in the army, you know.” Nick immediately said, his voice tighter than usual.

Wu looked between them, “Oh, right. Small world, huh?” He smiled. “Must suck to see your friend as a suspect.”

Monroe gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah, small world… What can you do, right?”

“Actually, could you call Hank over for me while we find out what’s up with this guy?” Nick leaned closer to Monroe, keeping his gaze on Sergeant Wu, who nodded, walking away.

Monroe sighed, “That was less than comfortable to experience.” He bit the inside of his cheek, reaching out to open the door to the observation room.

“Detective Burkhardt.” The words were heard throughout the room, making Nick and Monroe look towards the entrance.

Agent Booth was walking towards the two of them, holding a file, a young man next to him, in sync with his steps.

“Agent Booth, how can I help you?” Nick gave him a tight-lipped smile, his eye twitching slightly.

Booth shared his smile, his gaze shifting to Monroe for a moment before it settled on Burkhardt again. “Just needing some more information about the victim, anything you know that you haven’t shared up until now is legally required to be made known to the FBI.”

Nick glanced over at the young man, who immediately smiled. “I fear we haven’t met yet. I’m Doctor Lance Sweets, FBI Psychologist.” He reached out, shaking Nick’s hand hurriedly.

Monroe looked between the two, his eyebrows furrowing. His senses were on high alert as he felt the presence of another canid Wesen.

Right as Sweets’ hand left Nick’s grip, their eyes met and a woge occurred. Emotional woge, Fuchsbau, which had Sweets’ eyes widen the moment he noticed the deep void in Nick’s eyes — he didn’t seem excited anymore, but horrified.

He took a step back, his gaze dead set on the Grimm, even as his woge went away, but Nick looked back at Booth, in an attempt to ignore what he’d just witnessed.

Nick hummed, “What must you know, gentlemen?” He crossed his arms.

Booth glanced at Sweets, who was fixing up his tie with a carefully neutral face now. “Did the victim’s parents give out any names, possible suspects? Family members, friends, enemies, old flames.”

Nick’s eyes met Monroe’s before he shook his head, “No, not really.” He said, his tone as casual as ever. But he felt Sweets’ eyes on him — reading him, fearing him maybe, Nick couldn’t tell at the moment.

Booth gave him a curt nod, seemingly trusting of his words, but his gaze gave way to anything but trust. “I need to talk to Captain Renard, also. Is he here?”

“I sure hope so.” Nick kept his eyes on the FBI agent. “I doubt he’s left yet.”

“Right, I’ll go see for myself.” Booth said, walking away without another word, leaving Sweets with the two.

As soon as Agent Booth entered Captain Renard’s office, Sweets’ smile reappeared. “I never thought I’d see a Grimm working as a detective and willingly standing next to a Blutbad. What’s the story?”

Monroe frowned and opened his mouth to comment, but Nick spoke first. “We’re not required to say more than what the FBI requires to know for the case.” He gave him a curt smile.

Sweets looked between them and smiled wider, “What is it, hero complex? Making up for your ancestors’ mistakes and murders?” He looked Monroe up and down. “Are you a police officer, too?”

“Oh, no, just a friend.” Monroe shook his head, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked back at Nick.

Sweets held back a laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Is there another Fuchsbau here? A friend of yours?” He looked around, “They must be pretty close, I can smell them here.” Curiosity shone through his tone as he spoke.

Nick straightened his back, “There’s no other Fuchsbau here, Doctor Sweets. And you have no grounds in here to psychoanalyze us.” He remarked.

Sweets took a step back, “You’re right, my apologies. I’ve just never seen a Blutbad and a Grimm working together before.” He fixed his suit on his body. “Is this a usual thing or just a special occasion? Since you’re dressed like you’re going somewhere that needs formal attire.”

Nick looked over at Monroe’s clothing before swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat. “Does Agent Booth know he’s working with a Fuchsbau?” He retorted.

Sweets blinked, his smile fading slightly as he looked at Monroe. “It’s not relevant to my line of work, but no.”

Nick smirked, “I think it is relevant. A Wesen with a reputation for being sneaky and sly doesn’t really fit as a psychologist, do they? Wonder how that affects you, FBI Psychologist.”

Sweets furrowed his eyebrows before smiling again. “Alright. My apologies for intruding.” Right as he finished talking, Agent Booth appeared back next to him, looking as stoic as usual.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Booth said to Sweets before turning back to Nick and Monroe. “We’re done here for now. If you remember any information that hasn’t been lent to us, report back to the FBI immediately.”

Nick smiled — it didn’t reach his eyes — as the two left, leaving them alone with a suspect in the interrogation room and another detective on the way to work at this late time.

“Do you want me to stay here?” Monroe asked, his gaze set on him. “I doubt I can be of much help right now since Hank is probably coming here.”

Nick looked around briefly before looking back at him. “Yeah, you should go home.” He said, his gaze set on Monroe’s face, just lower than where his eyes were.

Monroe smirked and nodded, “Alright, Nick. I’ll see you home.” He began walking away, leaving Nick taking deep breaths and watching him exit his line of vision.

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Home. Yeah.” He murmured to himself, walking over to Sergeant Wu’s desk. “Hey, did you call Hank?”

Wu looked up from his computer, “He said he’d be here in ten, why? Is our suspect getting antsy?” He smiled, standing up.

Nick shook his head, “Just need to discuss something with him about our guy.”

Wu nodded slowly. “How does it happen that Monroe somehow always ends up involved in some way in our cases?” He looked up at Nick.

Nick’s eyebrows shot up briefly, “He’s probably a pretty influential guy, knows lots of people…” He coughed after talking. Just once.

“He’s a clockmaker.” Wu frowned, “What kind of influence can a clockmaker have?”

Nick looked over at the entrance of the precinct, noticing Hank stride in. “Oh, there he is, thanks, Wu.” He rushed to Hank’s side without another word, leaving Wu’s questioning hanging and dissipating into the air.

“What did you find out?” Hank asked, stopping in his tracks, glancing at Wu as he walked past them to guard the interrogation room’s door again.

“Our suspect isn’t a Blutbad, he’s a Fuchsbau.” Nick crossed his arms, “Fuchsbaus don’t kill their victims by tearing their necks apart with their teeth.”

Hank sighed, looking around. “Have you run a background check on this guy? Maybe he hired someone to kill his sister.”

“That was my next step.” Nick smiled slightly, walking to his desk and sitting down, being followed by Hank.

One speeding ticket, one parking ticket.

Gone AWOL in the Army 6 years ago for 63 days; Other-Than-Honorable Discharge as a Corporal, thanks to multiple acts of disobedience and not following orders.

Diagnosed post-service with PTSD and Bipolar Disorder type II with Psychotic Features.

“Seems like our guy is a bubble waiting to burst.” Hank shook his head. “Think he could’ve done it and not remembered it?”

Nick’s eyebrows furrowed, “No, I don’t think it’s that…” His gaze remained on the computer screen. “He doesn’t seem to have done anything bad prior to the army.”

“We have no proof he’s even involved in this, Nick.” Hank glanced at him. “We’re legally required to let him go.”

Nick met his gaze and hummed. “Yeah. I know.”

He really wished he didn’t.

With much reluctance, Teddy was let go. But Nick felt anything but at ease about it all.

It was around midnight when Nick returned home, well, Monroe’s home — he’d been living with him since his breakup with Juliette, which had occurred around 8 months ago. He just never left Monroe’s home.

“Nick?” He heard Monroe’s voice from upstairs, footsteps following close behind.

“Yeah?” Nick took off his coat and kicked off his shoes, soon being met with Monroe’s presence.

“Was that guy the killer?” Monroe asked while making his way to the kitchen, right past Nick, “I made some tea if you want. Chamomile for your sleepless nights.”

Nick followed him into the kitchen. “We had to let him go,” He watched Monroe pour himself some tea into a cup. “No proof, no grounds to keep him in custody.”

As Monroe took a sip from the tea, he felt a hand over his that was holding the cup, and before he knew it, the cup was no longer in his hand, but in Nick’s. “Hey, you could’ve poured yourself some, you know?”

Nick took a sip before setting the cup back down on the counter. “I like it more when you do it.” He smiled. “And I hate tea.”

Monroe shook his head with a smile of his own and grabbed his cup. “Do you want to keep talking or head to bed?” He glanced at Nick’s lips before looking back at his eyes.

“We can’t talk in bed?” Nick leaned closer. “Isn’t that what ‘pillow talk’ is all about?” His smile turned into a grin.

Monroe looked him up and down, “We could definitely do some pillow talk.”

Nick shrugged, his smile stuck on his lips. “We’ll see.” He walked away, his gaze avoiding Monroe entirely as he walked up the stairs. “I’m going to bed now.”

Monroe quickly finished up his tea, setting down the cup. “Pillow talk… goddammit.” He grinned before following Nick up the stairs hurriedly.

As he stepped into the bedroom, he found Nick already there, getting undressed. “Do I sleep on the couch tonight?” Nick smiled at him.

Monroe huffed a laugh, “That couch hasn’t been slept on in months,” He walked up to him, undoing the buttons of Nick’s shirt. “And I doubt it’s good for your back. You should start doing Pilates with me.”

“I don’t need Pilates.” Nick watched Monroe’s hands work on his shirt’s buttons. “I have a back bender available at all times.”

As soon as those words reached Monroe’s ears, he turned a light shade of pink. “Right.” He swallowed hard, opening Nick’s shirt and stepping back.

Nick looked down at his open shirt and slipped it off his shoulders before throwing it at Monroe. “So now you’re shy?” He chuckled, taking a few steps back, towards the bathroom. “The big bad wolf can’t catch me now?”

“Hey! That’s offensive.” Monroe grabbed the shirt and threw it on the bed, beginning to walk towards Nick. “And I can catch you if I want, you know?”

Nick chuckled, “I don’t see any wolf here to come for me for what I said.” He said before opening the bathroom door and unbuckling his belt. “Is he really that shy?”

Monroe paused and took a deep breath, his eyes turning red as he watched Nick stand in the doorway. Once the belt was off, Nick threw it in Monroe’s direction, who caught it and let it fall to the ground.

“Oh, is the wolf ready to come out of his shell to terrorize me? Well, he can find me in the shower.” Nick undid his pants, watching Monroe walk to him again, until they were face to face.

Monroe hummed, “You know what you’re doing, Nick. So either you keep it up or you go shower.” He leaned in.

Nick raised an eyebrow, “I think I’ll do both.” He stepped backwards into the bathroom. After another deep breath, Monroe rolled his head and woged.

“Oooh, there’s the wolf.” Nick’s cocky voice rang through the bathroom as Monroe walked in and shut the door behind him.

And this was definitely not a short night.

Chapter Text

Surprises on Christmas Eve are not always welcomed.

Teddy’s house was empty. Nick and Hank had gone in the morning to check up on him after his parents claimed he’d left the city post-interrogation. Those were grounds for suspicion.

“I’ve notified nearby police stations about the disappearance of our suspect,” Renard said, standing up from his desk. “If he’s as innocent as he claims to be, he wouldn’t have fled like this.”

“Maybe he had a nervous breakdown; he’s diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.” Hank remarked.

Renard smirked, “Or maybe he knows we’re close to the truth. We need to find him and whatever he’s running away from. Or whoever.”

Nick had kept his gaze on the floor, his mind stuck on other places, up until now, when he looked up at the captain. “What if he’s in D.C.?”

Renard’s smirk faded, but he didn’t interrupt Nick’s train of thought by talking.

“The FBI said that the serial killer they think also killed Chloe is from D.C. and has been going from state to state until he’s reached Oregon.” Nick explained, clearing his throat after.

“So… Teddy might really be our serial killer?” Hank frowned.

Nick hummed, “He’s a Fuchsbau, they don’t rip open people’s throats to kill them. But one of his parents is a Blutbad, so I wouldn’t put it beyond him anymore…” He scratched his chin.

Renard glanced at him, “Maybe he’s connected to our killer. Even if his legal papers don’t say so…” He hummed. “We have to notify the FBI.”

Nick grunted, “Aren’t those agents back in D.C.?”

“They’re still handling the case, but the Portland FBI office has officially gotten involved. We will report to them from now on.” Renard said, sitting back down and turning his laptop on.

The two detectives made eye contact. “Well, back to paperwork for now.” Hank sighed, walking out of the office. Nick followed close behind, closing the door behind him.

“So, how’s Monroe?” Hank asked as he sat down at his desk. Nick frowned, sitting down as well. “What about him?” He winced slightly, shifting in the chair.

“You’ve been living together for months now. Are you going to move out soon?” Hank raised an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Find your own place, stop bothering the poor guy?”

“I just sleep on his couch, it’s not a big deal,” Nick mumbled the words, his voice barely audible. “He’s a good host.”

Hank chuckled, “So you’re a leech? Do you at least buy groceries or pay bills?” He eyed the bruise forming on Nick’s neck, but didn’t comment.

Nick rolled his eyes, “I’m not obligated to talk about my personal life at work.” He retorted. “Just like you don’t want to talk about your ex-wives, I don’t want to talk about my living situation.”

Hank shook his head, “The difference is I was actually married to them while you’re not married to Monroe.” He huffed a laugh. “I can help you find a place to move into, man.”

Nick sniffed briefly, “It’s fine, I’ll figure it out.” He looked at him. “Thanks, though, I bet it helps your ego.”

Hank scoffed in fake annoyance, “Jeez, can’t a guy help a friend?”

Nick simply smiled, grabbing his phone from his pocket.

Hank watched him type out a message for a while before he commented again. “Do you think maybe Teddy was involved in some shady things?”

Nick looked up from his phone briefly to look at his co-worker, “Like drugs or debt collectors?” He raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Yeah, and maybe his sister was murdered to, you know, send a message to him. So he left as soon as he was able to.” Hank shrugged, “I’m just saying, it’s probably not the case, but… it’d make sense.”

Nick frowned — the longer he thought about it, the more it seemed plausible and totally possible for such a thing to happen and be the case for their suspect. He set his phone on the table and began typing on the computer instead.

“Maybe we should look more into his army past, we kind of skimmed over his files…” Nick muttered, soon pulling up a file with multiple photos.

As soon as Nick’s eyes widened, Hank stood up, walking to his side. “What’d you find?”

“So Special Agent Seeley Booth served in the army with none other than our suspect…” Nick pointed at one of the photos, where Booth and Teddy stood tall next to each other, along with a few other soldiers.

Hank blinked a few times as he stared at the photo before he straightened up, “Could the FBI be covering for him? Do they even know he’s a suspect?”

“Well, they will soon.” Nick snorted.

The door to Captain Renard’s office opened, followed by Renard leaving the office and walking to the two detectives. “I’ve spoken to the FBI, they have their eye on him and are going to report back if they find any trace of him. But I say we shelf this case for now, we can’t do much about it without a warning from the FBI.”

Nick gave him a brief nod, “That FBI agent from D.C. who seized our case served in the army with our suspect.” He pointed at the computer, right at their faces.

Renard frowned, bending to look at the screen. He blinked a few times before straightening, “Think he’s protecting him?”

Hank crossed his arms, leaning back on his chair. “Could be. Or maybe Teddy is planning to go meet with him back in D.C. The serial killer meets the one responsible for his case.”

Nick stood up, “So are we meant to contact Agent Booth or let him handle it? Yesterday, he was probing us for details about the case as if he knew that we weren’t telling him about our suspicions regarding the vic’s brother.”

Hank frowned, “When did that happen?”

“Before you arrived, it’s a long story, I was with Monroe when it happened.” Nick stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Literally no one had asked for that bit of extra detail.

Silence fell upon the three of them before Captain Renard cleared his throat. “We are sending you two to Washington, D.C.” He declared before beginning to walk away.

“Are we even allowed to do that if it means we’re getting involved in the case?” Nick raised his voice. “I thought we weren’t allowed to get involved anymore.”

Renard paused in his tracks and turned back, “It’s for the safety of an FBI agent and the Jeffersonian Institute. So yes, we are.” He resumed his walking. “I’ll book your plane tickets, go home, and pack.”

Sergeant Wu walked up to the two detectives as their captain walked back into his office, “What is going on?” He took a sip from his coffee.

Hank stood up, looking over at Nick, then back at Wu. “We have to save the FBI from a serial killer.”

Nick blinked a few times, scratching his neck lightly.

It was going to be a damn long day.

Before he even knew it, Nick was back at home — Monroe’s home — packing stuff into a duffel bag. Christmas decorations had adorned the house for several days now, and he kept staring at them, knowing he probably would not see them again when he returned.

He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing anymore.

“When’s your flight?” Monroe asked, walking in with two folded shirts. “Here you go.” He handed them to Nick, who set them inside his bags like they didn’t matter.

“In like three or four hours. Quickest one Captain could find.” Nick muttered as he closed the half-full duffel bag. He sat down on the bed, taking a few deep breaths. “I need some things from the trailer.”

Monroe sighed, sitting down next to him, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. “Well, on the bright side, you can think about… this, while you’re gone.” He gestured around the room.

Nick glanced at him, “Think about what?”

“You know… this.” Monroe took a deep breath, finally gesturing between them. “Whatever we do and have.” His eyes met Nick’s, and he involuntarily woged.

Nick blinked a few times before he simply nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He stood up, taking his eyes off Monroe. “I’ll be at the trailer.”

Monroe nodded in agreement, turning back to normal as Nick left the room. He looked over at the closed duffel bag and opened it back up. A few shirts, including the ones Monroe had brought him, underwear, two pairs of pants, socks, a toothbrush without toothpaste, a bottle of ibuprofen, cologne, and a notebook.

“Great setup, Burkhardt..” He muttered, standing up and walking out of the room to gather more stuff to fill up Nick’s duffel bag.

In the hour that Nick had been gone, Monroe had filled his duffel bag and a backpack with some more pieces of clothing and basic items that he could need, and even thrown in a shirt of his own for good measure.

When the front door opened, Nick walked into the house and went straight upstairs, not minding Monroe’s presence in the kitchen.

He opened the duffel bag and set inside it the items from the trailer. He didn’t bother to look through what Monroe had set in either of his luggage.

Monroe's voice suddenly came from downstairs, getting closer and closer as he walked up the stairs, saying, "It’s a 5-hour flight to D.C.".

“I made you some sandwiches.” He said as he stepped inside the bedroom, holding two sandwiches wrapped in plastic wrap.

Nick turned to look at him, their eyes meeting again. “Thanks.” He grabbed them from his hand and threw them into the backpack. “I have like two or so hours left, I think, I should get going.”

Monroe looked around briefly and nodded, “Want me to drive you there?” He took a few steps forward, closer to Nick.

“Alright. We take my car?” Nick zipped closed the duffel bag, then the backpack, throwing it over his shoulder. Monroe reached out and grabbed the duffel bag. “Yeah, let’s go.” He said, his voice carefully neutral as they walked down the stairs and out of the house, to Nick’s car that was parked near the house.

After throwing the luggage in the backseat, Nick stared at Monroe for a while before getting inside the car, followed by Monroe getting in the driver’s seat.

The drive to the airport was made in pure silence from the two; the only noise that could be heard was from the radio — a Christmas song was playing, ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!

Nick’s gaze kept falling on the car floor, where Monroe’s tie had been left yesterday. His fingers itched to pick it up, maybe make a joke, put it on, or put it on Monroe, but he simply shifted his gaze towards the window, watching snowflakes fall from the sky onto the snow-covered streets.

When Monroe parked the car, he killed the engine and looked at Nick. “Want me to wait with you until your plane leaves?”

Nick finally looked at him, but looked away after a few seconds. “You don’t have to do that.” He opened the car door and stepped outside, shutting it closed. Monroe followed his actions, closing the car door and then opening one of the doors to the back seat.

Nick threw the backpack over his shoulder, while Monroe took the duffel bag, closed the door, and walked around the car. “Here.” He handed it to him, their hands touching in the process. But Nick didn’t react, didn’t say thank you, just grabbed the duffel bag from him.

And now, face-to-face with Nick, Monroe took a deep breath. And his friend matched such action.

“Well, call me if anything, alright?” Monroe gave him a small smile, his gaze falling briefly on Nick’s lips before he shifted it back to his eyes.

Nick nodded, his face carefully neutral. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” He began walking towards the entrance to the airport, with Monroe following close behind. “Weren’t you going home?” He soon asked, right before he entered the airport, turning to face him instead.

“I thought I’d wait for you to do your check-in before I left…” Monroe said, his shoulders slumping.

Nick looked him up and down before shaking his head, perhaps to himself. “I can handle myself.” He reminded, his eyes meeting Monroe’s again. “I don’t need you to watch over me at all times, you know?”

“You’re right,” Monroe took a step back. “I’m sorry.” He clenched his jaw, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took.

Nick swallowed hard, trying to drown the knot in his throat. “Merry Christmas Eve, Monroe.”

Monroe stood in silence for a bit, his gaze set on Nick, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Then, he finally responded.

“Goodbye, Nick.”

And with that, Nick turned back and went on his way, inside the airport, to take a flight to save some agent, as well as to leave Monroe with the December weather forming into snow all around him.

As temporary as it was, it felt just as permanent.

Chapter Text

The moon is no longer connected to the sun if the other stars refuse to align.

Washington, D.C., wasn’t exactly Nick’s cup of tea, or coffee. Let alone Hank’s. But duty was duty, and duty was something they had to fulfill.

Although with the Christmas Eve lights, it sure looked better than usual. But there was no time to rest, not even in their hotel room. The moment their luggage left their grips, they were on their way to the Jeffersonian Institute.

“Don’t you think the corpse can wait until after Christmas?” Agent Booth asked, his gaze falling on the corpse of Chloe Parker. “I don’t think she’ll complain if you cover her up for the night and we all go celebrate like we agreed.”

Doctor Brennan looked up and shook her head. “No, Booth, I still have one more hour. We agreed we’d leave at 11, not 10.”

Booth rolled his eyes playfully and sighed, “Want me to bring you a coffee?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“No, thanks. I'd rather not consume caffeine right now. It's late, Booth."

Booth held back a laugh, "Not late enough for a corpse,  apparently." He mumbled.

Vincent Nigel-Murray walked in, holding a chart. “Doctor Brennan, I’ve found the cause of our victim’s death.” He walked up to her. "And it's not the stabbing."

He pointed at the victim's neck, “These bites, as we’ve agreed, seem like animal ones, maybe a dog’s or wolf’s, and they’re the cause of her death.” He then pointed at her stabbed chest. Three stab wounds, same shape, size — safe to say they were all done with the same weapon. “The stab wounds seem to have simply been complementary.”

“So just sending a message?” Booth frowned, walking closer to the corpse. “Or to make sure she died?”

Vincent shrugged, “Well, I can’t say for sure, but,” He lifted her head, showing a spot on the back of her head. "From the marks on the x-ray, I believe something, maybe a chair, hit her in the head before she was killed."

“So she was knocked out before she died.” Brennan said, matter-of-factly.

“It seems like so, Doctor Brennan.” Vincent nodded, looking over at Booth afterwards. “It’s very fascinating, most victims of this murderer have all been knocked out and killed in the exact same way. What killer trains a dog to kill people?”

Booth simply glanced at him before looking back at Brennan.

Brennan matched Booth’s reaction before looking back at Booth, their eyes meeting. “Alright. Booth, what did the parents say?”

Booth shrugged, “They were devastated still when Sweets and I spoke to them. I asked the captain of the South Precinct of Portland P.D. about it to see if the stories matched up. Same things said.” He cleared his throat.

“They have no clue about who would do such a thing to their daughter and that the only feud she ever had was with her brother.” Booth continued. “Edward Parker is her brother; they haven’t spoken in years. I still haven’t had time to speak with him, and I doubt I’ll get to him on Christmas Eve.”

Right as those words left his mouth, the door to the Institute opened, and in walked the two detectives that Booth had spoken to the night before.

“Portland, P.D., Detective Burkhardt and Detective Griffin.” Nick said, walking up to the three people who were standing near the corpse of the victim.

Booth frowned. “What are you doing here? On Christmas Eve, ‌of all days.”

Nick scoffed, “We’re afraid to inform you, but you are not as safe as you think you are in this city. We believe the victim’s brother is on his way to get revenge on you for taking over the case.”

Brennan looked between the three men with a frown. “What’s going on?”

Hank looked over at her and sighed. “Edward Theodore Parker, Chloe’s brother, went missing last night after an interrogation at the precinct, where he had to be let go for lack of proof. We believe he’s on his way to D.C., or maybe already here, to get to Agent Booth.”

“You had no right to interrogate him after we took the case, detectives. I thought I made it clear that any and all evidence, including suspicions, that you had was to be turned in to the FBI, and that you were not to get involved at all.” Booth stepped closer.

"What's done is done, you're in danger, and we're here to make sure your old army buddy doesn't kill you, got it?” Nick said, facing him, even with the height difference.

Booth paused, blinking a few times before frowning. “Army buddy? What the hell are you talking about?”

Hank pulled out a photo from his pocket — one of the photos they’d found and printed out to bring as proof in the case of questioning from the FBI. “Look familiar?” He handed it to Booth.

A photo of Booth and Teddy, standing together with two other soldiers, all in a group side-hug. Booth stared at the picture for a while before crumpling it into a ball and putting it in his pocket. “I don’t see what you are getting at.”

“You might recognize him by the name of ‘Teddy’ as he told us he likes to be called,” Nick smirked. “Sound familiar by any means?”

Booth’s face was already pale enough that you could confuse him with the white walls of the Institute. He took a deep breath. “If you’re talking about Teddy Parker, he is dead. He got shot right in front of me during a mission and died before we could get any help.”

Nick’s smirk faded. “That’s… What?” His lips formed a frown now. So did Hank’s.

“They moved me to another unit after he died. So if you are here to play a sick joke on me, donut-eaters, then you have chosen the wrong day to do so. I suggest you leave before I make you.”

Nick and Hank shared a look before they quietly made their way out, their facial expressions shifting between multiple emotions, ranging from worry to concern to confusion.

As they stepped outside, Hank turned to Nick. “Is there a Wesen that, I don’t know, comes back from the dead?” His frown hadn’t left his face yet.

Nick looked back at him and shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know.” He simply admitted, his gaze falling back on the falling snow.

“We should go back to the hotel and rest. I’m a little jetlagged.” Hank sighed, looking around. “Let’s get a cab.” He suggested, walking towards the road.

But something else had already taken Nick’s attention. Two men walking together down the street, holding hands and laughing like the world and the stars revolved around them. He stared for a while before following Hank, his eyes looking glassy.

At least the cab was warmer than the cold he felt since he’d arrived in this dammed city, that was in this dammed state, that was in this place where his home wasn’t, where Monroe wasn’t. Not like that mattered much.

Right?

“How did Monroe take the news about you leaving?” Hank asked as he turned his attention to Nick, who was staring out the window. Well, not anymore, he was now looking at his co-worker and friend.

Nick shrugged, “It’s not like he could’ve stopped me. Plus, he’s got Rosalee, he won’t miss me too much.” He gave a small smile, but it didn’t even reach his eyes.

Hank raised an eyebrow, “Alright. Also, what’s that on your neck?” He pointed to the bruise he’d noticed this morning. “What’s what?”

“That bruise you have on your neck, here.” Hank pressed on it lightly, making Nick wince slightly. Right at that moment, they had arrived. Nick paid and bolted out of the cab like there was free ice cream outside.

Hank got out of the cab and followed him inside the hotel, a knowing smile on his lips.

As soon as they reached their hotel room, Hank called dibs on the shower, and Nick was anything but bothered by it. All he wanted was to sleep and not wake up for a few days, preferably after New Year’s. As soon as Nick’s shoes were off, he made his way to his already-claimed bed. He’d claimed it by throwing his backpack on it right when they first arrived.

He sat on the bed and took his phone out of his pocket. A quick check, nothing more. But there were no messages and no missed calls.

The phone got thrown under his pillow before Nick laid his head on it. A sigh. Another one. And before he knew it, Hank was out of the bathroom. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it didn’t really matter at the moment.

“Man, I’m beat.” Hank remarked while putting on a shirt he’d taken out of his own duffel bag. Nick didn’t even look at him, just stared at the ceiling, hands on his chest.

After a few seconds, Hank approached Nick’s bed. “You okay?” He raised an eyebrow, looking down at him. They made eye contact, and Nick nodded, sitting up suddenly. “Yeah, just tired.”

Hank paused for a moment before nodding. “You should sleep, too. We have a long day tomorrow of trying to figure out why our suspect died and is back to life now.” He said with a lighthearted tone and walked to his own bed, sitting down.

Nick slipped his jacket off his shoulders and set it at the foot of the bed. He set the backpack down, right next to the bed, taking out of it the first shirt he found and a pair of pajama pants. “I’ll go shower too.”

“Knock yourself out, man, I’m off to bed.” Hank declared, already covering himself with a blanket, getting himself comfortable in bed.

Nick took a deep breath and stood up, walking to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

While Nick showered, Hank barely fought the need to fall asleep. But even that was interrupted by the ring of a phone. Not Hank’s, his was on the nightstand. But Nick’s, from underneath the pillow.

“Nick, your phone is ringing!” Hank called out. But no response; the water was running and effectively muting any outside noise. With much irritation, Hank got out of bed and followed the noise until he reached Nick’s pillow and lifted it, finding the phone there.

Hank groaned and picked it up, throwing the pillow back on the bed as he answered. “Monroe, this is Hank.”

“Oh, Hank.” Monroe’s voice rang through the phone. “You guys got there just fine, right?” His voice sounded tighter than usual, but Hank didn’t give it much thought in his sleepy state.

“Uh, yeah… We were just about to go to bed.” Hank explained, yawning afterwards. “Everything okay?”

Monroe’s nod could almost be felt through the phone, “Yeah, no worries here, I just wanted to check up on you guys. Christmas Eve and all, we don’t need any accidents…” A small, nervous chuckle escaped Monroe.

Hank mindlessly nodded in agreement. “Yeah. We’re fine. Want me to tell Nick that you called so he can call you back? He’s in the shower right now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll call him tomorrow or sometime later.”

Hank mindlessly nodded once more, yawning. “Alright, man… Goodnight.” He hung up without another word, throwing the phone underneath Nick’s pillow before settling back in bed.

No more distractions, no more ringing phones. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

A few minutes later, Nick walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with one of the hotel towels, wearing his pajama pants but not a shirt. He looked over at Hank before walking up to his own bed and sitting down, grabbing the shirt that was draped over his shoulder and throwing the towel next to him.

As he put it on, a frown appeared on his face. This wasn’t a shirt he’d usually wear to sleep. This wasn’t even his shirt.

Nick looked down at his shirt and sniffed the collar. Once, then again, and again. It was Monroe’s shirt — definitely not packed by him, but probably by a certain Blutbad.

He smelled it once more before lying down, his head falling on the pillow. He reached beneath it, pulling out his phone, as his other hand pulled the collar of his shirt up so he could smell it once more.

Lavender, citrus, and cinnamon. An odd combination, but one that Nick kept in the back of his head when thinking about him.

Nick’s fingers itched as he stared at the phone screen. The urge to call Monroe had only been growing stronger since he’d stepped out of that plane — but Nick wasn’t that good at showing what he wanted.

What he truly wanted.

What he needed.

At least not now, not the day before Christmas, not the days that he would have to spend away from home. From Monroe’s home, from his own home, from the bed he slept in, from a place that he wasn’t sure he wanted or could truly even call home.

And yet, he didn’t call him.

He set the phone on the nightstand and closed his eyes, his hair semi-wet against the dry pillow, and his mind running away from his own actions, against his own will.

Nick barely slept that night. So did Monroe, who slept on the couch. The bed wasn’t the same without Nick in it.

Don’t torture yourself over things you cannot change; you can change what tortures you instead.