Epic, A Grimm story by BymagaJones 2/?
Feb. 9th, 2016 04:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bymagajonesChapter 1 here
Chapter 2
Five-thirty, Nick opened the door to find both Hank and Wu waiting for him.
“What?” Wu asked. “You thought I’d let you leave without a proper goodbye?”
Nick smiled at the two men, thankful he’d had them to keep him sane. The smile faded as he picked up his bag and thought of Monroe, feeling alone and guilty in the world with no one to watch his back. Nick promised himself that he’d do whatever he had to do to earn Monroe’s forgiveness. Maybe they couldn’t get back to the friendship they’d once had, but Nick was going to be thankful for whatever space Monroe allowed him to have in his life. He’d known that Monroe had somehow become important to him, but he didn’t realize how much until it was too late and Monroe was gone.
The detectives dropped him off at a ramshackle hut beside a large airplane hanger, and he waved them off when they suggested that they stay until he made contact. He didn’t know a lot about Captain Renard, but one thing was certain: the man kept a lot close to his vest. For some reason, Nick had the feeling that Renard’s contact wouldn’t be interested in making a whole lot of new friends either.
“Hello?” He called, opening the door to the shack, his eyes automatically looking in every corner. But there wasn’t much to see: a desk that looked like it had seen better days, a calendar from five years earlier tacked on the back wall, and an old fashioned telephone with a rotary dial. Shrugging, Nick closed the door and turned around to find a tall man walking toward him from the hanger.
Underneath his cowboy hat, the man had long, black hair hanging past his shoulders, and as he got closer, a slight Asian slant to his eyes. The rest of his outfit, flannel shirt, worn jeans, and western boots, didn’t give anything else away.
“Nick?” The man asked, holding out his hand.
“Darren,” Nick said, remembering the name on the paper as he returned the man’s firm grip.
Darren nodded, his eyes dropping to the solitary bag at Nick’s feet. “That all you got?”
It was Nick’s turn to nod. Unsure of what to expect, he’d debated about packing some of his wooden weapons that wouldn’t set off a metal detector, but he still didn’t want to have to explain them if security had given them a closer look. He’d also never been to Alaska, but he’d packed the warmest clothes that a police detective who’d lived in Portland for most of his adult life had in his closet. He figured he could find a way to outfit himself with anything else he needed once he got there.
“Let’s go then.” The man turned and led Nick to the hangar, opening the door to reveal a plane that was definitely better taken care of than the neglected office.
“We’ll be taking the Challenger,” Darren said, leading the way to the plane. Nick looked around the hanger curiously. “Don’t have to go through security this way,” the man added, evidently reading Nick’s mind.
Sighing, Nick took a moment to think longingly of the weapons he’d left behind before pushing it aside to focus on the job – and the plane – ahead of him. He’d never even been inside a private plane – he didn’t count the time he’d been zombified, because he couldn’t remember it – but as he sat down in one of the plush chairs, he thought he could get used to it very quickly.
Darren knocked on the closed door at the front of the plane, and Nick saw a flash of a dark blue uniform as Darren and the pilot spoke quietly for a few seconds before Darren nodded and closed the door.
Darren sat across from Nick, pulling some papers out of a briefcase resting on the floor beside his chair. For a brief second, Nick wondered idly if the man had correctly assumed where Nick would choose to sit or if it had been a coincidence, but his attention became riveted to the pictures and documents being laid out on the table in front of him. Shoving aside copies of the pictures Renard had shown him earlier that he’d already committed to memory, he focused on the new images.
“We just obtained these a couple of hours ago,” Darren said. “They conducted a search within a five mile radius and found these.” He pointed to one of the pictures.
“Footprint,” Nick said, noting the measurement tape in the image. “A man’s footprint,” he amended.
“Not your man’s,” Darren said.
Nick blinked. His man. He supposed at one point in time, Monroe had been his man, but his hateful words had ruined all of that. Despite that, he found he liked hearing it and didn’t correct the other man.
He supposed it was his being accustomed to Renard’s absolute competence that it took him a few seconds to realize that Darren already knew Monroe’s shoe size.
They went over the rest of the new documents, evidence that Monroe had probably been taken by force, but Nick found a few holes he wanted filled, and he definitely wanted to walk the area personally.
Darren nodded, checking his watch. “We should have a little more than two hours left of flight time; feel free to rest up some. I’m sure you’re used to staying awake for long periods of time, but we don’t know what we’re going to find up there.”
Nick nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could possibly sleep any better than he had the night before, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. He watched Darren collect the pictures, sliding them back into the briefcase, before he closed his eyes.
A firm hand on his shoulder woke him up.
“We’ll be making our descent in about twenty minutes, but I wanted to go over your equipment.”
Blinking a few times to wake himself up, Nick realized that his feet were elevated and a blanket now covered him. He must’ve been really out of it to have slept through all of that, and he had to admit that he was feeling pretty well rested, all things considered.
“Here. Black, right?”
Nodding and muttering his thanks, Nick grasped the coffee mug with both hands and inhaled the strong scent. It smelled like one of Monroe’s expensive brands, not the cheap stuff in his office and at the station. Taking a sip, he almost smiled. Monroe would love it.
Darren dropped back into his seat, dragging Nick’s attention to the fact that the little table between them was now gone. His curiosity about that dimmed the moment he noticed the large black bag now taking the table’s spot.
Unzipping the bag, Darren took out a large coat. “It’s January in Alaska, and we’re not going to be hanging out in a mall in Anchorage. You’re gonna need more than that leather jacket to keep you warm.”
Nick had also brought a knitted hat, but he just kept that wiseass comment to himself and listened as Darren detailed the other items in the bag. He didn’t even bother to question if everything were going to fit him.
Nick felt a little ridiculous after he’d gotten dressed, even after seeing Darren dressed in pretty much the same outfit. But Darren sported his winter gear with the ease that Nick wore his jeans and leather jacket while Nick’s new jacket and boots made strange noises every time he moved.
The moment he descended the stairs, he stopped worrying about how he looked and wondered if Darren sported some sort of invisible mask to keep his face from splintering into a million pieces. He took a breath and could swear he felt ice shards piercing his lungs. He’d known Alaska was cold; he just had never felt that his blood was beginning to freeze.
An SUV rested a couple of feet away, and the front door opened, revealing a tall African American woman who smiled as she climbed out, pressing a quick buss over Darren’s lips.
Darren smiled and patted her on the shoulder, asking, “Where’s the LEO?”
“He got called on a domestic, asked me to come pick you up.” She looked at Nick and held out her hand. “Ca’Trena.” Her head flickered to the car, and Nick saw a large shape moving in the back seat. “And that’s Meka. She’s friendly, but she’s a space hog.”
He shook her hand and nodded, introducing himself, noting the wedding band on her finger. “You’ll be able to take us to Monroe’s home?”
She looked over at Darren, who explained, “that’s his name. Monroe.”
“What did he call himself?”
Ca’Trena lifted a shoulder. “Never said. We call him Ieukpasrugruk. It means, ‘giant’ in Inupiat.” Hop in.
The drive was mostly silent. Nick sat in the back, trying to take everything in at once.
Even though it was still early, the day felt like dusk, the sun setting. Although he couldn’t really see much because it was still quite dark out despite the early hour, he found the view breathtaking. The area was flatter than he expected, although he could make out several mountains in the distance. The white snow fairly gleamed in the faded light.
Meka, the German shepherd, kept trying to lay her paws and head on Nick’s lap, each time being restrained by a stern, “Meka!” from Ca’Trena in the front seat.
Finally Nick said, “I don’t mind,” and let Meka spend the rest of the drive drooling onto Nick’s new insulated pants without being chastised. He found himself scratching her between her ears and thought briefly about getting his own pet once he returned home. Then he remembered his crazy schedule and small living space and decided to just enjoy the moment.
His innate curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned forward slightly and looked at Ca’Trena. “I hope I’m not being out of line, but I’m thinking you aren’t originally from here.”
She laughed. “My mom’s Army, and she got stationed up here at Fort Richardson my sophomore year in high school.” She gave Darren a soft look. “We met my third day here.”
Darren snorted. “She hated me.”
“I hated Alaska,” she corrected. “Anyway, he grew on me, and we got married after college.”
Nick tried to imagine such a simple connection. He’d loved Aunt Marie and knew she’d loved him in her own way, but he wouldn’t be able to sum up their relationship in such few words. He supposed he and Juliette’d had a somewhat easy relationship until his Grimm powers had kicked in, but even then, he hadn’t managed to ask her to marry him. That had to mean something, but he didn’t want to look at that too hard, not now that it didn’t make a difference anyway. And he and Monroe… could a relationship that had begun with his busting into Monroe’s house and attacking him on his stairs be considered simple? Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d felt accepted by Monroe fairly quickly after he’d realized how wrong he was about the Blutbad. With the benefit of hindsight, he realized that he’d never pretended with Monroe. Ever.
He also realized he’d been quiet for a little too long. “And you’ve been here ever since?”
“Now I can’t get her to leave,” Darren said with a small smile.
“What can I say? There’s nothing like hearty weather gear to turn a girl’s head.”
Nick looked down at his clothing, some of it a little wetter thanks to Meka, and chose to just send a small smile to the front of the car.
Darren said something to Ca’Trena in Inupiat, making her laugh, and Nick wondered if he’d done something funny. He shrugged it off, remembering how many things he’d messed up when he’d started as a Grimm. It seemed so long ago now, but he could still picture Monroe’s faces whenever Nick would make an idiotic comment or ask a stupid question. And while he constantly made fun of Nick, he never made Nick feel like the butt of a joke.
Now Nick was used to being in situations where he had no knowledge going in, and he found that it didn’t bother him as it might have two years ago. He’d learned to roll with the punches, gather information as he went along, and keep his eyes and ears open.
“You sure you want to head to Ieukpasrugruk’s before stopping and talking to Rex at the merc?”
Nick sat back in the seat. “I want to do both and take a look at the areas where they found evidence of a struggle. I’ll leave the order to you, since you both know this area and the people I need to talk to.” He’d also learned to let the experts take the lead.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
In the time he’d been imprisoned, Monroe had gathered quite a bit of information. For instance, he knew that the man who had orchestrated this was a Grimm, a particularly crazy one, gathering by the wild look in his eyes and the way he muttered to himself. He’d also figured out that the man had a superior knowledge in science and must be wealthy in order to have a largish dungeon where he could keep someone like Monroe without worrying about discovery. And then there were the guards. Paying humans to help him torture Monroe and the various others who had been in some of the others cells from time to time had to cost a pretty penny as well. Silence could always be bought; collaboration was much more expensive. These men didn’t mind getting their hands dirty.
Monroe didn’t know if the guards knew he wasn’t human. He’d finally deduced that the crazy Grimm was injecting him with something that kept his wolf at bay. In fact, every time he automatically tried to woge, he felt a pain far worse than anything that had been done to him so far.
However, every once in a while, when he suspected the current dose was wearing thin, he found that he could break out the claws. It was painful and couldn’t help him escape, so he usually just ignored it.
But now he was thankful that he’d seen the pregnant Fuchsbau just the other day, because he was getting that itch underneath his skin that let him know he was probably going to get another wolf-drugging whammy soon.
Running on instinct rather than any particular plan, he painfully bared his claws and tore the lock off his cage, stumbling to the Fuchsbau’s cage.
She was huddled on the floor in the back of the cage and looked up fearfully at the click of the broken lock and the screech of the door.
Her eyes widened as she saw him, and he remembered that he was just as naked as she was. Discarding the thought as useless, he returned his focus to the matters at hand.
He wanted to tell her, “It’s okay. I’m here to help you, but we have to go now.” But it had been so long since he’d muttered anything besides grunts and screams that his voice came out gravelly and hoarse. Besides, the few times the Grimm had needed to speak to the guards, he used a foreign language, Eastern European, Russian if Monroe had to guess. The Fuchsbau probably didn’t even speak English.
For expedience’s sake, he used gestures to get his point across. He brought both hands, palms up, toward his chest, and looked both ways to make sure that none of the guards were walking down the hallway. He turned back to find her slowly standing, one hand over her large stomach, the other braced against the back of the cage.
He motioned for her again, and she stepped forward, following him outside of the cage.
This was where it got a little tricky. He could smell snow and a chill in both directions. He knew the left was the way they always took him for his injections and his torture – but he didn’t know what they’d face to the right. Briefly he wished his sense of smell had been up to full strength, but he discarded the useless thought and returned to the matter at hand. Taking a breath, he decided on the devil he didn’t know and turned right, making sure she was behind him.
Monroe continued to follow the smell of clean and snow and cold as it became stronger until they reached a small room with a door that seemed to lead outside. It was dark out, so Monroe didn’t know what was out there, but he figured the Fuchsbau and her baby had more of a chance with the unknown than what she was going to have inside.
Leading her into the smaller room, he lurched over to the wall holding heavy weather gear on hooks. He grabbed some pants, keeping his eyes turned away and ignoring her flinch as he helped her put them on. After a brief pause, she rested a hand on his shoulder for balance as she lifted each leg. The snow pants didn’t fit over her belly, so Monroe just let them remain open. He found a pair of shoes that looked close to her size and swallowed a grunt of pain as he got on his knees to slide them open and hook them closed for her. Next was a jacket, and once again her tummy was so large that they couldn’t zip it, so he grabbed another jacket and put it on her backwards. He was just lifting the hood over her hair when he heard the alarm sound and realized that they were out of time. After tightening her hood, he shoved a pair of gloves on her hands and worked the door free.
The Fuchsbau didn’t move at first, and Monroe gestured for her to go outside. She, in turn, gestured from him to the door, and he realized that she wanted him to come with her. He gave her a small smile and shook his head, because he knew he was where he was supposed to be, where he deserved to be.
He heard the sound of scuffling against the floor and grabbed the Fuchsbau, propelling her out the door before re-securing it and turning to face the four men entering the room, Tasers, nightsticks, and whips in their hands. He couldn’t fully woge, but he growled at them, determined to give the Fuchsbau as much lead time as he could.
Maybe, if he got lucky, one of them would lose control and put him out of his misery once and for all.
TBC...
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 2
Five-thirty, Nick opened the door to find both Hank and Wu waiting for him.
“What?” Wu asked. “You thought I’d let you leave without a proper goodbye?”
Nick smiled at the two men, thankful he’d had them to keep him sane. The smile faded as he picked up his bag and thought of Monroe, feeling alone and guilty in the world with no one to watch his back. Nick promised himself that he’d do whatever he had to do to earn Monroe’s forgiveness. Maybe they couldn’t get back to the friendship they’d once had, but Nick was going to be thankful for whatever space Monroe allowed him to have in his life. He’d known that Monroe had somehow become important to him, but he didn’t realize how much until it was too late and Monroe was gone.
The detectives dropped him off at a ramshackle hut beside a large airplane hanger, and he waved them off when they suggested that they stay until he made contact. He didn’t know a lot about Captain Renard, but one thing was certain: the man kept a lot close to his vest. For some reason, Nick had the feeling that Renard’s contact wouldn’t be interested in making a whole lot of new friends either.
“Hello?” He called, opening the door to the shack, his eyes automatically looking in every corner. But there wasn’t much to see: a desk that looked like it had seen better days, a calendar from five years earlier tacked on the back wall, and an old fashioned telephone with a rotary dial. Shrugging, Nick closed the door and turned around to find a tall man walking toward him from the hanger.
Underneath his cowboy hat, the man had long, black hair hanging past his shoulders, and as he got closer, a slight Asian slant to his eyes. The rest of his outfit, flannel shirt, worn jeans, and western boots, didn’t give anything else away.
“Nick?” The man asked, holding out his hand.
“Darren,” Nick said, remembering the name on the paper as he returned the man’s firm grip.
Darren nodded, his eyes dropping to the solitary bag at Nick’s feet. “That all you got?”
It was Nick’s turn to nod. Unsure of what to expect, he’d debated about packing some of his wooden weapons that wouldn’t set off a metal detector, but he still didn’t want to have to explain them if security had given them a closer look. He’d also never been to Alaska, but he’d packed the warmest clothes that a police detective who’d lived in Portland for most of his adult life had in his closet. He figured he could find a way to outfit himself with anything else he needed once he got there.
“Let’s go then.” The man turned and led Nick to the hangar, opening the door to reveal a plane that was definitely better taken care of than the neglected office.
“We’ll be taking the Challenger,” Darren said, leading the way to the plane. Nick looked around the hanger curiously. “Don’t have to go through security this way,” the man added, evidently reading Nick’s mind.
Sighing, Nick took a moment to think longingly of the weapons he’d left behind before pushing it aside to focus on the job – and the plane – ahead of him. He’d never even been inside a private plane – he didn’t count the time he’d been zombified, because he couldn’t remember it – but as he sat down in one of the plush chairs, he thought he could get used to it very quickly.
Darren knocked on the closed door at the front of the plane, and Nick saw a flash of a dark blue uniform as Darren and the pilot spoke quietly for a few seconds before Darren nodded and closed the door.
Darren sat across from Nick, pulling some papers out of a briefcase resting on the floor beside his chair. For a brief second, Nick wondered idly if the man had correctly assumed where Nick would choose to sit or if it had been a coincidence, but his attention became riveted to the pictures and documents being laid out on the table in front of him. Shoving aside copies of the pictures Renard had shown him earlier that he’d already committed to memory, he focused on the new images.
“We just obtained these a couple of hours ago,” Darren said. “They conducted a search within a five mile radius and found these.” He pointed to one of the pictures.
“Footprint,” Nick said, noting the measurement tape in the image. “A man’s footprint,” he amended.
“Not your man’s,” Darren said.
Nick blinked. His man. He supposed at one point in time, Monroe had been his man, but his hateful words had ruined all of that. Despite that, he found he liked hearing it and didn’t correct the other man.
He supposed it was his being accustomed to Renard’s absolute competence that it took him a few seconds to realize that Darren already knew Monroe’s shoe size.
They went over the rest of the new documents, evidence that Monroe had probably been taken by force, but Nick found a few holes he wanted filled, and he definitely wanted to walk the area personally.
Darren nodded, checking his watch. “We should have a little more than two hours left of flight time; feel free to rest up some. I’m sure you’re used to staying awake for long periods of time, but we don’t know what we’re going to find up there.”
Nick nodded. He wasn’t sure if he could possibly sleep any better than he had the night before, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. He watched Darren collect the pictures, sliding them back into the briefcase, before he closed his eyes.
A firm hand on his shoulder woke him up.
“We’ll be making our descent in about twenty minutes, but I wanted to go over your equipment.”
Blinking a few times to wake himself up, Nick realized that his feet were elevated and a blanket now covered him. He must’ve been really out of it to have slept through all of that, and he had to admit that he was feeling pretty well rested, all things considered.
“Here. Black, right?”
Nodding and muttering his thanks, Nick grasped the coffee mug with both hands and inhaled the strong scent. It smelled like one of Monroe’s expensive brands, not the cheap stuff in his office and at the station. Taking a sip, he almost smiled. Monroe would love it.
Darren dropped back into his seat, dragging Nick’s attention to the fact that the little table between them was now gone. His curiosity about that dimmed the moment he noticed the large black bag now taking the table’s spot.
Unzipping the bag, Darren took out a large coat. “It’s January in Alaska, and we’re not going to be hanging out in a mall in Anchorage. You’re gonna need more than that leather jacket to keep you warm.”
Nick had also brought a knitted hat, but he just kept that wiseass comment to himself and listened as Darren detailed the other items in the bag. He didn’t even bother to question if everything were going to fit him.
Nick felt a little ridiculous after he’d gotten dressed, even after seeing Darren dressed in pretty much the same outfit. But Darren sported his winter gear with the ease that Nick wore his jeans and leather jacket while Nick’s new jacket and boots made strange noises every time he moved.
The moment he descended the stairs, he stopped worrying about how he looked and wondered if Darren sported some sort of invisible mask to keep his face from splintering into a million pieces. He took a breath and could swear he felt ice shards piercing his lungs. He’d known Alaska was cold; he just had never felt that his blood was beginning to freeze.
An SUV rested a couple of feet away, and the front door opened, revealing a tall African American woman who smiled as she climbed out, pressing a quick buss over Darren’s lips.
Darren smiled and patted her on the shoulder, asking, “Where’s the LEO?”
“He got called on a domestic, asked me to come pick you up.” She looked at Nick and held out her hand. “Ca’Trena.” Her head flickered to the car, and Nick saw a large shape moving in the back seat. “And that’s Meka. She’s friendly, but she’s a space hog.”
He shook her hand and nodded, introducing himself, noting the wedding band on her finger. “You’ll be able to take us to Monroe’s home?”
She looked over at Darren, who explained, “that’s his name. Monroe.”
“What did he call himself?”
Ca’Trena lifted a shoulder. “Never said. We call him Ieukpasrugruk. It means, ‘giant’ in Inupiat.” Hop in.
The drive was mostly silent. Nick sat in the back, trying to take everything in at once.
Even though it was still early, the day felt like dusk, the sun setting. Although he couldn’t really see much because it was still quite dark out despite the early hour, he found the view breathtaking. The area was flatter than he expected, although he could make out several mountains in the distance. The white snow fairly gleamed in the faded light.
Meka, the German shepherd, kept trying to lay her paws and head on Nick’s lap, each time being restrained by a stern, “Meka!” from Ca’Trena in the front seat.
Finally Nick said, “I don’t mind,” and let Meka spend the rest of the drive drooling onto Nick’s new insulated pants without being chastised. He found himself scratching her between her ears and thought briefly about getting his own pet once he returned home. Then he remembered his crazy schedule and small living space and decided to just enjoy the moment.
His innate curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned forward slightly and looked at Ca’Trena. “I hope I’m not being out of line, but I’m thinking you aren’t originally from here.”
She laughed. “My mom’s Army, and she got stationed up here at Fort Richardson my sophomore year in high school.” She gave Darren a soft look. “We met my third day here.”
Darren snorted. “She hated me.”
“I hated Alaska,” she corrected. “Anyway, he grew on me, and we got married after college.”
Nick tried to imagine such a simple connection. He’d loved Aunt Marie and knew she’d loved him in her own way, but he wouldn’t be able to sum up their relationship in such few words. He supposed he and Juliette’d had a somewhat easy relationship until his Grimm powers had kicked in, but even then, he hadn’t managed to ask her to marry him. That had to mean something, but he didn’t want to look at that too hard, not now that it didn’t make a difference anyway. And he and Monroe… could a relationship that had begun with his busting into Monroe’s house and attacking him on his stairs be considered simple? Actually, now that he thought about it, he’d felt accepted by Monroe fairly quickly after he’d realized how wrong he was about the Blutbad. With the benefit of hindsight, he realized that he’d never pretended with Monroe. Ever.
He also realized he’d been quiet for a little too long. “And you’ve been here ever since?”
“Now I can’t get her to leave,” Darren said with a small smile.
“What can I say? There’s nothing like hearty weather gear to turn a girl’s head.”
Nick looked down at his clothing, some of it a little wetter thanks to Meka, and chose to just send a small smile to the front of the car.
Darren said something to Ca’Trena in Inupiat, making her laugh, and Nick wondered if he’d done something funny. He shrugged it off, remembering how many things he’d messed up when he’d started as a Grimm. It seemed so long ago now, but he could still picture Monroe’s faces whenever Nick would make an idiotic comment or ask a stupid question. And while he constantly made fun of Nick, he never made Nick feel like the butt of a joke.
Now Nick was used to being in situations where he had no knowledge going in, and he found that it didn’t bother him as it might have two years ago. He’d learned to roll with the punches, gather information as he went along, and keep his eyes and ears open.
“You sure you want to head to Ieukpasrugruk’s before stopping and talking to Rex at the merc?”
Nick sat back in the seat. “I want to do both and take a look at the areas where they found evidence of a struggle. I’ll leave the order to you, since you both know this area and the people I need to talk to.” He’d also learned to let the experts take the lead.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
In the time he’d been imprisoned, Monroe had gathered quite a bit of information. For instance, he knew that the man who had orchestrated this was a Grimm, a particularly crazy one, gathering by the wild look in his eyes and the way he muttered to himself. He’d also figured out that the man had a superior knowledge in science and must be wealthy in order to have a largish dungeon where he could keep someone like Monroe without worrying about discovery. And then there were the guards. Paying humans to help him torture Monroe and the various others who had been in some of the others cells from time to time had to cost a pretty penny as well. Silence could always be bought; collaboration was much more expensive. These men didn’t mind getting their hands dirty.
Monroe didn’t know if the guards knew he wasn’t human. He’d finally deduced that the crazy Grimm was injecting him with something that kept his wolf at bay. In fact, every time he automatically tried to woge, he felt a pain far worse than anything that had been done to him so far.
However, every once in a while, when he suspected the current dose was wearing thin, he found that he could break out the claws. It was painful and couldn’t help him escape, so he usually just ignored it.
But now he was thankful that he’d seen the pregnant Fuchsbau just the other day, because he was getting that itch underneath his skin that let him know he was probably going to get another wolf-drugging whammy soon.
Running on instinct rather than any particular plan, he painfully bared his claws and tore the lock off his cage, stumbling to the Fuchsbau’s cage.
She was huddled on the floor in the back of the cage and looked up fearfully at the click of the broken lock and the screech of the door.
Her eyes widened as she saw him, and he remembered that he was just as naked as she was. Discarding the thought as useless, he returned his focus to the matters at hand.
He wanted to tell her, “It’s okay. I’m here to help you, but we have to go now.” But it had been so long since he’d muttered anything besides grunts and screams that his voice came out gravelly and hoarse. Besides, the few times the Grimm had needed to speak to the guards, he used a foreign language, Eastern European, Russian if Monroe had to guess. The Fuchsbau probably didn’t even speak English.
For expedience’s sake, he used gestures to get his point across. He brought both hands, palms up, toward his chest, and looked both ways to make sure that none of the guards were walking down the hallway. He turned back to find her slowly standing, one hand over her large stomach, the other braced against the back of the cage.
He motioned for her again, and she stepped forward, following him outside of the cage.
This was where it got a little tricky. He could smell snow and a chill in both directions. He knew the left was the way they always took him for his injections and his torture – but he didn’t know what they’d face to the right. Briefly he wished his sense of smell had been up to full strength, but he discarded the useless thought and returned to the matter at hand. Taking a breath, he decided on the devil he didn’t know and turned right, making sure she was behind him.
Monroe continued to follow the smell of clean and snow and cold as it became stronger until they reached a small room with a door that seemed to lead outside. It was dark out, so Monroe didn’t know what was out there, but he figured the Fuchsbau and her baby had more of a chance with the unknown than what she was going to have inside.
Leading her into the smaller room, he lurched over to the wall holding heavy weather gear on hooks. He grabbed some pants, keeping his eyes turned away and ignoring her flinch as he helped her put them on. After a brief pause, she rested a hand on his shoulder for balance as she lifted each leg. The snow pants didn’t fit over her belly, so Monroe just let them remain open. He found a pair of shoes that looked close to her size and swallowed a grunt of pain as he got on his knees to slide them open and hook them closed for her. Next was a jacket, and once again her tummy was so large that they couldn’t zip it, so he grabbed another jacket and put it on her backwards. He was just lifting the hood over her hair when he heard the alarm sound and realized that they were out of time. After tightening her hood, he shoved a pair of gloves on her hands and worked the door free.
The Fuchsbau didn’t move at first, and Monroe gestured for her to go outside. She, in turn, gestured from him to the door, and he realized that she wanted him to come with her. He gave her a small smile and shook his head, because he knew he was where he was supposed to be, where he deserved to be.
He heard the sound of scuffling against the floor and grabbed the Fuchsbau, propelling her out the door before re-securing it and turning to face the four men entering the room, Tasers, nightsticks, and whips in their hands. He couldn’t fully woge, but he growled at them, determined to give the Fuchsbau as much lead time as he could.
Maybe, if he got lucky, one of them would lose control and put him out of his misery once and for all.
TBC...
Entry with links to each chapter
