Epic, A Grimm story by BymagaJones 19/20
Feb. 23rd, 2016 10:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bymagajonesChapter 18
Chapter 19
Monroe absently closed and locked the door behind him and headed up the stairs for a shower. Nick had been giving out strange signals all day, throwing Monroe a little off balance. It felt like he was flirting, but Monroe had never really been good at reading those kinds of signals. Rosalee – he had to swallow a moment to adjust to the sense of loss he felt even after two years – Rosalee had practically thrown herself at him before he’d realized she’d been interested. And it had been completely different with Angelina. They’d grown up together, their hormones building up inside them until one day they’d taken a look at each other and realized that they had to come together or spontaneously combust. It hadn’t started out as romantic, just rutting together like the teenaged wolves they were. Afterward, they’d just gone about their business until they’d found themselves alone again. Eventually, it had become a love of sorts, one forged in violence and blood that always left Monroe physically satiated but empty inside. A part of Monroe missed the simplicity about his life back then, the high he got from the violent sex and the bloodlust, but he wouldn’t go back to that even if Angelina were still around to tempt him. He’d found something so much better, more satisfying than he’d ever had, something that kept him grounded when temptations walked past in shades of red.
Turning weider had been one of the most simple, yet most difficult decisions in his life. He’d gone against his upbringing, all that he’d known and been raised to believe, in the hope that by becoming a better man, he’d fill up that space inside. And it had been hard. He’d moved far away from his family and his mistakes, starting fresh. But he’d been alone, without a support system, figuring it out as he went along. He’d tried meditation, raw meat, cooked meat, raw food diets, yoga. He’d attempted writing in a journal, playing various instruments, taking online college courses. Slowly he put his life together like he was working a puzzle, shifting pieces until they fit just right, discarding others that didn’t seem to apply to the portion of the picture he was attempting to create.
And before he’d met Nick, he’d done it, carved out this new existence for himself. Everyday, it was the same. He woke, did his Pilates, had breakfast, ran errands while most people were busy at their jobs, returned home to work on his clocks, had lunch, worked until dinnertime, ate in front of a book or the television – mostly PBS documentaries and cooking shows – and played his cello before retiring to bed. It was a lonely existence, but that was a small price to pay for the peace of mind that he found in his routine. He awoke every morning in the same bed instead of naked somewhere in the forest, blood under his fingernails, bruises covering his body. He fed his body organic grains and fruits, making sure his meal was balanced and filling. He engaged his brain by reading and playing the cello. He kept to himself; he’d gone days without ever speaking to another person.
Making a living had been tough. He’d gone around putting his business card on every bulletin board he could find, making contact with the local pawn shops and antique stores, taking every job available. Luckily, he didn’t have to have much contact with his customers, and in such an exclusive field, word spread fairly quickly once he’d completed some jobs and left the customers happy. Turned out, most clock aficionados appreciated his brisk, no-nonsense manner and tended to keep their conversations brief.
So he existed, using his routine to keep his inner wolf contained. It had been enough.
He mused over his change in circumstances as he absently showered the sweat of the day off himself. Nick had come crashing into his life, and suddenly just existing wasn’t enough anymore. The Grimm refused to leave him alone, dragging him back into the world, making him care about things outside the boundaries of his property. Suddenly Nick was asking him to talk some sense to a rat violinist and dragging him into the woods where a child Blutbad refused to let him go. Despite all his attempts to keep to his strict regimen, he began to feel alive again. He became a part of life, of the Grimm’s pack. He’d fallen in love with a Fuchsbau and enjoyed helping her mix potions in her shop. He spent his evenings getting dirty, fighting back-to-back with Nick, and later, with Hank and Renard of all people. Once she’d learned about and had time to absorb Nick’s Other Life, Juliette had jumped in with both feet, becoming a true friend. And then crazy Troubel had landed on Nick’s doorstep, another orphan in need of a family.
The water started to cool, and Monroe gratefully pulled his mind away from the inevitable destruction that followed.
As he got dressed, he thought about how he’d returned to Portland a shaky shadow of himself, just counting the days until he could run away again and do the penance that he deserved. But now, only a few months later, his inner wolf was starting to rise again inside. His nails had almost all grown back, and he couldn’t remember the last time his hands had shaken uncontrollably or he’d had a panic attack. He was finally taking to heart that maybe it would be okay for him to find happiness again, that maybe he didn’t deserve to live in misery.
He dried off and dressed in a pair of comfortable corduroys and a flannel shirt draped over a t-shirt and was heading down the stairs in bare feet when he heard his phone ringing. Nick had programmed the ringtone himself, Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For a Hero”; it never failed to make Monroe roll his eyes. One night at dinner in a crowded restaurant, Nick had hidden behind a plant and given Monroe a call. He’d laughed about the other guests’ reactions for hours. Monroe hadn’t seen the humor in it and had vowed to change the tone. Once he figured out how. He’d made a mental note to ask Drew or one of the kids for help, but so far, he hadn’t remembered when any of them were around.
“Seriously, this ring tone has to go,” Monroe grumbled into the phone. It only took two wordless pants from Nick for Monroe to scoop his keys off the counter and head toward the door. “Nick, where are you?” He tried to keep his voice solid and calm, hoping Nick didn’t hear the faint tremble.
More panting.
“Nick!” Monroe jammed the keys in the ignition, but he didn’t know where to go. Nick had been intentionally vague, so Monroe didn’t even know if he should make a left or right turn out of the driveway. Desperate, he rolled down his window and stuck his head out of the car. He closed his eyes, focusing as he inhaled. After a few seconds, once he was sure he’d caught the scent, he put the phone to his ear. “I’m coming, Nick. Just hold on.” Tossing the phone onto his passenger seat, Monroe turned on the car and raced down the driveway, praying he’d get to Nick in time.
Three hours later, Monroe sat in a chair beside Nick’s hospital bed, ice pack over his right eye. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen into an exhausted trance until he blinked and saw a concerned Hank standing in front of him. “Hey,” he whispered.
Hank pulled up a chair beside Monroe and turned to him. “What happened?”
“Skalengecks,” Monroe said, shuddering.
“Those lizard things?”
Monroe nodded. By the time he’d skidded to a stop in the park’s parking lot, he’d been in a frenzy, the air around him filled with the iron tinge of blood, Nick’s blood. He barely remembered grabbing supplies from his trunk before running toward the combined smell of Nick and a Skalengeck.
It’d turned out to be two Skalengecks, actually, and they were looking for Nick, who’d evidently managed to get away from them – but not before they’d hurt him somehow. Monroe’s focus had been on finding Nick, which he’d done quickly, controlling the rage rising inside him at the sight of blood smeared along Nick’s face, his eyes closed. After a quick inventory, Monroe came to the conclusion that the wound that needed the most attention was Nick’s bloodied shoulder. Keeping track of the Skalengecks, who were now beating the undergrowth with sticks, Monroe quickly wrapped Nick’s torn- up shoulder. He finished and pressed a hand against Nick’s cheek, realizing that the only things Nick’s blood inspired inside him were an anger and a thirst for vengeance. No one messed with his Grimm.
One of Nick’s hands had come up to rest against Monroe’s, pressing Monroe’s hand firmer into his cheek. His eyes fluttering, Nick smiled faintly.
“I’ll be right back,” Monroe’d whispered, pulling away.
Nick had held on to Monroe’s hand a moment longer, saying so much with just a squeeze.
Monroe’d squeezed back, finally letting go and standing, feeling himself woge while Skalengecks had their backs to him.
It wasn’t difficult to reach inside and let the wolf out, mere seconds before he was on four legs, growling, leaping, tearing and scratching. It’d felt like he’d taken a large breath, held it, and let it out for the first time in years. He reveled in the screams, swallowing a tongue whole, piercing an eyeball with one of his nails and flicking it against a tree. The blood flowed freely, sweetly into his mouth, down his throat.
A part of him thought he should feel at least a small frisson of remorse, but ignored it to concentrate on getting Nick to help.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
Nick had awakened as Monroe related his story – with the ending heavily edited, he was sure – to Hank, but he’d only had the energy to listen, eyes closed. Now that he’d heard Monroe’s side of things, Nick was starting to remember. Funny enough, the first memory to return was right after Monroe had arrived, squeezing his hand before woging and stepping up to the remaining Skalengecks. As much as he’d wanted to help, he’d known that going out there would’ve made him a liability. So instead, he’d managed to pull himself up so he could rest his head against a tree, an awkward position that made his shoulder hurt like hell, but he could see the battle going on in front of him, which was his objective.
He’d only meant to stop off at the grocery store for supplies for an indoor picnic when he’d spotted a man running down the road toward him. By this time, the rain had slowed to a gentle mist, the ensuing fog limiting the visibility. The man had come level with the car before Nick realized two things: First, the man was actually a Skalengeck, and second, he was being chased by two other Skalengecks. It had taken a few seconds later for him to learn one more thing: the chase was just a ruse to get them close enough to attack Nick before he could figure out what was happening.
He’d managed to call Monroe as they fought their way into his locked car, and he fought back as much as he could as two of them dragged him into the forest while the third shouted something about their not starting until he’d ditched the car and caught up with them. It hadn’t been easy, since the only weapon he’d had on him was the gun he’d pulled from a small shelf underneath his seat – and they’d snagged it immediately.
But he was a Grimm with experience under his belt, and he’d managed to grab a pretty hefty stick and hit one of the Skalengecks in the head. Fortunately, it had been the one with the gun, and Nick had reached for it, grabbing it just as he felt pressure on his ankle, and his body was dragged even further across the ground. Quickly, he turned and shot the Skalengeck standing over him three times before the other one kicked the gun out of his hand.
By this time, the Skalengeck who’d moved his car had returned and pulled out a wicked looking knife. Nick had managed to get in a few good licks before he’d felt the sharp pain of the blade in his shoulder.
Things had gone downhill shortly after that.
Entry with links to each chapter
Chapter 19
Monroe absently closed and locked the door behind him and headed up the stairs for a shower. Nick had been giving out strange signals all day, throwing Monroe a little off balance. It felt like he was flirting, but Monroe had never really been good at reading those kinds of signals. Rosalee – he had to swallow a moment to adjust to the sense of loss he felt even after two years – Rosalee had practically thrown herself at him before he’d realized she’d been interested. And it had been completely different with Angelina. They’d grown up together, their hormones building up inside them until one day they’d taken a look at each other and realized that they had to come together or spontaneously combust. It hadn’t started out as romantic, just rutting together like the teenaged wolves they were. Afterward, they’d just gone about their business until they’d found themselves alone again. Eventually, it had become a love of sorts, one forged in violence and blood that always left Monroe physically satiated but empty inside. A part of Monroe missed the simplicity about his life back then, the high he got from the violent sex and the bloodlust, but he wouldn’t go back to that even if Angelina were still around to tempt him. He’d found something so much better, more satisfying than he’d ever had, something that kept him grounded when temptations walked past in shades of red.
Turning weider had been one of the most simple, yet most difficult decisions in his life. He’d gone against his upbringing, all that he’d known and been raised to believe, in the hope that by becoming a better man, he’d fill up that space inside. And it had been hard. He’d moved far away from his family and his mistakes, starting fresh. But he’d been alone, without a support system, figuring it out as he went along. He’d tried meditation, raw meat, cooked meat, raw food diets, yoga. He’d attempted writing in a journal, playing various instruments, taking online college courses. Slowly he put his life together like he was working a puzzle, shifting pieces until they fit just right, discarding others that didn’t seem to apply to the portion of the picture he was attempting to create.
And before he’d met Nick, he’d done it, carved out this new existence for himself. Everyday, it was the same. He woke, did his Pilates, had breakfast, ran errands while most people were busy at their jobs, returned home to work on his clocks, had lunch, worked until dinnertime, ate in front of a book or the television – mostly PBS documentaries and cooking shows – and played his cello before retiring to bed. It was a lonely existence, but that was a small price to pay for the peace of mind that he found in his routine. He awoke every morning in the same bed instead of naked somewhere in the forest, blood under his fingernails, bruises covering his body. He fed his body organic grains and fruits, making sure his meal was balanced and filling. He engaged his brain by reading and playing the cello. He kept to himself; he’d gone days without ever speaking to another person.
Making a living had been tough. He’d gone around putting his business card on every bulletin board he could find, making contact with the local pawn shops and antique stores, taking every job available. Luckily, he didn’t have to have much contact with his customers, and in such an exclusive field, word spread fairly quickly once he’d completed some jobs and left the customers happy. Turned out, most clock aficionados appreciated his brisk, no-nonsense manner and tended to keep their conversations brief.
So he existed, using his routine to keep his inner wolf contained. It had been enough.
He mused over his change in circumstances as he absently showered the sweat of the day off himself. Nick had come crashing into his life, and suddenly just existing wasn’t enough anymore. The Grimm refused to leave him alone, dragging him back into the world, making him care about things outside the boundaries of his property. Suddenly Nick was asking him to talk some sense to a rat violinist and dragging him into the woods where a child Blutbad refused to let him go. Despite all his attempts to keep to his strict regimen, he began to feel alive again. He became a part of life, of the Grimm’s pack. He’d fallen in love with a Fuchsbau and enjoyed helping her mix potions in her shop. He spent his evenings getting dirty, fighting back-to-back with Nick, and later, with Hank and Renard of all people. Once she’d learned about and had time to absorb Nick’s Other Life, Juliette had jumped in with both feet, becoming a true friend. And then crazy Troubel had landed on Nick’s doorstep, another orphan in need of a family.
The water started to cool, and Monroe gratefully pulled his mind away from the inevitable destruction that followed.
As he got dressed, he thought about how he’d returned to Portland a shaky shadow of himself, just counting the days until he could run away again and do the penance that he deserved. But now, only a few months later, his inner wolf was starting to rise again inside. His nails had almost all grown back, and he couldn’t remember the last time his hands had shaken uncontrollably or he’d had a panic attack. He was finally taking to heart that maybe it would be okay for him to find happiness again, that maybe he didn’t deserve to live in misery.
He dried off and dressed in a pair of comfortable corduroys and a flannel shirt draped over a t-shirt and was heading down the stairs in bare feet when he heard his phone ringing. Nick had programmed the ringtone himself, Bonnie Tyler’s “Holding Out For a Hero”; it never failed to make Monroe roll his eyes. One night at dinner in a crowded restaurant, Nick had hidden behind a plant and given Monroe a call. He’d laughed about the other guests’ reactions for hours. Monroe hadn’t seen the humor in it and had vowed to change the tone. Once he figured out how. He’d made a mental note to ask Drew or one of the kids for help, but so far, he hadn’t remembered when any of them were around.
“Seriously, this ring tone has to go,” Monroe grumbled into the phone. It only took two wordless pants from Nick for Monroe to scoop his keys off the counter and head toward the door. “Nick, where are you?” He tried to keep his voice solid and calm, hoping Nick didn’t hear the faint tremble.
More panting.
“Nick!” Monroe jammed the keys in the ignition, but he didn’t know where to go. Nick had been intentionally vague, so Monroe didn’t even know if he should make a left or right turn out of the driveway. Desperate, he rolled down his window and stuck his head out of the car. He closed his eyes, focusing as he inhaled. After a few seconds, once he was sure he’d caught the scent, he put the phone to his ear. “I’m coming, Nick. Just hold on.” Tossing the phone onto his passenger seat, Monroe turned on the car and raced down the driveway, praying he’d get to Nick in time.
Three hours later, Monroe sat in a chair beside Nick’s hospital bed, ice pack over his right eye. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen into an exhausted trance until he blinked and saw a concerned Hank standing in front of him. “Hey,” he whispered.
Hank pulled up a chair beside Monroe and turned to him. “What happened?”
“Skalengecks,” Monroe said, shuddering.
“Those lizard things?”
Monroe nodded. By the time he’d skidded to a stop in the park’s parking lot, he’d been in a frenzy, the air around him filled with the iron tinge of blood, Nick’s blood. He barely remembered grabbing supplies from his trunk before running toward the combined smell of Nick and a Skalengeck.
It’d turned out to be two Skalengecks, actually, and they were looking for Nick, who’d evidently managed to get away from them – but not before they’d hurt him somehow. Monroe’s focus had been on finding Nick, which he’d done quickly, controlling the rage rising inside him at the sight of blood smeared along Nick’s face, his eyes closed. After a quick inventory, Monroe came to the conclusion that the wound that needed the most attention was Nick’s bloodied shoulder. Keeping track of the Skalengecks, who were now beating the undergrowth with sticks, Monroe quickly wrapped Nick’s torn- up shoulder. He finished and pressed a hand against Nick’s cheek, realizing that the only things Nick’s blood inspired inside him were an anger and a thirst for vengeance. No one messed with his Grimm.
One of Nick’s hands had come up to rest against Monroe’s, pressing Monroe’s hand firmer into his cheek. His eyes fluttering, Nick smiled faintly.
“I’ll be right back,” Monroe’d whispered, pulling away.
Nick had held on to Monroe’s hand a moment longer, saying so much with just a squeeze.
Monroe’d squeezed back, finally letting go and standing, feeling himself woge while Skalengecks had their backs to him.
It wasn’t difficult to reach inside and let the wolf out, mere seconds before he was on four legs, growling, leaping, tearing and scratching. It’d felt like he’d taken a large breath, held it, and let it out for the first time in years. He reveled in the screams, swallowing a tongue whole, piercing an eyeball with one of his nails and flicking it against a tree. The blood flowed freely, sweetly into his mouth, down his throat.
A part of him thought he should feel at least a small frisson of remorse, but ignored it to concentrate on getting Nick to help.
G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M G R I M M
Nick had awakened as Monroe related his story – with the ending heavily edited, he was sure – to Hank, but he’d only had the energy to listen, eyes closed. Now that he’d heard Monroe’s side of things, Nick was starting to remember. Funny enough, the first memory to return was right after Monroe had arrived, squeezing his hand before woging and stepping up to the remaining Skalengecks. As much as he’d wanted to help, he’d known that going out there would’ve made him a liability. So instead, he’d managed to pull himself up so he could rest his head against a tree, an awkward position that made his shoulder hurt like hell, but he could see the battle going on in front of him, which was his objective.
He’d only meant to stop off at the grocery store for supplies for an indoor picnic when he’d spotted a man running down the road toward him. By this time, the rain had slowed to a gentle mist, the ensuing fog limiting the visibility. The man had come level with the car before Nick realized two things: First, the man was actually a Skalengeck, and second, he was being chased by two other Skalengecks. It had taken a few seconds later for him to learn one more thing: the chase was just a ruse to get them close enough to attack Nick before he could figure out what was happening.
He’d managed to call Monroe as they fought their way into his locked car, and he fought back as much as he could as two of them dragged him into the forest while the third shouted something about their not starting until he’d ditched the car and caught up with them. It hadn’t been easy, since the only weapon he’d had on him was the gun he’d pulled from a small shelf underneath his seat – and they’d snagged it immediately.
But he was a Grimm with experience under his belt, and he’d managed to grab a pretty hefty stick and hit one of the Skalengecks in the head. Fortunately, it had been the one with the gun, and Nick had reached for it, grabbing it just as he felt pressure on his ankle, and his body was dragged even further across the ground. Quickly, he turned and shot the Skalengeck standing over him three times before the other one kicked the gun out of his hand.
By this time, the Skalengeck who’d moved his car had returned and pulled out a wicked looking knife. Nick had managed to get in a few good licks before he’d felt the sharp pain of the blade in his shoulder.
Things had gone downhill shortly after that.
Entry with links to each chapter
