bymagajones

Chapter 7

Chapter 8a

Nick sat in a waiting room at the hospital, trying to figure out what’d happened hours earlier. One minute he was lying on the sofa at Monroe’s, appreciating the way Monroe went all alpha male when someone knocked so late at night. The next thing he knew, Monroe had opened the door, and was knocked back by Aunt Marie.

The violence that ensued was epic, something Nick would never have imagined Monroe or his aunt capable of inflicting. His aunt was yelling words in some language, and something happened to Monroe – Nick was still trying to process what he saw or maybe thought he’d seen, because hair did not grow that fast on people and when did Monroe’s nails get that long? Marie pulled something out of her coat, and when Nick recognized it as a gun, he’d tried to throw himself between her and Monroe.

But neither of them would let him interfere. The gun went off as Aunt Marie tackled Monroe, sending both of them over the sofa.

Monroe kept shouting something to her in some foreign language as well but Aunt Marie didn’t respond vocally; she just continued attacking Monroe.

Nick wasn’t sure how long it took him to get them to stop, but it was only as he stood in front of Aunt Marie that Monroe, hairy hand out ready to swipe, finally paused. Nick’d had to quickly turn to his Aunt and grab her hand to keep her still.

They all stood there in the darkness of the backyard – how was it possible that the two people he loved most in the world had managed to brawl their way from the front door, through the living room and kitchen and end up in the backyard? – their harsh breaths the only sound in the cold evening.

“What the hell?” He didn’t know which question to ask first or which person to address. He finally turned to his aunt. “Why did you attack Monroe? What are you doing with a gun? Why are you even here?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Monroe. “Why are you growling and fighting with my aunt? What happened to your face? Where did all the hair and nails come from?”

“I’ll answer all your questions, I promise,” his aunt said, grabbing at his arm. “Just go outside and wait by my camper.”

“There is no way I’m leaving the two of you alone after all this,” he said, his arm swiping wide to encapsulate the disaster he’d just witnessed.

“You need to leave now,” Aunt Marie said, her eyes never leaving Monroe.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t understand. He’s dangerous.”

“He’s not dangerous! He’s my boyfriend!”

That finally got Aunt Marie’s attention, her eyes snapping to Nick’s. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

So, okay. This was not really the way he’d wanted to come out to his aunt, but considering what’d just transpired, he figured his sexual orientation was absolutely last on the list of things that needed to be discussed.

“I’m completely serious. And I’m not letting you hurt him.”

“You don’t understand – ”

Nick’s laugh was harsh in the night air. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“You should go with your aunt.” Monroe’s voice, so sad and defeated, twisted at Nick in a way he hated. He turned and found Monroe, his face back to normal, his eyes large and miserable. “She’ll explain everything.”

“She’ll explain what?” Nick’s first thought was to walk over and comfort Monroe, but his aunt pulled him back. He saw Monroe’s eyes catch the movement, and Monroe’s shoulders dropped.

“I’m sorry,” Monroe said, looking like he was about to cry.

“Sorry for what?” Nick asked, trying to pull away from Aunt Marie’s surprisingly strong grip. Monroe was breaking his heart, and all he wanted to do was go over there and put his arms around him.

Monroe’s eyes flickered from Nick’s to Aunt Marie’s and then back to Nick’s, where he stared at Nick as if he were memorizing his face.

Where before he had felt confusion, Nick suddenly began to panic. He knew that look; that was the look of goodbye.

Aunt Marie refused to talk until they were out of town, checked into a remote Motel 6, and settled into their room around the back. She only got one room, enlisting Nick to help her unload some very disturbing things from the round silver trailer she always pulled behind the truck.

Finally, she sat on her bed, watching Nick pace between the small round table and the wall. “Why don’t you sit down?” She pulled out a large sword-type of weapon with a large handle and began to sharpen the blade.

“What is that? What the hell just happened? Why are you here? Why’d you attack my boyfriend? What was going on with Monroe? Why are we at a Motel 6? Why are you here?”

“The first thing you need to know is that I’m a Grimm. It’s my job to hunt down Wesen.”

“Wesen?”

“That is what we call mystical, supernatural, legendary creatures.”

Nick opened his mouth to say that they couldn’t possibly exist, but he thought about what he’d seen back at the house. “Is that – is that what was going on with Monroe?”

“Exactly.” She leaned forward, putting aside the weapon as she studied him intently. “He’s a Blutbad, the big, bad wolf. He’s dangerous.”

Nick shook his head. “Not Monroe.”

“Yes, Monroe. Blutbaden live in packs, creating havoc and eating people wherever they go. It’s my job to kill them before they can kill more people.”

Finally Nick sat, trying to grasp what she was saying, wishing that he could just dismiss his aunt’s words as rambling nonsense. But he’d seen what he’d seen, and he couldn’t come up with any rational explanation for how Monroe had changed. “Why didn’t I see it before? How did you know?”

“As a Grimm, I can see their true faces, not the faces they hide behind in order to try to fit in with humankind.”

“And it’s your job to hunt them, you said?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re dangerous.”

“You said ‘creatures’, plural. There’re more than just – what’d you call them? Bloot – ”

“Blutbaden,” Marie corrected. “I have volumes of books that Grimms have been writing over the centuries in my trailer.”

“Wait. So how long have there been these creatures?”

“I can’t tell you exact dates, although they’ve been around at least since Ancient Egypt when they were worshipped as gods.”

Nick rubbed at his growing headache. “How many different kinds are there?”

Marie shrugged. “I’ve never really counted.”

“And you hunt them all?”

She nodded.

“And you say they’re all dangerous?”

She nodded again.

“I’ve found,” he said slowly, “that when people use words like ‘all’ and ‘everyone’ and ‘always’, they’re trying to fit people – or in this case, these, Wesen?” his aunt nodded, “Wesen into small, comfortable boxes.” He held up his hand when his aunt opened her mouth. “I may not’ve known what Monroe was, but I know that he’s good.

“If you look in his past, you’ll find death and destruction, the blood of innocents on his hands.”

“He has hinted at a rough childhood.”

Marie barked a cough. “Rough? Hold on a second.” She left, the room, returning a few minutes later with a few large books that she plopped down beside Nick. “Have a look at these while I go take a shower.”

Nick waited until she’d grabbed her backpack and closed the door behind herself in the bathroom before he picked up the first book.

It was obviously a journal, worn and handwritten in flowing script. Unfortunately, it wasn’t written in English. It looked like it could possibly be German – a language Nick didn’t know – so he flipped through, looking at the pictures, which got more and more disturbing. At first he was horrified at the graphic images depicting men, women, and children being torn apart and eaten by wolf-like creatures. As he continued to flip pages, though, he found himself just as horrified as those creatures themselves were beheaded and tortured.

He knew that his aunt thought that his personal involvement with Monroe was coloring his opinions, and she was right – to a point. But he found it impossible to believe that all Wesen were evil.

Nick tended to think in shades of gray, one of the reasons why he thought he’d be a good cop. He tried not to jump to conclusions, choosing instead to allow himself to be led by the facts. And so far, the facts were this:

He’d known Monroe for three months, and in that time, Monroe had supported Hap, helped the families in his neighborhood, cooked for the horde that invited themselves over to his house for ‘study’ sessions, loved Christmas more than anyone Nick had ever encountered, and been nothing but loving to Nick himself.

But Nick had seen the physical changes himself, the claws, the hair – or was it fur? – growing on his face and the backs of his hands. He’d looked guilty and apologized, although that had been pretty nonspecific.

His Aunt Marie has always been vague about what she did, and he’d grown up not questioning it. Contrary to her feeble looking exterior, she’d always been pretty strong, and she’d looked pretty comfortable handling that weapon.

Monroe and Aunt Marie had managed to throw each other around the house enough that they’d not only broken a lot of the furniture but also made their way from the front door all the way to the backyard.

And Nick seemed to be the only one out of the three of them surprised by the violence.

Just like that, Nick understood what he needed to do. He left a note on the hotel pad that he had to run an errand and would be back soon. He couldn’t find his aunt’s keys, so he hotwired the truck – something he’d learned to do while he was fixing his car – and headed back the way he had left.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Monroe’s house, noting that the front door still hung open. He took a moment to root through the trailer, trying not to get distracted by all the weird shit in there – and found a bat-like weapon that he held in both hands as he gingerly walked into the house.

“Monroe?” He called before thinking that perhaps announcing his presence might not’ve been the brightest thing he’d done. Hefting the bat a little higher, he stepped further inside.

He winced at the overturned sofa, the smashed picture-frame glass crunching underneath his feet as headed toward the kitchen. The new kitchen table Monroe’s parents had given him had broken into two pieces when Aunt Marie had kicked Monroe into, and then over, it. The microwave, which hadn’t been new but had been pretty handy, lay on the floor, the door barely hanging on its hinges. He moved through the debris of broken dishes to the door leading to the backyard, which had taken more of a hit than the front door.

He found Monroe sitting, legs out, leaning against the side of the house, eyes closed. He gasped, dropping the bat and falling to his knees. He looked dead, something Nick found inconceivable. “No, no, no. Monroe!” He cupped Monroe’s jaw, the beard tickling familiarly against his palm.

Monroe’s eyes opened, but he seemed dazed. He blinked when he saw Nick, then closed his eyes again. Nick took a second to breathe a sigh of relief that seemed to go throughout his entire body.

“Monroe!” Nick tapped lightly at Monroe’s face. “I need to know where’re you’re hurt.”

Monroe frowned, opening his eyes. “Y’r not real,” he mumbled.

“I’m right here,” Nick said. “Come on, don’t scare me like this.”

“Came to f’nish m’off?”

“You know me better than that. I came to talk to you, to hear your side of the story. But first, I need you to tell me where you’re hurt.”

“My heart hurts, okay?” He paused for a moment. “That sounded r’lly pat-pathetic, dn’t it?”

Nick smiled fondly at Monroe. He’d never admit it out loud, but he loved it when Monroe was goofy. He couldn’t fully appreciate it at the moment, since Monroe refused to tell him where he was hurt, but it reinforced the fact that human or not, Monroe was still who he’d fallen in love with. He’d focus on Monroe’s health first, then try to figure out the rest of it later. “Can you get up?” Maybe if he could get Monroe to the sofa that was still upright, he could better assess Monroe’s injuries. The way he was slurring his words, he probably had a concussion.

“Yep,” Monroe said, then sat there for a few seconds. “Maybe not?”

Nick wrapped one of Monroe’s arms around his shoulders and helped him up. It was definitely tough going, but eventually they staggered back into the house, Monroe falling heavily on the sofa.

Breathing hard, Nick stared down at his boyfriend as he absently wiped his hand on his – he was still wearing his pajamas. It seemed like months ago they’d had their conversation about it.

Then it hit him that he was wiping his hand. Why was his hand wet? He looked down at his top and saw a blood smear, and he quickly knelt at Monroe’s feet, hands slowly working their way up his legs. “Where are you bleeding?”

“I’m bleeding?” Monroe asked, then, “Oh, right.”

“What do you mean, ‘Oh right’?” Nick’s hands were up to Monroe’s thighs.

Monroe gently tapped his right side.

“What happened?” Nick pushed Monroe to the left, pulling up Monroe’s pajama top. “She shot you!”

“’s a graze, though, right?” Monroe asked, his eyes more focused as he spoke a little clearer. Nick assumed the walk had energized him some. “Feels like a graze.”

“It’s not a graze.” Nick looked around the disheveled living room, trying to locate a phone. Finally giving up, he patted Monroe’s thigh. “Please tell me there’s another phone upstairs.”

Monroe shook his head. “Down here.”

As was Nick’s. Lost in the debris.

“Your parents should be home soon, right?”

“Came and left,” Monroe said.

Nick didn’t buy it. “There’s no way they would’ve left you here to die.” It took one blink for him to get it. “They didn’t know about the bullet.”

“Had to get them away from – ” Monroe didn’t need to pause for Nick to finish the sentence own his own.

Nick didn’t have an answer for that. He did have questions, but he pushed them to the back of his mind, adding them to the rest of the ones he had for Monroe once things had settled down. “Let’s get you to my car; I’ll drive you to the hospital.” He put Monroe’s arm back over his shoulders.

“Can’t go,” Monroe said, hissing as he tried to pull away.

Confused, Nick looked at him. “Are you planning on taking out the bullet by yourself?”

“They’ll call the cops, who’ll ask a lot of questions.”

That was a good point. But what choice did they have? “I guess we’ll have to lie.”

Monroe shook his head. “Everyone’s home for Christmas, and you can bet that they were all at their windows once the noise started. They’ll be able to give the make and model of your aunt’s car – probably the license plate too – and they’ll know that you left with her. They’ll do whatever they can to help the cops find her, because they think that will help me.”

“Shit,” Nick muttered. He wasn’t used to living around people who cared that much about each other.

Monroe suddenly stiffened. “She’s here.”

“Who?”

“The Grimm. Your aunt.” Monroe pressed a hand over his wound as he frantically looked around. He groaned, reaching for a piece of the floor lamp that had fallen on the opposite side of the sofa.

Nick tightened his hold. “You keep moving, and you’re going to die.”

“She’s coming to kill me anyway.” Monroe took a practice wave with his makeshift weapon. “You need to go. This isn’t your fight.”

Fury raced over Nick, heating his entire body. “The two people I love most in the world are trying to kill each other! How is that not my fight?”

“I’m not trying to kill her,” Monroe said, his eyes flitting to Nick before returning to the open doorway. “I’m trying to survive.”

“Let me talk to her. I can convince her to leave you alone.”

Monroe shook his head. “She’s a Grimm; she kills Wesen like me. It’s her nature. She’s killed some of my ancestors.” Monroe smiled faintly. “Some of them did deserve it.” He shrugged, his breath catching at the movement. “I deserve it.”

“You keep saying you don’t deserve good things, which I’m thinking means that you probably did some pretty bad things when you were younger.” He watched Monroe flush as he opened his mouth, but Nick continued quickly, “But that isn’t the Monroe I know. You’ve changed. No matter who you were before, you’re now someone I’m proud to say is my boyfriend.”

Monroe’s eyes misted. “Blutbads and Grimms are an impossible combination.”

“Then I’ll meet up with Aunt Marie somewhere else; you two will never have to hang out together.”

Monroe looked confused. “She hasn’t told you?”

“He never gave me the chance,” Marie said, walking into the house with some sort of crossbow in her hands.

Nick moved in front of Monroe. “I’m not going to let you kill him.”

“Are you going to let him kill me?” Marie asked. “Because that’s what Blutbads do. They kill.”

“Not me. Not anymore,” Monroe said.

“Aunt Marie, he’s a vegetarian! He grows vegetables and mows his elderly neighbor’s lawn. That might’ve been who he was, but that’s not who he is now. So put that thing down.”

“Mini crossbow,” Monroe muttered.

Nick looked back at him. “What?”

“It’s a mini crossbow.”

“You’re bleeding to death with a bullet in your side, and you’re worried about proper weapon terminology?”

Marie lowered her weapon – mini crossbow. “Take him to the hospital.”

“We don’t have a story to cover all of this – ” he gestured around the room “ – plus a bullet wound,” Nick told her.

“I’ll handle it,” she said.

“But – ”

“Let me handle it.”

Nick sighed, knowing that Monroe didn’t have the time for him to sit there and argue with his aunt. He was just going to have to trust her and focus on Monroe. He turned back to his boyfriend, trying to be as gentle as he could as he wrapped Monroe’s arm around his waist and hefted him off the sofa. He had to adjust his grip immediately to accommodate Monroe’s weakening condition, and his focus narrowed to helping him get to the car. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

Since he had no idea where his keys were in the house, Nick hotwired the car – he seemed to be doing that a lot lately – and headed straight for the hospital. Monroe closed his eyes as soon as he folded himself into the front seat, which Nick had slid as far back as it would go. He took a moment to rest a hand against Monroe’s neck, comforted and worried by the faint pulse.

Evidently, Aunt Marie had called ahead, because there were nurses, doctors, and a gurney all waiting for them when they arrived. By the time Nick had parked the car and made it back inside, he’d begun to worry that he wouldn’t have access to Monroe. After all, he was just the boyfriend, not a relative or a spouse. He couldn’t even call Marguerite or Martin, because he didn’t have their phone number.

So here he sat, a growing black ball of worry in his gut, his mind awash with all that he had seen and heard in the past few hours. He needed answers and time.

But first he needed to know that Monroe was going to be okay.

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

The antiseptic smell first clued Monroe in that he wasn’t waking up at home. That, and the fact that he didn’t have Nick lying beside him.

It took a couple of moments for recent events to come back to him. It started slowly, then flowed through him so quickly that all he could do was sit there and relive it:

He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the ground beside the broken door leading out to the backyard, and truth be told, he didn’t really care. Months ago he’d told himself that getting involved with Nick was a bad idea – granted, there was no way he could have known that Nick’s aunt was a Grimm, more than likely the Grimm who’d hunted and killed some of his relatives – but he’d let his heart overrule his head. Now his heart was broken, his head throbbed with every heartbeat, and his house was torn apart.

Merry Christmas to him.

He huffed out a bitter laugh and wiped at his eyes. His life had just upended; he should be panicking, calling all of the Wesen he knew in the area including Hap and Rosalee, calling his parents, packing to leave before Marie returned to finish the job. Instead all he could do was just sit here. In the cold.

Eventually he heard voices from the living room, his mother’s, “What happened here?”

His father’s, “There was a fight – Monroe? Nick?”

The thumping sound meant that his father had run up the stairs, and he heard both parents calling his and Nick’s names, but he couldn’t seem to call back.

He must’ve blanked out at some point, because he seemed to blink, and his mom was suddenly kneeling beside him, her hand on his forehead.

“Honey, what happened?”

“You weren’t the only ones who decided to surprise their family for the holidays,” he said, hating the wobbly sound to his voice. He cleared his throat. “Nick’s aunt stopped by.”

“Did she bring some thugs with her?”

Monroe looked up at her, then his father who’d walked up behind her. “Nick’s aunt is Marie Kessler.”

If he’d been capable of it, he might’ve smiled at the shock on their faces.

“We have to get out of here,” his dad muttered. “Marguerite, grab your stuff. Monroe, how long ago did they leave?”

Monroe shrugged as he heard his mother climb the stairs.

“Monroe!” His dad’s no-nonsense voice caught his attention, as it always had. “How long have you been sitting here?”

Monroe just shrugged.

“Then we have to go right now. Is there anything that you need that you can’t replace?”

“Um,” Monroe tried to think. “I can’t go anywhere. I have classes in a few days, and the house is a disaster.”

“Son, this life is over. How much does Nick know about where you’re from?”

“I never really talked about… about growing up.” He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Habit.”

His father nodded. Martin had explained to his son that even though he preferred living with his kind, Martin had spent a small amount of time in the presence of humans and various other wesen. So he’d learned to adapt, to avoid talking in specifics about growing up, where he was from, his family and friends. After he’d calmed down and finally accepted that Monroe was going to leave for college, he’d taken his son aside and did his best to prepare Monroe for a life outside the pack. His advice had helped more times than Monroe could count.

“Okay.” His father stood, clapping his hands together. “So this is the plan. Your mom will be down in just a minute. I’ll drive us out of here, and we’ll go on a little sightseeing trip around the country. You and your mom can contact everyone we know. She’ll call the people back home just in case Nick gives the Grimm enough information for her to track down your hometown. You call your Wesen friends from here. Hopefully they’re all off on vacation?”

Monroe nodded.

“Good. They’ll be safe while they have time to decide what they want to do.”

“Boys, I’m ready. Let’s go. Monroe, I grabbed some t-shirts, pants, and underpants from your drawers.”

“Mom!” Monroe whined and felt like he was twelve years old again. That small reminder of normalcy helped rouse him a little.

“I didn’t look for your porn stash or anything,” she said.

“Oh my – mom!”

“Let’s go,” Monroe’s dad said. “We need to get as many miles between us and the Grimm as possible.” He held out his hand toward Monroe. “Time to start a new life.”

Monroe tried to sit up, panicked as he looked around the empty hospital room. Marie Kessler was on his trail – and she knew he’d been with her nephew. “I’m so dead,” he muttered, lying back down to ease the pain. He’d managed to hold his own back at the house, but now he was already weak and wouldn’t be much of a challenge. Hopefully, though, she hadn’t picked up on his parents’ trail. They’d tried in vain to convince him to go with them, finally giving up and telling him that they were going on a long vacation and would get word to him in a few months when they were sure they were safe.

He thought about Hap and Rosalee and knew he had to somehow get in touch with them, but first he had to get out of the hospital.

The next day, he stepped out of the wheelchair he’d been forced to ride in and got into the Uber he’d reserved. He clutched his bag of meds and sheets of instructions in his hand, resolved to accept that he’d been right all along; being alone was what was best for him.

He’d arrived with nothing, no wallet or friend or family, so he’d had to make do. It wasn’t like he’d never had to do this before on his own, but he’d grown accustomed to being able to rely on Nick, something he obviously couldn’t do anymore.

His head ached, as did his cracked ribs and the bullet wound in his side, but all of that took a backseat to the loneliness and feeling of loss. He reminded himself that this was how it was always going to end up – his head had known it and tried to talk him out of seeing Nick, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. Even now, after experiencing it all, he couldn’t say that he regretted being with Nick. They’d been the best few months in his life.

He gingerly stepped out of the car, thanking the driver, also thankful that he’d already established an account so he could order one as long as he could remember his password.

The front door still lay haphazardly against the side of the house, and Monroe wondered absently if looters had left anything useful.

He walked inside, stopping in surprise when he surveyed his clean – if mostly empty – living room. He froze, smelling the air.

A few seconds later, Fortunus Blanks, one of Hap’s football buddies, walked out of the kitchen, chatting with Wu.

Stunned, Monroe could only stare.

Wu’d just taken a bite of whatever he had in his hand when he noticed Monroe. “Hey! We were going to come visit you at the hospital a little later with some pants and stuff, but I guess our timing was off.” He took in the clothes Monroe had been given at the hospital and smirked. “Welcome home!”

“Yeah, dude.” Fortunus was a six foot six African American whose dreams of playing pro football had been dashed after a bad car accident when he was a sophomore in high school; while he couldn’t get a scholarship to any of the prestigious colleges he’d planned on attending, he was still good enough to be the best player on the GN football team. He and Wu had been friends in grade school and had reconnected when Wu started hanging out over at Monroe and Hap’s.

That still didn’t explain why they were in his house – or why his living room didn’t show any of the signs that he and Nick’s Grimm aunt had fought. He felt a little pang at the missing sofa, his and Hap’s first piece of furniture after they’d rented the house their sophomore year. They’d found it a couple of blocks away on the sidewalk, waiting for garbage day, and they’d snuck over in the middle of the night to take it.

All of the evidence of Christmas had disappeared too, and Monroe wondered if any of it had been salvageable. He felt like he should care more about it than he did right now, but he also knew that he was in a bit of an emotional fog. He decided he’d worry about it later.

He realized that he’d been silent too long and tried to give them a smile that felt strange on his face. “Hey. Did you clean up the mess?”

“Yeah,” Wu walked up to Monroe, clapped a hand gently over Monroe’s shoulder. “Nick told us what happened, about the home invasion and everything, so don’t feel like you need to talk about it – unless you want to. We’re here if you need to vent too.”

Fortunus’ face was epic – it was obvious that he’d be willing to sit there and listen but he was hoping, “please please do not need to talk about your feelings and stuff”.

Wu’s face was just as open, revealing that he would love to hear all of the details. But he wouldn’t push.

Suddenly Monroe felt an unexpected wash of thankfulness rise inside him and had to duck his head to blink away the stab of tears gathering in his eyes. Once he got himself in control he looked back at them. “Sorry. Drugs.”

“I hear you,” Wu said as if he knew what it was like to get hurt worse than the simple break he’d gotten after falling out of a tree in middle school. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest. You hungry? Your neighbors have been bringing food pretty much nonstop, and most of it’s vegetarian.”

“I’m not hungry right now,” Monroe said, “but thanks. I might just take a shower, though.” He smelled like hospital.

“Hap wanted to come back from his trip early, but he’s in the car with Hap-San and Bohlale, so I told him that he should just stay with them and have fun. I’ll stay here with you until you’re back on your feet.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Monroe said, easing into the chair once he realized that Wu, being Wu, still had a lot to say. Due to the lack of a table, he dropped his meds bag on the floor at his feet.

“It’s not a problem,” Wu said. “Besides, this place is closer to my Winter Term internship than the apartment.”

While he didn’t doubt that it was the truth, Monroe knew how social Wu was, and with Hank gone for the month doing an internship back home in Philadelphia at one of the police departments, the apartment probably felt pretty empty.

“And just give me a call if you need any heavy lifting,” Fortunus said. “The team came by yesterday, and we cleaned up and took all of the broken stuff to the recycle and trash yards. The new doors should get here in a few hours.”

Monroe felt that pressure in his chest again. “That was – you didn’t have to – ”

“You feed us all the time,” Fortunus said. “You watch after Hap and come to our games. Coming over here was not a biggie.” He shrugged. “We don’t have practice until tomorrow, so it was a nice little workout.”

GN allowed for football to be a winter term class choice, which was required for starters. Hap, who was more of an enthusiastic bench warmer, pretty much showed up whenever he was free, and somehow, he got away with it.

“Tell them thanks,” Monroe said, feeling that that it wasn’t enough. “ – and that I’ll have them all over for a barbecue or something once I get better and Hap gets back.”

“It’s a deal,” Fortunus said, wide grin proving that he’d been hoping for that kind of response.

Monroe felt some of the pressure ease. He might’ve lost the love of his life, but he wasn’t alone. He had friends, people who cleaned up his destroyed house so he wouldn’t have to do it himself, people who brought over food so he wouldn’t have to go out and buy some and cook it himself, people who offered to stay and help take care of him.

Monroe braced himself, planting his hands on the arms of the chair and pushing himself up to standing with the slightest of groans. “I think I’m gonna take that shower and head off to bed for a bit.”

“We’re right down here if you need anything!” Wu called.

Monroe managed to hold out for a couple of hours before he finally broke down and asked Wu about Nick. He blamed it on the drugs that Wu’d brought up with some soup a few hours after Monroe had showered and dropped into bed, having fallen asleep on the thought that for the first time, it felt way too large.

He was lucid enough to try to hide it behind a few other questions. “Have you heard from Hank?”

“Yeah, he’s hating the suits he has to wear, but he seems to be enjoying the internship.” Wu sat down on the end of the bed.

“You said Hap was doing good too?”

“I think he said he was in Wisconsin somewhere. He talked about being stuffed with cheese.”

Monroe played with his spoon, going for nonchalant. “And… everyone else?”

Wu gave him a look before saying, “Nick’s doing an independent study. He told me what it was about, but all I heard was, ‘wa wa wa wa’.” He opened and closed his hand rapidly while he spoke.

“Did he seem happy?”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“It depends on your answer, “ Monroe said seriously.

Wu chuckled. “We’ve been spending way too much time together.”

“You know what? Never mind. Forget I asked,” Monroe said, losing his courage. “I’m just going to eat my soup since I’ve already taken my pill, and it’s supposed to be ingested with food…”

“He’s fine,” Wu said gently, “but he misses you.”

“He asked about me?”

“In the same way you asked about him.”

“Oh.” Monroe tried not to sound disappointed.

“Nick’s my buddy, and I try to live by the credo ‘live and let live’, but I gotta say that he’s kind of disappointed me, leaving you alone in the hospital the way he did. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but that’s not how you treat the person you love.”

“No, Nick is doing the right thing. We’re not – ” he had to swallow and push the words out, “ – supposed to be together.”

“I call bullshit,” Wu said. “I saw you two together, and sure, you’re the reason why I have to buy pants three sizes larger than at the beginning of the year, but you two just seemed to fit.”

“I can’t explain it, but don’t blame Nick. He’s not leaving me while I’m down. It was just bad timing. He’s doing the right thing.”

Wu snorted, standing. “Nick’ll always be my friend, even when he’s being a dumb ass. You too. So eat your damn soup and get some rest.”