If It Takes You Home - Part Two (Lost Girl/Grimm)
Banner Made by the Lovely tarlanx
If It Takes You Home
A Lost Girl/Grimm Crossover for Apocalypse Big Bang
Author: Crinaeae (crinaeaeswords)
Summary: The world didn’t end after all, but to Lauren, it still felt like it had.
Disclaimer: All original property is owned by Showcase, Syfy, NBC, etc, and we do not infer that any characters, creations or the concepts of 'Lost Girl' and ‘Grimm’ are our property. The following fan fiction has been written purely for entertainment purposes only.
Rating: arrr
Pairings: Lauren Lewis/Bo Dennis, Bo Dennis/Dyson, Lauren Lewis/Nydia, Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, Monroe/Rosalee Calvert
Warnings: Violence, Sexual Content, Language
Word Count: 15,000
Setting: Set directly after season two of Lost Girl and season one of Grimm. There are minor spoilers, since as I was watching the new seasons of each show, I tweaked my plot to fit, but if you haven't scene the newer seasons, it won't really matter.
Notes: Inspired by “If It Takes You Home” by Idlewild. Thank you so much to tarlanx for being my artist in this big bang (my first ever!). She did an amazing job with the covers (see everything she made here), and I wanted to use as many as I could, which is why this piece is broken into three parts.
Parts: One - Two - Three
The checked purple shirt and navy blue blazer did nothing to hide the paleness of Lauren's face and heavy bags under her eyes from yet another sleepless night. Nevertheless, they were clean and fitting for a job where she would be changing into her scrubs in short order anyway.
"Splendid way to start a new job," she muttered to herself as she applied concealer to her eyes with a shaking hand.
"Doctor Lewis?" Nick's voice rang from the kitchen, where he had been puttering around for the past hour, "Do you want any coffee?"
"That would be great, I'll be out in a minute!" she called back, sticking her head out of the bathroom door. Stepping back into the bathroom, she put her fists on her hips and eyed her reflection critically before sighing and letting her hands fall to her sides, muttering "well, it's as good as it's going to get" to herself. A glint of silver in her makeup bag caught her eye in the bright light, and with shaking fingers she pulled out the necklace the Ash had given her when she entered his service. The twisting tree charm dangled from a new silver chain, catching the light. Running her fingers over the curves she knew so well, her fingers caught on a rough patch on the back. Flipping it over, she saw a rune, uruz for freedom, untamed potential, and unexpected changes, etched onto the back.
“Trick, you sentimental bastard,” Lauren whispered to herself, running a fingernail over the marks. Slipping the chain over her head, she tucked the charm under her shirt. She’d call Trick later when she was settled in a hotel. Straightening her back, Lauren took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom.
"Here," Nick shoved a travel mug filled to the brim with coffee so strong it would wake the dead, and two pieces of toast slathered with peanut butter wrapped in a paper towel, "sorry about the early start, but I have to be into the precinct as soon as possible today."
"Bad case?" she asked, pouring a healthy dose of cream and sugar into her coffee, light and sweet just like you, as Nydia would've teased her, before putting the lid back on the travel mug.
"I can't talk about an ongoing investigation," he mumbled around a mouthful of toast.
"I know, but I also know that look," she told him as they walked out the door together, "I used to work closely with a few cops and private investigators."
"Well, we should be going if we're going to get you to your car and new job on time," he sidestepped the issue and started the sedan, forcing a smile, "never want to be late on the first day of work!"
The car wasn’t there. Blank, open road lined with evergreen trees stretched before them in the early light, marred only by a single set of skid marks.
“Is this where I broke down?” Lauren asked, biting a finger nail, “Maybe it was farther up the road?”
“I don’t think so, Doctor Lewis,” Nick answered, getting out of the car. Focused on the ground, he paced back and forth a few yards before squatting down, “The car was locked with the windows up when we left last night, right?”
“Yes, I’m positive I locked the car after I grabbed my bags,” she forced the words out past the tightening in her chest. The detached part of her brain was steadily ticking away with every condition that presented with chest pain - angina, gallstones, aortic dissection, pericarditis, pulmonary embolism, panic attacks - on and on while the rest of her brain worked on the fact that her car was not there. Clutching the Ash’s pendant in her fist, she felt hot, fat tears start to roll down her cheeks to her everlasting horror.
“Well, I don’t see any broken glass, and there’s no other tire threads that I can see,” he rose to his feet and turned to see Lauren’s tears, “Hey, it’s okay. Someone probably called to have it towed, we’ll find it.”
Angrily, Lauren wiped the tears from her face, smearing the makeup she had so carefully applied just minutes before, “it’s not the car, I mean it is the car, but I can buy another car, but I loved, and it came with me and-”
“Doctor Lewis,” Nick tried to cut her off, but she just steamrolled over him.
“Trick gave me that car, and he didn’t have to, I could’ve bought one, and oh God, my chest is so tight, is this what a heart attack feels like?”
“Lauren!” Nick cut off her rambling by grabbing her fluttering hands and shaking her once, hard, “It’ll be okay, but you have to stop freaking out.”
Unable to stop herself, Lauren wrapped her arms around him in a desperate hug. When his arms lightly touched her back in an awkward hug, it proved to be her undoing and Lauren dissolved into tears. It had been so long since someone had just held her when she cried, by someone who didn’t want anything except to help her. Her back shook with every sob saved up from the past four years, a personal earthquake that took over her. Slowly, the sobs subsided and her breathing evened out, but still Lauren stayed in the warm strength of Nick’s arms.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked in a quiet voice, her face still pressed into his shoulder.
“Because this is a problem that I can fix,” Nick hold her, the simple truth jumping out of him without a thought to lie.
"It's been a crazy year for you, too?" Lauren asked as she backed away from him. Even though she knew that he comforted people as part of his job, the embrace was becoming too comfortable.
"You could definitely say that one again," he replied with a smile as his cell phone rang, loud in the morning stillness, "I have to take this."
"Take you time, I'll wait in the car," she said, and she walked away from him and a feelings he stirred up more quickly than necessary.
"Burkhardt," he answered the phone briskly, watching Lauren as she got into the car.
"Nick? Where are you, man? I thought we were meeting up to look over the case again!" Hank hissed into the phone, pissed as hell.
"I got hung up at home, I'll be at the station in a few," he promised, running his free hand through his hair.
"Oh, okay," Hank's voice softened, "how's everything with Juliette?"
"About the same, still figuring it all out."
“Okay, well, don’t bother coming into the station now, we just got a call for a DB in The Hollywood Motel off of 84, and it’s another weird one.”
“Aren’t they all lately?” Nick said with grim humor, “I’ll see you soon.”
“You better not leave me here to deal with the press by myself, you know they like you’re pretty face better than mine.”
“Jesus, the press is there already?”
“Apparently our good Samaritan motel owner called the press before 911.”
“Great, see you soon,” Nick laughed dryly and hung up, jogging back to the car.
“Everything all right?” Lauren asked when Nick hopped back into the car. She had fixed her hair and makeup in the mirror as best as she could, but her eyes were still red and she sounded horribly congested.
“Everything’s fine,” Nick told her automatically, then quickly amended, “Well not fine, I just got called to a scene that I need to be at yesterday, but I still should have time to take you to your new job.”
“I don’t think it’s that far away,” Lauren said, fishing the scrap of paper with the address from her pocket, “1221 Southwest Fourth Avenue, that’s close , right?”
“The morgue? Your new job is at the morgue?” Nick looked at her with disbelief on his face.
“Why is that so hard to believe?” Lauren asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I just thought you were working at the hospital, that’s all,” he told her.
“I used to work for a medical research and devolopment company as an exoctic desises and zoology expert,” Lauren explained, “when I got wind of the oddball cases the Portland PD had been getting lately, I put in a couple calls to see if I could be of use.”
“Are you working for the morgue or the lab?”
“Technically, both, but I’ll be in the lab more than anywhere else,” she told him whilst digging in her pocket for her ringing cell phone, “Doctor Lauren Lewis.”
“Are you on your way to the morgue?” Doctor Harper, Portland’s chief medical examiner asked on the other end of the line.
“Yes, I’m on my way now,”
“I hate to do it to you on your first day, but would you mind meeting me at a scene? It’s part of the case I was telling you about the other day and I could use some fresh eyes on the ground.”
“That’s not a problem, where is it?”
“The Hollywood Motel, I’ll text the address to your phone.”
“Great, I’ll be there shortly,” Lauren promised and hung up the phone, “Detective Burkhardt, I hate to do this to you, but there’s been a change of plans. Do you mind driving me to a scene instead of the morgue?”
With a resigned sigh, Nick flicked on the red and blue lights before banging an illegal U-turn in the middle of the highway.
“Don’t you need to where I'm going?” Lauren asked alarmed, as she hung onto the ‘oh shit bar’ for dear life.
“I’m sure it’s the same place I just got called to,” he told her grimly and punched the gas, “The Hollywood Motel.”
The motel sign flickered weakly in the sunlight, every other letter burnt out, turning ‘The Hollywood Motel’ into ‘_h_ __ol_yw_od M_t_l’. Girls in skimpy mini skirts, bandage dress, jackets with fake fur collars, and all with sky high, painful looking heels huddled in groups of fives and sixes around few of the parked cars. Most had hands cupped around the embers of cigarettes while others passed around bottles in conspicuous crumpled brown paper bags. A few of the more brazen girls passed around a joint, daring the cops with lidded eyes to bust them. One of the maids sat in the back of an ambulance, her face a blotchy mess from hysterics as she wailed in choppy Spanglish. Uniformed police officers and lab techs milled around the parking lot, collecting evidence and statements. Everywhere flashes of red and blue lights punctuated with white camera flashes shimmered like the sea.
“Is it always this chaotic?” Lauren asked in an undertone to Nick as they walked up to the motel room draped in yellow ‘do not cross’ ribbons.
“The killer is now up to five victims,” he explained, “and the press is having a field day with us spinning our wheels, so the captain wants all hands on deck.”
Nodding mutely, Lauren covered her feet and hands with the boot covers and gloves handed to her by a uni and walked into the room. As death scenes went, this one wasn’t the worst she had ever seen, however disturbing the lack of blood and gore was. A body, male and in reasonably good health lay on his belly on the bed, face half buried into the pillow. A crumpled red satin sheet covered one hairy leg and half of his sagging buttoux, a dopey smile could be seen on the half of his face not smushed into the pillow. Save for the stench and the deathly blue pallor of his skin, the victim looked as if he was sound asleep, and dreaming quite pleasantly. A heap of dirty linens were shoved in a corner of the room, and mostly burned candles littered every surface in puddles of red and white wax. In the bathroom, more candle wax puddles dripped from the toilet seat and side of the tub, a bottle of unopened champagne sat in the sink, the ice long melted and water slowly dripping onto the grimy tile.
“Replacing me with a newer, blonder model, Nick?” Hank asked from his corner as he snapped his notebook shut and picked his way across the postage stamp sized room.
“You know I could never leave you, Hank,” Nick smiled with nervous humor, “this is Doctor Lewis, our new medical examiner.”
“Assistant medical examiner,” Lauren corrected as she shook Hank’s hand, “I hear this is your fifth victim?”
“Yep, and this one’s quite the romantic,” Hank sighed heavily, “the body was found shortly after five am, when the cleaning lady came in. Apparently, he only paid for five hours, from ten last night until three this morning.”
“Classy of him,” Lauren commented as she bent to face the corpse, her hands behind her back, careful not to touch anything, “It looks like the body was moved, maybe flipped onto his stomach, a few hours after death, which I would put close to midnight, maybe after.”
“You can tell that with one look?” Hank’s eyebrows rose skeptically.
“I might be new to Portland, Detective, but I have been doing this a while now,” Lauren told him coolly, not bothering to move from her position near the body.
“Doctor Lewis, I presume?” Doctor Harper, the resident medical examiner asked from the doorway, smiling the woman stuck out her latex covered hand, “It’s so good to see you in person.”
Lauren returned her handshake with a smile of her own, “It’s good to be in Portland, Doctor Harper, thank you for letting me jump in right away.”
“Well, this is the case I did have in mind when I hired you,” she sighed as she looked at the body, “although I had hoped we would be closer to catching the bastard by now. What’s your take?”
“At first glance, it’s hard to tell, maybe an exotic poison?”
“All the tox screens on the first four victims was clean.”
“For what you test for,” Lauren turned back to the body, with a sceptical eye, “I’ve seen a lot of different toxins and biochemical weapons over the years.”
And a lot of fey kills. Try as she might to consider other, human possibilities, her mind kept coming back to succubi. A sadistic one who liked to play with her food, by the look of it.
“Most people don’t even bother with poisons anymore, we’ve gotten a lot better at catching poisoners,” Doctor Harper pointed out, sticking the corpse with a liver probe, “Although, you were close about TOD, liver temp puts it around one this morning.”
“That’s consistent with the other victims,” Nick chimed in, “About the only thing.”
“All the victims were out late at night,” Hank rolled his eyes, “Come on, doc, can’t you give us more to go on?”
“I’ll have more after the autopsy, but Doctor Lewis might have a lead for you when she gets into the lab,” Doctor Harper told him, zipping the body into a body bag and rolling it on a stretcher out the door, with Lauren’s help,”if you don’t mind a squeeze, I can take you back to the lab so you can get started.”
“That sounds great,” Lauren said with a slight smile. Walking up to Nick, she stuck her hand out, “Thank you for everything, Detective, I hope you find my car soon.”
“Not a problem, Doctor Lewis,” he told her, shaking her hand with a firm squeeze, “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again soon.”
“I’ll call as soon as I have something new for you,” she promised, and followed Doctor Harper to the morgue van.
“What was that all about Nick?” Hank asked, his eyebrows halfway up his head.
“It’s a long story, Hank,” Nick sighed and turned his attention back to the scene.
“And here’s your lab,” Doctor Harper finished with a flourish, “Well, your section of it anyway.”
Lauren looked at the small, dark space cramped with machines and computers, no bigger than a closet. It was an abrupt change from the brightly lit spacious lab she had (almost) complete control over whilst working for the Ash. Still, the equipment was in working order, and there was no Ash to report to. And she had certainly worked in far worse conditions. The tent in Afghanistan came to mind, with the omnipresent dust and gun fire threatening to break out at any minute.
“It’s perfect,” she sighed with a huge smile.
Relief flashed across Doctor Harper’s face, “Good, I’m glad you like it. We’ve had some other lab techs from big research firms go back into the private sector because they couldn’t handle the shoestring budget.”
“They should try working in a third world country, that would give them a whole new view of shoestring,” Lauren commented dryly, going over to the small fridge with a biohazard sticker slapped to the front, “Are the samples from the other victims here?”
“Yes, I had them moved so you could get a jump on everything, you just have to sign for chain of evidence on these forums,” Doctor Harper explained as she pointed to the pieces of paper neatly taped to the top of the trays of samples, “Everything is arranged by case number, and the corresponding files are on your desk.”
Lauren smile dimmed when she saw the huge stack on her desk. Picking up one she started to flip through it when she saw something catch her eye, grabbing a pen, she stopped short of writing a note in the margin, asking “Are these copies or originals?”
“Copies, so you can mark them up as much as you like and you won’t have to sign the files out at the front desk if you want to take them back to your hotel room.”
Absorbed in her work, Lauren didn’t even hear Doctor Harper leave.
“Look, sugar, I don’t know nothin’ about a John showing up dead at the Hollywood Motel, mmm kay?” the hooker said with heavily lidded eyes, rimmed with thick black eyeliner.
“Well, that’s funny, because we saw you at the motel this morning, passing around a joint,” Nick said, sitting on the edge of the interrogation table, sliding a full color photo of her smoking from one of the very helpful lab techs across the table.
“That’s tobacco, which is completely legal,” she said, not breaking a sweat as she examined her nails, “You got anything else?”
“Not a damn thing, and you know it, but I was thinking that we could help each other out anyway,” Nick said, his voice overly friendly, “for one, I know that only that piece of shit Diamond Ricky’s girls are allowed to use that motel.”
“So? How do you know the girl you’re lookin’ for is a pro? She could be just a hook up at one of the very many bars in the area,” Sunshine pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest. But her face shifted, becoming something twisted and ugly. Her nose melted into her lips, becoming small and whiskered. Her lips curled back from sharp teeth, and her ears elongated and pointed, poking out of her long, stringy bleach blond hair. Her eyes stone with a flat ratlike gleam, not very different from her human face and Nick suppressed a sigh. With a shake of her head, the hooker looked human again, and she snapped her gum with an insolent pop.
Reinigen, of course, Nick thought to himself. Of all the Wesen in the city, he shouldn't be surprised that one turned up as a possible witness in a very Wesen crime. No human could kill five others without leaving so much as a fingerprint.
"How many of you working for Diamond Ricky?" he asked, his tone still friendly, "I know that you like to run in packs."
Sunshine laughed bitterly, pulling her crumpled pack of cigarettes out of her tiny bedazzled purse, "Oh, honey, you truly do have nothing, otherwise you wouldn't have dragged my cute little behind in here, would you? We'd be having a very different chat in a very different place."
Nick leaned forward, his hands on the table, his face inches away from Sunshine's, "and what makes you think we won't be having that different chat? Right now, I only want to know about the John in room 102. Push me, and I will make sure that your boss' whole venture comes crashing down. And I will make sure that he knows exactly who the rat is."
Her face changed again, her nose twitching and furry ears laying flat against her head. Fear filled her eyes, chasing the flat rat like gleam away, “how do you know what I am?”
“Oh, come on sugar, you should know that I’m more than a dumb cop,” Nick said in a bitter parody of her speech, his voice low and dangerous, “be a good rat and tell me what I want to know, and I won’t visit you again as a Grimm.”
“Okay, fine, anything you want,” she said nervously, her nose still twitching, “I heard from the hoe-vine that there’s a girl that likes to pick up guys at the pub right around the corner, and take them back to that piece of shit motel.”
“Why would that matter?”
“A girl picking up men and bringing them back to our place? Who’s to say she’s not freelancing, you know? I have to give most of my take to Diamond Ricky, and she’s cutting into the potential client pool. If she’s killin’ ‘um too, then not one John’s gonna wanna pay for a room.”
“There’s a good rat,” he said with a bitter smile, pushing a pad of paper to her and a pen, “Write everything down.”
Leaving the interview room with a slammed door, Nick joined Hank in the adjoining room to watch the hooker write her statement down.
“Do you know how scary you are when you pull the whole Batman thing?” Hank asked in an undertone, sipping his crappy coffee.
“Batman? Playboy by day, vigilante by night?” Nick asked with raised eyebrows.
“What else do you want me to call it?”
“Why don’t we just not talk about it.”
“Okay man,” Hank said with a shrug, “You liking the ‘it’s a wanna-be hooker’ psycopath theory?”
“We have anything better to go on?” Nick asked, “Can you handle things here? I have to look into a couple of things.”
“Sure thing, man,” he said, “have fun with the dusty books.”
Five hours later, Lauren was ready to tear her hair out. Each of the biological samples had traces of the pheromones succubi pump into their, in this case, victims to induce sexual arousal and allow them to feed.
“Okay, Lauren, this is not a big deal,” she told herself, eying the cell phone on her desk like it was a poisonous snake, “Trick told you to call if you need help, and right now you need help.”
Not giving herself more time to think and talk herself out of calling the one living expert on the fey she could talk to, she hit the call button on her cell phone.
"Good evening, thank you for calling the Dal Riata, home of the finest mircobrewed beer and mead. This is Kenzi speaking, what can we do for you?" a bubbly voice came over the line within one ring.
"Hey, is Trick there?" Lauren asked.
"Sure, hold on a second!" Kenzi replied, and a muffled song started to play over the line.
"Trick here," Trick picked up, "what can I do for you today?"
"Hey, Trick, it's Lauren."
"Lauren!?" he exclaimed, "what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Trick, I'm in Portland working for the police, and they have a case that's stumping them," she took a deep breath, "it looks like a succubus."
"Portland?" Trick mused, "That's not far away, I'll come down and take a look for you."
"Not Portland, Maine, Portland, Oregon."
"And you're working for the police there?"
"Trick, what's wrong?"
"Lauren, you have to leave Portland as soon as you can."
"I can't leave! I have a job here! And there's a killer succubus on the loose!"
"Well, a succubus is the least of your worries." Trick's voice got closer, like he was leaning into the phone, "There is a Grimm in Portland, and if the rumors are true, he or she is working for the police."
"A Grimm, what are you talking about, Trick?"
"Grimms are dangerous, they are trained killers who hunt down Wesen, fey, and underfey alike," he explained, "If he finds out that you used to work for the the fey, he'll probably kill you too."
"And the cops never do anything?"
"They are smart, they move around, and they've been wiping out whole communities of fey for centuries. And if there is one in the Portland PD, you won't be safe anywhere is the city."
"Trick, I think I would know if I came across a psycho killer in the police," Lauren sighed, "I'm more worried about the succubus."
"Normally, succubi don't kill unless they have something to gain, or they can't control themselves," he told her, "You know this, why are you calling me?"
"How's Bo doing, Trick?"
"Bo? What does she have to do with anything?"
"Trick, she used the venom to save you, not to gain control when she was loosing it at the end," Lauren said, "I was there. I saw her."
"You don't know what you're talking about Lauren."
"Fine, so it's not Bo, but it is a succubus that's killing people."
"I don't think that I can help you with this Lauren, not with you being so far away," he sighed, "If you get into any trouble, I think there is a member of the Five Families working in the police there as well."
"Wouldn't the Five Families just hand me over to the Ash instead of helping me?"
"Because you have managed to get away from the Ash, most see that as a lack of control over his slaves. If anything, you would just pledge loyalty to the family that ends up helping you."
"Because the word of a human means shit, right?"
"Be thankful that it does, otherwise there wouldn't be a place on Earth you could hide from the fey." Trick pause, “Also, we won’t be able to come out there to help you.”
“I wasn’t asking for anyone to come cross country, Trick,” Lauren told him after a beat, “I can handle this on my own.”
“No, I don’t think you understand, no fey can come into the Pacific Northwest.”
“Why?”
“Because, wait, hold on for a minute,” Trick said, his voice getting muffled as he moved away from the phone. Several loud bangs, and Trick yelling “Kenzi! How many times do I have to tell you that that is not a toy!” later, he picked up the phone, breathless.
“Have to go?” Lauren hazard a guess.
“Yes, Kenzi felt the need to play with the balloons on the top of the meed. Again. I have a huge mess to deal with.” He paused, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’ll be fine, Trick,” Lauren said, “Take care.”
“You too - Kenzi! No! Don’t touch that!” she heard Trick yell before the phone line cut off with a heavy thunk.
The smell of the trailer was starting to become comforting, the mix of gun oil and old steel with dusty books and aged leather as soothing as the ratty sweater Juliette hated or coming home to a slow cooker full of pot roast. Sometimes when he was alone in the hunt for information on the newest Wesen, he swore he could smell the mixing perfumes of Aunt Marie and his mother. Shaking his head to clear it of the memories, Nick pulled a small leather backed journal closer to him. It had been written by one of his ancestors on a cross country trip through Canada and most of the United States. The writing was spindly and faded, but at least it was in English. Next to the entry was a sketch of a flag emblem, the tree like crest looking strangely familiar for some reason.
Today I found an area completely free of Wesen. The city looked as any, but the only Wesen I could find were two Eisbiber families traveling well outside the city limits, when it would’ve been much faster to travel through the city. When I asked them why they would not enter the city, they replied that the city was home to the Fata. When I pressed further, they could only give me mangled answers passed on from generation to generation. Apparently, the Fata are creatures that feed off the emotions of humans, Wesen, and other Fata. They prefer to feed off Wesen, since because of the Woge, Wesen are much more potent form of food for them. It is a pity that the Fata do not feed off of the Wesen anymore, for it often results in the death of the Wesen. Again, these details are not to be trusted, but after many Wesen uprisings, the Fata let them live in prescribed sovereign areas. This is one of the few things the two Fata factions, the Adstum and the Acerbus, who are constantly warring have historical agreed upon. More information is needed to prove the Eisbiber’s claims.
“Huh,” Nick muttered to himself, flipping through the next few pages to see if there was more on the Fata, as his ancestor called them. It sounded just like the sicko they were after. Unfortunately, he seemed to have caught the trail of a Lowen, and the mystery of the Fata was left uninvestigated. Sighing, he pulled the next book to him, this time a heavy leather bound tome, and started to leaf through the crumbly pages. His phone began to ring before he could get too far into the book, and Nick sighed with relief.
“Burkhardt,” he answered.
“Hey, Nick,” Juliette said, sounding nervous, “it’s Juliette.”
“Hey, Juliette, I’m glad you called.”
“Really?”
“Yep, you are now keeping me from mountains of very boring paperwork.”
“Well, if you’re busy...” she trailed off, and Nick could almost see her twisting a lock of red hair around her finger.
“I’m never too busy for you.”
“Well, I was thinking about last night,”
“I was thinking about last night, too” he told her, his heart in his throat. A tiny part of his brain whispered ‘she remembers you!’, but it was quickly quashed by the logical part of his brain. Stupid brain.
Juliette gave a nervous laugh, “Um, I didn’t remember anything, Nick.”
“I know, but it was nice, wasn’t it?”
“This isn’t why I was calling, Nick!” she scolded him, exasperated, “ I was thinking about Lauren.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up into his hair, as his brain unhelpfully provided him with graphic pictures of the blond and redhead twined around each other. “You were thinking about Doctor Lewis?” he choked out, the words almost strangling him.
“Well, I mean, she’s had some pretty crappy days since getting here, so I thought we’d have a little welcome to Portland dinner,” she said, “You, me, Monroe, Hank, anyone else?”
“Monroe’s dating a girl named Rosalee, I think.”
“You think?”
“Rosalee’s definitely her name, but I’m not sure if they’re dating or just good friends,”
“Well, I’ll invite them both. Is Hank seeing anyone new?”
“He hasn’t gone on a date since Adalind left town,” he said.
Juliette made a sympathetic noise in her throat, “that must be hard to have someone you care about leave so suddenly.”
“Yeah, it is,” Nick told her. The sound of both of their breathing was the only sound over the phone for several heartbeats.
“Nick, I really am trying,” Juliette said lamely.
“I know, Juliette, I know,” clearing his throat, Nick looked at the time, “did you want us to come now?”
“No, actually, I’m still at the office, so I need some time to get everything together,” she said, “I just wanted to know if you could get a hold of Lauren before she heads home. Or to her motel.”
“Crap!” Nick swore, looking at the time, “Juliette, i have to go and see if Doctor Lewis’ car was impounded last night, and they’re going to close at any minute.”
‘Oh, okay, you go,’ Juliette said, “I’ll see you tonight.’
“Okay, I love you, goodbye,” he told her automatically, stuffing the little diary in his inside jacket pocket to show Monroe and Rosalee at dinner.
“I know, bye,” she said awkwardly and hung up the phone.
The sky was long dark by the time that Nick turned onto the street where he and Juliet lived. It was a nice, quiet neighborhood, where Lauren could imagine living one day.
“Have you guys lived here long?” Lauren asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I mean, long enough,” Nick asked, running a hand through his hair, “I fell in love with the house when I saw it, and now there’s no place else I’d rather be.”
There was something wistful and unsaid in that statement, something that tasted like how Lauren used to talk about working for the Ash, before Nydia woke up. Something wasn’t right between the couple, and maybe she could help them fix whatever it was. Hopefully, it wouldn’t end up with one of them dead...
There’s no reason for Nick and Juliette to be reminding you of Nydia! She scolded herself, and said instead, “It’s really nice of you guys to be putting me up like this.”
“It was Juliette’s idea, really,” he told her. as he eased the car to park along the curb, there was Juliette’s car and another vehicle that Lauren didn’t recognize in the driveway, “she felt bad about last night-”
Suddenly, a hand reached through the glass of her window, and a man as big as a mountain grabbed Lauren by the hair and dragged her out of the car.
"Get out of the way, girl, we gots business with the Grimm!" he yelled at her as he shoved her to the ground.
“Don’t just stand there, get the Grimm!” He shouted to his buddies circling around to Nick's side of the car, "I've got his girlfriend!"
"Nick!" She screamed into the night, fighting to get to him.
"Lauren, run!" He yelled back, beating one of the attackers off.
Anger flooded her veins, and she grabbed the hard leather strap of her bag and swung it with all her strength into the front of the man’s knee. The man picked her up off the ground by the hair on the nape of her neck, and she saw his face change from human into some kind of ogre. Lauren had never heard of an Underfey being able to pass for human, but first time for everything.
“Oh girly, you’re going to pay for that one,” the ogre laughed bitterly into her face, and spun her around into a bear hug. She might not be as good a fighter as some, but her two years with Doctors Without Borders and the fight with the garuda had left her with some tricks. Bending over slightly, Lauren threw her elbow into his neck while also kicking her foot back and up into his groin. His arms let go of her with a yelp of pain, and Lauren fell hard onto the pavement. Tucking her arms close to her head, she log rolled her body under the car.
“Come here, girl, before you make it worse on yourself,” the man, no the ogre, growled as he stooped to look under the car. Lashing out, she kicked at his face. The ogre grabbed her leg and pulled her from under the car. Her stomach and breasts scraped the along the asphalt, her free leg kicking at the ogre’s iron grip to no avail. He flipped her over like a pancake, and Lauren’s head smacked against the road and she saw stars.
The ogre leaned over her, his breath too hot and humid to be human on her face, “You’re going to pay dearly for that mistake.” In his hand, a wickedly curved karambit knife glowed in the pale street light. Pinned like a butterfly to a board, Lauren couldn’t help but stare as the knife came close to her cheek, the ogre caressing her face with the cold steel of the blade, taunting, not cutting yet. With a wicked smile, he turned the point into her skin, barely pressing the knife against her cheek. Lauren felt something hot and wet run down her cheeks, and realized she was crying along with the blood running down her face into her hair.
“That’s right, cry for me baby,” the ogre whispered wetly into her ear, one of his hands moving from pinning her hands to unbuttoning his jeans.
“Oh God, oh God,” Lauren chanted a mantra in her head as her entire body started to thrash under him, her hands beating uselessly as his chest. Turning her head, she bit his arm, and was rewarded with a slap that bounced her head off the pavement again. Dementia pugilistica, cerebral contusion, concussion, subdural hematoma, her brain rattles off the different injury to the head, a new type of mantra that is even less comforting.
Trashing on the ground she felt the Ash’s necklace work itself out of her shirt and slap against her face. Hot tears on her face, and she would herself wishing futilely that Dyson or Hal or even Bo someone would come to save her and Nick.
“What’s this bauble you got, baby?” the ogre stopped messing with her pants to pick the chain of her necklace with the tip of his knife. It scratched against the delicate skin over her collarbone, another trail of blood quickly rising to run down her chest. The silver of the pendant flashed in the streetlight, and the ogre’s face twisted into a mask of anger, “Fey!” he roared in her face.
“What if I am?” Lauren challenged, twisting her wrists, hoping to get one free.
“Fey and their human pets have no place here, this is sovereign Wesen territory,” he leaned close to her, his breath hot and vile.
“I am no one’s pet!” Lauren spat in his face.
“And yet you wear the Fraxinus excelsior’s collar like a good little bitch,” he pointed out, leaning back to sit on her legs, tearing the necklace off her with a rough, too strong to be human jerk.
Leaving her best defiant glare, Lauren coldly informed the ogre, “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Then it won’t mean anything to the Fraxinus if we send him your head on a platter, now will it?” he smiled, and true terror bloomed like nightshade in Lauren’s throat.
The knife pressed against her throat again, the sharp blade opening the skin above her sternocleidomastoid as easy as a knife through butter. Eyes closed tight against her better judgement, she missed the blur of claws and fur barreling into her would be rapist. Her ears filled with snarls, and Lauren’s eyes slammed open.
“Dyson!” she screamed, her heart in her throat. What was Dyson doing here? How could he have found her? Was Bo somewhere in the shadows, waiting for her? She needed to get up, to get away, but her body wouldn’t obey her command.
Hands grabbed her upper arms, dragging her off the pavement, and Lauren screamed again, fighting against the strong grasp.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” a female voice with a hint of growl said, and it was nothing like Bo’s. Lauren sagged against the other woman with a sob, falling to her knees and dragging them both down.
“No, come on, you have to get up, that’s right,” the woman told her, lifting her off the pavement and dragging her into the house.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” Juliette said, her voice filled with horror.
“No!” Lauren shouted, her head spinning, “I mean, I’m fine I don’t have to go to the hospital.”
“Nick?” a rough male voice asked, unsure. His voice held a growly edge too, just like Dyson’s when he was inches away from ripping someone a new one.
“She’s a doctor, so she should know,” Nick hedged, his voice haggard.
“I don’t know, Nick,” the female voice said again, “she looks like he slammed her head pretty hard against the pavement. And those cuts need stitches.” Soft fingers parted her hair to see the abrasions on the back of her head, and Lauren moaned against the pain making her nauseous. Or maybe that was the concussed head making her queasy.
“Where’s my kit?” Lauren asked, fighting with everything not to vomit all over the two people holding her upright, one of them holding a washcloth against the deepest cuts on her chest, “There’s a suture kit in my... kit...” she trailed off, fighting the overwhelming urge to giggle like a sugar-high five year old.
“It’s outside, I’ll get it.” Nick volunteered, the door slamming behind him.
“Will Nick be alright if Dyson is still fighting the ogre?” Lauren asked, her head swimming. The lights were blinding in the living room, and she shut her eyes against the brightness. Instantly the throbbing in her head eased.
“Did that make sense to anyone else?” the male voice said, his voice pitching close to panic.
“She’s going shocky, Monroe, she’s not making sense to anyone,” the female voice snapped briskly, “Here, hold this against her chest.”
“Me?” the male voice, probably Monroe, whoever that was, asked, and then there was a heavy pressure on her chest.
This is what people must be feeling when they have empyema, Lauren thought to herself, struggling to breathe.
“Monroe, let me see, the bleeding should be slowing down by now,” Juliette said, and the pressure on her chest lifted, letting her breath again, “The cut on her chest is the worst, but it’s very clean. I’ll be able to stitch it closed, but she’ll have a scar.”
“Good, I’m terrible at stitches. These abrasions on her scalp look like something I can get cleaned up.” the other female voice said from behind her. Something wet pressed against the cuts on her head, stinging and yet numbing the area at the same time. Soon enough, her whole scalp was tingling, and she felt the woman walk away from her, muttering something about skullcap and lavender tea.
The door slammed shut, and Lauren opened her eyes to see Nick in the living room. His tee-shirt under his jacket was torn in several places, and he had a bruise forming on one cheek. Her doctor’s bag was in his hand, dented on the side where she’d hit the thug.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Juliette asked, turning away from Lauren for a minute. But she stayed rooted in her spot in front of Lauren, not running to Nick’s side.
“I’m fine, they had run away by the time I got back out there,” he said, crossing the space with long strides to hand Juliette the bag, “Hank’s on his way, just in case.”
“Where they after you, Nick?” Monroe asked, a worried look on his face, his arms crossed over his chest, and he shuffled his feet.
“I don’t know if they were after me, but something that Doctor Lewis did seemed to pissed them off,” Nick said, sighing and shrugging his shoulders, “I’m not sure if it’s the case, or...”
“Oh, God,” Monroe ran a hand over his face, “the lady of the night killer?”
“That’s what the press is calling it?”
“Believe me, Nick, the press is way less delicate,” he rolled his eyes, “what is wrong with reporters these days?”
“I think she should stay with Monroe tonight,” Nick said, running his hands through his hair, “Just in case.”
“I’ll stay over as well, we can switch off waking her up every hour,” Rosalee added, as she came out of the kitchen, and pressed a mug of tea into Lauren’s hands, “I’m Rosalee, nice to meet you, drink this, it’ll help with your head and neck.”
“What if they come back?” Juliette chimed in, frowning as she taped a gauze pad over the fresh stitches on Lauren’s chest.
Ignoring the question, Nick crouched down next to the couch, putting his face on the the same level as Lauren’s. “Doctor Lewis?” he asked softly, putting his hand on her knee and shaking gently, “do you think you can answer a few questions?”
“Doctor Lauren Lewis, 2012, Stephen Harper,” Lauren answered, her words slurring only the tiniest bit now.
“Good job, Lauren, but I need to ask you a few different questions, okay?” he said, “Do you know if you’ve ever seen those men before?”
“I’ve never seen Underfey that can shift their face like that, and no I haven’t seen them before,” she told him, her mind still muddled. It was getting easier to think, whatever was in the tea that Rosalee made helping the pressure and the pain go away.
“Underfey? Nick, are you sure she doesn’t need a hospital?” Monroe asked, his shoulders tense.
“Monroe, it’s okay,” Nick turned his attention back to Lauren, and held up her necklace with the Ash’s pendant, “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s my necklace, the Ash gave it to me,” Lauren replied.
“Do you know why someone would want to hurt you over it?”
“I haven’t seen the Ask in three months, I don’t know why someone would think I’m important,”
“Have you figured anything out about the case? Told anyone about your findings?”
“No!” Lauren said, rubbing her temples with her free hand, “I mean, I’ve found some common compounds in all the samples, but nothing that can tie anyone person to the murders!”
“Okay, okay, I just have to ask,” Nick told her, patting her knee once more before standing up. Juliette hovered next to him, arms crossed tightly over her chest. For the briefest of seconds, Lauren say him reach out to her, only to have his hand stop short, as she shot him a look.
“Well,” Monroe rubbed his hands together loudly, “Thank you again, Nick and Juliette for an exciting evening, but I think we should be getting the good doctor in a place where she can lay down for a bit.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you out,” Nick looked out of the front window, ripping his eyes away from Juliette, “it looks like Hank just pulled up.”
“Great, I’ll grab her bags!” Rosalee said with a false smile, picking up Lauren’s two heavy suitcases as if it weighed nothing.
Before Lauren could open her mouth to protest, the two were pushing her out the door, and the drove off into the night.
Part Three