Evil Author Day: Midnight Visitors (Grimm)
I think I wrote this back in season one and just never posted it. No idea why. It's complete as is, but there's potential for more, if I ever get the notion.
~o~
Juliette Silverton sits in the darkened hospital room, listening as the machines beep and whirr, the only evidence that her boyfriend is still alive. Well, not the only evidence. She can see, by the light coming in from the hallway, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that says alive.
She knows he dodged a bullet. Well, in point of fact, he dodged a pair of fists hell-bent on ripping him limb from limb. She's a vet, but animals and people are far more similar than most people realize. So, she knows just what's wrong with him, what's been done to him that put him in the hospital. Separated shoulder. Broken ribs. Cuts and bruises. A concussion.
The nurse had given him a sedative earlier, because apparently Nick Burkhardt doesn't give up, even when he's been nearly beaten to death. And while she knows, clinically, that this is what's best for him, she still wishes he'd open his eyes; still wishes that she could see the life shining in those beautiful grey orbs.
She feels like she might just fly apart, like she's a live wire without a ground.
Nick's work has always been dangerous. Cops don't carry guns just for decoration. But this is the first time she's actually had to face the danger that he lives with every day. She wants him to ask her to marry him; she wants to be with him for the rest of her life. But looking at him in the hospital bed, broken, battered and bruised, she wonders if this is only a taste of what's to come. And she has to ask herself the question: is it worth it? Can she face this, the possibility of this, day after day? Can she let him go out into the world, knowing he might come back to her damaged, or not at all?
She has no answer for this, and she thinks she should. But there's no one to tell her what to think, no one to show her the way. This is something she has to figure out for herself, and she knows she'd better do it soon.
A shadow falls over her, and she looks up. There's a tall man standing in the doorway, and for an insane second, she wonders if the man who beat up her boyfriend has come back to finish the job. But he steps into the room, and she can make out the features in the low light. It's Nick's boss, Captain Sean Renard.
He steps up beside her, where she's sitting on the lone chair in the room, right beside Nick's bed so she'll be in easy reach, just in case. She smiles up at him, and she can see the hint of a smile forming on his face as he settles a hand on her shoulder. He squeezes, and she immediately feels warmth under his hand. Then he turns and rests his hand on Nick's forehead, brushing his hair back. It's such an intimate gesture, and for a moment she's struck dumb.
She can feel the sadness and worry rolling off of him, and she almost gasps at the pain she can feel. It mingles with her own, sapping her strength, and she sags back into her chair. Suddenly, she's just so tired. But she doesn't want to go home, can't go home, and not because the front door is off its hinges. She feels like, if she leaves, something bad will happen to him. She's a doctor, so she knows it's ridiculous, but she just can't help herself.
Renard turns to her, and she can see the concern etched around his eyes. She's never really noticed just how handsome he is, and his worry has made him all the more attractive. She pulls herself away from those thoughts harshly, berating herself for even thinking it while Nick lays broken in the hospital bed beside her.
He places his hand on her shoulder once more, drawing her eyes back to his. "You're tired. You need to go home."
She shakes her head. "Can't go home."
He frowns, then his face clears in understanding. "Still, you need rest. Come on."
She thinks about saying no, refusing to go, but she knows that won't accomplish anything. He's offering his hand to her, and she desperately needs someone to lean on right now. So, she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. She thinks about where she'll go. She's got friends she knows she can count on. A phone call and she'll have a place to stay. But that would require her to think, and she's just not sure she has it in her right now.
She follows him out of the hospital and out to his car. It's a nice car, European, and the ride is so silent that she swears she can hear herself breathing as they drive away. She closes her eyes as they head away from the hospital, so she has no idea where they're headed until they get there.
The car shuts off, rousing her from her thoughts. He's pulled up outside a rather expensive hotel, but when she makes to object, he silences her with a finger to her lips.
"It's okay," he says. "I'll take care of everything."
She finds she wants to let him.
He leads her inside, and she stands by quietly while he arranges for a room. When the key is passed over, he circles his arm around her waist and leads her to the elevators, and then down the hall to her room.
The door opens to a large room, with a king-sized bed on one wall, and a sitting area complete with a flat-screen TV on the other. It's much too much for just one person, but the bed is fluffy and inviting, and she can feel herself being pulled toward the promise of sleep.
Just the thought of sleep jolts her awake, and now she's shaking. The man who attacked Nick is still out there, and now he's vulnerable, and so is she. He can come back at any time and finish the job, and she wouldn't be able to fend him off this time because she doesn't have any hot water.
That thought surprises a laugh out of her, and suddenly she can't stop. She's gone hysterical, and instinctively she knows this can't be good. But just as suddenly, strong arms are circling her, pulling her in, surrounding her with warmth and comfort and safety.
This close to the Captain, she can feel the raw power of the man, radiating from him and flowing through her, and she wraps herself in it. He's murmuring nonsense in her ear, and she can hear snatches of another language-French, she thinks-and she tries to let go as it washes over her.
When he pulls back, she can see the pain on his face, a reflection of her own. It pulls her in, and without thinking, she pushes up, pressing her lips to his. For a second, he doesn't react, but then he's right there with her, taking her lips with his own, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, leaving fire in its wake.
She can feel her blood begin to boil, and she'd thought that was a myth. The longer the kiss goes on, the hotter she becomes, until the heat becomes oppressive. Her hands are a flurry of motion, tearing at clothes-hers and his-trying to get at skin. With every layer of clothing, she can feel him getting closer to her, and it's absurd, really, because he's been right there all along.
The first touch of her skin to his sends a jolt through her. But instead of stopping her cold, it spurs her on. She can feel his hands stroking over her skin as he pulls her clothes from her, one article at a time until she's been completely unveiled.
They tumble onto the bed together, and once again, he's taken charge. His hands are in constant motion, playing her body as if he's known her for years, drawing pleasure out of her when she'd thought she was too numb to feel anything. Finally, when she doesn't think she can take it even one more moment he slides into her, sending sparks jolting along her nerves.
He pauses then, holding still, allowing her to adjust. All she can hear in the room is their breathing, harsh in the silence. She needs-god, she needs-but she can't put into words what she needs. So she wraps her legs around his waist and thrusts up against him, drawing a gasp out of him. But it's enough to spur him into action.
He pulls out then thrusts in, hard, as he nibbles along the column of her neck. She gasps at the sensations running along her nerve endings, little sparks racing along her skin, multiplying as he picks up a steady rhythm-in, out, in, out. She's meeting him stroke for stroke, clawing at his shoulders, head thrown back in ecstasy as his lips cover every inch of skin they can reach.
There's a sensation building between them, like static electricity. The pure essence of the man, flowing between them, the power looping back and forth as it builds and builds.
Suddenly, her orgasm rips through her, surprising her with its force. She sees spots before her eyes, feels the world grey out a little at the edges. A few more strokes and he's crying out words she doesn't recognize.
He collapses onto her, his body blanketing hers. She wraps herself around him, giving and taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart and hers. After long minutes, he pushes back up, pressing his lips to hers as he rolls to the side and gathers her up into his arms. He drops a kiss into her hair, but remains silent.
As her heart calms, and her senses begin to come back, she thinks maybe she could sleep for days. She's just so tired, and still a little scared that Nick might still be in danger.
At the thought of her boyfriend, she sits bolt upright. The man that attacked Nick! She turns to Renard, who's sat up beside her, trying to comfort her with calming strokes of his hands over still-sensitive flesh.
"Nick!" she nearly shrieks. "That guy could come back, and I'm not there! You have to-"
"Shhh," he says quietly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back down to lie beside him. "It's okay. He's dead. He won't be hurting Nick ever again."
She's shaking now, but through the fear and the panic, she hears his words and tries to calm down. But now that she's got some time and distance from the events of the evening, she realizes just how close they came. She can't stop shaking, and she knows it's shock, but she can't stop.
"Be calm," he says into her ear.
Suddenly, it's as though he's poured peace from a bottle directly into her soul. She feels her heart rate slow, and it's as though she's being enfolded in love and protectiveness. She clings to him, knowing instinctively that with him she's safe. Worry for Nick is still there, but it's muted now. And thoughts about what she's just done with his boss are entirely absent.
"Sleep," he says quietly, some moments later.
She can't resist the command in that voice, and she realizes that she doesn't want to. She closes her eyes and drifts off, content in the warmth and safety of Renard's arms.
~o~
Renard quietly enters Nick's hospital room, approaching the bed where his battered detective lays sleeping. He reaches out, brushing the hair off his bruised forehead.
He takes a deep breath, aware of the turmoil in his heart. This man is important to him, and he hates seeing him broken this way. He's only glad that the wesen that did this to him has been dealt with. If he hadn't, Renard would have done it himself and the consequences be damned.
Caring about what happens to the Grimm has been part of the plan from the beginning. He needs Nick alive for his plans to succeed. But what happened with Juliette had never been part of the plan, and it complicates matters oh so much.
"I never intended to bond with her," he whispers into the silence. "It cannot be undone, and now I am sworn to protect you both."
He takes a deep breath, resting his hand over Nick's heart. The steady thump is reassuring, in its way. Proof of life, as if the constant beep of the monitor hadn't already been that.
He will have to make allowances for this new development. Things have changed now, more than just his plans. He's changed, in just the last hour. He can feel it already.
Killing Nick if he doesn't choose wisely is no longer an option, but Renard is practical enough to know that this isn't a bad thing. He'd already mitigated a great deal of danger to his plans by eliminating Marie Kessler. He knows Nick will be angry when he finds out, but that can't be helped. He only hopes that when the time comes, that Nick will understand why he'd been forced to do it.
"Sleep and heal, Grimm," he says quietly. He knows there's no point using The Voice on Nick; the Grimm are immune, and he wouldn't dream of trying it on this Grimm anyway. He needs Nick to believe that he hasn't been manipulated.
He pulls his hand back and sighs, settling himself in the chair, watching Nick breathe. He can still sense Juliette resting peacefully, and while he's not needed here, here is where he'll stay. Siegbarst are loners by nature, so he doesn’t believe Nick's attacker has anyone close to him that might come after his detective. Once Nick is healed, he'll be able to watch out for himself, but for right now, he's vulnerable and Renard won't allow anything to happen to him on his watch.
The rest of it he'll deal with later. And he's under no illusions that later won't come.
~Finis
~o~
Juliette Silverton sits in the darkened hospital room, listening as the machines beep and whirr, the only evidence that her boyfriend is still alive. Well, not the only evidence. She can see, by the light coming in from the hallway, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that says alive.
She knows he dodged a bullet. Well, in point of fact, he dodged a pair of fists hell-bent on ripping him limb from limb. She's a vet, but animals and people are far more similar than most people realize. So, she knows just what's wrong with him, what's been done to him that put him in the hospital. Separated shoulder. Broken ribs. Cuts and bruises. A concussion.
The nurse had given him a sedative earlier, because apparently Nick Burkhardt doesn't give up, even when he's been nearly beaten to death. And while she knows, clinically, that this is what's best for him, she still wishes he'd open his eyes; still wishes that she could see the life shining in those beautiful grey orbs.
She feels like she might just fly apart, like she's a live wire without a ground.
Nick's work has always been dangerous. Cops don't carry guns just for decoration. But this is the first time she's actually had to face the danger that he lives with every day. She wants him to ask her to marry him; she wants to be with him for the rest of her life. But looking at him in the hospital bed, broken, battered and bruised, she wonders if this is only a taste of what's to come. And she has to ask herself the question: is it worth it? Can she face this, the possibility of this, day after day? Can she let him go out into the world, knowing he might come back to her damaged, or not at all?
She has no answer for this, and she thinks she should. But there's no one to tell her what to think, no one to show her the way. This is something she has to figure out for herself, and she knows she'd better do it soon.
A shadow falls over her, and she looks up. There's a tall man standing in the doorway, and for an insane second, she wonders if the man who beat up her boyfriend has come back to finish the job. But he steps into the room, and she can make out the features in the low light. It's Nick's boss, Captain Sean Renard.
He steps up beside her, where she's sitting on the lone chair in the room, right beside Nick's bed so she'll be in easy reach, just in case. She smiles up at him, and she can see the hint of a smile forming on his face as he settles a hand on her shoulder. He squeezes, and she immediately feels warmth under his hand. Then he turns and rests his hand on Nick's forehead, brushing his hair back. It's such an intimate gesture, and for a moment she's struck dumb.
She can feel the sadness and worry rolling off of him, and she almost gasps at the pain she can feel. It mingles with her own, sapping her strength, and she sags back into her chair. Suddenly, she's just so tired. But she doesn't want to go home, can't go home, and not because the front door is off its hinges. She feels like, if she leaves, something bad will happen to him. She's a doctor, so she knows it's ridiculous, but she just can't help herself.
Renard turns to her, and she can see the concern etched around his eyes. She's never really noticed just how handsome he is, and his worry has made him all the more attractive. She pulls herself away from those thoughts harshly, berating herself for even thinking it while Nick lays broken in the hospital bed beside her.
He places his hand on her shoulder once more, drawing her eyes back to his. "You're tired. You need to go home."
She shakes her head. "Can't go home."
He frowns, then his face clears in understanding. "Still, you need rest. Come on."
She thinks about saying no, refusing to go, but she knows that won't accomplish anything. He's offering his hand to her, and she desperately needs someone to lean on right now. So, she takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. She thinks about where she'll go. She's got friends she knows she can count on. A phone call and she'll have a place to stay. But that would require her to think, and she's just not sure she has it in her right now.
She follows him out of the hospital and out to his car. It's a nice car, European, and the ride is so silent that she swears she can hear herself breathing as they drive away. She closes her eyes as they head away from the hospital, so she has no idea where they're headed until they get there.
The car shuts off, rousing her from her thoughts. He's pulled up outside a rather expensive hotel, but when she makes to object, he silences her with a finger to her lips.
"It's okay," he says. "I'll take care of everything."
She finds she wants to let him.
He leads her inside, and she stands by quietly while he arranges for a room. When the key is passed over, he circles his arm around her waist and leads her to the elevators, and then down the hall to her room.
The door opens to a large room, with a king-sized bed on one wall, and a sitting area complete with a flat-screen TV on the other. It's much too much for just one person, but the bed is fluffy and inviting, and she can feel herself being pulled toward the promise of sleep.
Just the thought of sleep jolts her awake, and now she's shaking. The man who attacked Nick is still out there, and now he's vulnerable, and so is she. He can come back at any time and finish the job, and she wouldn't be able to fend him off this time because she doesn't have any hot water.
That thought surprises a laugh out of her, and suddenly she can't stop. She's gone hysterical, and instinctively she knows this can't be good. But just as suddenly, strong arms are circling her, pulling her in, surrounding her with warmth and comfort and safety.
This close to the Captain, she can feel the raw power of the man, radiating from him and flowing through her, and she wraps herself in it. He's murmuring nonsense in her ear, and she can hear snatches of another language-French, she thinks-and she tries to let go as it washes over her.
When he pulls back, she can see the pain on his face, a reflection of her own. It pulls her in, and without thinking, she pushes up, pressing her lips to his. For a second, he doesn't react, but then he's right there with her, taking her lips with his own, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, leaving fire in its wake.
She can feel her blood begin to boil, and she'd thought that was a myth. The longer the kiss goes on, the hotter she becomes, until the heat becomes oppressive. Her hands are a flurry of motion, tearing at clothes-hers and his-trying to get at skin. With every layer of clothing, she can feel him getting closer to her, and it's absurd, really, because he's been right there all along.
The first touch of her skin to his sends a jolt through her. But instead of stopping her cold, it spurs her on. She can feel his hands stroking over her skin as he pulls her clothes from her, one article at a time until she's been completely unveiled.
They tumble onto the bed together, and once again, he's taken charge. His hands are in constant motion, playing her body as if he's known her for years, drawing pleasure out of her when she'd thought she was too numb to feel anything. Finally, when she doesn't think she can take it even one more moment he slides into her, sending sparks jolting along her nerves.
He pauses then, holding still, allowing her to adjust. All she can hear in the room is their breathing, harsh in the silence. She needs-god, she needs-but she can't put into words what she needs. So she wraps her legs around his waist and thrusts up against him, drawing a gasp out of him. But it's enough to spur him into action.
He pulls out then thrusts in, hard, as he nibbles along the column of her neck. She gasps at the sensations running along her nerve endings, little sparks racing along her skin, multiplying as he picks up a steady rhythm-in, out, in, out. She's meeting him stroke for stroke, clawing at his shoulders, head thrown back in ecstasy as his lips cover every inch of skin they can reach.
There's a sensation building between them, like static electricity. The pure essence of the man, flowing between them, the power looping back and forth as it builds and builds.
Suddenly, her orgasm rips through her, surprising her with its force. She sees spots before her eyes, feels the world grey out a little at the edges. A few more strokes and he's crying out words she doesn't recognize.
He collapses onto her, his body blanketing hers. She wraps herself around him, giving and taking comfort in the steady beat of his heart and hers. After long minutes, he pushes back up, pressing his lips to hers as he rolls to the side and gathers her up into his arms. He drops a kiss into her hair, but remains silent.
As her heart calms, and her senses begin to come back, she thinks maybe she could sleep for days. She's just so tired, and still a little scared that Nick might still be in danger.
At the thought of her boyfriend, she sits bolt upright. The man that attacked Nick! She turns to Renard, who's sat up beside her, trying to comfort her with calming strokes of his hands over still-sensitive flesh.
"Nick!" she nearly shrieks. "That guy could come back, and I'm not there! You have to-"
"Shhh," he says quietly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back down to lie beside him. "It's okay. He's dead. He won't be hurting Nick ever again."
She's shaking now, but through the fear and the panic, she hears his words and tries to calm down. But now that she's got some time and distance from the events of the evening, she realizes just how close they came. She can't stop shaking, and she knows it's shock, but she can't stop.
"Be calm," he says into her ear.
Suddenly, it's as though he's poured peace from a bottle directly into her soul. She feels her heart rate slow, and it's as though she's being enfolded in love and protectiveness. She clings to him, knowing instinctively that with him she's safe. Worry for Nick is still there, but it's muted now. And thoughts about what she's just done with his boss are entirely absent.
"Sleep," he says quietly, some moments later.
She can't resist the command in that voice, and she realizes that she doesn't want to. She closes her eyes and drifts off, content in the warmth and safety of Renard's arms.
~o~
Renard quietly enters Nick's hospital room, approaching the bed where his battered detective lays sleeping. He reaches out, brushing the hair off his bruised forehead.
He takes a deep breath, aware of the turmoil in his heart. This man is important to him, and he hates seeing him broken this way. He's only glad that the wesen that did this to him has been dealt with. If he hadn't, Renard would have done it himself and the consequences be damned.
Caring about what happens to the Grimm has been part of the plan from the beginning. He needs Nick alive for his plans to succeed. But what happened with Juliette had never been part of the plan, and it complicates matters oh so much.
"I never intended to bond with her," he whispers into the silence. "It cannot be undone, and now I am sworn to protect you both."
He takes a deep breath, resting his hand over Nick's heart. The steady thump is reassuring, in its way. Proof of life, as if the constant beep of the monitor hadn't already been that.
He will have to make allowances for this new development. Things have changed now, more than just his plans. He's changed, in just the last hour. He can feel it already.
Killing Nick if he doesn't choose wisely is no longer an option, but Renard is practical enough to know that this isn't a bad thing. He'd already mitigated a great deal of danger to his plans by eliminating Marie Kessler. He knows Nick will be angry when he finds out, but that can't be helped. He only hopes that when the time comes, that Nick will understand why he'd been forced to do it.
"Sleep and heal, Grimm," he says quietly. He knows there's no point using The Voice on Nick; the Grimm are immune, and he wouldn't dream of trying it on this Grimm anyway. He needs Nick to believe that he hasn't been manipulated.
He pulls his hand back and sighs, settling himself in the chair, watching Nick breathe. He can still sense Juliette resting peacefully, and while he's not needed here, here is where he'll stay. Siegbarst are loners by nature, so he doesn’t believe Nick's attacker has anyone close to him that might come after his detective. Once Nick is healed, he'll be able to watch out for himself, but for right now, he's vulnerable and Renard won't allow anything to happen to him on his watch.
The rest of it he'll deal with later. And he's under no illusions that later won't come.
~Finis