Cat and Mouse
title: Cat and Mouse
crossover: a Grimm fanfic with some Supernatural characters
“How much further?” Cal asked then grunted and huffed when he tripped over yet another large tree root. “How do you even know where we are? I can’t see a thing out here.”
“Not far now,” she laughed as she kept moving.
“Hey,” he called out, looking to where he thought her voice had come from. “Where’d you go? Come on,” he shouted. “Where are you? I can’t see anything.”
“What terrible eyes you must have,” a voice hissed from the woods to his left. “Can’t even see when the moon is so bright.” He whirled around and squinted, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“Not very good ears, either,” the voice hissed again, this time to his right. “Can’t even hear the steps I take through the dead leaves.” He spun around again only to hear the voice now behind him.
“Sense of smell not too keen? Pity.”
“Where are you?” his throat slightly dry. It didn’t sound like her voice. Was someone else out here? “Where is she?”
“I wonder about your tongue,” the voice purred. It sounded like it was directly in front of him but he still couldn’t see anything.
“Who are you?” he whispered. He held his breath as he saw two slight shining spots in front of him, only to blink out a second later.
“So curious,” the voice whispered back and he could hear the grin that must have been there. “And you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?”
“Why is it that all the crazy, deadly stuff happens out in the middle of the woods?” Detective Hank Griffin asked his partner as they awkwardly made their way to the crime scene, dodging tree roots, large rocks, and brightly colored evidence flags. “Why can’t killers just do their business by the side of the road where we can get to it easier."
“Or better yet,” his partner, Nick Burckhardt, replied, “how about they just don’t ‘do their business’ at all?”
“Great in theory and all,” Hank told him, “but then we’d be out of a job.”
“Almost worth it though, don’t you think?”
“The world would be a murder-less utopia, but we’d be starving in the streets, man,” Hank smirked.
“Speak for yourself,” Nick laughed, “I’ve got plenty of other employable skills.”
“No,” Hank told him as they reached the scene, “you’ve got the lovely Dr Juliette to keep you fed. She’d probably be able to score you all the best gourmet dog and cat food around.”
“I think there are some pets out there than eat better than I do,” Sgt Wu told them from the opposite side of the corpse.
“I’ve seen you eat,” Hank told him. “Most pets have better table manners than you do, too.”
“What have we got, Wu?” Nick asked, looking down at the mutilated… man.
“This one was,” Wu looked at an open wallet tucked inside a clear evidence bag, “Calvin Flannigan. Age 24. Lived in an apartment on Morris Avenue.” He handed the evidence bag off to one of the techs milling around and then squatted down, keeping a judicious distance from the body.
“As you can see,” Wu continued, “he’s sporting quite a lot of bruises and scratches, of various degrees. Can’t really tell what made all the bruises; you’ll have to wait for the doc on that. But, I can tell you that the scratches were the result of both flora and fauna.”
“What?” Hank interrupted.
“Meaning,” Wu grinned at him, “some scratches came from tree branches, rocks, and such. But some, I’m pretty sure, are from claws of some sort. They look too jagged to be from any decent blade.”
“Poor guy,” Hank grimaced.
“Oh it gets worse,” Wu said, for the first time ever, looking a little green. “Calvin is missing his tongue. I’m just hoping, for this guy’s sake, it happened post-mortem.”
“You said ‘this one,’” Nick spoke up. “Are there more bodies?” he asked, looking around, not seeing any other clusters of crime scene markers. What he did see, however, was the profile of a man he didn’t recognize talking with one of the techs. They were quite a distance away, most likely looking at some bit of evidence Nick couldn’t see. He wouldn’t have given the sight a second thought- except he couldn’t help but notice the man stood about a foot and a half taller than the tech.
“Knew I could count on you to pick that up, Nick,” Wu smiled. Hank rolled his eyes.
~
“Man, six bodies,” Hank was saying, shaking his head. “Who knows how long it would’ve taken to find them if that gym teacher hadn’t decided to take his class out there.”
“He’s not a gym teacher,” Nick replied distractedly. “He was teaching a class from the Rock Creek campus of the community college about orienteering.”
“Whatever, man,” Hank smirked. “Still, six bodies. And they’re still out there looking for more. You know, just in case.”
Hank looked up when Nick didn’t answer. He followed his partner’s eye line to the captain’s office. The door was closed but there were enough windows to see that the captain had a couple of guests. Judging by the suits, they were official. Damn.
“Hey, Wu,” Hank called out as the man walked by his desk. “Who’s the captain talking to?”
“Those guys?” Wu frowned. “FBI. Here are the IDs on the rest of the victims. Well, the ones they’ve found.” He left a folder on Hank’s desk and walked away.
“Great,” Hank muttered. “FBI.”
Nick kept watching as the men - FBI agents - stood up. Grey suit leaned forward and shook Renard’s hand with a polite smile. He stepped back and navy suit leaned in, his profile toward the window. It was the man Nick had seen in the woods.
~
“You’ll be working with Detectives Griffin and Burckhardt,” Nick heard the captain telling the agents. He had turned away from the office just in time so he wouldn’t be caught staring, but at the sound of his name, he turned back.
“Thank you, sir,” grey suit told Renard. “We appreciate the cooperation.”
“I’ll let you all get acquainted and share notes,” Renard said, looking down at his watch. “I have a meeting I need to get to.” He leaned in to speak to the detectives. “Play nice,” he told them quietly and then rushed off.
“Gentlemen,” grey suit began cordially, “I know that locals and federals usually get along like pirates and ninjas-”
That surprised a chuckle out of both of the detectives and an elbow to grey suit’s ribs by navy suit.
“-but we just want you to know that we aren’t intending to take over this case.”
“Yet,” navy suit butted in.
“We’re not here to step on any toes. What we’re hoping for is that we catch this person-”
“Or persons,” navy piped in.
“-before they pack up and head to their next stop.”
“Next stop?” this time the interruption was from Hank.
“Yes,” grey continued, not seeming too annoyed with all the disruptions, “we have files on at least a dozen other… unofficial graveyards like you’ve found here - in as many cities; spanning a few states. We, of course, can cross jurisdictions. But, we’re hoping that this will be the last time we have to. And, let’s face it; you know the area much better than we ever will. We have a much better chance stopping this - whatever this is - if we work as a team.”
~
Grey and Hank exchanged a few more pleasantries - a slightly stilted glad for the help, don’t take our case / we won’t take your case as long as you help sort of back and forth. Nick usually paid closer attention but, at the moment, he couldn’t be bothered.
In the months following his Aunt Marie’s visit, revelation, and subsequent death, Nick’s already uncanny ability to profile their cases blossomed. He was getting better at not only analyzing human motivation, but that of all manner of creatures as well. And, his Grimm brain seemed to know just where to look to find who had a hidden face and who didn’t.
And right now, his Grimm brain was screaming that Mr navy suit was hiding something.
“…and this is Nick Burckhardt,” Hank was saying.
“Hello,” he said, having noticed all eyes were now on him and grey’s hand was outstretched towards him. Ah, so he was just in time for introductions.
“I’m Agent Chris Peters,” grey told him while shaking his hand. “And this is Agent Eric Singer.”
Nick turned to navy - Singer. The man shook his hand civilly enough but it was obvious that he just wanted to take a step away. ‘That’s it,’ Nick thought, his aunt’s words running through his head: We have the ability to see what no one else can - when they lose control, they can’t hide and we see them for what they really are. Nick waited for Singer to show his true face.
He waited while shaking Singer’s hand. Waited…
“OK then,” Peters said clearing his throat. Singer pulled his hand from Nick’s, as uncomfortable as ever, but his face remained human-looking. Huh?
“Right,” Hank said, “why don’t you guys grab yourselves a cup of coffee? It’s actually worse than you’d expect but I think we might all need some caffeine to get us through all this info.”
“I think you’re probably right about that,” Peters told him, looking at the bulging accordion file he was holding and then at the folders that seemed to have magically appeared and covered Hank’s desk. He patted his partner on the shoulder and the two made their way to the break room.
“All right,” Hank said once the agents were out of hearing distance. “What was that about?”
“What?”
“What do you mean what? What was with the stare-down you were giving Singer?”
“Nothing,” Nick told him. When Hank just looked at him, waiting for more, Nick added, “Just thought I, uh, recognized him.”
~
“Well, you were right about one thing,” Peters told them. “That coffee is truly awful.”
Hank snickered and Nick grinned as the man still drained his mug - his third in the last hour - and made a face.
“However,” he continued, “it is far from the worst we’ve ever had. Right?” he asked, looking at his partner.
“Speak for yourself,” Singer said with a smile. “I don’t drink it when it’s bad,” he nodded at his mug that was still two-thirds full.
“No,” Peters laughed, “you don’t drink it unless it’s anything other than coffee-flavored.”
The agents had obviously been partners for some time. They worked well together, complemented one another. And, their banter reminded Nick of himself and Hank. He could tell Peters was good at his job, seemed to see patterns and intricacies that many people would miss. And Singer was clearly intelligent, knew how to put pieces together quicker than most. But, there was still something about him that made Nick keep sneaking glances.
“I got something,” the two agents said at the same time. Peters nodded for Singer to continue first.
“Three of our victims have ties to Portland Community College,” he told them.
“I’m not sure that’s more than coincidence,” Hank said. “There are three main campuses and several smaller facilities throughout the city.”
“That may be,” Singer said, some excitement building, “but these are all for the same campus. We have Leonard Corbin, professor of anthropology; Alicia Nelson, student; and Catherine Dorsey, docent at the Washington County Museum.”
“Museum?” Peters asked.
“Yeah,” Singer told him. “The museum is located at the Rock Creek campus. The professor taught two classes at that campus and the student took classes in a few different locations, but was enrolled in an economics class at the Rock Creek campus at the time of her disappearance.”
“And,” Nick added, “Kyle Hardy-”
“The gym teacher,” Hank interrupted.
“The man who found Calvin Flannigan was in the woods teaching an orienteering class out of PCC Rock Creek.”
“Nice,” Peters grinned. “I wish I would have gone first now. Mine’s not as impressive.”
“Well,” Singer laughed, “what have you got?”
“I have Calvin Flannigan and Tabitha Robinson, residents at ‘Morris Manor’ on Morris Avenue, and Thomas Grant, maintenance man at the manor.”
“Wait a minute,” Hank said, flipping through the files. “Here it is. Alicia Nelson lived at an apartment on Chester Street.” The agents looked at him blankly.
“Chester and Morris intersect,” Nick explained.
“And,” Hank continued as he typed into his computer, “the two apartment complexes practically touch. They’re on the same corner - one facing Morris, the other facing Chester.”
“So it sounds like we have two locations to check out,” Nick said with a smile. “The apartment and the campus.”
crossover: a Grimm fanfic with some Supernatural characters
“How much further?” Cal asked then grunted and huffed when he tripped over yet another large tree root. “How do you even know where we are? I can’t see a thing out here.”
“Not far now,” she laughed as she kept moving.
“Hey,” he called out, looking to where he thought her voice had come from. “Where’d you go? Come on,” he shouted. “Where are you? I can’t see anything.”
“What terrible eyes you must have,” a voice hissed from the woods to his left. “Can’t even see when the moon is so bright.” He whirled around and squinted, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“Not very good ears, either,” the voice hissed again, this time to his right. “Can’t even hear the steps I take through the dead leaves.” He spun around again only to hear the voice now behind him.
“Sense of smell not too keen? Pity.”
“Where are you?” his throat slightly dry. It didn’t sound like her voice. Was someone else out here? “Where is she?”
“I wonder about your tongue,” the voice purred. It sounded like it was directly in front of him but he still couldn’t see anything.
“Who are you?” he whispered. He held his breath as he saw two slight shining spots in front of him, only to blink out a second later.
“So curious,” the voice whispered back and he could hear the grin that must have been there. “And you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?”
“Why is it that all the crazy, deadly stuff happens out in the middle of the woods?” Detective Hank Griffin asked his partner as they awkwardly made their way to the crime scene, dodging tree roots, large rocks, and brightly colored evidence flags. “Why can’t killers just do their business by the side of the road where we can get to it easier."
“Or better yet,” his partner, Nick Burckhardt, replied, “how about they just don’t ‘do their business’ at all?”
“Great in theory and all,” Hank told him, “but then we’d be out of a job.”
“Almost worth it though, don’t you think?”
“The world would be a murder-less utopia, but we’d be starving in the streets, man,” Hank smirked.
“Speak for yourself,” Nick laughed, “I’ve got plenty of other employable skills.”
“No,” Hank told him as they reached the scene, “you’ve got the lovely Dr Juliette to keep you fed. She’d probably be able to score you all the best gourmet dog and cat food around.”
“I think there are some pets out there than eat better than I do,” Sgt Wu told them from the opposite side of the corpse.
“I’ve seen you eat,” Hank told him. “Most pets have better table manners than you do, too.”
“What have we got, Wu?” Nick asked, looking down at the mutilated… man.
“This one was,” Wu looked at an open wallet tucked inside a clear evidence bag, “Calvin Flannigan. Age 24. Lived in an apartment on Morris Avenue.” He handed the evidence bag off to one of the techs milling around and then squatted down, keeping a judicious distance from the body.
“As you can see,” Wu continued, “he’s sporting quite a lot of bruises and scratches, of various degrees. Can’t really tell what made all the bruises; you’ll have to wait for the doc on that. But, I can tell you that the scratches were the result of both flora and fauna.”
“What?” Hank interrupted.
“Meaning,” Wu grinned at him, “some scratches came from tree branches, rocks, and such. But some, I’m pretty sure, are from claws of some sort. They look too jagged to be from any decent blade.”
“Poor guy,” Hank grimaced.
“Oh it gets worse,” Wu said, for the first time ever, looking a little green. “Calvin is missing his tongue. I’m just hoping, for this guy’s sake, it happened post-mortem.”
“You said ‘this one,’” Nick spoke up. “Are there more bodies?” he asked, looking around, not seeing any other clusters of crime scene markers. What he did see, however, was the profile of a man he didn’t recognize talking with one of the techs. They were quite a distance away, most likely looking at some bit of evidence Nick couldn’t see. He wouldn’t have given the sight a second thought- except he couldn’t help but notice the man stood about a foot and a half taller than the tech.
“Knew I could count on you to pick that up, Nick,” Wu smiled. Hank rolled his eyes.
~
“Man, six bodies,” Hank was saying, shaking his head. “Who knows how long it would’ve taken to find them if that gym teacher hadn’t decided to take his class out there.”
“He’s not a gym teacher,” Nick replied distractedly. “He was teaching a class from the Rock Creek campus of the community college about orienteering.”
“Whatever, man,” Hank smirked. “Still, six bodies. And they’re still out there looking for more. You know, just in case.”
Hank looked up when Nick didn’t answer. He followed his partner’s eye line to the captain’s office. The door was closed but there were enough windows to see that the captain had a couple of guests. Judging by the suits, they were official. Damn.
“Hey, Wu,” Hank called out as the man walked by his desk. “Who’s the captain talking to?”
“Those guys?” Wu frowned. “FBI. Here are the IDs on the rest of the victims. Well, the ones they’ve found.” He left a folder on Hank’s desk and walked away.
“Great,” Hank muttered. “FBI.”
Nick kept watching as the men - FBI agents - stood up. Grey suit leaned forward and shook Renard’s hand with a polite smile. He stepped back and navy suit leaned in, his profile toward the window. It was the man Nick had seen in the woods.
~
“You’ll be working with Detectives Griffin and Burckhardt,” Nick heard the captain telling the agents. He had turned away from the office just in time so he wouldn’t be caught staring, but at the sound of his name, he turned back.
“Thank you, sir,” grey suit told Renard. “We appreciate the cooperation.”
“I’ll let you all get acquainted and share notes,” Renard said, looking down at his watch. “I have a meeting I need to get to.” He leaned in to speak to the detectives. “Play nice,” he told them quietly and then rushed off.
“Gentlemen,” grey suit began cordially, “I know that locals and federals usually get along like pirates and ninjas-”
That surprised a chuckle out of both of the detectives and an elbow to grey suit’s ribs by navy suit.
“-but we just want you to know that we aren’t intending to take over this case.”
“Yet,” navy suit butted in.
“We’re not here to step on any toes. What we’re hoping for is that we catch this person-”
“Or persons,” navy piped in.
“-before they pack up and head to their next stop.”
“Next stop?” this time the interruption was from Hank.
“Yes,” grey continued, not seeming too annoyed with all the disruptions, “we have files on at least a dozen other… unofficial graveyards like you’ve found here - in as many cities; spanning a few states. We, of course, can cross jurisdictions. But, we’re hoping that this will be the last time we have to. And, let’s face it; you know the area much better than we ever will. We have a much better chance stopping this - whatever this is - if we work as a team.”
~
Grey and Hank exchanged a few more pleasantries - a slightly stilted glad for the help, don’t take our case / we won’t take your case as long as you help sort of back and forth. Nick usually paid closer attention but, at the moment, he couldn’t be bothered.
In the months following his Aunt Marie’s visit, revelation, and subsequent death, Nick’s already uncanny ability to profile their cases blossomed. He was getting better at not only analyzing human motivation, but that of all manner of creatures as well. And, his Grimm brain seemed to know just where to look to find who had a hidden face and who didn’t.
And right now, his Grimm brain was screaming that Mr navy suit was hiding something.
“…and this is Nick Burckhardt,” Hank was saying.
“Hello,” he said, having noticed all eyes were now on him and grey’s hand was outstretched towards him. Ah, so he was just in time for introductions.
“I’m Agent Chris Peters,” grey told him while shaking his hand. “And this is Agent Eric Singer.”
Nick turned to navy - Singer. The man shook his hand civilly enough but it was obvious that he just wanted to take a step away. ‘That’s it,’ Nick thought, his aunt’s words running through his head: We have the ability to see what no one else can - when they lose control, they can’t hide and we see them for what they really are. Nick waited for Singer to show his true face.
He waited while shaking Singer’s hand. Waited…
“OK then,” Peters said clearing his throat. Singer pulled his hand from Nick’s, as uncomfortable as ever, but his face remained human-looking. Huh?
“Right,” Hank said, “why don’t you guys grab yourselves a cup of coffee? It’s actually worse than you’d expect but I think we might all need some caffeine to get us through all this info.”
“I think you’re probably right about that,” Peters told him, looking at the bulging accordion file he was holding and then at the folders that seemed to have magically appeared and covered Hank’s desk. He patted his partner on the shoulder and the two made their way to the break room.
“All right,” Hank said once the agents were out of hearing distance. “What was that about?”
“What?”
“What do you mean what? What was with the stare-down you were giving Singer?”
“Nothing,” Nick told him. When Hank just looked at him, waiting for more, Nick added, “Just thought I, uh, recognized him.”
~
“Well, you were right about one thing,” Peters told them. “That coffee is truly awful.”
Hank snickered and Nick grinned as the man still drained his mug - his third in the last hour - and made a face.
“However,” he continued, “it is far from the worst we’ve ever had. Right?” he asked, looking at his partner.
“Speak for yourself,” Singer said with a smile. “I don’t drink it when it’s bad,” he nodded at his mug that was still two-thirds full.
“No,” Peters laughed, “you don’t drink it unless it’s anything other than coffee-flavored.”
The agents had obviously been partners for some time. They worked well together, complemented one another. And, their banter reminded Nick of himself and Hank. He could tell Peters was good at his job, seemed to see patterns and intricacies that many people would miss. And Singer was clearly intelligent, knew how to put pieces together quicker than most. But, there was still something about him that made Nick keep sneaking glances.
“I got something,” the two agents said at the same time. Peters nodded for Singer to continue first.
“Three of our victims have ties to Portland Community College,” he told them.
“I’m not sure that’s more than coincidence,” Hank said. “There are three main campuses and several smaller facilities throughout the city.”
“That may be,” Singer said, some excitement building, “but these are all for the same campus. We have Leonard Corbin, professor of anthropology; Alicia Nelson, student; and Catherine Dorsey, docent at the Washington County Museum.”
“Museum?” Peters asked.
“Yeah,” Singer told him. “The museum is located at the Rock Creek campus. The professor taught two classes at that campus and the student took classes in a few different locations, but was enrolled in an economics class at the Rock Creek campus at the time of her disappearance.”
“And,” Nick added, “Kyle Hardy-”
“The gym teacher,” Hank interrupted.
“The man who found Calvin Flannigan was in the woods teaching an orienteering class out of PCC Rock Creek.”
“Nice,” Peters grinned. “I wish I would have gone first now. Mine’s not as impressive.”
“Well,” Singer laughed, “what have you got?”
“I have Calvin Flannigan and Tabitha Robinson, residents at ‘Morris Manor’ on Morris Avenue, and Thomas Grant, maintenance man at the manor.”
“Wait a minute,” Hank said, flipping through the files. “Here it is. Alicia Nelson lived at an apartment on Chester Street.” The agents looked at him blankly.
“Chester and Morris intersect,” Nick explained.
“And,” Hank continued as he typed into his computer, “the two apartment complexes practically touch. They’re on the same corner - one facing Morris, the other facing Chester.”
“So it sounds like we have two locations to check out,” Nick said with a smile. “The apartment and the campus.”