Tucked Into The Corners
Title: Tucked Into the Corners
Fandom: Grimm
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1014
Spoilers: takes place between S02E04 and S02E05
Disclaimers: I do not own these characters or the world they inhabit.
Summary: She didn't know which was worse, knowing that she'd so completely forgotten one of the most important people in her life, or that everyone in her life might be lying.
Juliette waited until she heard the front door click shut and the sound of Nick's boots fade before she sighed, shoulders dropping a full inch. The house was quiet now, comfortable, not filled with the small noises of another person moving around. Her fingers flexed around her coffee cup, the porcelain warm and unyielding in her grip.
It was a strange feeling. She knew this house, remembered the first time she'd stepped through the door, sunlight washing through the windows across the bare wooden floors. Countless evenings curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and her laptop. She knew the third stair squeaked if she stepped too far to the right, that there was a kidney shaped stain on the rug near the kitchen where she'd dropped a plate and spilled spaghetti sauce all over it.
This was her house, with her memories tucked into the corners, warm and bright and bitter, all hers. Yet Nick insisted that they were together, had been together, for three years now. If that was the case wouldn't she at least feel something? How could she remember everything so clearly, her work, her friends, her life, but not him, the man who was supposed to be the love of her life.
She'd gone through her room earlier, combing through the bathroom and closet for something, anything that would help her to make some sense of this. The men's clothes in her closet were a jarring note in the story of her memories. She'd touched them, hoping to spark a memory, a feeling, something that would tell her this wasn't some kind of sick joke, but was left with the smooth slide of cotton between her fingers.
Her laptop hadn't helped. The pictures were surreal, only adding to her disorientation to recognize a place and time but not the person with his arm around her shoulders. Juliette almost wished it were some kind of joke. At least with a joke there was an end in sight, answers given, and no more stumbling around in the dark while she tried to find the pieces to a life she doesn't remember, don't even seem to fit, but everyone insists are there. But a few discreet questions to her colleagues at work verified that they had heard her speak of Nick from time to time, had even met him once at a Christmas party.
Juliette sucked in a breath as panic spread a cold chill down her arms. She wrestled it back down until her heart rate was, if not exactly even, close to it. She didn't know which was worse, knowing that she'd so completely forgotten one of the most important people in her life, or that everyone in her life might be lying.
As awful and angry as it would make her, it was vastly preferable to the alternative.
Thinking about it too long left her insides feeling cold and slick, panic an ever present shadow. She just wished she could remember, if she could remember something that her memories told her didn't exist.
By now the coffee had cooled, creamer collecting on the surface in greasy clusters. Wrinkling her nose Juliette stood and dumped it out in the sink. After washing the cup out and setting it in the sink she stood in place, not sure what to do next. Her shift at the clinic didn't start for a couple of hours yet and sitting around the house didn't sound appealing. Not with little signs of Nick leaving her tense and uneasy, flickers of not-quite-right memories pushing close to the surface.
Juliette glanced at the fridge, recalling the faded memory of the repairman backing out the door with his toolbox clutched in a white knuckled grip, fear etched into his face and forcing him to speak in an endless spill of appeasements.
"I never did anything bad, he's got no reason to come after me."
She could only guess, but intuition told her he was talking about Nick, and if Nick were the type of person to scare another man that badly, enough to send him scurrying from the house in fear for his family, she wanted, no, needed to know.
Thinking of Nick as someone to fear wasn't as -- far-fetched as she wanted to believe. She hadn't realized it until then, but being around Nick made her...uneasy. Not because he was a stranger who claimed to share her life for the past three years, although that did in fact play a part. It wasn't something she could put into words, an invisible energy around him that made her want to take a step back, put some space between them so she could breathe that little bit easier.
She didn't want to think of Nick as dangerous. Rather it was as if she was picking up on the potential for danger, like a low hiss of static turned down so low it was sensed more than heard.
The odd anomaly of having forgotten only Nick, and the low level tension she felt around him, she couldn't help considering the possibility of physical abuse. She hadn't been able to find any records of her visiting the hospital, which had been a relief, nor did she find any signs of concealed injuries, also a relief. In the pictures on her laptop she was always leaning into Nick, never looked pained or scared to be around him, which hadn't necessarily been proof positive that there had never been any abuse.
He appeared to be a sweet man, but it wasn't enough to set aside the way he set her on edge.
Obviously without her memories her instincts on the matter couldn't be entirely trusted, but Juliette couldn't shake the feeling that the was something else going on. Thinking of the way Nick watched her when he thought she wasn't paying attention to him made her gut clench, and if he knew the direction of her thoughts he would probably be devastated. Speaking to him about it wasn't an option, though. She would have to find the answers herself.
Fandom: Grimm
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1014
Spoilers: takes place between S02E04 and S02E05
Disclaimers: I do not own these characters or the world they inhabit.
Summary: She didn't know which was worse, knowing that she'd so completely forgotten one of the most important people in her life, or that everyone in her life might be lying.
Juliette waited until she heard the front door click shut and the sound of Nick's boots fade before she sighed, shoulders dropping a full inch. The house was quiet now, comfortable, not filled with the small noises of another person moving around. Her fingers flexed around her coffee cup, the porcelain warm and unyielding in her grip.
It was a strange feeling. She knew this house, remembered the first time she'd stepped through the door, sunlight washing through the windows across the bare wooden floors. Countless evenings curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and her laptop. She knew the third stair squeaked if she stepped too far to the right, that there was a kidney shaped stain on the rug near the kitchen where she'd dropped a plate and spilled spaghetti sauce all over it.
This was her house, with her memories tucked into the corners, warm and bright and bitter, all hers. Yet Nick insisted that they were together, had been together, for three years now. If that was the case wouldn't she at least feel something? How could she remember everything so clearly, her work, her friends, her life, but not him, the man who was supposed to be the love of her life.
She'd gone through her room earlier, combing through the bathroom and closet for something, anything that would help her to make some sense of this. The men's clothes in her closet were a jarring note in the story of her memories. She'd touched them, hoping to spark a memory, a feeling, something that would tell her this wasn't some kind of sick joke, but was left with the smooth slide of cotton between her fingers.
Her laptop hadn't helped. The pictures were surreal, only adding to her disorientation to recognize a place and time but not the person with his arm around her shoulders. Juliette almost wished it were some kind of joke. At least with a joke there was an end in sight, answers given, and no more stumbling around in the dark while she tried to find the pieces to a life she doesn't remember, don't even seem to fit, but everyone insists are there. But a few discreet questions to her colleagues at work verified that they had heard her speak of Nick from time to time, had even met him once at a Christmas party.
Juliette sucked in a breath as panic spread a cold chill down her arms. She wrestled it back down until her heart rate was, if not exactly even, close to it. She didn't know which was worse, knowing that she'd so completely forgotten one of the most important people in her life, or that everyone in her life might be lying.
As awful and angry as it would make her, it was vastly preferable to the alternative.
Thinking about it too long left her insides feeling cold and slick, panic an ever present shadow. She just wished she could remember, if she could remember something that her memories told her didn't exist.
By now the coffee had cooled, creamer collecting on the surface in greasy clusters. Wrinkling her nose Juliette stood and dumped it out in the sink. After washing the cup out and setting it in the sink she stood in place, not sure what to do next. Her shift at the clinic didn't start for a couple of hours yet and sitting around the house didn't sound appealing. Not with little signs of Nick leaving her tense and uneasy, flickers of not-quite-right memories pushing close to the surface.
Juliette glanced at the fridge, recalling the faded memory of the repairman backing out the door with his toolbox clutched in a white knuckled grip, fear etched into his face and forcing him to speak in an endless spill of appeasements.
"I never did anything bad, he's got no reason to come after me."
She could only guess, but intuition told her he was talking about Nick, and if Nick were the type of person to scare another man that badly, enough to send him scurrying from the house in fear for his family, she wanted, no, needed to know.
Thinking of Nick as someone to fear wasn't as -- far-fetched as she wanted to believe. She hadn't realized it until then, but being around Nick made her...uneasy. Not because he was a stranger who claimed to share her life for the past three years, although that did in fact play a part. It wasn't something she could put into words, an invisible energy around him that made her want to take a step back, put some space between them so she could breathe that little bit easier.
She didn't want to think of Nick as dangerous. Rather it was as if she was picking up on the potential for danger, like a low hiss of static turned down so low it was sensed more than heard.
The odd anomaly of having forgotten only Nick, and the low level tension she felt around him, she couldn't help considering the possibility of physical abuse. She hadn't been able to find any records of her visiting the hospital, which had been a relief, nor did she find any signs of concealed injuries, also a relief. In the pictures on her laptop she was always leaning into Nick, never looked pained or scared to be around him, which hadn't necessarily been proof positive that there had never been any abuse.
He appeared to be a sweet man, but it wasn't enough to set aside the way he set her on edge.
Obviously without her memories her instincts on the matter couldn't be entirely trusted, but Juliette couldn't shake the feeling that the was something else going on. Thinking of the way Nick watched her when he thought she wasn't paying attention to him made her gut clench, and if he knew the direction of her thoughts he would probably be devastated. Speaking to him about it wasn't an option, though. She would have to find the answers herself.