Pairing: None that aren't canon
Spoilers: 2.21, The Waking Dead
Synopsis: Set during The Waking Dead. After Juilette leaves the spice shop, Monroe and the others discuss their next move.
Disclaimer - I don't own Grimm
“I think it went pretty well, don't you? You know, considering.”
Monroe was pacing the room, fists clenching and unclenching in an effort to relieve the tension that was building up inside his body with nowhere to go.
“I mean, she didn't run away. Well, okay she did run away, but it was only for a few seconds. Half a minute tops. That's good, right?”
Monroe tried to block out Bud's incessant chatter, working on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. His mind seesawed between two extreme outcomes. Either Juliette was going to accept what she had seen and everything would be fine, or she wouldn't and everything would be very, very bad.
“I've got to be honest, if I were her, I wouldn't have come back. I'd be home by now, packing for a very long vacation.”
“Hey, I don't look that bad!” Rosalee interjected.
For a moment, Monroe thought she was joking, trying to lighten the mood, until he detected genuine hurt in her tone. He spun around mid step and made his way to her side.
“Oh, God!” Bud said suddenly. “What if she is packing? She could be on her way out of town right now. What if she just disappears and never speaks to Nick again? He'll hate us!” He sat down heavily in the closest chair, then immediately got to his feet again. “What have we done?!”
Monroe grimaced. “Okay, firstly, Bud, shut up. Secondly, no, Rosalee, you don't look bad. You're beautiful in every form.”
“Oh, yeah,” Bud said, sounding embarrassed. “I didn't mean it like that. Whoever had gone first would have scared her. Good call by the way on it not being...” he nodded in Monroe's direction. “At least this way she didn't run out screaming!”
Monroe was fast losing his patience. The worst thing was, the Eisbiber was right. Not just about the running and screaming, about bringing Juliette to the spice shop, about Rosalee being there, everything. He had spent too much time around Nick, and more recently Hank. He had grown so used to the Blutbad thing being normal that he had half forgotten one of the most important lessons his parents had taught him. Never show his other face unless you have no choice. Or if you're about to make a kill, but nowadays when he recounted that particular piece of advice, he tended to conveniently leave that part out.
“I mean, one look at a Blutbad sends even most Wesen running in terror.” Bud continued. “We Eisbiber teach our kids to flee first, ask questions later.” He stopped as he briefly made nervous eye contact with Monroe. “I mean, I know you're okay, but...”
Rosalee placed a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. As if by some kind of magic, all the tension suddenly drained out of him. “I think you look amazing in full Woge,” she said quietly.
Monroe shook his head. “I know you're just saying that, but thanks.” Rosalee had been the one that had stopped him form going first, knowing full well that Juliette's first encounter with a Wesen should not be a Blutbad. And she had been absolutely right. He knew he was terrifying, and generally speaking, he didn't mind. It was who he was and had always been, and he had never been ashamed of that. Not so long ago, back in his wilder days, he had taken pride in his ability to horrify. Now, not so much, but it still came in useful from time to time.
Today, however, was not one of those times.
“What should we do now?” Rosalee asked. One of her hand was still resting on Monroe's arm, the fingers of the other tapped out a rhythm on the desk in front of her.
Bud purposefully straightened himself to his full height. “Well, I think I'm going to head home,” he said. “Maybe grab a bite to eat, then get to a few more jobs I have lined up.” He began to back toward the door slowly. “Refrigerators don't fix themselves, you know.”
“Sit down,” Monroe said. He was going for irritated, but it just came out sounding tired.
“What? I didn't even want to be part of this in the first place,” Bud protested. “I told you it was a bad idea, remember? I pleaded with you not to do it. Now I have to stick around for the fallout?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“You know it's stuff like this that gives folks in my profession a bad reputation for timekeeping?”
Monroe sighed audibly. “I'm sure if a few people have to wait an extra hour or so you, they'll probably cope. It's not like they don't expect it anyway.”
“That's exactly what I'm talking about!” Bud complained. “It doesn't matter that I'm on time nine and a half times out of ten. It doesn't even matter that I got to your house earlier than I said I would. Still with the jokes...”
Rosalee cleared her throat. “What do we do?” she asked again. “About Juliette?”
“Well...” Monroe frowned as he thought. “She seemed strangely okay when she left, so I honestly don't think she's in any danger. Maybe Nick got lucky and ended up with two humans in his life that can handle the truth. Stranger things have happened.”
“Someone should follow her,” Bud suggested. “She might have seemed okay, but what if she's in shock? She might not be thinking straight. She might just walk out into traffic or something. Plus she had that drink afterwards, is that going to help anything? I don't think so. Someone should go round to her house and keep an eye on her. I'll even do it, if you want.”
“Yeah, great idea,” Monroe said. “If you want her to think we're creepy stalkers. Look, I've gotten to know Juliette pretty well over the past few months, and she seemed okay.” He paused. “Ish.”
“So you're saying we do nothing?” Bud asked, sounding dubious. “When Nick finds out, he might be pretty mad...”
I'm not saying we do nothing,” Monroe told him. “I'm saying we call Nick, we ask him to meet us here, and then we just give him a heads up. Let him deal with any fallout. It's not like this wasn't his idea originally.”
Bud nodded. “Great,” he said.
Monroe realized that both Rosalee and the Eisbiber were looking at him expectantly. “Oh, so it's me that gets to call him?” He said. “Yeah, of course it is.”
Sighing to himself, he pulled his cellphone from his back pocket and hit Nick's number.
“This only means I'm getting him here,” he said as the line rang in his ear. “As for who actually tells him, we'll settle that by drawing straws. Or maybe rock paper scissors. Any preference?”
The line connected and Nick answered.
Monroe took a deep breath.