Behind Cheerful Eyes

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/49677448.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Category: F/M, M/M, Multi
Fandom: Grimm (TV)
Character: Nick Burkhardt, Monroe (Grimm), Rosalee Calvert, Sean Renard, Drew
Wu
Additional Tags: Major Original Character(s), Blood and Injury, Scars, coarse language,
Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse,
Implied/Referenced Abuse, Torture, Psychological Trauma,
Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Psychological Torture,
Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Temporary Character Death,
Resurrection, Arson, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Threesome - F/M/M,
Threesome - M/M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamorous
Character, Pansexual Character, Bloodplay, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-08-27 Updated: 2023-09-12 Words: 17,566 Chapters:
5/?

Behind Cheerful Eyes

by La_Vida_es_Dolor

Summary

When Jeremy LeBlanc rolled into town, Nick Burkhardt instantly knew something was off
about him. But when all attempts at sussing out just what sort of wesen he was failed, the
Grimm finds himself at a loss. Mr. LeBlanc doesn't woge, doesn't react in terror and
whisper the ever popular, "A Grimm". No. Jeremy smirks and murmurs, "You have
beautiful eyes". Who and - more importantly - what was Jeremy LeBlanc and why the hell
is he turning up in all the wrong places.

*WILL UPDATE TAGS AS I ADD TO IT. I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS FIC IS
GONNA GO*

This is entirely an indulgent fic to distract me from my original works. But if you enjoy this
please please please let me know! Sometimes I stop writing these things cuz it feels like no
one's interested.
 Introduction

Nick Burkhardt had had his fair share of confusing and unexplainable encounters over the
many months since he’d discovered he was a Grimm. But meeting Jeremy LeBlanc took the cake.
It said something about Nick’s life that meeting someone who seemed entirely ordinary would pop
on his radar as abnormal. The first time he met the man with black hair and gentle green eyes was
in a cafe that Nick often frequented after pulling an all nighter for a case. It was one of the few that
would be open at this time of night and was more often than not empty. The man stood at the
counter, quietly conversing with the barista as she made whatever complicated coffee he’d ordered.
The first thing Nick had noticed about him was just how utterly normal he was. Chin length black
hair curled around a face just a hair too slender to be considered masculine, a baggy black hoodie
over worn sun-bleached jeans and ratty old sneakers. He was the sort of inconspicuous that the
Police Department would hire as a CI. As Nick approached, he tensed and tilted his head to glance
over his shoulder at him.

“I’ll be right with you, Detective.” The barista - Molly, a Balam - said to Nick, far too used to him
at this point to be afraid.

“Thanks, Molly.” Nick murmured, but found himself unable to break eye contact with the
stranger’s deep green eyes. Something in the pit of his stomach told him there was something off
about this utterly ordinary man.

“Detective? Ms. Smith, I’ll pay for whatever he wants as well.” The stranger said, his voice deep
and rich. It was a total contradiction to the softness of his face that the thing in the pit of Nick’s
stomach strengthened.

“Oh, please, Jeremy. If I can’t call you Mr. LeBlanc, at least call me Molly.” Molly insisted,
blushing softly as the stranger - Jeremy - finally broke the tense eye contact to look at her.

“That’s completely unnecessary, sir. Thank you for the thought.” Nick tried to insist, but Jeremy
waved him off and pulled a wallet from his back pocket.

“This should cover it. Keep the change as a tip.” Jeremy said, dropping three twenties on the
counter and taking the coffee Molly handed him. Without another word, the peculiar whirlwind
that seemed to make up Jeremy LeBlanc, swept out of the coffee shop and disappeared down the
street.

“Does he come here often?” Nick asked and Molly shook her head.
“No. First time here. Said he just moved into town and was happy to find a place open late. He’s an
insomniac author and moved here in hopes the quiet would make it easier to write. He’s rather
chatty.” Molly admitted, seeming giddy about the gossip. Nick wasn’t sure what to make of it,
shrugging away any more attempts at gossip as he ordered his black coffee for himself and the
sugary monstrosity that Hank preferred. Jeremy was just a stranger he’d likely never cross paths
with again.

That was, until the second time he met him, of course. The second meeting found
him in Rosalee’s spice shop. This time the chime of the bell over the door brought his attention to
the stranger as he stepped into the shop. He was wearing another hoodie, a blue one this time, and a
pair of jogging pants, topped off with a pair of running shoes that seemed to only be a smidge
healthier than the other pair. He was panting softly, sweat beaded at his brow as if he’d actually
been jogging. He didn’t seem to take notice of Nick right away, the shorter detective leaning
against the counter to look over the book he and Rosalee had been discussing.

“Hello, this is the Exotic Spice and Tea Shop, correct?” He asked in a breathless voice that
somehow stole some of the deepness Nick vaguely remembered.

“Why, yes it is. How can I help you today?” Rosalee asked, closing the book on Nick’s hands and
turning her polite customer service voice on for the stranger in her shop.

“Perfect. I’m shi - crap at reading maps and my phone is dead. I’ve been roaming the streets trying
to figure it out for the last hour.” Jeremy explained, brushing windswept onyx locks back from his
eyes, “Would you happen to sell Passionflower tea? I usually order it online, but they’re out of
stock and won’t be able to ship more for another couple months.”

“Passionflower tea? Let me take a look. How much were you looking for?” Rosalee asked, still
polite despite the fact that she clearly found his search for the tea suspicious.

“Two pounds if you have it.” Jeremy replied, following after her as she made her way over to the
shelves that housed the many different exotic teas. At the request, she froze up, eyebrows nearly
disappearing into her hairline with the surprise on her face.

“Are you sure about that? Passionflower tea is a powerful sedative in higher doses.” Rosalee said
hesitantly, turning to look into the stranger’s face. Nick had been quiet, observing the stranger
closely.

“I know. Would you happen to have some valerian as well? I usually mix the two. They work more
efficiently than ambien without all the horrid side effects. I’m an insomniac. I’m not planning to
drug anyone if that is your concern. I have a doctor’s note recommending the use of passionflower
and valerian as a nonprescription method for sleep if you’d like to see it.” Jeremy replied simply,
voice entirely harmless as he reached out to fetch a jar on a higher shelf, taking it down to show the
handwritten label that identified it as Passionflower.

“Well that’s reassuring to hear at least. Especially with a detective standing right here.” Nick spoke
up from where he’d remained observing, fingers still trapped between the pages.

“Oh, I saw you, Detective. How was your coffee?” Jeremy replied, turning to fix the detective with
his entrancing eyes.

“Oh, it was… um… good. Thank you. It was really unnecessary. My partner was grateful as well.”
Nick mumbled, seeming to ramble the more he was caught in his gaze.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Jeremy murmured as Rosalee carefully took the jar from his hand and
retrieved a smaller bottle of valerian.

“How much of the valerian would you like?” Rosalee asked quietly, looking between Nick and
Jeremy in an attempt to understand the interaction passing between the two men.

“I’ll do a half pound of each instead. Wouldn’t want to completely wipe out your supplies,
especially if I need to visit for more before my usual seller stocks back up.” Jeremy replied,
breaking gaze with Nick to fix his eyes back on the Fuchsbau. Rosalee twitched when his eyes fell
on her and Nick could see the woge clear as day, but Jeremy didn’t react as if he’d seen it too.
Rosalee nodded, getting herself back together as she started packaging his order, “Will this be
enough?” Jeremy asked, dropping a stack of bills with a $50 on top. Rosalee was surprised again,
looking closer at the man as if to decipher what planet he was from.

“Way too much… your usual seller is ripping you off if you normally pay that much for tea!”
Rosalee gasped out. Jeremy simply shrugged, but didn’t move to take the money.

“I am more than grateful for the gift of rest it brings me. Take the rest as a tip then, darling.” He
murmured softly, his mouth quirking up at the corner as he reached out to take the packages. He
started to walk away but paused, turning to look at the two, “I will be having a housewarming party
next weekend. I have invited my neighbors but I fear no one will come. So if you’d like to come,
bring whomever you’d like.” He said, walking back and dropping a couple handmade invitations
on the counter before finally disappearing in the same whirlwind way as he had during that first
meeting.
“There’s got to be something wrong with him. Could he be wesen?” Nick asked Rosalee, still
staring at the door Jeremy had swept out of.

“I don’t know. But he certainly is strange.” Rosalee agreed.

“I want to figure out what he is. Before he causes any trouble here.” Nick said, determination in his
tone.

“I don’t know, Nick. Maybe he’s just a weird human. You’re a weird human.” Rosalee pointed
out.

“But I’m a Grimm too. That’s a good excuse for being weird.” Nick muttered.

The third time Nick would meet Jeremy would blow all belief that the man was
ordinary out of the water. It was dawn when Nick’s phone rang, Renard’s voice on the line
informing him there was a body on the ground and where it was. He and Hank walked up to the
scene and there Jeremy was, seated on the ground a ways away from the sheet covered corpse.
There was blood soaked into the knees of his coal gray jogging pants and he held his hand away
from his body, the fingers also smeared in crimson. He’d obviously been sitting there for quite
some time, the blood going the rusty brown color as it dried.

“What do we got?” Nick asked Wu as they approached.

“That man there, name: Jeremy LeBlanc, says he was out for a late night jog because he couldn’t
sleep when he came to this street light. Says the light was out and it was dark, but he figured that he
wasn’t going to find something to trip over before he made it to the next light. He was wrong. He
tripped over the body and landed in the blood pool over here. You can see where he scrambled to
get up and wandered over there before calling 911. Want to talk to him or look at the body first?”
Wu asked, seeming just as suspicious of the blood covered stranger as Nick had been watching the
man buy coffee.

“The body first.” Hank said before Nick could protest. He was right, but the growing obsession to
find out just what the stranger was was gnawing at the Grimm. But Wu pulled the sheet back from
the corpse and all thoughts on Jeremy went out the window. The body was a woman in her late
30s, maybe early 40s, but her throat was slit from ear to ear in a macabre mockery of a smile.
Blood pooled out around her, making it clear that she’d died right there. There was the disturbance
in the puddle where Jeremy had fallen, and then the trail to where he sat now.
“Has he been frisked for weapons? Are we 100% sure he didn’t do this?” Nick asked and cringed
internally, wondering if his suspicion would have been just as harsh if he’d not already met
Jeremy.

“We frisked him. Found a pen, a small notebook, and his wallet. Nothing that could have done this
sort of damage. We waited to have you two talk to him before we took him to get his pants for
evidence. He hasn’t complained one bit about not being able to leave. It’s a breath of fresh air after
that last witness freaked out and tried to bail on that last case.” Wu rambled, holding out the items
frisked from Jeremy’s jacket pockets for Nick to take. The first thing he did was flip open the
wallet. Jeremy’s face looked up at him from the ID in the centerfold. It was a New York State non-
driver’s license. On the left side of the wallet was an old portrait style photograph of an older
couple and a little black haired boy. Jeremy’s parents and himself, Nick deduced silently. The rest
of the wallet contained credit and rewards cards for various stores, a laminated four leaf clover and
a wad of cash that was an irresponsible amount for a man to carry on his person late at night alone.
Nick found it suspicious, but that part of him that wanted to figure out just who and what Jeremy
was might have been influencing him. The man clearly had more money than he knew what to do
with, but that didn’t necessarily make him a bad guy. Just irresponsible and trusting, in Nick’s
book.

“Nothing out of the ordinary with these. There’s nothing in the notebook.” Hank said, breaking
Nick from his suspicious mental tirade.

“Well, let’s talk to him.” Nick said, skirting around the victim and their blood to make his way
over to the man.

“Hello, Detectives.” Jeremy said, lifting his head and giving that gentle, disarming smile that Nick
was starting to get a little too used to.

“Mr. LeBlanc, would you mind telling us what happened?” Hank said, hands in his pockets as he
looked down at the man still seated on the ground.

“Call me Jeremy, detective. Mr. LeBlanc was my father.” Jeremy replied simply before holding out
the hand that didn’t have dried blood on it. Nick took it and helped Jeremy stand.

That’s when Nick noticed something entirely disordinary about the warm hand in his own.
It was scarred. Jagged and clean scars alike littered the palm and back of Jeremy’s hand, making
the skin rough to the touch. No one but Nick seemed to have been frozen by the discovery, Hank
and Jeremy’s voices a distant background to the thoughts in his head.
“I didn’t mean to trip over her. I feel absolutely awful about it. The dead should find peace, not be
trampled upon.” Jeremy murmured, breaking through Nick’s momentary lapse in thought.

“It was an accident, Mr. Le - Jeremy. I’m sure she doesn’t blame you for it.” Hank reassured him,
glancing at Nick out of the corner of his eye.

“I know. I just feel horrible about the whole thing. I mean… god… this is her blood.” Jeremy
croaked out and his face paled quickly as if he’d just realized it. The man turned and threw up into
the bushes, hand held away from himself as if it were deadly.

“It’s alright. Come on, now. We’ll take you down to the station to get you cleaned up and a new
pair of pants.” Hank said, rubbing Jeremy’s back as he continued to heave emptily toward the
bushes.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jeremy said, tears in the corner of his eyes from the force of
vomiting, or perhaps he was crying. Crying for the life lost and the literal blood on his hands. Nick
frowned to himself as he and Hank led him toward the car. Such a reaction seemed to be genuine.
Either that, or he was an incredible actor.

“It’s alright, man. Nick here blew chunks at our first body too. At least you didn’t throw up on the
body.” Hank said, smirking at the embarrassing comment. Nick could remember that first scene all
too well, something he’d rather not reminisce on. Especially when it had been long before he’d
come into his powers as a Grimm.

Jeremy was later cleared of all suspicions when DNA that wasn’t his was found under the
woman’s fingernails. The suspect had been in the system and was quickly arrested. Just another
case of human violence with no wesen involvement. But Jeremy remained on Nick’s radar as
something to be investigated, and what better time would there be to do it, than at the
housewarming party Jeremy himself was throwing? Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery
of Jeremy LeBlanc, Nick would enlist the help of Monroe and Rosalee in his mission for
information.
 Housewarming
Chapter Summary

Nick, Monroe, and Rosalee attend Jeremy's housewarming party as an excuse to snoop
through his things; Jeremy proves he can be a fabulous host; Nick overhears
something he isn't supposed to; Monroe discovers why Jeremy is scarred and that it's a
lot more than his hands.

Chapter Notes

This chapter is brought to you by a full pancake breakfast and the song Rise - Remix
by State of Mind and Noise Machine.

“Please, Monroe. There’s something wrong with him. There’s no way he’s human.” Nick
exclaimed, standing over the desk where the Blutbad was working on the innards of a pocket
watch.

“I don’t know, man. He seems completely ordinary to me and he was cleared as a suspect.”
Monroe muttered without looking up from the watch he was tinkering with.

“ I know that, Monroe. But you don’t get it. There’s something off about him and I need to find out
what. His hands were scarred. Front and back.” Nick protested, frowning deeply at his friend’s
lack of concern.

“So maybe he’s a carpenter or a cook or something. Scarred hands usually mean hard work. My
hands are scarred, Nick.” Monroe said, finally looking up at his friend with a look of concern
entirely for Nick’s sanity and not for what Jeremy did in his free time.

“He’s not . He’s an author. Published four books over the last six years with a small fanbase.
Nothing that could rake in the kind of dough he waves around. Background checks show that he’s
moved states six times in the last two years and that he has an order of protection against a Dale
Adder for the last four years.” Nick exclaimed.

“Woah, Nick, buddy. That’s some major stalking. I’m kinda worried you’re looking way too much
into this guy.”
“I know, I know. I just have a really really bad feeling about him. I want to find out before it blows
up in our faces.”

“Argh… fine! But if we get arrested I’m blaming you, Nick.” Monroe grumbled, putting down his
tools, “I am not dressing up for this.” He added as he used to wipe gear grease from his fingers.

“Invite says come as you are.” Nick replied, grinning, “Come on. We’re gonna be late.”

“Rosalee said she was going?” Monroe asked, certainly not wanting to get dragged into this by
himself.

“Yeah. She’s driving over separate.” Nick replied, urging the Blutbad out of his own house and out
to where his car was parked.

“This is a really bad idea, man…” Monroe knew his protests fell on deaf ears and simply sighed as
he started his bug and started down the road toward the address printed on the invite in a messy
scrawl.

They pulled up outside the large home and Nick was struck by how ordinary it was. The man
seemed to be taking great pains to appear normal. He had to be. There was no one this normal, not
unless they were pretending to be normal to hide something. Monroe parked his car behind
Rosalee’s and got right out. But Nick didn’t move right away, a new anxiousness well in his
stomach. What would they find? Would the man catch them snooping? What would he do if he
did?

“Yo, Nick. Come on, man. This was your idea.” Monroe said, pulling open Nick’s door and
gesturing for him to go, “Looks like Rosalee went in without us.”

“I’m coming. Just anxious about what we’ll find.”

“ If we find anything, Nick. Come on, let’s go.” Monroe insisted and Nick nodded, getting out of
the car and starting up the cobblestone walk toward where the large oak double doors stood wide
open. The scent of food filled the air, the hum of chattering voices meeting them long before they
made it up the front step.

Jeremy had been wrong when he’d assumed no one would show up. The home was packed full as
if more than just the neighborhood had shown up. Nick spotted Rosalee chatting with an older
couple and the two men led the way over to her. She smiled brightly and bid goodbyes to the
couple before meeting them.

“Our host is in the kitchen. Seems he made all of the food himself. There’s even vegan options.”
Rosalee said, gesturing to a large table in the room adjacent. Each dish had a little plaque in front
of it, indicating what it was and whether it was omnivore, vegetarian, or vegan.

“That is… rather thoughtful. He put a lot of work into this.” Monroe commented, turning and
wandering toward the table of food. Nick sighed and followed after him with Rosalee on his tail.

“The veggie stuffed mushrooms are absolutely delicious.” Rosalee piped up and Nick whipped
around to look at her with an expression that screamed ‘You just ate the food, what if it was
drugged’.

“What? I was hungry and everything smelled good. It's fine, Nick. Really. He’s a really nice guy.
Go say hi. He’s making… oh what did he call it? Mushroom risotto! That’s it. He’s not as strange
as you seem to think he is.” Rosalee insisted, swiping a fancy looking quiche and nibbling on it.
Monroe nudged Nick out of the way to try a chipful of homemade guacamole.

“Come on, guys. We’re not here to eat!” Nick exclaimed in exasperation as his two friends
munched on the snacks on the table.

“Okay, okay. One more bite. I have to ask him how he pulled off such a delicious guacamole from
scratch!” Monroe exclaimed, putting one more chipful in his mouth. Nick shook his head and
turned on his heel to go into the kitchen. He followed the sounds of pots and pans and found
himself looking at the back of their host. Jeremy was facing a stove, wearing a long sleeve black
shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, a pair of black jeans, and an apron tied around his
waist. On his feet were a pair of house slippers with fuzzy plaid socks peeking out from between
the lip of the slippers and the hem of the pants. Nick started to take another step into the room and
Jeremy tensed as he had at the coffee shop, turning his head to look at him with that same soft and
kind smile.

“Detective! Welcome to my lovely home. I frankly wasn’t expecting this many visitors. Would you
like a bowl?” Jeremy asked as he turned back to whatever was cooking on the stove, pouring
something into a tin pan like the many in the other room. If Nick was honest, it smelled heavenly.
One bowl couldn’t hurt.

“Well… I suppose I wouldn’t mind trying some.” Nick admitted and felt heat rise in his face when
his stomach growled. Jeremy laughed softly, spooning a healthy portion into bowl and pressing it
into his hands.
“You seem like a man who gets caught up in things and forgets to eat. Feel free to snack on
anything. Make yourself a sandwich if nothing appeals to you. Can’t have a guest going hungry.
Especially when I normally sit alone in this big house.” Jeremy murmured with a wistful sigh. Nick
watched him carefully, feeling the ache of the other man’s loneliness like he would a bad tooth.
Nick accepted a spoon when Jeremy held it out and dipped into the rice in the bowl.

“That smells amazing.” Monroe's voice came from behind them.

“Ah, you must be Monroe. Rosalee was telling me about you. I made a small pan with vegan
cheese and butter.” Jeremy murmured, once again a whirlwind as he moved about the kitchen and
produced a steaming bowl of something nearly identical to the one Nick was already enjoying.
“Here you are, my dear. Rosalee, would you like some, darling? Vegan or not?” Jeremy asked
before eagerly spooning some into the bowl for her.

“Thank you, Jeremy.” Rosalee murmured, elbowing Monroe as wolfed down the bowlful. He
looked at her in confusion. She gave him some sort of look and he seemed to get what she was
silently saying.

“Oooh, yeah. Thank you, Jeremy. It’s just… really good.” Monroe murmured, blushing faintly as
he stuttered out the reply. Jeremy laughed softly, shaking his head.

“It’s alright. Enjoy the food, the drinks. I probably ought to go bring some more wine and beer up
from the cellar. Excuse me.” Jeremy said, sweeping off his apron and hanging it beside the door.

“Would you like some help?” Nick asked quickly, starting to follow him.

“No, no. I’ve got it. I’ll be right back up.” Jeremy said, smiling and waving dismissively before
disappearing through a doorway off the kitchen. A few minutes passed but Nick put his bowl
down.

“Nick, come on, man. Leave him be. He’s just totally normal. You’re suspicious for nothing.”
Monroe insisted, resisting the urge to lick his bowl, or finish Nick’s.

“I’m going to follow him. Monroe… check the upstairs, please? If we find nothing, then I’ll give
up on him being anything but normal.” Nick pleaded with the taller man. Monroe groaned, but
finally assented.
“Promise me that if we find nothing, you’ll give this up. He seems like a really nice kid.” Monroe
insisted, expression stern as he set the bowl down into the sink full of steaming soapy water.

“I promise.” Nick said before easing open the door that Jeremy had disappeared through. Monroe
shook his head in familiar exasperation before starting back through the living room where he’d
seen a glimpse of a grand staircase to the upper floors. Nick made his way down the steps quietly,
but froze halfway down when a cell phone started ringing.

“No, no, no… you can’t have found me again already.” Jeremy’s voice whimpers from somewhere
down below before the ringing cut off, “Dale, you have to stop calling me. You’re violating the
restraining order. Please… just stop…” Jeremy pleaded quietly.

“You can’t get away from me, dove. I will find you again.” A sharp voice responded, the phone
clearly on speaker.

“I won’t let you hurt me again. I’m not your victim anymore and I refuse to let you make me one
again.” Jeremy said, but there was growing hysteria in his voice.

“What’s a little pain, a little death, when you’ll just be good as new again? You’re the perfect
victim, Jeremiah. You were born to be abused.” The voice all but purred.

“You’re sick, Dale. A monster. And I know real monsters! Don’t call me again.” Jeremy said, and
there came a smashing sound as if he’d thrown the phone and stepped on it. Nick still stood frozen
on the steps when there came a thud and the rattle of bottles, and quietly, hardly audible, a soft
sobbing. Nick swallowed and retreated, realizing he had listened to something very private. It
didn’t prove that Jeremy was up to no good, If anything, it proved he was the victim and explained
his insomnia. Nick didn’t think he’d be able to sleep either if he had a sadistic stalker. Guilt
gnawed at him as he returned to the kitchen and he now-cold risotto, dodging Rosalee’s questions.

Meanwhile, Monroe had climbed the grand staircase and found himself at the end of a long
hallway. There were two doors along both walls and one at the very end. All of them were closed,
except for one that sat just slightly ajar, as if it hadn’t quite latched and had popped open from
changing air pressure.

“Man… please forgive me, Jeremy.” Monroe groaned, pushing the door the rest of the way into
the room. He found himself in an office, but what pulled him up short. The walls were covered in
dozens of newspaper clippings.
House fire claims three of the four

Surviving Son of Fire Victims Kidnapped

Jeremiah White Recovered after Missing for Eight Years

Jeremiah White; Victim of Sexual Assault

Man Accused of Domestic Assault Sentenced to Two Years Jail Time

Jeremy LeBlanc Saves Child From Burning Building

LeBlanc Author and Hero

Jeremiah White Drops off Face of the Earth Again

It all painted a picture Monroe didn’t want to think about, feeling nausea rolling in his gut at what
he was reading. Jeremy had to be Jeremiah and the boy had suffered greatly. Stepping closer to the
desk, there was a single clipping not yet hung up with the others, just resting on the edge. Monroe
had reached out to pick it up long before he’d made the conscious decision to do so. His heart
ached for the boy who seemed so cheerful and generous.

Boy Dies From Accident and Wakes in Morgue

By now many of the citizens of Mercerville, New Jersey are familiar with the terrible story of
young Jeremiah White, 8. It seems things are not looking up for him, or perhaps they are. On the
way to school early one morning on Monday, April 9th, 2001, a drunk driver veered into oncoming
traffic and collided with the school car transporting White. Both drivers and White were
pronounced dead at the scene and transported to the local morgue. Scheduled for autopsy on the
following Wednesday, April 11th, the mortician was alerted by screaming from inside the body
storage chamber. All of White’s injuries had healed, no sign of the accident aside from scars
where the injuries had been. As of this morning, the boy has been kept for observation and has
appeared in stable condition. We plan to keep everyone updated as the story progresses.
Monroe couldn’t believe what he read and swallowed, guilt filling his heart as he folded the
clipping carefully before tucking it into his pocket. Maybe, Nick was right. There was something
off about Jeremy LeBlanc. But it wasn’t necessarily that he was trouble. Couldn’t hurt to have him
use his resources to further research Jeremy using the name Jeremiah White. Who was he and why
did he seem so predestined to suffer.
 The Plot Thickens
Chapter Summary

Nick, Rosalee, and Monroe discuss what they discovered and open the party favor
gifts Jeremy sent them home with; Hank looks into the name Jeremiah White and
doesn't like what he finds; Dale Adder makes an appearance.

Chapter Notes

This chapter was brought to you by the song Why Worry by Set It Off, eight-hour
work days, and edible fueled creativity!

Monroe took the steps down two at a time, wanting to get as far away from what he’d found
as quickly as possible. Heads turned his way as he scrambled through the rooms until he found
Rosalee. She’d gravitated back toward the table of food and was chatting with the guests that had
joined her there. Molly Smith stood beside her, a small plate filled with a little of everything on the
table. It was weird seeing her anywhere but the cafe. Jeremy had likely invited her on one of his
many late night coffee runs.

“Where’s Nick?” Monroe asked quickly, cutting Molly off mid sentence.

“Where we left him as far as I know. He hasn’t reappeared yet.” Rosalee said, saying he was still
following Jeremy without saying it.

“We need to get him and we need to go now. Something… has come up.” Monroe said, still feeling
too close to that mural of pain, the clipping in his pocket feeling like it would burn a hole through
the fabric. They couldn’t discuss anything here and they needed to discuss it. Rosalee caught on
quickly and nodded.

“Is it Grimm stuff?” Molly asked in a low whisper, her nervous woge obvious for only a second.

“Yeah. It’s top secret Grimm stuff.” Monroe told her, not wanting to pull anyone else into whatever
the hell Nick had dragged them into. Monroe turned around to go fetch Nick and ran right into the
man.
“You were right!” The two men exclaimed at the same time.

“What?” Followed in the same synchronized fashion.

“Cut that out!” Was another perfectly timed coincidence. Rosalee sighed, stepping up beside the
two and swatting them both on the back of the head. It served as a sort of reset and it was Monroe
who remembered how to talk again first.

“We need to get out of here, Nick. I think you were right. There’s something not right with him.”
Monroe said, trying to keep his voice hushed, but his excited fear was far too much to keep in
completely low.

“No. I think I was wrong. What if he’s not the bad guy? What if he’s the victim?” Nick asked,
grabbing Monroe’s shoulders as Rosalee looked between the two in mild confusion. She looked
around at the guests around them, noticing they’d started to listen in on their conversation.

“Perhaps we should take this outside.” She urged gently, grabbing their sleeves and starting to urge
them both toward the door.

“Is everyone enjoying the party? I brought up more liquor, my dear neighbors.” Jeremy’s voice
piped up from behind Nick, making the already punchy Grim damn near leap out of his skin.
Figuratively, of course.

“We’re going to have to head out now, Jeremy. But thank you for having us. You’re an amazing
host!” Rosalee exclaimed, smiling soft and politely.

“Ah. I see. Well it was great having you, darling. Thank you all for coming. It really made my day
to have so many people in my home. Don’t forget to grab a gift bag from the table by the door. One
for each of you.” Jeremy insisted as Nick slowly gravitated away from Jeremy and toward the door.
He didn’t know how he felt about the man now and the three of them needed to regroup and
discuss what they had discovered individually.

“Thank you. We will.” She intoned cheerfully, leading the way back toward the door. There was a
table set up in the alcove by the door, little red bags with pink and white tissue paper. That must
have taken a while to do. They look handmade , Monroe thought idly as he and his two friends
rushed out the door. He did stop to snag three of the gift bags when Rosalee and Nick quickly
passed by without collecting one. He stopped to look inside once more and found Jeremy’s eyes
through the crowd still milling about. Whether it was something in his gaze or the creeping thought
of what he’d found in the office, a shiver tore near violently down his spine.

“Meet at the shop?” Nick asked and Monroe shook his head.

“No. My place. He doesn’t know where I live and it’s less likely someone will walk in.” Monroe
reasoned.

“I’ll follow you.” Rosalee said, getting in her car. The two men climbed into Monroe’s car and
backtracked the same roads they’re taken to get there. The whole drive Monroe’s knee bounced
with the anxiety of what Nick had discovered, what Rosalee might have heard while chatting with
the guests. The clipping in his pocket felt hot and heavy, like guilt and remorse.

“What did you find? What changed your mind?” Nick asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable
silence as he took the turn onto the street Monroe’s house was on.

“A mural of newspaper clippings. I took one of them. It all painted a dark picture, Nick. Do you
think Hank could look up the name Jeremiah White in your systems at the precinct?” Monroe
asked, clutching his hands together to keep from tapping impatiently on the dash.

“Yeah. Here, call him.” Nick said, passing him his cell phone as he pulled into Monroe’s driveway.
Monroe took the phone and quickly pushed the speed dial number.

“Griffin.” Hank answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Hank. It’s Monroe on Nick’s phone. Are you at the precinct?” Monroe asked him.

“Yeah, what’s up? Nick’s okay right?” Hank asked, then lowered his voice, “Is it Grimm
business?”

“Well, yes and no. You know the new guy in town, Jeremy LeBlanc… well we think he might be
up to something or… be the victim of something. Do you think you could look into the name
Jeremiah White and get back to us?” Monroe questioned, adding the victim part after Nick gave
him a look.
“Yeah. Haven’t met him yet, but I’ve heard he’s a pretty cool guy. But, anyway, you said Jeremiah
White? Spelled how it sounds or is White spelled with a Y?” Hank asked. A rustling sound came in
the background, indicative of him tucking the phone between his chin and shoulder while reaching
for a pen.

“Yeah, spelled like it sounds. Thanks a lot, Hank. Call us back if you get anything.”

“Will do. And be careful. I don’t want to have to visit any one of you in the hospital anytime
soon.” Hank insisted before the line went dead.

“He’s gonna look into it.” Monroe said, handing the phone back to the Grim before getting out of
the car. Rosalee had pulled up behind them and had already gotten out, waiting at the door.
Monroe squeezed past her and unlocked the door, letting her slip into the house before them. Nick
had gotten out and followed them inside.

“I’m gonna make some coffee since it is a lot too early for a beer.” Nick said, goodie-two-shoes
personality showing through just a bit.

“Make mine an Irish coffee. I don’t care how early it is. You two are being far too edgy for me to
not need booze.” Rosalee said, following Nick to the kitchen while Monroe muttered, Just make
yourself at home, why don’t you? . The three eventually settled at the kitchen table with two
normal coffees and one with a whole shot of whiskey in it.

“Alright, Monroe… let’s see the clipping.” Nick said, calmed down enough now. Though the
sound of Jeremy’s sobs still stuck in his head, rattling around like a broken record trapped on
repeat.

“Clipping?” Rosalee asked as Monroe pulled the carefully folded paper from his pocket and
smoothed it out in the center of the table. Rosalee put a hand on the bottom corner to hold the page
down as both she and Nick leaned over to read the words printed across it in sun faded ink. Nick
read it twice, looked up at Monroe, then to Rosalee and reread it a third time.

“Dying and resurrecting… Please tell me that there is a wesen that can do such a thing.” Nick said
finally. Rosalee was still staring at the paper, a strange expression on her face.

“I don’t think so…” She croaked out, looking at Monroe, who nodded in agreement.
“So he’s not wesen?” Nick asked, rubbing his face as the answers seemed to drift farther and
farther away. Like a life raft that someone forgot to tie down.

“No. But, Nick… what made you change your mind? I know this article and all of the others made
me feel much more suspicious of him. But… well, you’re sorta known for grabbing onto your
assumptions and holding on for dear life. Don’t give me that look, man. I’m not wrong.” Monroe
told him despite the look the Grimm had fixed him with.

“I followed him. But I stopped on the stairs when his phone started ringing. The man on the other
end of the line just kept telling him he was going to find him, that Jeremy was the perfect victim.
Remember when I told you he has an order of protection, a restraining order against a Dale Adder?
Jeremy kept calling him Dale. Told him he wasn’t going to let him hurt him anymore. Jeremy
crushed his phone and started… Just started sobbing. It was such a jarring, heart wrenching sound.
He couldn’t have known I was there. I don’t think it was an act. What if… what if he needs
protecting?” Nick asked, the words almost shaky and definitely worried.

“Isn’t it quite possible, he might be both?” Monroe suggested. But any response cut off when
Nick’s phone started to ring. Nick dug it from his pocket.

“Burkhardt.”

“Nick, it’s Hank.” Hank said shortly, something in his voice sounding off. Nick quickly put the
phone on speaker and set it down in the middle of the table on top of the clipping.

“Hey, Hank. What did you find?” Nick asked quickly.

“Not a lot of good, Nick.” Hank said, his voice morose, “Jeremiah White of Mercerville, New
Jersey is suspected to be a hero turned arsonist. But he dropped off the face of the earth and they
can’t find him. He rescued a boy from a fire, but then a series of unexplainable fires popped up
wherever he was. Before that there is nothing all too good either. His family died in a fire when he
was eight. The Fire Department found him soaking wet and shivering on the lawn while the house
blazed behind him. He was taken to the hospital and then sent with Child Protective Services. The
car was ambushed after running over a spike trap and Jeremiah was kidnapped from it. They
searched for him for a year and a half before the case went cold. Then, six and a half years later he
was found wandering down a highway in Nevada. He was skin and bones and a full examination
had revealed he’d suffered through a great amount of physical and sexual abuse. The Nevada police
sent him back to New Jersey where he was in a car crash. He was pronounced dead on the scene
but later woke up in the morgue. There’s a couple years of nothing. Shortly after he turned 18, he
filed domestic abuse charges against his then fiance, Dale Adder and had a restraining order filed
against him. A year later, he rescued the boy. But then six fires in three weeks cropped up at his
school, his foster home, the bus he took to school, as well as three vacant lots on his block. When
police went to bring him in for questioning, Jeremiah was in the wind. He’s been missing since.”

“So Jeremiah White is a fugitive?” Monroe asked, voice coming out choked.

“If he’s even still alive, yeah. But after all that… I think it’s a slim chance. What does all this have
to do with Mr. LeBlanc?” Hank asked, sounding like he wanted to forget about the horror of
Jeremiah’s short life.

“We think… that Jeremy is Jeremiah. But don’t say anything about it to anyone… we might be
wrong. Either way, Jeremy also has a restraining order against Dale Adder as well. Dale Adder
may be the man we’re really after.” Nick said, feeling the urge to defend the boy now. Even with
the mounting evidence, he started to believe that Jeremy was incable of the things he’d been
accused of. They weren’t seeing the whole picture. There were just two many puzzle pieces
missing and maybe a few were jammed into the wrong spots.

“Well I might have jumped the gun and looked into Mr. Adder as well.” Hank admitted, “He has
six different restraining orders against him. One in New Jersey, One is Massachusetts, two in New
York, One in New Mexico and one in Texas. He’s been arrested for both domestic and sexual
abuse but was never charged with either. All of his victims have just disappeared into the wind. He
was charged with assault in New York and served a scant two years at the Auburn Correctional
Facility. He skipped out on his parole appointments and there is currently a warrant out for his
arrest.”

“Regardless of who Jeremy really is, if Adder shows up in Portland we arrest him.” Nick said, not
bothering to make it a question when the answer was obvious.

“Yeah… should we notify the Captain of all this… or are we keeping it hush-hush for now?” Hank
asked, not really sure which would be considered the best course of action in this situation.

“Keep it quiet till we get a better handle on what exactly is going on. I don’t want anyone jumping
the gun and spooking Jeremy or Adder into running.” Nick said quickly. It was only partially true.
He didn’t want anyone to arrest Jeremy until he was absolutely certain that the boy was Jeremiah
and certainly not before he was sure Jeremy wasn’t innocent. How had Nick gone from suspicion
to doubt so quickly? The Grimm couldn’t be sure what had flipped the script, but all seemed
jumbled up. Something just wasn’t right about all of it. It was all just too… convenient.

“Alright, Nick. Call me if and when that changes. You know I don’t like keeping things from the
Captain. He can be kinda scary.” Hank admitted.
“I will. Thanks, Hank.” Nick said, before hitting the end call button. The three continued to stare at
the phone where it still rested on the newspaper clipping as if willing more answers to come from
it.

“How could that kind and cheerful guy be an arsonist? He seems to care about others way too
much to risk lives for false valor.” Monroe asked quietly.

“Well we’re not gonna get answers just sitting here. There’s nothing more we can do tonight
anyway.” Rosalee said, glancing out the window at the setting sun.

“Well, why don’t we see what’s in these? Who buys gifts for the guests at a housewarming party?”
Monroe asked, sweeping the little gift bags up from the floor beside his chair.

“Young authors with more money than they know what to do with?” Rosalee asked, reaching out
for one of the bags.

“Nick?” Monroe asked, separating the last two bags out and holding out for Nick to take. Nick
sighed, realizing they were right. The answers weren’t going to start popping out of the ether. He
took the bag offered to him and began to pull the colorful tissue paper out.

Tangled in the tissue paper, a piece of plastic slipped free and landed on the table top.
Shuffling the paper out of the way, Nick picked up the gift card from where it had fallen. His
eyebrows shot up as discovered it was loaded with a hundred dollars for the cafe he frequented. A
quick glance up at Rosalee and Monroe revealed they’d both gotten gift cards as well, from
different local small businesses. Setting the card to the side, Nick finished removing the tissue
paper and reached carefully into the bag. His fingers brushed something metal and he wrapped
them around it, pulling it out into the light. Before he could think anything more than “pocket
watch”, he heard a shocked hiss and it was snatched from his hand.

“This is a Baume & Mercier Watch! These were made in the 18th century and are worth upwards
of 50 to 60 thousand dollars?” Monroe exclaimed, his own gift bag abandoned as he stroked his
fingers gingerly over the delicate gold and jeweled star filigree.

“Maybe you should have taken this bag then.” Nick replied with a laugh as he reached into the bag
again. His fingers clasped around something soft and he pulled it out. A fancy silk handkerchief
shimmered in the dying sunlight, a rich red color, “Maybe it’s good you didn’t.” Nick said, tucking
it away quickly.
“Sorry for snatching it like that. Would you like it back?” Monroe asked, though it was clear he’d
rather not give it back.

“No no. I’ve no need for an antique pocket watch. That’s much more your thing.” Nick said with a
laugh.

“Then you want this?” Monroe asked, setting the watch down to root around in his gift bag until he
pulled out the metal object rolling around in his bag. He opened his hand and a silver ring lay in
his palm. It was etched with vines and leaves and inlaid with soft blue sapphires.

“Oh, wow… I really like it.” Nick said, pinching it up from Monroe’s hand and slipping it on to the
middle finger of his left hand. It fit perfectly, still cool to the touch as if it hadn’t had time to
absorb the heat of Monroe’s hand before he had taken it.

“Oh look at this!” Rosalee exclaimed, holding up a brilliant jade lion on a leather band.

“He put a lot of thought into each of these, man. I feel a bit bad for suspecting him… but maybe
he’s trying to trick everyone into thinking he’s a good man…” Monroe said, wincing when Nick
turned to glare at him.

“We don’t know if he’s good or bad yet. No more assumptions.” Nick said, still feeling guilty of
his own quick assumptions.

“You’re one to talk, man! You’re the reason I ended up in his office!” Monroe exclaimed in
frustration.

“I know, Monroe. I’m sorry. Something about this man has all my senses on high alert. I reacted
poorly upon that first meeting. I’m not afraid to admit that. Something is off about him, but none of
us are really seeing the whole thing. We’ve only got the pieces and were just trying to shove them
together without really looking to see where they go.” Nick defended, rubbing at an ache that had
started to settle between his eyes from the stress.

“You’re right. We are sorta… fumbling around in the dark here.” Monroe admitted.

“Why don’t we just ask him? All this secrecy isn’t too conducive for finding it all out either.”
Rosalee suggested. Both Nick and Monroe looked at her like she was nuts.
“Or a quick way to be murdered and buried in the woods.” Monroe exclaimed.

“We may have to do just that… But let’s wait, alright? Let’s do a little more digging before we
question him.” Nick said, trying to break the growing tension between the excitable Blutbad and
the glowering Fuchsbau.

“Fine… for now. But I hope it doesn’t come back to bite us, literally or figuratively.” Monroe
muttered.

*****

Meanwhile, across town a man stood watching through a kitchen bay window as a young
man washed dishes with a smile on his face, music playing through a little speaker sitting beside
him on the counter. Jeremiah White had suffered quite a bit in his short life, but it hadn’t twisted
him toward anger and resentment. He had turned it toward kindness. Giving people that little bit of
joy, treating them with love and friendship, could be enough to save them from the darkness of the
world he knew all too well. Now, he was Jeremy White, a romance author who had hoped this
would be the last move, the last ditch attempt at escape. He thought he’d covered his tracks. He
thought he’d been smart, choosing a name so very close to his original name and settling himself in
a place so quiet and forgettable that he would never find him again. But he was wrong. He would
find him again and again, unless he was stopped for good. But did he have it in him to actually take
a life? How deep did the treachery go? Had he truly set those fires or had someone else?

“ Relax and tell me why? Please tell me why do we worry? Why? Why do we worry at all? Just tell
me why? Why do we worry? When worry’s never helping tell me why, why worry at all? ” Jeremy
sang, doing a little shimmy as he scrubbed the risotto pan. The figure watching grinned to himself
and ducked away. Dale Adder was already in town, already hiding in plain sight. It wasn’t yet time
to let the chips fall where they may. But that time was fast approaching. All the pieces were in
play, but who would come out as the victor?
 Ask and You Shall Receive
Chapter Summary

Monroe confronts Jeremy against Nick's wishes; Nick and Rosalee run into Dale
Adder; Jeremy has a breakdown and kisses Monroe;

Chapter Notes

This chapter was brought to you by writing in church, feeling suave, and the song
Collapse by NEFFEX

I think I have a good idea about where this is gonna go now, thought not everything is
figured out yet.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Nick groaned as he woke up on Monroe’s couch, sitting up and cracking his back in one long line.
That was the brakes of sleeping on a rickety old couch with a dozen ticking clocks. But he’d gotten
some sleep at the very least. He could hear movement in the kitchen, could smell the richness of
the fancy coffee that Monroe loved and it finally urged him up off the couch.

“Morning, buddy. How was the couch?” Monroe asked, the teasing in his voice as if he’d heard
Nick’s groans and grunts of discomfort as he’d woken up.

“With the amount of times I sleep on it, I really should just buy you a better time.” Nick muttered,
but grinned back at the Blutbad as he pressed a steaming cup into Nick’s hands. Rosalee sat quietly
at the counter, looking like she’d slept as well as Nick had if not worse.

“I had such nightmares…” She said quietly, almost too quietly to hear, “If Jeremy really is a
victim… we have to save him.” Monroe looked at her, then glanced at Nick. The two men shared a
glance, worried for the impact this had had on her.

“But they were just nightmares, right? Nothing prophetic?” Nick asked, setting down his coffee to
rub her shoulder reassuringly. He was startled when Rosalee fixed him with an exasperated glare.
“I’m not a Hexenbeist, Nick. I don’t see visions.” She told him, crossing her arms at him.

“Wait… Hexenbeists can see visions?” Nick asked and Rosalee had a moment where she
remembered he was still very new to the wesen world.

“The plural of Hexenbeist is Hexenbeister.” Monroe piped up matter-of-factly.

“Some of them can. Not all of them.” Rosalee said, rubbing her forehead and sighing softly, “So
what is our plan for today?”

“I’m going to confront him… he’s going to notice this is missing soon enough.” Monroe said,
gesturing to the clipping still laying half folded on the table, and Nick glared at him.

“I thought we agreed that we would wait to question him.” Nick hissed.

“ You agreed. But I’ve slept on it and I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere waffling about
looking for clues.” Monroe replied sharply, genuinely angry with the Grimm.

“Fine. But I’m not going with you.” Nick replied back with just as much venom.

“Boys, I am way too shaken to deal with this metaphorical pissing contest. Nick, you and I can go
to the shop and go over the books again. Maybe we will find something obscure that we’ve
missed.” She said, breaking up the heated confrontation between the two before knocking back the
rest of her coffee.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” Nick relented, giving Monroe an apologetic smile.

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for snapping. This is all just… eating at me. I don’t know what to feel
or what to think and I just want to get to the bottom of it before the top blows off on us.” Monroe
said, patting Nick’s shoulder as the detective finished the dredges of his own coffee, “But first:
breakfast.”

*****
With breakfast eaten and cleaned up, the three parted ways, Nick joining Rosalee this time.
Monroe started his car and waited for his two friends to leave, turning out onto the road in the
direction of the spice shop. With a steeling sigh, Monroe backed out of his driveway and started
down the same path that had taken them to Jeremy’s place the day before. The imagined weight of
the clipping like a stone in his pocket. It seemed to grow heavier the closer he got to the seemingly
formidable task that he’d taken onto himself. Even with determination burning in his chest, he
stayed in the car for ages, just looking at the house. Monroe started to get out and remembered one
very integral flaw in his plan. Would Jeremy even be home at this hour? Or awake for that matter.
The boy was an insomniac, but he also had the strong tea he’d bought from the shop. With a groan,
Monroe wondered if his own waffling was in response to his anxiety. In truth, he had stolen the
clipping. It wasn’t much, but it’s not like he asked Nick if there could be legal ramifications for
swiping even a single piece of newspaper. Shaky now, Monroe got out, deciding it was time to just
get up and do it or give up and go home. He wasn’t about to give up. Instead, he walked up to the
door and knocked. A muffled response came through the door and a few moments later it opened
wide.

“Oh, hello. Good morning. It was Monroe, right?” Jeremy asked cheerfully despite the bags under
his eyes and the hyper paleness of his skin. He looked almost haunted, a total contradiction to the
cheerfulness.

“Yeah… could I come in… I need to um… I need to talk to you.” Monroe stuttered out, caught in
the warm emerald of his gaze.

“Of course, darling. Come on in.” Jeremy said, turning around and walking further into the house,
letting Monroe follow behind him.

The Blutbad hesitated just a moment before following him in. He turned and shut the door before
turning back to find Jeremy’s eyes on him. His anxiety had him woging and, had he blinked, he’d
have missed how the emerald of Jeremy’s eyes went gold for just a split second. But Jeremy didn’t
react as if he’d seen the woge and smiled brightly.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, a cinnamon roll? I just made some of both.” Jeremy asked gently.
Monroe didn’t answer right away. He could smell coffee and cinnamon, but it took second place to
whatever the fuck just happened with Jeremy’s eyes, “Well? Are you alright, hun?” Monroe
blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah. We need to talk.” Monroe finally said, fixing his eyes on Jeremy’s. The calm cool emeralds
lit with something akin to worry and the man cocked his head.

“Those words are never good. Definitely going to need coffee and sweets then.” Jeremy
murmured, his expression guarded but still cheerful as he gestured for Monroe to follow him. The
enigma led him through the living room, the furniture returned to their places now that there were
no more party guests to make room for.

Always the whirlwind, Jeremy had a coffee and a still warm cinnamon roll placed on the table in
front of Monroe before the Blutbad had even realized he’d been urged into a chair. Jeremy settled
into the seat across from him with his own cup and matching cinnamon roll. He took a deep drink
from his mug and Monroe’s nose wrinkled at the sharp scent of rum wafting from the steaming
cup.

“Well, what is it, darling? Was it something I said at the party?” Jeremy asked gently, cocking his
head. Monroe swallowed, searching the boy’s face before he stutteringly pulled the clipping from
the pocket it had been burning through and laid it out on the table.

“I… took this.” Monroe said dumbly, his convictions of the morning dried up from the moment
Jeremy had opened the door.

“I figured someone had and with the way you and your friends were so shifty there before you left,
I figured it was one of you.” Jeremy said simply, as if it were that easy. As if it weren’t such an
integral and damning piece of evidence.

“Look man… I’m just gonna say it. What are you? What happened?” Monroe burst out with and
slammed his hand down on the table, narrowly avoiding crushing the sweet. Jeremy jumped,
flinching back from Monroe almost instinctively. The reaction of someone used to being hit.
Monroe instantly felt guilty for it. Jeremy sighed, his shoulders sagging as if under a great weight.

“It’s a rather long story, darling.” He said quietly, fingers nervously tapping on the table edge, his
eyes darting to where Monroe’s hand still rested on the table. It was like he expected the Blutbad to
just up and hit him. Monroe withdrew the hand, holding both up in a show of peace before tucking
them both under the table.

“I have the time… and I won’t hurt you. I put enough together to know… that it’s triggering for
you. I’m sorry.” Monroe said, parts of him still warring on where or not this man was the victim or
perpetrator.

“I’ve been carrying it… for so long… I’m not sure I have the words.” Jeremy said, letting out a
shaky half-hysterical laugh.

“Take you time, man. I just… I’ve got to know.” Monroe said, wanting to pat his hand
reassuringly, but kept his hands under the table for now.
“I’ve never had anyone pry like this before. Here, I thought Portland, Oregon would be a quiet
place to settle in. But I’ve also… never encountered whatever it is you and Rosalee are.” Jeremy
admitted, fingers stilling before grabbing the handle of his mug so he could drink deeply from his
spiked coffee. Monroe’s brows shot up in surprise at the admission, watching the younger man’s
Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. Monroe had a moment where his brain intrusively whispered, I
should lick it . Before he blinked and scolded himself mentally.

“Talk to me, Jeremy. Tell me what you are and… if it’s okay with the others, I’ll tell you what
Rosalee and I are.” Monroe said.

“In short? I don’t know. I don’t know what I am. I was very young when I lost my parents. One
moment I was asleep in my bed in my tiger pajamas and the next I was awake in the grass and
soaked in water. The house was on fire and I had no idea how it happened. Later… when more
fires started cropping up where I’d been…I think I caused them. I had to have done it. I don’t have
any other explanation… but I don’t know how I did it… I can’t do it if I try. And I’ve tried. I
thought, maybe if I could do it on purpose, I could learn how to control it. It was useless.” Jeremy
explained, looking down at the table as he spoke. He was trying to hide the tears, but Monroe
could smell the saltiness of them.

“You did mean to start the fires?” Monroe urged, unable to resist lifting a hand to lay on Jeremy’s.
The boy flinched, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he flipped his hand and squeezed Monroes with his
own scarred fingers.

“No, Monroe. I don’t want to hurt people. I never have. But everywhere I go, people get hurt… it’s
been a long time since the last fire. Dale… he… no matter where I go, he finds me and he hurts
me… which doesn’t matter, but he also hurts the people around me. I try not to get too close to
people anymore. You should stay away from me once you’ve learned all you want to know.
He’s… he always shows up after he calls and he called last night.” Jeremy said, sorrow choking his
words.

“How can it not matter? It matters. We won’t leave you to face him alone. Rosalee is already
fiercely protective of you and Nick is a cop. He… might have followed you and heard the phone
call.” Monroe told him.

“Don’t. I… I couldn’t bear to let you or them get hurt protecting me. I can’t die. Or… I do die…
but it’s not permanent. That’s why it doesn’t matter.” Jeremy murmured, but he clutched Monroe’s
hand like it was a life line.

“We will stop him, Jeremy. Nick is… good at stopping bad men.” Monroe promised, watching the
man fall apart in front of him was tearing at his heart. How had he ever thought that Jeremy was
the bad guy? His other hand came up, cupping the side of Jeremy’s face and stroking his thumb of
a small scar at the corner of his mouth, “These scars tell me how strong you are, Jere… Jem. Stay
strong a little longer and we’ll stop him.” Monroe said, catching a tear as it spilled down Jeremy’s
face. He didn’t know what had made him want to call the man Jem, but it felt right. A broken
whimper spilled from Jeremy’s lips and Monroe’s heart broke so much more.

“I don’t know if I can. I’ve been fighting so long, running for so long… If he finds me again… I
don’t think my mind will survive.” Jeremy admitted, looking up at him with watery green eyes.
Monroe felt anger surge up in him at the thought that this asshole had pushed such a good man this
far.

The anger made him woge again and he saw the brilliant gold in Jeremy’s eyes before the table
was suddenly tossed to the side. He didn’t know if he’d done it or if it was Jeremy’s doing, but as
the cups smashed on the floor Jeremy’s slight form had filled his arms and lips were on his. Jeremy
tasted of cinnamon and coffee and rum and Monroe found himself kissing back without a thought
or hesitation. Monroe wrapped around his waist, savoring his warmth as Jeremy’s tongue flicked
against his bottom lip and he parted his lips under the request. But the moment their tongues
touched, Jeremy seemed to realize what he was doing and yanked back, covering his own lips with
his hand.

“I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.” Jeremy gasped out, more tears welling up
in his eyes again.

“Jem… shut up.” Monroe said, nipping at the younger man’s Adam’s apple before soothing his
tongue over the red mark. Then, a hand going to the back of Jeremy’s head, he jerked him back
into a kiss. Jeremy gasped lowly, making a small sound against Monroe’s mouth.

*****

Back at the spice shop, Rosalee had Nick relabelling jars of spices and teas after the last two hours
of pouring over the books stirred up no answers whatsoever. Nick was getting nervous with no
word from Monroe since they’d split ways. Nick was carefully reprinting a label for an herb called
Horehound when the bell above the door signaled that someone had entered the shop. He heard
Rosalee’s soft welcome and put the jar down, starting out into the front room of the shop. A man
with a short beard trimmed close to his face and a plain haircut stood at the front desk. Instantly,
Nick disliked the man. His expression was haughty and entitled. He looked like the sort of man to
kick puppies for fun.

“Hello, beautiful. I am looking for a man that may have recently moved into town. I came here
because he uses herbs and tea to sleep. He’s a danger to others so it is very important that I find
him. This is him.” The man said as Nick sidled up next to Rosalee. As he peered down at the
photo, he felt his blood run cold. It was a photo of Jeremy walking into the local coffee shop. Nick
didn’t think, his gun was in his hand and aimed at the man before anyone could blink.
“A danger?! You’re the danger! You are under arrest for stalking and the violation of an order of
protection.” Nick exclaimed. Dale looked at the gun with mild surprise before brushing it to the
side with his pointer finger.

“He’s an arsonist and a little succubus. You’re already enthralled by him, clearly. Let me take him
off your hands. I can handle him, put him in his place.” Dale said, grinning threateningly. Maybe it
wasn’t actually threatening, but the double set of fangs and black abysmal eyes that appeared
certainly made it seem so.

“No. You will not be putting your hands on him again.” Nick said, but it was Rosalee who threw
herself over the counter to try and pounce on the man. But Dale was faster, lurching back out of her
reach. He laughed maliciously and was out of the door before either one of them could stop him.
“He called him a succubus? Did he mean literally or was it just another way to call him a slut?”

“I don’t know. But I’m calling Monroe. You call Hank and tell him that that bastard is in town. I
don’t know about you, but I think we really need to protect Jeremy now.” Rosalee said, picking up
her cell phone and dialing Monroe’s mobile number.

*****

Jeremy was still straddling Monroe’s lap, engaged in licking one of the Blutbad’s fangs when the
shrill ring of a cell phone filled the air. He groaned lowly, but drew back. Monroe blinked up at
him and Jeremy smiled at him.

“That’s gotta be yours. Mine is in a hundred pieces in the basement.” Jeremy murmured, blushing
softly as he slowly got up from the other man’s lap. He was embarrassed by how carried away he’d
gotten. Monroe nodded, quickly pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and answering the call.

“Hey, Rosalee. Everything is fine… why do you come to Jeremy’s place and - What? What! Come
to Jeremy’s place now. I’ll tell him what happened. I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer questions
once you’re here.” Monroe said, going noticeably pale as he listened to Rosalee speak. He hung up
and looked toward Jeremy, who had been pretending not to listen as he righted the table and started
picking up the bits of shattered mug.

“Is everything alright?” Jeremy asked nonchalantly, as he continued to kneel on the ground,
placing bits of one mug into the one that had only lost its handle in the fall.
“Dale Adder is here and paid a visit to the spice shop looking for you.” Monroe said, swallowing
as he delivered the bad news. Jeremy swallowed audibly, reaching for another broken piece of
busted porcelain and yelped when it was sharper than anticipated, slicing through the pad of his
thumb.

“Fuck…” He hissed, looking down at the crimson as it welled up from the rather deep gouge, “Can
you grab me a packet of gauze? They’re in the cupboard above the coffee maker. It’ll heal up soon,
but I always bleed quite a bit first.” Jeremy said softly, not looking up from the crimson as the first
drop spilled down his wrist and dripped to the yellow and white linoleum.

Monroe’s eyes were rapt on the crimson, the red stark against the pale flooring. He dropped to his
knees beside the younger man, taking his elbow in his hand and pulling it towards him. His
instincts urged him to lick the red font as it spilled over Jeremy’s skin and for once he didn’t want
to resist it. Especially after the fiery kisses they’d shared. Jeremy didn’t say a word as Monroe
lowered his head and ran the flat of his tongue up his arm, following the trail of blood to its source.
Iron and cinnamon mixed into a strange flavor in his mouth, but he found he didn’t mind as his
tongue found the wound. Jeremy hissed lowly in pain as he held still, letting the other man clean
the wound as gently and meticulously. The wound stopped bleeding and closed up quickly. Jeremy
made a small surprised sound that morphed into something as close to a purr as ‘human’ could
manage when Monroe rubbed his cheek over the length of his arm affectionately. The instinctive
reaction rasped his beard against the scarred skin in a way that more than appealed to the smaller
man. Monroe looked up at him and his eyes were crimson for a few moments before fading back
to their natural mahogany brown. He blinked a couple times and seemed to come back from
whatever instinctual haze he’d been lost in.

“Oh my god… I am so sorry. That was entirely instinctive. I’m usually better at controlling my
urges… but the color red tends to mess with my control.” Monroe said, looking mortified at his
actions. Jeremy smiled shakily, blushing faintly.

“It’s completely fine, Monroe. It only hurt for a second and, frankly, it was hot as hell.” He
murmured before pausing, thoughtful, “I heal fast. But that was faster than it ever has and I think
it’s because you did what you did.” He finally admitted, looking troubled by it. It only filled him
with more questions.

“Rosalee said that Dale called you a succubus… but they weren’t sure if it was an insult or what
you are…” Monroe started, leaning over to collect up the last handful of broken porcelain to save
Jeremy from more injuries.

“I don’t know which it is. He started calling me ‘succubus’ shortly after things… changed. After
we got engaged he started hitting me. Calling me a slut and whore and succubus. It started only
with physical abuse, but it got worse the longer we were together and with the fires… I just… I ran.
I didn’t know what else to do. I know it was cowardly but… I was scared and still just a kid… I’ve
thought about turning myself in but… what if on top of not being able to die from physical injury
and I stop aging too? I’m such a coward… I just want to live my life…” Jeremy said, standing and
 offering a shaking hand to help him to his feet. Monroe took it and stood before stroking his thumb
against the back, no longer disturbed by the scars.

“You aren’t a coward, Jem. I refuse to believe you caused those fires until I see you actually start
one.” Monroe reassured him, throwing away the broken mug.

“Thank you… no one has ever… trusted me before once they found out.” Jeremy murmured
before taking a deep breath. Well, let’s get some new cups and I’ll dole out the cinnamon rolls for
us all.” He added, smiling gently and starting to go and serve up the sweets from the pan sitting on
the stovetop.

Chapter End Notes

Rosalee and Monroe aren't together together yet in this fic, it's basically AU anyway.
This is probably gonna end up a poly relation fic cuz that's typical of me. I didn't plan
this, so its as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.
 From the Beginning
Chapter Summary

Jeremy tells what he remembers of his story; Jeremy realizes he finds all three of his
new friends attractive; Monroe stays the night (in the guest room);

TW on this chapter: Mild description of SA and drug use on a child; read at your own
discretion

Chapter Notes

Sorry for the little hiatus, I'm planning a vacation to Salem next month and have been
too tied up to write more than a paragraph or two at a time.

This chapter was brought to you by the song Black by Frito and Kell OG

Nick knocked on the door to Jeremy’s house, scanning the street with Rosalee tucked close
to his side. Both were still shaken from their encounter with Dale and Nick had taken quite a bit of
convincing in the car on the way to actually holster his gun. It was rather unnerving watching him
drive with the loaded gun balanced on his knee. The door cracked open and those soft green eyes
peeked out. Then the door closed again, the chain lock sliding out of place before Jeremy opened
the door wide. He looked a little pale, as if answering the door had been an epic task to perform.

“Come on in…” Jeremy murmured, a twinge of guilt passing through his eyes as he looked at his
friends. He’d been making out with Monroe while they had been facing his problems personified.
Nick didn’t hesitate in taking the invite, ushering Rosalee over the threshold before following
closely after her. He’d been protective like this since Dale had disappeared and he’d gotten off the
phone with his partner, “Come on into the kitchen. We have some coffee and some cinnamon
rolls.” Jeremy said quietly, turning away and leading the way into the house after Nick shut and
locked the door.

The two followed after him to find Monroe scrubbing frosting off of the cabinet under the sink
from where the cinnamon roll had collided when the table had gone flying. The table had been
righted and was now placed with four steaming mugs and four cinnamon buns.

“What are you doing? I can clean that, Monroe. It’s my fault.” Jeremy protested, rushing to the
Blutbad’s side. But Monroe laughed and threw the rag at him, catching the younger man in the
face with it.
“I’m already done, Jem.” He said as Jeremy laughed and pulled the rag off his face. Nick and
Rosalee looked between the two in confusion, trying to understand what had changed between this
morning and now.

“What did we miss?” Rosalee asked carefully when Monroe reached out for Jeremy, but the boy
quickly evaded the touch, urging the other man toward the table. Monroe frowned at the sudden
denial, wondering if Jeremy didn’t want to touch in front of the others out of embarrassment.

“I… I kissed Monroe…” Jeremy blurted out, looking down at his hands as everyone settled around
the table, “I’ve never felt the urge to kiss anyone after Dale and… I guess I never really thought it
was possible for his… insults to be real. What if I really am a succubus? Why else would you go
from suspicious of me to… that…” Jeremy said, looking at Monroe with so much guilt in his eyes.

“Jem, I liked you from the first time I met you. But I was too caught up in the mystery of you to
really focus on that. With some of the questions answered and out of the way… I guess I didn’t feel
the need to resist it anymore. It’s not because you’re some sex demon!” Monroe exclaimed,
reaching forward and making sure to catch his hand before he could pull it away.

“There’s… a lot to unpack there.” Nick mumbled, rubbing his forehead, “First off, Jeremy, you
said you’ve only ever kissed Dale… am I to assume you’ve only been… sexually active with Dale
then?”

“Well, yes… I wanted to wait till we married… but then he wouldn’t take no for an answer… I
didn’t think I could say no. We were engaged… I was already supposed to be his anyway… but
then everything happened and I ran. I don’t ever get close enough to anyone to even start to
develop a relationship usually. I don’t want people to be hurt because of me. I was weak… I’m
sorry.” Jeremy said, squeezing Monroe’s hand before trying to take his own hand back. But
Monroe wouldn’t let him.

“From what I know about the basics of succubi… they feed off sex. By that logic, wouldn’t you
have quote unquote starved by now?” Nick asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

“I… don’t know. I don’t have any answers for you in the name of what I am and I’d rather not let
whatever I am hurt any of you. After this meeting, you should probably just leave. Pretend you
never met me and move on with your lives. I’ll just get you hurt, killed, or both. I couldn’t bear
that. Monroe… I like you… I want to explore whatever the hell it is we started. But it’s just too
dangerous. He’s killed people in my life and he’ll do it again. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”
Jeremy said softly, realizing his struggle to get his hand free was pointless and just let their twined
hands drop onto the table.
“I’m not going to just leave you alone! Not when that bastard is in town! He abused you and now
he’s tormenting you! That man needs to be stopped and you deserve to be saved!” It was Rosalee
who spoke up, who woged and met Jeremy’s now-gold eyes without flinching.

“I’m not leaving either, Jem. If you don’t… I can back off and be your friend. But I won’t leave
your side until he’s locked up or dead. I swear it on my very soul.” Monroe told him, pain in his
eyes. But he would do it. He’d step back if Jeremy asked him to. Dale had forced Jeremy to do
enough terrible things, Monroe would never dare to even let the man think Monroe wanted Jeremy
to do anything that made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to just be my friend. But I can’t afford to be selfish.” Jeremy grumbled,
jerking in surprise when a hand grasped the one not held by Monroe. Nick had grabbed his hand.

“I’m not going anywhere either, Jeremy. You’re stuck with us and wanting to fall in love is not
selfish.” Nick said softly.

“I’m going to get you all killed…” Jeremy groaned softly, thumping his head against the back of
his chair and looking up at the stuccoed paint on the ceiling.

“Nick nearly gets us killed on a weekly basis, so it’s nothing new.” Monroe replied, grinning when
Nick fixed him with an unamused glare. Neither man had let go of Jeremy’s hands, but they were
distracted enough that he slipped out of their grasp.

“Well… that’s enough doom and gloom for this moment. Eat your damn cinnamon rolls, they’re
getting cold.” Jeremy muttered, not used to having positive attention aimed toward him.

“Can you tell me everything from the beginning, Jeremy? We’ll eat the cinnamon rolls while you
talk, but maybe we’ll find some missing piece that you’ve never realized was important in the
telling of it.” Nick asked, not ready to drop the subject.

“Like from the beginning, beginning? Like the fire? Or the beginning from when I met Dale?”
Jeremy asked, sighing and picking up his own cinnamon roll. He took a big bite of it, chewing
slowly as if it would delay the telling regardless of Nick’s answer.

“Start with what you remember from the fire. As much as you can remember.” Nick said, picking
up his own cinnamon roll and taking a bite when Jeremy looked at it pointedly with his eyes.
Jeremy swallows his mouthful, dabbing icing from his lips.
“I don’t remember much. There’s a huge blank spot in my head between going to sleep that night
and waking up sopping wet in the front yard. Mom and Dad put me to bed around 8 o’clock, but I
remember staying up to read my comics until 10. I fell asleep and I have a few blurry feelings of
choking on smoke, but I don’t know how I ended up soaked to the skin and in the yard. The sirens
were the first thing I focused on, before I even felt the dampness. The paramedics wrapped me in
one of those foil blankets and kept poking and prodding while the firemen fought to put out the
fire. I remember the paramedics asking me questions but everything felt so distant. I told a therapist
once, that everything was distant and hazy and that my memory was in tatters. She said I’d likely
been in shock and that it often came from witnessing something horrifying that my young mind
couldn’t cope with. I’m pretty sure a kid would be extremely terrified by setting their family on
fire.” Jeremy said, feeling the choking guilt that always consumed him when he spoke of the
incident. He put his sweet down and pushed it toward Monroe who’d already finished his. The
Blutbad was licking the frosting from his fingers and his eyes lit up at the offered treat.

“Are these made from scratch?” Monroe asked, cutting Nick off as he opened his mouth to ask a
question. Jeremy managed a smile, catching the caring look in the other man’s eyes. It was a
distraction, meant to calm him.

“Yeah. Completely vegan. I had a feeling one or all of you were coming over and I wanted to make
sure I had a treat for you. Almond milk, vegan butter. Though, does yeast count? It’s technically a
living organism.” Jeremy pointed out and Monroe blinked in surprise. Both at the consideration
and the playful joke he’d added.

“Well, I don’t count yeast. But I’m not vegan so much for the morality of it. It just helps me
control my less than human urges.” Monroe explained, realizing just how little they’d spoken
before all of this. He made a mental note to remedy that immediately.

“Ah, that makes sense. I don’t totally get the morality of veganism. But to each their own. I’m
happy with a nice cheeseburger, but if someone wants a bean burger, I’m not going to deny them a
meal. My freezer and fridge are stocked with both. I guess… this is something I’ve always
wanted… sitting around the table with friends, enjoying conversation and food. It always seemed
out of reach.” Jeremy said with a soft sigh.

“It’s not out of reach. We’ll help you and then you’ll be free to stay. Everyone in the community
already appears to like you.” Rosalee pointed out.

“Yeah… you guys would happen to know people that make gift baskets do you? Four appeared on
my doorstep this morning. One of the cards said ‘Any friend of Nick’s is a friend of mine’.”
Jeremy asked, gesturing to where you could just see the baskets balanced on the counter beside the
door to the basement.
“Sounds like Bud. Where did the Eisbiber community get that we were friends?” Nick asked,
frowning softly. Jeremy just shrugged, a warmth welling in his chest at just the idea of friendship,
“But go on with your story.” Jeremy sighed and nodded.

“No… maybe we should wait on it. None of the past matters until after Dale is caught, Jem.”
Monroe protested, worried for the mental wellbeing of the younger man. Jeremy reached out,
laying a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

“No, Monroe. It’s better if it all comes out now. Nick’s right. Maybe one of you will hear
something that I’d missed experiencing it myself.” Jeremy told him, sliding his hand down his arm
and hesitantly taking his hand back into his own of his own volition this time.

“Don’t push yourself. We can wait if it’s too much to talk about right now, Jeremy. Though I do
have a question. Why do you keep calling him Jem, Monroe?” Rosalee asked.

“I don’t know. But I like it. He’s Jem for me now.” Monroe explained, squeezing Jeremy’s hand
and smiling at Rosalee.

“Well it is cute. His eyes do remind me of precious jewels.” Rosalee admitted, smiling softly at
Jeremy. Jeremy blinked, really focusing on her now. Cute , echoed in his mind and he had to agree
that he found her cute too. What was wrong with him? He’d never let himself stop and feel like this
before. Now, it was like suddenly being uninhibited. Monroe was handsome, Nick was hot,
Rosalee was cute. He had to find a way to shake it off. They were in enough danger just being his
friends.

“I’m not cute… I might have been, a long time ago. But now…” Jeremy said, touching that tiny
scar at the corner of his mouth. His scars. He thought his scars had robbed him of his looks.
Monroe reached out, nudging his fingers out of the way to stroke the scar himself.

“Your scars do not take away from your handsomeness. You’re a handsome man, Jem.” Monroe
told him, cupping his cheek gently.

“There’s something I read about years ago. It’s a Japanese technique for repairing things with gold.
It highlights what was broken instead of trying to hide it.” Nick suggested, trying to tell him that
his scars were beautiful, but Nick had never been a man of elegant wording. Try as he may.
“Yes! I know that one. Kintsugi. It literally means gold seams. That’s brilliant, Nick.” Monroe
agreed, making Nick smile that his point had been understood.

“Exactly. Your scars don’t make you ugly, they’re not something to be covered up and hidden.
They show your perseverance, the things that could have broken you, didn’t.” Nick went on to
explain, grinning wildly.

“Nick is more than right, Jeremy.” Rosalee said, looking at the young man to find him blushing
under all the kindness.

“Alright, scars don’t equal bad. Can we stop talking about present day me, so I can talk about past
me?” Jeremy muttered, squeezing Monroe’s hand lightly in his own.

“Alright. But we will be addressing your lack of self confidence later, Jem.” Monroe told him,
finally getting around to picking up and eating the half of cinnamon roll Jeremy had given him.
Jeremy sighed, certainly not looking forward to that conversation.

“Where did you want me to go next?” Jeremy asked, looking at Nick again. He was mid-bite of his
own cinnamon roll and looked sheepish as he chewed and swallowed quickly.

“Sorry. What happened after that first fire? The drive to your foster home was ambushed?” Nick
asked, trying to remember exactly what Hank had described over the phone.

“Yes. After it was clear I wasn’t injured in any way, at least not in any way the doctors could find,
I was sent with a social worker to the foster home that would take me until the authorities could
locate any relatives. We never made it. Mary, the social worker, was talking to me one moment,
telling me about the family I was going to live with. Then next, the car hit something and we were
spinning out of control. Mary hit her head and she was bleeding, but she was awake until her door
was wrenched open. Someone yanked her out of the car and I vaguely remember seeing her
unconscious - or dead - on the ground as this big man dragged me away. Then there was this sharp
prick in my neck and burning in my veins before darkness swallowed my sight.” Jeremy explained,
stopping to clear his throat and drink some coffee before continuing to speak, “My first worry
when I woke was if Mary was okay. She was so nice to me in the 48 hours I had known her. I
woke up in this cell in a room made of stone. My eight year old brain called it a dungeon, but it
was probably just a cell welded into a storm cellar. It had stairs up to a sort of angled double doors
like you see in movies about tornados. There weren’t any windows, but sunlight could be seen
through the doors at the top of the stairs. It was how I knew that it was two days before anyone
came down, no matter how much I shouted for help or banged on the bars. My hands ached from
it, but the cuts from the metal always disappeared fast, about twenty minutes usually. I think my
internal injuries take longer to heal because my body prioritizes keeping my blood inside. That’s
my theory at least. Like it’s my blood that does the healing or is necessary for the healing process.”
Jeremy said, dragging his nails over his arm hard enough for blood to well up in the ruts he’d
made. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds. One minute, two, and the wound was healed
completely.

“I can’t think of any wesen that can do that. I’m wondering if you’re not a wesen at all. Maybe
you’re something else entirely.” Rosalee said, “Dale was different too. Could it be that he knows
what you actually are? Was he involved in that first kidnapping?”

“I don’t think he was part of the kidnapping. He’s only a couple years older than me. He’d have
only been 10 or 11 at the time of my kidnapping. There were three men and a woman that I saw
when I was locked in that cell. But I’m getting ahead of myself.” Jeremy said, finishing off the last
of his coffee and moving to get up. But Monroe stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, taking
the empty mug and getting up instead.

“No sugar and a tablespoon of cream, right?” Monroe asked, having watched him make his first
cup.

“Yeah. I only add sugar to coffee if it's shitty coffee and I don’t buy shitty coffee.” Jeremy agreed,
secretly delighted that Monroe had paid that much attention to the little things he did. Jeremy
always thought of everyone else, so it was nice to have someone else think of him, even in such a
little way.

“A man after my own heart. I have this honduran dark roast at home I think you’d love.” Monroe
gushed as he poured the coffee into Jeremy’s cup and splashed in the cream from the honest-to-
God chilled cream pitcher.

“Well, if you ever invite me over, I’d love to try it.” Jeremy murmured with a sweet smile. Monroe
froze as he went to pick up the cup.

“Maybe you should come stay at my place while Dale is in town. He’ll know you live here if he
knew to check a tea shop for you. I have a spare room and everything…” Monroe offered, the idea
of leaving Jeremy here, unprotected, making his heart race with fear.

“I told you, I’m not putting any of you at risk. Staying in your house would put you in danger. I’ll
stay here.” Jeremy said, accepting the mug as soon as Monroe came back over.

“Then let me stay here. Please. I can’t leave you unprotected, not after… earlier.” Monroe said,
thinking of both the kisses and licking the blood from the younger man’s wound. Sharing blood
was an intimate thing for Blutbaden after all. Jeremy frowned but sighed softly. He didn’t want to
be alone either. Perhaps the built up years of loneliness had made him weak to his own resistance.

“Fine… I have two guest rooms… I’ll just need to buy some new sheets. I’ve not set them up
yet… frankly, I wasn’t planning to. I never have guests stay the night.” Jeremy admitted, though a
part of him just wanted to say screw it and let the Blutbad share his bed with him. It was moving
all too quickly and for the first time in a long time, Jeremy was terrified of what he was.

“Well, I can take you to this lovely boutique in town. They sell handmade comforters and nice
sheets. We can make a day of it!” Monroe offered and Jeremy found himself smiling again, taking
the offered hand when Monroe sat down beside him again.

“I would love that, Monroe. If you stay tonight, I have plenty of bedding in my bed… that I could
give you some to make the bed in the guest room.” Jeremy offered, chickening out before he could
offer him the empty spot in his own bed.

“That’ll work for me. I run hot, so I don’t need a lot of blankets when I sleep.” Monroe said,
delighting at the idea of being wrapped in the blankets Jeremy slept in, already finding the man’s
scent appealing.

“It’s a plan then.” Jeremy murmured softly, smiling. But the smile slipped and he sighed once
more. Time to continue the story, “Two days passed and that door opened. It was night time, so I
could see much before the doors closed again. A tall man with curly black hair and black eyes
came down the stairs with a sandwich and a bottle of water and passed them through the bars
without a word. I was thirsty and starving and a naive child, so I just took them. I guzzled the water
and ate the sandwich, but there must have been something in one or the other, cuz I felt really dizzy
and passed out. When I woke up… he was over me and it hurt. But I was far too sluggish to fight or
get away.” Jeremy said, speaking delicately as if too much detail would shatter him.

“Wait you mean… he was…” Nick asked and looked like he just might throw up.

“Yeah. That was the first time. I lost consciousness shortly after he… finished and woke again who
knows how long afterwards. It could have been hours or days. But when I woke up, all four of
them were outside the bars, just… staring at me. I remember feeling dirty and sore and I just curled
up as far away from them as I could as they talked about me over my head. I should have paid
attention but… I was scared and traumatized. I remember snippets. The woman was complaining
that I should have ‘awakened’ already. She kept smacking at the man that had brought me the
sandwich. I ignored them for a little while after that before I heard one of the other men say he
would try this time. He came into the cell, grabbed me, and slammed me back against the bars at
the back of the cell. I must have hit my head because everything went all fuzzy and I lost track of
time. I knew he’d done the same as ‘Trin’ had… because it hurt the same when I came too again. It
continued like that for so long. I was drugged or beaten and always woke up sticky and hurting…”
Jeremy said, choking up and unable to continue. Monroe was woging next to him, growing lowly.
He grabbed hold of Jeremy and dragged him into a hug. Jeremy was struggling to not cry but
Monroe’s embrace proved too much for his self control and he burst into tears. But the next thing
the two knew, both Rosalee and Nick and twined their arms around the two men, cocooning
Jeremy in kindness.

“Could you identify them if you saw them again?” Nick asked his arm curled around Jeremy’s
chest, overlapping Monroe’s with his face pressed against the top of his head.

“Yeah. Their faces are sorta ingrained in my memory after eight years with them.” Jeremy said,
jumping when a hand starts brushing away his tears. He looks up and finds it was Rosalee who
was wiping away his tears.

“Are you going to be okay enough to continue telling the story?” Nick asked, the three still holding
Jeremy in a tangle of limbs and warmth.

“I can… I have to. Putting it off won’t make it any better.” Jeremy said, sad when the arms started
to unwind from around him. But it was only temporary, because Monroe dragged the younger man
into his lap and bracketed him tight against his chest. It seemed to have a good effect on him as he
relaxed into the big Blutbad’s chest.

“Feel better? Comfortable?” Monroe asked, feeling protective over the smaller man in his arms.

“A lot better and very comfortable. Thank you, Monroe.” Jeremy murmured, “Mon défenseur.”

“What does that mean? Sounds French.” Nick asked softly, smiling at how happy Jeremy looked in
Monroe’s arms.

“It means ‘My defender’. It is French. My mother was French. She met my father when he was on
a trip to France for work.” Jeremy murmured gently, sighing and settling back against Monroe’s
chest with ease.

“I like it. Say it again.” Monroe demanded.

“Mon défenseur.” Jeremy complied, grinning to himself in delight.

“So it’s possible you have family in France that the police wouldn’t be able to locate?” Nick asked
and Jeremy shrugged.

“It is entirely possible, but… why wouldn’t they come looking for me when my mother and father
died? It doesn’t matter now. I don’t need them.” Jeremy said, an old anger sharp in his chest after
all these years, “I’m going to continue now. Unless anyone has any questions about what I’ve
already said…”

“No… I think we’re good on the questions for now. When you’re ready, Jeremy.” Rosalee said,
sitting back in her seat across from where Jeremy had originally been seated. Jeremy took a deep
breath and let it out, nuzzling into Monroe as he prepared to finish his tale.

“I was unable to really keep track of time in that little cell, especially when I lost so much time to
the drugs. But then one day, the woman… they only ever called her Red, came down the stairs and
opened my cell. She told me that I must be a dud and that I would never awaken. I stumbled out of
the cell, still sore from the last time I’d been visited. She told me to leave now, or Trin would
come to put me out of my misery. I ran then. I just kept running until a car pulled over. It was all
blurry from there. I woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by nurses and cops. Everyone was so
excited, everyone chattering about the reappearance of Jeremiah White. But by that time, I felt so
distant from the boy I had been. However much they wanted it, I didn’t think I was truly Jeremiah
anymore. Even when they sent me back to New Jersey and tried to help me resume a normal life I
just couldn’t. It was proven when I died in that accident on the way to school and woke up in that
stupid corpse cooler. I struggled through high school, but I managed to graduate by the skin of my
teeth. I met Dale my first semester of college. He’s the reason I dropped out. He convinced me that
he’d take care of me. He convinced me of a lot of things. And then he wouldn’t take no for an
answer. When he killed me the first time, it was an accident. I’d tried to push him away from me
and I tripped over the coffee table. I bashed my head on the corner of the TV stand and died. I
woke up to Dale trying to bury me in the backyard. He hadn’t called the cops, hadn’t tried to get
me help. He thought I was really dead and was going to just bury me in the backyard like a dog.
That was my wake up call. The next time he beat me, I went to the police station. I filed for a
restraining order and I got it. That didn’t stop him. He would still come after me. But when I
ditched town after the last fire, he still found me. No matter where I went, he’d find me and he rape
me, beat me, kill me. He delighted every time I breathed again, everytime I proved my deaths
weren’t permanent. I hoped he wouldn’t find me here, that being trapped first in prison and then on
parole… I’d be free of him finally. But he’s found me… he’s here . I’m scared… I just want it to
stop.” Jeremy concluded, shaking in Monroe’s grip. Monroe tightened his arms around the smaller
man’s waist and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“It will stop. One way or another, he’s going to end up arrested or dead. I’ll kill him myself if I
have to.” Monroe said, growling low in his chest. Jeremy could feel the vibration of it from where
he rested against him. Jeremy lifted the hand that had been cut by the shard of porcelain and
realized something he’d missed. The wound had healed, but there was no scar. His wounds,
however small, were always scarred. But this one hadn’t.

“Monroe… I didn’t scar. The wound didn’t scar!” Jeremy exclaimed, wiggling until Monroe let
him go. But when the raven hair man grabbed a kitchen knife, all three of his guests panicked.

“Jeremy… what are you doing? Put the knife down!” Nick exclaimed, getting up quickly and
approaching as if he were dangerous. Monroe was up as well, but he was more concerned about
Jeremy hurting himself.

“Just one more, Monroe. I want to test it. To see if… to see if it’s just a fluke or not!” Jeremy
explained, leveling the sharp part of the blade to a miraculously unscarred portion of his arm.
Rosalee and Nick were confused, having not witnessed what had happened when the Blutbad had
licked the wound earlier.

“Jem, calm down. We can test it, but don’t go crazy. I know that you can’t die permanently, but
that doesn’t mean I want to see you bleed out if it doesn’t work a second time.” Monroe reasoned
with him, inching closer and closer until he had Jeremy’s arm in his grasp. His inner wolf delighted
at the idea of tasting Jeremy’s blood again, but the rest of him was terrified of what would happen
if the blade nicked anything vital.

“Alright. Just a little one. I’m steady now, we’re steady.” Jeremy agreed, taking a deep breath and
letting go of the wild excitement. It was still there, but milder now as Monroe held his arm in his
big hands. Jeremy carefully pressed the blade to his skin, just enough to open a small cut on the
pale skin. Blood welled bright and red and alive and dripped steadily toward the floor. Monroe
looked at it, trembling slightly himself before he finally gave into the craving and laved his tongue
over the sliced flesh. The hot metallic shock of Jeremy’s blood tasted just as good as it had the first
time. Monroe cleaned away the blood and no more came to the surface, the wound sealing closed
without any evidence left in its wake.

“It’s gone, Jem. It’s gone and there’s no scar.” Monroe said and lifted his head to look at him
before turning to look at Nick and Rosalee. The two were surprised and still confused.

“Maybe this means… if you kill me, I’ll stay dead.” Jeremy whispered and Monroe growled at the
very thought.

“I would never, ever hurt you like he did. Never, Jem.” Monroe said, dragging the broken man to
his chest and swiping the knife from his hand to discard on the counter.
“We need to start recording what we know about you, Jeremy. Including this. It might help us find
some answers.” Rosalee said simply, before glancing at the ticking clock on the wall. It was
already late in the afternoon, the telling of his story having taken them nearly three hours to
complete, “I’m going to go back to the spice shop for now. Monroe, you’ll stay with him tonight,
right? I don’t want Dale to be anywhere near him.”

“I’ll stay here tonight and however long after.” Monroe promised, still holding Jeremy close,
“Come on. Let’s go get you laid down. Telling that story was traumatic for the both of us.”

“I’m going back to the precinct to see if I can find anything else in the system for Dale. If you need
me, call me. But for now, please get some rest.” Nick said and grinned when Monroe swept
Jeremy up into his arms.

“I will. Thank you, Rosalee, Nick… It feels good to have friends. Just please be careful. Don’t go
up against Dale alone.” Jeremy said, the weight of exhaustion falling over him, brought on by the
reliving of his trauma.

“We will. Let’s meet tomorrow morning. At my place. Dale knows about the spice shop now.”
Nick said and waited for sounds of agreement before both he and Rosalee left. Monroe carried
Jeremy upstairs and laid him down amidst the sheets. Jeremy carefully unwound one of his
comforters from the nest of them in his bed as well as one of the many pillows there before sending
Monroe off to the guest room. With the guest room door closed behind Monroe, if the Blutbad
buried his face in the pillow and took a deep inhale of Jeremy’s scent, no one had to know.

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