TITLE: First Do No Harm

AUTHOR: Macx

DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belongs to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)

FEEDBACK: Loved

Christmas time had come as always: suddenly and without warning. At least to many people who found that the 25th was coming closer and closer and they had no gifts shopped, no trees bought and no decorations up.

Detective Nick Burkhardt hadn't lost a thought about the season. The colder weather and the snow should have been a clue, but he had been too busy running after an elusive creature. It had started with a double murder, a couple living at the outskirts of the park, their throats slashed by a sharp weapon. The coroner hadn't been able to determine what kind of weapon it had been, just that it had been very, very sharp. The crime scene unit was still puzzling over what it might have been.

Nick and Hank had been on the case right away, especially when it became clear that the two children of the pair had gone missing. No one had seen the boys and there had been no trace of them either. Daniel and Marcus had simply disappeared and everyone feared that the murderer might have either taken them or disposed of them because they had been witnesses.

Things had gone the Grimm way – the weird way, if Nick was any judge because all things Grimm were still weird – when CSU had discovered skin particles. Lizard skin particles.

Species unknown. Not even the slightest reference to anything on file.

It had been the first clue.

Talking to Monroe had confirmed that yes, there were lizard-like wesen that were extremely elusive, even for creatures, and the Grimm books were not a big help.

So the Grimm had come out to play, hunting down clues, using whatever resources he had – except for his mate. Nick had always kept Renard's involvement into his Grimm investigations at a absolute minimum. Translation: no involvement at all! He wouldn't ask Sean for information or help, and while the captain was expecting reports, the regnant had come to accept that different handling. Even if he didn't really like it.

In the end Nick had the creature cornered, with a few more bruises to show, accompanied by a mild concussion, slash marks across his back.

He didn't figure that there was a second one.

He had had no back up with him because he hadn't wanted to drag Monroe into danger once again.

Now he paid for it.

Something collided with his back, pain exploded from the wounds, and then there was the shock of cold water as he crashed into the lake, through the thin layer of ice that readily gave way underneath him.

There was a scream of denial that wasn't him.

The water was liquid ice, biting into his unprotected skin. Soon the only sensation was that of his lungs burning in his chest, his mind screaming for him to breathe. The logical part reminded him that all he could breathe was water, which would mean suffocation. The survivor in him refused to give in, had him fight.

His head broke through the water and he gulped in breaths of air, coughing wildly. His lips were tinged blue and he was totally breathless. Nick groped helplessly for something to hold onto.

Someone grabbed him. Voices babbled.

Claws bit into his skin, but he didn't really feel it.

Wide gray eyes stared helplessly at reptilian ones and part of him, a hysterical part, realized that the very creature he had chased was now… pulling him out? He thought he saw another one, hovering protectively next to Daniel and Marcus, the two kidnapped boys.

And they shifted. Lizards? All of them?

The boys looked scared, crying to themselves.

Numb fingers curled around the helping hand and he was hoisted up with what little strength still remained in him. He collapsed on the frosted ground that was all around him, shivering violently, spitting water.

"We never meant for anyone to get hurt," a voice said.

W-what?

"They took our kin, killed our cousins."

Huh?

"You have to understand. We don't kill. We wouldn't kill. Please…"

The voice grew muffled. Waves of delirium swept over him and he fought to stay conscious.

He was so, so cold.

Nick stared at the creature. The world around him seemed to alternately expand and contract, distances were inconsistent, and the reality of his own physical existence seemed questionable. His hands twitched, numb fingers grasping for something invisible.

"We'll get you help," the one who had pulled him out said.

Help? What?

"Our kind was always on good terms, really!"

Nick had trouble focusing for real now. Delirium threatened to blank out every rational thought and he moaned softly. Warmth. He wanted to be warm.

There were voices again, in the background, and someone was pulling him away from the water. He felt barely anything. The delirium made way to an abominable feeling of utter cold, which soon turned into just feeling too cold to be comfortable.

Nick closed his eyes; his lungs felt like chips of ice. With a weak sigh he simply surrendered to the darkness.

He was alone.

In the middle of nowhere.

And it was starting to snow.

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Snow was coming down in a light, almost ethereal shower. There was no one on the roads, there was no one in the woods, and there was no one stupid enough to go out in this weather, at this time of night.

Except one.

Stupid Grimm.

Idiot!

Crazy, idiotic, stupid Grimm!

"Why didn't you call, Nick?" he muttered under his breath as he bounced over the uneven road, the ruts and potholes really getting to his precious little heirloom of a car. "You had to do the hero stuff. You had to go in here alone. Damnit!"

Not that Monroe liked running into danger, but he would do it for Nick. Nick Burkhardt was his best friend – and how ironic was that? – and he would have come along, even in this weather, at this time of the night. But no! Nick had to go off on his own!

Monroe stopped his yellow little bug next to the SUV that was Nick's car. A fine layer of snow covered the dark metal. Except for the headlights of the bug there was no other source of illumination and the landscape looked dark and peaceful.

Peaceful my ass, Monroe thought as he jumped out and quickly looked around, but there was no one here.

In the muddy, freezing ground were tire tracks and some foot steps, but no other car. Whoever had been here had hightailed it out.

No one here now except…

Nostrils flared.

His breath clouded in front of his face and he felt the sting of the cold.

Blood. And the smell of Nick. That was unmistakable. He would know that scent everywhere. And Nick's blood.

Monroe moved quickly and yanked open the SUV's door, cursing colorfully when he discovered the unconscious man slumped over the seats, blood saturating his utterly drenched clothes.

"Damnit, Nick!"

A cell phone lay on the floor, spattered in mud and blood. It was scratched and banged up, but it had worked.

Not that Monroe believed for one minute that it had been Nick calling him. The voice had been wrong, but it had been someone begging him to help the Grimm. Someone who had apologized profusely, had told the blutbad that it had been a mistake, and then the connection had been lost. All Monroe had had was a text message with GPS coordinates and the stranger's voice.

He had done his own stupid stunt by coming here, but now he knew why.

Something… someone… had happened to their resident Grimm.

Monroe sighed and looked for the first aid kit of Nick's car, pulled out the emergency blanket and wrapped the unresponsive form in it. Then he took out his phone and dialed for help.

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He had no idea how he had made it home. He had no recollection at all of getting up, walking to his car, driving, undressing, showering, getting dressed.

Right now Nick was clad in layers of thick clothes, still cold to the very bone. His back ached. His mind was a mess, confused and feverish still, holes the size of Oregon in his memories.

He lay on a bed, on his side, freezing, his back throbbing, his head aching, and he really, really couldn't warm up. Closing his eyes against the headache that crept up from the injured back and seemed to settle right behind his eyes, Nick tried to relax, tried to tell himself that he only needed rest and sleep.

It didn't work.

He drifted, feeling cold, then feverish, then cold again. Feebly he clawed at the afghan he had buried under, but it wasn't helping.

He wanted to know where he was, but he was failing. It was as if everything from just before now had been erased. Well, more like locked away. He knew it was there, but where?

There was a sound.

A door opening, then closing.

Nick's concussed brain went alert, the Grimm side rising like a primal instinct that pushed through the pain to defend himself. His muscles tensed, despite the general weakness, and for a moment he was coiled and ready.

Steps came closer.

Nick's eyes narrowed, his flushed face a mask of concentration.

There was a shape, a voice talking to him. Nick's survival instinct screamed. Images of lizards and claws and darkness tumbled through his fractured mind, enhanced by the pain and the confusion, and he simply acted.

His fist connected with his attacker's chin, snapping the head back. Nick fell off the bed. He stumbled away and nearly collapsed. He made it three steps when something caught him.

His hand flew up, catching the attacker once more. The form moved away with a grunt, but not far enough. He fought the hands, striking out at whatever he could hit.

His wrists were grabbed in a vice-like hold and his knees buckled as pain shot through it. A tiny part of him reminded him that he had clawed at, that his hand was hurt, but the much larger, primal part was screaming to get free. It overpowered any signs of pain and just fought.

Another hand tried to touch him and a voice was talking to him, insistently, trying to get him to understand.

He didn't.

He didn't care who it was.

If he had known about the poisonous effect of the claws he might have stopped; but he didn't. And maybe he wouldn't have.

He had to survive.

tbc...