Chapter Text
Arvis was definitely not getting out of Portland anytime soon.
Dr. Bernardi was somehow still on vacation. Which was frankly impressive. The man must have saved up for a long time to be able to take all that time off work. Arvis would be jealous, but he was basically always traveling himself. It was hard to really vacation when your life was on the road to start with. Regardless, him being on vacation meant her was pretty much stuck waiting. And since sitting around twiddling his thumbs would actually kill him, he did his best to keep busy.
Mostly that meant picking up work where he could. He wasn’t technically a licensed Private Investigator in the state of Oregon. This did not necessarily make it impossible for him to work as one. The thing about legal PI work was that it tended to involve a lot of paperwork and far too many lawyers for their tastes. And frankly, legal PI work never paid as well as other things.
Working under the table was generally much more money. He had rules for himself of course- he didn’t hand over information to anyone he suspected might get violent, and if he caught something downright horrific, he reported it. But turning in some teenagers to an HOA for spray-painting a dick on the side of the meeting hall, or tracking down some cheating spouse or a gambling ring was mostly harmless.
(Wesen also had their own highly specific needs, and most Pis couldn’t necessarily meet those. Granted, he usually only got a few Wesen cases, being a Grimm, but that was more than enough.)
All of that to say, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And honestly, he wasn’t minding it. He was getting in some excellent Grimm training, especially with Nick’s trailer on hand. The man had a real treasure trove of information, and Arvis was eager to learn all he could while he was still in town.
With the trailer in mind, Arvis left the motel fairly early in the morning. Nick had texted him inviting him over, and Arvis had no other plans, so figured he might as well take him up on his offer. The drive over was shockingly quiet for the city, and he even had the chance to stop by and pick up a drink on his way over there.
(Lemonade mixed with an energy drink, because caffeine was the sole stimulant he was still allowed to have, and he definitely needed it if he was going to be focusing on anything.)
He parked just outside the trailer and hopped out of his car. He could see lights peaking through the trailer, and he chugged the rest of his drink before walking to the front door. He jiggled the handle, finding it unlocked, and ducked inside.
Inside, Nick and Monroe were both standing on opposite ends of one of the tables. They both seemed just settled in enough to have been there for maybe an hour, but not for too long. Which made sense- Monroe seemed like an early riser, but Arvis would bet Nick preferred to sleep in when he didn’t have to work. And honestly, Arvis fully understood that. He’d be asleep himself if it weren’t for his need to have a very strict schedule.
“Good morning folks,” Arvis said as he shut the door behind him. “What’re we doing in the trailer today?”
Monroe looked up from whatever he was reading to quickly wave. “G’morning,” he said. He sounded surprisingly awake and alert for so early in the morning, even for an early bird. Some people really must just be built different.
“Morning. I’m brushing up on some fighting techniques,” Nick said, blowing the dust off a sickle. “Monroe wanted to take a look at some of the antiques in the back.”
“Nick’s got a lot of really old stuff back here. It’s basically a museum,” Monroe said. “Seriously, dude, you could make a fortune in an auction house off some of this stuff.”
“Maybe. But it’s all Grimm stuff,” Nick said. “I think my aunt would actually haunt me if I got rid of any of it. Besides, it might come in handy.”
“Right. You never do know with Grimm stuff what’ll end up saving your life someday,” Arvis said. One time he used an old hair comb to skewer the poison sac out of a Vipère. It always paid to keep all your resources at hand. “And also, I doubt most of this stuff is in a sellable condition.”
“Actually, most of it would just need some minor fixing up,” Monroe said. “Especially with the old weapons. A little polish and you could probably sell them fairly easily. I mean, you’d have to explain how you got your hands on most of it, but the options there.”
“I feel like you just are getting excited at the prospect of going to an auction,” Nick said, rolling his eyes a little.
Monroe made a face for a moment, though it quickly passed. “Okay, maybe a little. But you really do have some awesome stuff back here dude. I mean, the old film equipment alone is damn near priceless. And some of these books? I mean, obviously you couldn’t sell them, but the history is priceless. You’ve got some historian’s wet dream back here.”
“He definitely has a lot of cool books,” Arvis said. “I have to thank you for letting me look at your collection, man. I feel like I’m learning way more now than I ever have on my own.”
“It’s no big deal,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s been kind of nice having someone around who has more practical experience. I’m a little behind in that regard.”
“Your experience isn’t nothing to sniff at,” Arvis said. “You’ve taken out three whole reapers in your first couple years of Grimm-hood. That’s almost unheard of.”
“Yeah. You’ve definitely got crazy experience now,” Monroe said. “I mean, the Siegbarste alone was a massive undertaking.”
“You get credit for the Siegbarste- you’re the one who actually killed him. I just got my ass beat,” Nick said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’d have died if Juliette hadn’t shown up.”
“Juliette fought a Siegbarste?” Arvis asked, eyes widening. “Isn’t that your vue non voyant girlfriend. Er, or whatever word you’re using now. Sorry. Forgot about that situation being weird.”
“My what?” Nick asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“Sorry. Your- it’s Kehrseite in German, I think?” Arvis asked, looking briefly at Monroe. “I forget most people in the States use the German system.”
“Yeah, that’s the word,” Monroe said. “I’m kind of shocked your family uses French, honestly.”
“We’re from the French line,” Arvis replied. “It’s a weird thing- a lot of people assume all the remaining Grimm are direct descendants of the Brothers Grimm, but they were just the most prominent at the time. There were still about twenty of us in France when they were running around, doing their thing.”
“Twenty is a lot,” Monroe said.
“It dropped to about ten during World War I, and by World War II there was only like… three or four still living in France? My father’s mother was one of them. He moved stateside once he was old enough to live on his own. They don’t talk, I think,” Arvis said. He felt something heavy settle in his gut, talking about his dad. It was fine. He’d find him soon, and he didn’t need to think about what that conversation was going to look like. Not right now, at any rate.
“It’s weird, thinking about how few of us are out there,” Nick said, leaning back into the wall. “With all the history I’ve read, it seemed like all of my ancestors worked mostly alone.”
“The European branch of the family died off quickly,” Arvis said. “Especially when you consider our royals have always been more keen to kill us than work with us. It’s different in other places. I mean, that I know of. I’ll be honest, I know they exist but I’ve never been to Asia or Africa myself, so I’ve never met any of their Grimms. They do good work from what I’ve read. They definitely had a lot more to contend with than just Wesen, given the whole colonialism thing, but they still kept things in order on their end, which is pretty goddamn admirable.”
“I think my father met a Grimm from Korea once, if I remember the story right,” Monroe said. “Nice man. A little antsy, but that was probably because of the crocodiles.”
“Actual crocodiles or Wesen?” Arvis asked.
“Actual crocodiles,” Monroe said. “Florida.”
“Florida doesn’t have- you know what, if any state was going to have non-native crocodiles, it would be Florida,” Arvis said. “Honestly, I would rather fight a thousand Siegbarste’s than have to deal with anything wild living in Florida. It’s a f*cking nightmare there.”
“I would disagree with you, but I’ve seen some horror stories,” Nick said. “You mentioned that you’ve been to Europe?”
“Twice. Once for Grandpa’s funeral, another for a job I was doing,” Arvis said, refusing to elaborate any further. He wasn’t sure Nick would want to know, even if Arvis was comfortable talking about it. And he wasn’t.
“Definitely not a vacation then,” Monroe said. “Sorry to hear about your grandfather.”
Arvis shrugged. “It’s fine. We never met,” he said. By the time his grandfather had died, he was just barely seven years old. It’d been the summer before he started seeing Wesen. Sometimes he wondered if things would have been different, if he’d been closer with his dad’s folks, but it was too late now. There was nowhere to go but forward. “And I was a little kid. I was mostly just bored.”
“Understandable,” Nick said. “Changing the subject- you have any experience with a crossbow?”
“No,” Arvis said. “Bit old fashioned, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes old-fashioned is the way to go, with these things. And it’s easier to poison arrows than it is to poison bullets,” Nick said. “And there’s something about using the same weapons my ancestors did that’s just… I don’t know, it feels right.”
Arvis truly did not understand that. Then again, he was always more concerned with getting the job done than having it feel good to do. And maybe the crossbow was satisfying somehow. It wasn’t like he had access to a crossbow himself most days- it wasn’t the kind of thing that was easy to buy. “I’ll take your word for it. I’m going to stick to my guns and my knives, thank you.”
“Come on,” Nick said. “You don’t even want to try out a sword?”
Arvis paused, pursing his lips. “...Swords?” he asked.
“Dude, Nick has so many swords. Too many, really,” Monroe said.
f*ck. A sword actually did sound super cool. “...I mean, I might like to see a sword or two. I’m not sure it’s practical to carry one around, though. Much harder to conceal than a knife,” he said.
“Well, I don’t tend to roll out on normal police work with any of my Grimm weapons,” he said. “That’s more of a ‘swing by the trailer first, then go kick ass’ weapon. Although you could probably hide a sword in a backpack or something.”
“I could carry one of those bags people use for yoga mats,” Arvis mused. Honestly, now he was seriously considering it. Who was going to pick a fight with the guy who drew a full-on sword? Most people would be too baffled to take it any further. “I should get a sword.”
“You can borrow one of mine sometime,” Nick said. “As long as you don’t break it.”
“If I break my sword mid-combat, I’m probably dead,” Arvis said. “But I promise. Assuming I get a chance to use a sword anytime soon.”
“Works for me. Do you want to help me train, then?” Nick asked.
“Sure. Might as well since I’m here. I’m warning you, though, don’t complain if I kick your ass,” Arvis said.
“You sound pretty confident for a guy who’s about to lose,” Nick said, swinging his sickle over his shoulder. “Grab a weapon and get out here.”
“Copy that- wait can we fight in the middle of a parking lot?” Arvis asked.
“Yeah. I mean, we’ll stop if anyone starts asking questions, but this place is pretty much abandoned most days,” Nick said. “Why do you think I picked it?”
“...Makes sense,” Arvis said. And besides, it wouldn’t be a terrible reason to get arrested.
“You two have fun,” Monroe said, looking back to his books. “Don’t get too injured- you don’t want to show up to work injured.”
“We won’t. I don’t want to have to explain to the captain why I’ve got sword wounds,” Nick said, stepping around the table to make for the door. Arvis ducked around him to grab a sword from the cupboard. Honestly, he was extremely excited. This might even be fun.
As long as Nick didn’t actually take his head off with that sickle. You never knew.
They spent about an hour outside training. Mostly this meant swinging weapons around like dorks, since Arvis had never actually used a sword before. Nick set up a ‘training dummy’ that was just an old sack filled with paper for them to practice on. He was definitely doing much better than Arvis was, but he was picking up that sword much quicker than he expected.
Latent genetics, probably. He’d thank his ancestors if that didn’t technically include his Dad. Maybe one of his mom’s ancestors was a knight or something. He’d thank them instead.
They finished up with attempting to duel, although that resulted in Nick just swinging the scythe at him, since it was so much harder to avoid a blade with that much reach. No wonder the reapers used them.
They then ducked back into the trailer to take a break. Arvis immediately sat down, resting his head on a table. “I think I blew out my shoulder,” he groaned.
“Looks fine to me,” Nick said. He hung up his scythe and then leaned against the counter. “You probably just have to stretch it out.”
‘Just stretch’ was possibly the worst advice he’d ever been given, and he just could not stop being given it. It was truly horrible, but at least he wasn’t being advised to just ‘get more sun’ as if that would solve all his damn problems. (Although it did work to improve his overall mood, infuriatingly enough.) “That sword was f*cking heavy,” he replied. “I don’t know how you do it, man.”
“You get used to it,” Nick said. “Monroe, find anything interesting?”
“Hm? Ah- sort of? There’s a lot of cool stuff in here. I mean, this book here has just so much information about Western Europe in the 1500’s. You have primary sources that a museum would murder you for,” Monroe said. “Like, even the mundane stuff is fascinating.”
“Yeah, the stuff I’ve reads been pretty entertaining. Even if a lot of the entries end with the same final moment- heads being chopped off,” Arvis said. Seriously, it felt a little uncreative. How hard was it to come up with something new for once?
“Well, they wouldn’t be Grimms if they weren’t chopping off heads,” Monroe said.
“They really wouldn’t be,” Arvis said. “Are we going to keep training?” He could probably go a little longer, although he’d probably need a bit to recuperate.
“Sure- actually, wait,” Nick said, patting his pockets. “I’m getting a call- one second.” He ducked out of the trailer, phone in hand.
“Another dead body?” he speculated out loud.
“If it isn’t, it’s probably something similarly cheerful,” Monroe said, sighing just a little. “Nick’s had it rough lately. I’m honestly surprised he’s doing as well as he is. In his shoes I’d be out. Like o-u-t out, y’know?”
“Oh, for sure,” Arvis said. He’d definitely hit his own cliff edge a couple times since finding out he was a Grimm. More than a couple, honestly. You either learned to claw your way back up from rock bottom or you died, and that was sadly just the way things were. It wasn’t fair, but nothing ever was. “I’m guessing it’s going to be a ‘no’ on more sparring today, regardless.”
“Your back will probably thank you for it,” Monroe said. “You should look into Pilates or something, man. The cracking sounds I just heard were not healthy.”
“The last thing that sounds appealing to me is any more bending than I already have to do,” Arvis groaned. He was getting plenty of it in with all his running around and squeezing into tight spaces and dodging bullets. Why he’d ever willing torture himself more was beyond him. “I stretch to keep them functioning and that’s all these ungrateful bastards are getting from me.”
“Your muscles?” Monroe asked, eyebrows raised.
“No, my sixteen dairy cows,” Arvis said. “Yes, of course I was chastising my muscles. Bastards have tiny minds of their own and they feed off my misery.”
“You know what? That does seem like something muscles would do for fun,” Monroe agreed. “I appease mine with regular Pilates and a rich diet.”
Arvis didn’t need him to say all that to know. He seemed like that type. And also, the guy was shockingly built for a nerdy little clock-maker. Like, he’d be ripped if he was toned out more. As it was he was just, solidly strong and had a nice, sturdy figure. Not that Arvis was staring. He was just assessing an ally, and a potential foe should sh*t hit the fan. He had to stay prepared. There was no other reason to subtly glance at Monroe’s waist, which was only barely visible under his layers.
As he was having that little moment, the door to the trailer opened again, and Nick poked his head in. “Hey folks,” he said, causing Monroe and Arvis to turn to look at him. “I got a case. You guys can lock up on your own, right?”
“Course we can,” Monroe said. “Stay safe out there, you here?”
“I’ll try,” Nick said, before disappearing out the door again. Arvis looked briefly over to Monroe, unsure what to do next. He didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the day, but he also didn’t know if Monroe would prefer to do his research alone. Arvis knew he didn’t like distractions when he was focused. Should he offer to leave? Would that be weird? Was it too late to text his sister and ask for advice?
(He definitely couldn’t do it right now, in front of Monroe. That’d be embarrassing as hell.)
“So… you going to keep poking around in here?” Arvis asked.
“Probably, yeah. I don’t have any jobs today and the shop is always closed on Sundays,” Monroe said. “What about you?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “...I might go grab lunch. Do you- I guess, do you want me to pick you up something and come back with it?”
“I’d appreciate that, if it isn’t too much trouble,” Monroe said. “Thank you for offering.”
“It’s no problem,” Arvis said. Really, it was just the bare minimum. And it gave him an excuse to drive for a bit, clear his head. He couldn’t fathom why just talking to people had to be so damn difficult. “Any preferences?”
“Hm? Ah, I’m vegetarian,” Monroe said. “So, no meat.”
Arvis resisted the urge to make a dumb joke about a vegetarian Blutbad, instead focusing on his next objective. Acquire food for him and Monroe. That was easy. Simple. It didn’t even require an entire brain-cell to achieve. He was going to ace this.
And he’d have a built in reward for doing so already lined up, which was always nice.
Arvis ended up driving to a local fast food joint a couple miles away, one he vaguely recalled had a big sign advertising ‘delicious vegan options’. After agonizing for a while on what to order, he settled on the most inoffensive choices possible- he didn’t know what made a salad ‘Greek’ or what the hell ‘beetroot pasta’ was, but it seemed like something Monroe would enjoy. He got himself the some sort of soup and a large bread-roll. (His stomach still hurt from his ‘three burgers in one day’ excursion, and he was trying not to end up bed-ridden.) They also had very interesting soda flavors- Arvis had never actually had a mango soda before, and he was finding that it was actually very good. You learned something new everyday.
He returned, food in hand, and the pair settled in for lunch. As they ate, Monroe continued his research, and Arvis occasionally commented or asked a few questions. It was… nice. And the stuff they talked about was interesting. Monroe had a pretty good grasp on a lot of things, and his understanding of history was fascinating. Arvis hadn’t had much in the way of a history education; he’d kind of blown through his high school courses, coasting on solid C’s, and the most independent research he’d ever done was random Wikipedia scrolling when he had nothing better to do.
He was honestly impressed by how smart Monroe was. He’d clearly made good use of the college education. And in between ramblings about old clock-makers, long-forgotten armies, and even a little of Wesen history mixed in, the quiet was nice too. He was comfortable to be around. Nick really was lucky to have the man as a friend.
It was as Monroe had moved on to a story about some old Renaissance innovation in clocks (clockery?) that his phone rang. Monroe grabbed it from the table and looked at the screen. “Ah, that’s Nick,” he said.
“Fingers crossed he’s not in moral peril,” Arvis joked. Well, mostly joked. It wasn’t uncommon for him. The stories he’d heard were enough to make someone wonder how he was even still alive. Arvis hadn’t gotten into nearly so much trouble all at once in all his years of being a Grimm.
Monroe picked up the call, sitting down on a nearby stool. “Hey Nick. Something weird at the crime scene?” he asked.
“Yes. How did you know that? Did Hank call already?” Nick asked. Arvis could hear the sound of cars in the background. He must not be inside then- a public crime scene? How many people killed other people in places where anyone could just stumble on a body?
“Why else would you be calling?” Arvis asked. “You just told us you were going to a body.”
“Right, right,” Nick said. “Yeah, we’ve got some weird stuff at the crime scene.”
“Wesen?” Monroe asked. Nick hummed in affirmation, and Monroe barreled forward. “Talk to me. What’re we looking at?”
“I’m not exactly sure. The victim’s a man, maybe mid thirties, early forties at the latest. We’re in a park, off the main path and maybe ten or fifteen feet into the like, cultivated woods here. The guy who called it in says his dog ran off leash and discovered the body, so clearly someone was trying to cover their tracks. Didn’t do a good job of it, though.”
“Poor guy,” Monroe said. “...Poor dog.”
“I’m sure he had a good day, actually. He got to play the hero,” Arvis said. “Anything weird about the body, Nick? Do we know cause of death?”
“No cause of death just yet,” Nick said. “Gotta wait on the autopsy for that. He did have weird claw marks on his face- deep lacerations. And, and this is the weird part, the body was absolutely surrounded by feathers.”
Now that piqued Arvis’s interests. “Feathers? What kind?” he asked.
“I have no idea,” Nick admitted. “I mean, they just look like feathers to me. They’re feathers.”
“Color?” Arvis prompted.
“Dark black,” Nick said. “Again, just look like normal feathers.”
“They’re not pigeon feathers?” Monroe asked. “There’s always pigeons around.”
“Not pigeon feathers. I know what pigeon feathers look like,” Nick said.
“Are we talking primary feathers or the down?” Arvis said, his mind already flipping through what feathers he knew off the top of his head. He’d have to dig out his identification books later if he was going to do some more serious guesswork.
“What- Arvis, I have no clue which is which,” Nick said. “Explain?”
“Are they very soft and spread out, or are they thick and stiff, like a feather quill?” Arvis asked.
“Uh, the latter,” Nick said.
“That’d be a primary feather then,” Arvis said, leaning back. “Is it pure black?’
“I mean, it’s black. I’m not sure what else to tell you,” Nick said. Arvis just sighed. God, some people really couldn’t f*cking tell colors apart for sh*t. He’d blame them if he wasn’t sure his knowledge was a by-product of having an interior designer for a mother.
“Well, with that size and the rough color it could be a raven or a crow. Crows are more common here but I need to see it in person to be sure,” Arvis said. “Raven’s get a sheen to it in the right lighting. It’s kind of purplish or greenish.”
“Noted,” Monroe said. “I can start looking to see if there’s any Wesen that match that rough description?”
“Thank you,” Arvis said.
“Why on Earth do you know any of that?” Nick asked.
“I like birds,” Arvis said, shrugging. “They’re neat. What’s the end of the feather look like? Is it more of a wedge or a fan?’
“Arvis, I have no clue what that means,” Nick said. “I’ll bring you the feathers.”
“Thank you,” Arvis said. He really was repeating himself a lot today. “You want me to hang out at the trailer for now?”
“Let me see what time I have today,” Nick said. “I’ll talk to you soon. Monroe, dinner at yours tonight?”
“Of course,” Monroe said. “Arvis?”
“Nah,” he said. He was probably going back to the motel as soon as he could to take a nap. He was definitely bone tired.
Whatever the case may be, he was definitely going to have his hands full while he waited for his father’s old contact to come home.
