Throw Away The Key

4. Missing In Action

There's a knock on the door followed by a doorbell at roughly 9:30 that morning. The sudden interruption of silence causes Monroe to drop the tiny screw he was holding on the end of a screwdriver and it hits the ground with a very tiny click. He sighs irritably and glares back at the door. This had better be important, he'd been working on this clock for over two hours now and he was almost done. He sighs again and stands, resolving to find the screw when he got back because as tiny as it was, it would probably take a few minutes to locate it even with his enhanced blutbad vision. There's another knock and he grumbles low in his throat, walking to the door with deliberate slowness. If someone was knocking on his door this early in the morning, they could wait for him to answer it.

As he gets closer, he catches a familiar smell and it causes him to hesitate slightly. It smells like old coffee and ink, fast food and someone who hasn't showered nearly as often as they should. It's the unmistakable smell of a police officer; Nick used to smell like that when he would come over after a double shift or a stakeout. The thought of the younger man makes him bristle a bit but the intense flare of rage he'd felt toward him has subsided a bit over the past few weeks. He no longer wanted to rip his throat out but he certainly didn't want to see him. He wasn't ready for that just yet.

As he reaches for the door though, he realizes it's not Nick but someone different. This person smells similar to Nick but entirely different at the same time…it's confusing. Monroe frowns and opens the door.

Nick's partner is standing on his front porch, hands dug deep into his pockets and hovering on just this side of too much coffee; Monroe can smell a startling amount of caffeine on him. "Edwin Monroe?" Hank asks when Monroe opens the door all the way, catching his eye with a look that tells him he's here on business.

"Yes?" Monroe answers a bit hesitantly because he knows from personal experience that having a cop show up on your doorstep (who's not a wide-eyed, baby Grimm) is never a good thing.

"I'm detective Hank Griffin, I'm Nick's partner." Seeing Monroe's nod of affirmation, he continues. "Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Monroe hesitates for a just a second longer before nodding. Something is very wrong with this picture but he's not sure what yet. "Yeah. Yeah, come on in. I'll make us some tea." He steps to the side and allows Hank to walk into the hallway, following along behind him and closing the door with a soft whoosh. He leads Hank into the kitchen, apologizing absently for the eviscerated clock on the kitchen table, and walks over to the cabinet, pulling out his kettle. He settles himself on tea because Hank looks like he's about two cups of coffee away from a caffeine overdose and he's not willing to take that chance.

Hank takes a seat at the table and pulls a notepad out of his pocket, looking at Monroe expectantly. "You're friends with Nick, right?"

Monroe feels himself bristle again at the question but he forces himself to remain calm, no need to take his anger out on Hank. "I wouldn't say friends necessarily," he mutters and he's unable to keep the touch of bitterness out of his voice. "Nick came to see me about the wristwatch involved in that case you guys had a couple of months ago involving that escaped convict. He needed some advice and I gave it to him." He knows he sounds flippant and uninterested but he's honestly not sure how much Hank knows about his and Nick's relationship and he doesn't want to cross those boundaries until they're brought up.

"Has he come to see you recently? Asked you about anything?" Hank asks, jotting something down on his notepad with a casual glance up at Monroe.