Sweeter Thy Voice
Rating: T for now due to language, but it might go up to M
Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my original characters and the scenarios that I invent. Everything else is the property of NBC. The title of the story is from a Tennyson poem called 'The Princess" which I also do not own.
A/N: This came to me today during my class today and I had to write it because I want to know more about Captain Renard. It's a one-shot for now, but that will change depending on the response I get from it (I'm such a push-over, I'll write more even if only one person asks for it). Yes, it will be slash between Nick and Renard; you can thank Macx ("This Isn't Everything You Are") and Wolf-007 ("Taken") for that. Their stories inspired this. Flame if you want, but know that they will be ignored and possibly mocked. If you don't like slash, don't read it.
Takes place during episode 1x01, Pilot
Summary: Sean Renard is a banished prince, but he's not the only one who has fallen from grace.
A Grimm. In his territory. A vengeful, sociopathic killer loose in the territory that he had fought and bled for, that he himself had killed for. His territory. His.
Sean Renard's hands tightened sharply on the steering wheel as tension thrummed through his body, stiffening his spine and setting his teeth on edge. A goddamn Grimm. He almost pounded the wheel in frustration, but stopped short, fist clenched above the plastic. He didn't want to wake up his passenger, not when the need for sleep was so obvious. Sean forced his fist to open, forced himself to focus on the road before him, even though at midnight, the streets were mostly empty.
What would possess someone as cunning and ruthless as Marie Kessler to make a suicidal charge into claimed territory, especially imperially claimed territory? Sean wasn't naïve enough to believe that the woman didn't know all about him, his family and his past. She much have known how fiercely possessive he was of his region, his zero-tolerance policy for unnecessary violence and bloodshed and wherever a Grimm was found, so was a trail of broken bodies. She must have known he wouldn't let her live long after her arrival was discovered. So what was her endgame? He doubted it was a trip to the Oregon Zoo and then dinner in the Pearl.
Sean himself hadn't believed Adalind when she had called to give him the news, brushing off the report as a rumor. After all what could be more ridiculous than a Grimm entering his city, unannounced and uninvited? Not that asking nicely would have granted her access. Nevertheless, he should have taken the call more seriously and now the all too real police report in his briefcase about the Reaper attack on Kessler, taunted him from the backseat, a reminder that he was getting complacent in his little corner of the world. If he wasn't careful, it was going get him killed one day. Sean eased to a stop at a red light and let his shoulders slump, exhaustion starting to creep up through the tension. The body in the passenger seat stirred, muttered something incomprehensible and settled back down into slumber. The light changed to green and he accelerated smoothly through the empty intersection.
A Grimm; the monster that other monsters feared.
Sean sighed raggedly, no longer capable of being irate. It was late, he was tired, and he would have to get up in five hours and go back to work. The thought of work brought up the second half to his Grimm problem: Detective Nick Burkhardt, the security threat who couldn't simply be eliminated like Kessler could. A security threat who Sean had to interact with on a daily basis, a threat that Sean had to trust in order to be able to continue in his duties as a police captain. Wasn't that just deliciously ironic?
Nick Burkhardt was a Grimm, Sean snorted quietly, amused for a split second. Of course he was, especially with a case-solving rate at 5% higher than anyone else in Portland PD. Really, Sean should have seen it coming. Portland was his territory and he knew everything that happened in his territory, every quarrel and feud, every bit of bad blood. He knew everything.
Except Burkhardt's apparent magical heritage it seemed.
Thinking about it just uncovered more questions than it answered and Sean shook his head to clear it, and lowering his window a little, feeling the cold night air washing over him. He did not need to be thinking about why he hadn't been able to see it in the first place, why Nick had been the one to slip under his radar. That was something to ponder at another time, a time when he wasn't driving or, well never. Never worked too.
Turning onto his street, Sean started ever so slightly as his phone began to ring in the cup-holder between the seats, vibrating against the molded plastic. He scooped it up quickly and answered it one-handed even as he pulled into the driveway of his two-story Colonial style home. He didn't really need to bother. His passenger didn't even twitch.
"Renard." He tried not to bark, but Serena knew better than to call him that late and expect him to be civil. Royal upbringing aside, even the most diplomatic person was not pleasant in the middle of the night. Pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder, Sean punched the garage door opener on the visor above his head before pulling into the garage, the headlights illuminating the white plaster walls.
"Stott would like to know when he might retrieve his son's body. I checked with the coroner's office discreetly. Hulda's body will be released by tomorrow." Serena said, the clicking of keyboard keys audible in the background. She was probably still at the firm; hexenbeist were workaholics so her need for sleep was far less pressing than his. She would probably work all through the night, change into one of the many business suits she kept in her office and then grab an hour-long nap at some point during the day. Just the thought of a life like that made Sean even more tired.
"If Stott knows what's good for him, he'll stay away from my territory right now. Tell him that. If he comes anywhere near Portland, I'll gut him with his own scythe." Sean spit out, anger struggling up through his fatigue, heating him from the inside out. There was a faint pause on the other end of the line and then Serena spoke again.
"Is that a direct quote or do I have your permission to tell him something that doesn't sound like dialogue from a bad gangster film?" Sean rolled his eyes as he pushed the button on the remote again and the garage door started to slide shut behind the SUV.
"Just tell him 'no', Serena. Is that all?" Just like that the flare of anger was extinguished and Sean leaned his head back against the headrest, using his hands to rub away the dull ache in his temples.
"Yes; shall I call if…" she trailed off in a distinctly un-Serena like manner and in the background, the sound of clicking keys paused. Sean filled in the rest of the sentence.
"We will discuss the issue of the Grimm tomorrow, Serena. The matter is closed for now." He ordered, opening his eyes and staring through the windshield at the bike rack on the wall in front of him.
"Of course, sire." Never one for small talk or goodbyes, Serena hung up, a tiny click in his ear and Sean tucked his phone into the pocket of his jacket. In a little while, he would have to tackle the issue of the Grimm and Burkhardt and a missing little girl in a red sweatshirt, but for now, he was home, a brief respite from the storm. Shaking himself out of his melancholy, Sean turned his attention to the form next to him, gently shaking the shoulder closest to him.
"Lottie, wake up, belle. We're home." Scrunching her nose, his passenger half-opened her eyes, blinking sleepily up at him through the curtain of dark brown curls that had fallen in her face.
Yes, Sean thought as he reached out and brushed the unruly locks out of his daughter's face, tomorrow.
But for now, he was home.