Notes: Bonus chapter!

Warnings: Nothing much at all. Which is slightly disappointing, isn't it?

() () ()

Nick saved his progress and leaned back in his chair, attempting to stretch the ache out of his upper back and shoulders. He caught Hank watching him as he rested his arms for a minute and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"I don't know about you," Hank said, "but I could use a break."

A week after being cleared for light duty things were slowly getting back to normal. Monroe had stopped calling six times a day, Hank wasn't hovering quite as much, and Renard had finally eased off on having people shadow him every time he went down the street for coffee. He'd stopped having to sleep with the light on and Juliette had stopped coming to find him every time he was out of the room for more than half an hour.

Tossing his pen on the desk, Nick rolled his head to ease the kink he'd developed from staring at the computer screen for too long and glanced at the clock. "I could eat."

They were neck deep in the FBI research of Billy Capra's financials, tracking deposits and filling out paperwork for warrants for the accounts the deposits came from. The cold case that had started this whole mess was technically solved with the arrest and arraignment of Lorena Mas but Nick felt he owed it to the murder victim's to find the missing relatives they had died searching for.

The original FBI investigation had looked at Capra for possible human trafficking but given how long it had taken him to set up his Grimm-for-sale contacts Nick doubted he'd actually been in the business. More likely they would add two more bodies to the tally when the investigation was over.

"Tacos?" Nick suggested.

Hank pulled a face. "Sandwiches?"

It was a three block walk to the little deli that served the best soup and sandwiches on this side of town. Nick glanced out the window. Clouds were massing in the distance but he figured they could make it over and back before the storm hit and the fresh air would be welcome. "Sounds good. Let's walk."

Hank began tidying up his desk, locking away the important bits. "Great. Let's get out of here before we get stuck with a lunch list for half the department."

"Too late," Nick said, nodding his head to where Renard was waving them into his office.

Hank groaned and went that direction. "What's up, boss? We were just headed out."

Renard held up a piece of paper. "I was wondering if either of you could enlighten me as to why I just received a fax from the Snohomish County Sheriff's Office requesting the loan of the Portland Police Department's psychic consultant?"

Nick looked up from shrugging into his jacket. "We have a psychic?"

Hank burst out laughing.

"Something you want to explain, Detective?" Renard asked sternly.

Hank nodded and waved a hand, indicating he needed a minute to pull himself together.

"When did we get a psychic?" Nick wanted to know. The idea wasn't as strange as it would have been half a year ago.

Hank collapsed onto a chair, giggling like a ten year old girl.

Renard sent a look to the ceiling. It was the same look he got whenever Nick and Wu's prank wars sort of accidentally spilled into the rest of the station.

But that wasn't important right now. "Do we really have a psychic?" he asked.

Hank fell off the chair.

The End

Notes: I have a couple more one shots in the works that will be attached to this series when I finish them. One more big, big thanks to everyone who stuck it out!