Outtake 1: After Nick Burkhardt profiled him, Spencer Reid called up Garcia for his educational background... and a little encouragement.
Penelope Garcia used the blunt end of her pen to press the speaker for her office phone. "And what does my favorite genius need from me today?"
Garcia leaned over to reread the number of the incoming call. Yes, it should have been Reid. "Reid?" she asked. "Spencer?"
"Sorry," he blurted. "I wasn't sure how to answer."
"Reid, what do you need?"
"There's a detective here…"
Penelope interrupted. "Reid. The case can wait for five minutes. You guys don't have nearly enough clues to find the Unsub. What do you need?"
Reid chuckled weakly. "A cheerful friend, maybe?"
Garcia straightened in her chair. "I am that, always. You need babbling brook or something more substantial, friend that never stops thinking? Friend-that-never-stops-thinking, hmm, I think that should be your Indian name."
Reid chuckled this time and Garcia congratulated herself for kicking his funk. "I need a quick background check on one of the detectives."
Garcia posed her fingers over her keyboard. "Really? Rossi was pretty sure that the Unsub was unemployed but didn't bother having me cross-check unemployment records with domestic calls since it wouldn't whittle the suspect pool yet."
"He's not the Unsub."
"Detective Nick Burkhardt."
Garcia was already reading his background. "Lost his parents at the age of twelve, in a car accident that –huh- was not a car accident. The case is unsolved. I bet I know what the detective does in his spare time. His aunt, Marie Kessler was named custodian by their will."
"I don't need his complete history, Garcia. Just if he's taken any profiling courses."
Garcia typed in the new parameters. "He's good?"
"You remember how Gideon would take of all his knowledge and experience and profile you at a glance?"
Garcia shivered. She had ended up on the freezing end of that glare too many times. Also, she had been on the receiving end of his compassion when he read that she was distressed. She had never realized how subtly Gideon had kept the team sane until he wasn't there to do it anymore. Hotch did it now, with just as much finesse, but the days before he had realized the need were stark in her memory. "Burkhardt's never had any profiling or psych classes outside of the academy."
"Huh. Okay. Thanks, Garcia."
"So he profiled you?"
"I challenged him to."
Garcia winced. She knew his secrets, but she was his friend. For a stranger to suss that out? Garcia shook her head. For Reid to challenge him to do so? For a genius, Reid sometimes exhibited little sense. "I'm revoking your Indian name," she told him. "You must have stopped thinking to blurt that challenge."
"Pretty much," Reid agreed with a smile in his voice.
"You want me to do a deep background search to even the playing field?" she offered.
"No," Reid was sure. "He didn't reveal any secrets that he saw, so, no. And it wouldn't be evening the playing field. You make every place to our home field advantage."
"I do, don't I," Garcia preened. She hung up on his laughter. Mission accomplished.
Outtake 2 Summary: Monroe getting dragged to the gym at 4:30am
Monroe frowned at the phone. The only words he heard clearly was 'Grimm,' 'call' and 'you' and surely Nick was behind everything that went sideways (but not necessarily wrong) in the Blutbad's life. "Breath," he ordered, "and try again." He leaned against his kitchen counter with a smirk. Yes, whatever Wesen that was calling him was scared to death. He'd enjoy this interaction and his enjoyment would kick into his guilt and Monroe would do whatever it was that Nick had referred to him.
"The Grimm told me I had to call you," the mysterious wesen breathed. The words were so soft that a normal human wouldn't hear.
"Why did the Grimm want you to call me?"
"We need a predator at Every Body's Gym while we work out and the Grimm is looking for the wesen that killed Mario. So he can't do it. It's only for two hours."
"Uh-huh," he grunted. Did Nick think that he watched TV every afternoon or that his activities were unimportant?
"We'd supply coffee! Good coffee," the wesen blurted out. "And young Mister Geiger agreed to practice for most of the time."
"Eh?" Monroe was warming to the idea. A Geiger violin concert free of charge would brighten Monroe's day. Plus free coffee.
"We'd supply a driver and of course, you can work out too. It's only for two hours every day –and that includes drive time- until the Grimm cuts off the wesen's head."
"Okay," the Blutbad drawled. He had been asking for more information but the other wesen took it for assent.
"Great! We'll have someone at your house at four thirty tomorrow morning," and then he hung up.
"What time!" Monroe demanded of the dial tone. Nick was going to get an earful about volunteering him for babysitting duties.
Outtake 3 Summary: Monroe at the gym and list of all the Wesen victims types as requested by Bookqueen604 (See the end of the outtake for notes.)
Monroe was finally awake enough to appreciate the situation's humor. An eisbiber had picked him up this morning. He had knocked so gently at the door, that Monroe, awake and dressed, hadn't heard him. At 4:35, Monroe had finally smelled him and opened the door. The eisbiber had been hiding behind a very large cup of coffee. The smell indicated that it was exactly how the Blutbat ordered it.
Monroe had picked up his bag and followed the nervous wesen out to his car. The car smelled of the river and building supplies and a female. Well, that explained why this guy was working out despite the danger: there was a girl in the picture. The eisbiber didn't make a squeak the whole way to the gym. At a red light, he did send a text.
"To the others coming?" Monroe guessed.
"Yessir," he whispered.
And sure enough, as Monroe and driver arrived, a pair of Mauzhertz opened the gym. The brothers were apparently relatives of Ramirez, the first known victim. A Seelenguter of five arrived next and they were part of the same flock as Nelson and the Porter sisters. They brought some vegan pumpkin bread that smelled delicious. An eisbiber was next with an apple pie, a second cup of coffee and then a couple of Luisant-Pêcheur with a fantastic fruit salad and a third cup of coffee. Monroe hated to let the coffee go cold, but there was only so much he could drink and perform his Pilates well.
Roddy, the Reinigen, arrived well after all the weight-lifters to play the violin.
Roddy was the least scared of Monroe. After a beautiful rendition of a Bach piece, Monroe waved the teen closer. Roddy approached freely but cautiously, which was more than any of the others. "You've been here before?"
"Not really," Roddy admitted. "My school has a gym."
"Have you heard about the killings?"
"The eisbiber that picked me up told me everything."
"Mine didn't talk," Monroe grumbled. "At all."
"What do you want to know?"
"Mrs. White? What kind was she?" Nick probably knew, but he hadn't mentioned it.
"A Bauerschwein. Everyone was surprised when she married a Lausenschlange and no one was surprised when the marriage didn't last. Everyone was surprised again when she survived her divorce and she had every intention to continue surviving."
As much as Monroe enjoyed Roddy's talent on the violin, he was a naturally social creature. He hurried to think up a new conversational topic. "What's the most exotic wesen you've met?"
Roddy smirked. "A شريط قطيع used to run out by my dad's place."
Monroe only knew what it was since he had looked it up when he had moved into the area. "The zebra? Really? I heard there was one around, but I never met him."
"Nate, his name's Nathan N-something. He's a nice guy but he stays far away from the predator types. He would have seen you and turned around and gone the other way."
Monroe grimaced but it wasn't anything new. This, this body-guard gig for the 'prey' types was something very new.
"I've got a new song," Roddy offered. "It's still a little rough, though."
Monroe smiled. "Well, let's hear it."
Notes: شريط قطيع = herd striped in Arabic
Outtake 4 Summary: So when Nick offered to send Monroe to get a clean suit for Adalind, she knew what else was going to happen.
Monroe liked tossing Adalind Schade's apartment. He relished the juxtaposition of the very fine wardrobe to the cheap furniture and the peeling paint. She had one bottle of good wine in the place. Monroe was tempted to drink it just to piss her off. Ex that Schade might be, she still had the hexenbiest education that had collected more ways to poison a Blutbad than even Monroe knew. The wine might even be poisoned against his kind.
Monroe was still tempted to pour it down the sink. He liked Hank and hated that she had nearly killed the detective. And then there was whatever plan she had concocted to get Juliette. Monroe had caught Schade outside of Juliette's workplace with that damned (he meant it literally, not figuratively) cat. Monroe had killed the cat and sent her on her way. Nick knew and had confronted Schade. Monroe had not been allowed to loom and threaten her. Whatever Nick threatened (or promised) seemed to have worked; Schade avoided both Juliette and Hank since.
A lone piece of art graced her wall. That was new and probably very expensive. The dark bold colors were a beacon against the otherwise (dull) white walls of the abode. Monroe didn't recognize the artist, so he or she was up-in-coming. That explained how Schade could afford it. She knew quality. Monroe wrote the signature in his notebook. He would track down the artist (make sure than Schade hadn't done anything to him or her) and try to buy an art piece. It would be a good investment if nothing else.
Monroe couldn't find anything that violated Grimm Parole, but Schade knew that the spot inspections happened. She could be hiding it elsewhere. He had an alternate task. Monroe grabbed the nicest suit with a matching sleeveless top to accommodate the cast for her newly broken arm. He was less sure about shoe choices; too many options. In the end, he grabbed the strappy black heels that had the most sweat scent. He figured that Schade wore them the most because they were comfortable, though they all appeared to be torture devices.
Outfit in hand, Monroe locked the apartment behind him and pocketed the key. Life with a Grimm was weird. He owned a key to an ex-hexenbiest's apartment to search for contraband because the Grimm refused to kill a dangerous wesen.
Only Nick would arrange this.
Outtake 5 Summary: After Sobek Drowning, Nick is ordered into the profiling classes.When Nick was called into Captain Sean Renard's office for a private meeting, the detective/Grimm worried that it might have something to do Grimm politics or worse, his mother. What he was not expecting was for the captain to hand him a stack of paperwork and say, "Fill that out. You're going back to school."
"Excuse me, sir?" Nick could think of no reason for him to take... he flipped through the paperwork. Ugh. The Chemistry of Psychology and Advanced Abnormal Psych. He hadn't cared for the prequisites he had taken for his pre-law degree, a stepping stone for the police academy. Class work was not Nick's forte.
"Those are the first of Agent Hotchner's requirements before you can start joining the FBI profiling seminars."
Nick straightened in alarm. "I have no interest in becoming an FBI agent." He had been aware of the undercurrents when the Feds had allowed him more leeway in questioning persons of interest and ultimately the suspect. Hotchner was either giving him enough rope to hang himself or a job interview. Nick would have preferred the first scenario.
Renard was looking smug. "I told him that. I'm glad you recognize the difficulties inherent in a Grimm with a FBI badge. The Verret would hire a sniper before you stepped onto the Quantico campus for training."
Nick was amused at Renard's statement/threat/hint of current protection, but still, "Then why am I taking college courses?"
Renard gave him a 'captain stare.' "Because having an in-house FBI-trained profiler will be invaluable on the stand in a courtroom. Hotchner is willing to circumvent the normal requirements if you get all of the education. It would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity. Portland PD will, of course, pay for your continuing education."
The captain's tone was quickly sliding to 'orders.' Nick needed to divert the conversation quickly. "Sir, I don't have time. Between cases, and well cases and Juliette." Renard softened at the mention of his girlfriend and Nick was pretty sure it was for the same reason that had Bud asking for their marriage date every week. Nick offered one more reason. "I'm playing catch-up with my Grimm reading as it is."
Enough emotion flashed on Renard's face for Nick to know that the argument had been lost. Renard considered it to be to his advantage for Nick not to be informed on the actions and point of view of his ancestors. Having read the sometimes genocidal thoughts of previous Grimms, Nick could almost understand. Still, Nick had gleaned invaluable and often life-saving information from those texts. He needed to be better informed on the Wesen world. "One class per semester," he compromised. It would eat into his prior commitments but not as bad as two classes would.
Renard studied him and knew it was best he was going to get. "Agreed. Fill out the registration package tonight. Classes start in two weeks."
Nick made a face, but it was a compromise he could endure. He picked up the papers with heavy sigh that Renard ignored.
"Dismissed," Renard told him loftily. And to think, Nick had been worried about politics. *grimm*cm*