Summary: On the way to the airport, Det.s Hank Griffin and Valentina Espinosa talk about Grimms and scary childhood stories.
Coda to La Llorona. (written before 2.10 The Hour of Death)
Disclaimer: I own none of the canon characters. The duties of a balam is drawn from a National Geographic book.
Cross-posted to: my LJ, and to my AO3.
Det. Griffin intercepted Sgt. Wu and the other officer who had been tasked with making sure Det. Espinosa got on the first flight back to New Mexico. "I'll give her a ride to the airport," Hank said, and overrode the younger officer's objections.
"Was I wrong about the when and not the what?" Valentina asked.
"Wh- No, no, I've still got some questions, and I figure I can get some asked on our way over."
"I don't have a problem with that. Let's go."
As they drove away from the precinct, Hank asked her, "So, is it 'Wesen' or 'Vesen'? I've heard people say it both ways."
"Nobody cares," Valentina said.
She nodded. "Either because they don't like anybody saying it, or because they're not about to get bent out of shape over a word like that. Can I ask you a question?"
"What's it like?"
"Knowing about wesen?" Hank asked. "Pretty damn impressive. Also explains how - without a vest - a guy could try to kill me and didn't flinch when I shot him, repeatedly."
"Ah," Valentina said. "Few of us are invulnerable. For the most part, we're more like tsaatl." Looking out the window for a bit, she added, "But I meant what is it like to work with a Grimm?"
"As far as I can see, Nick's the same guy I worked with for years. There was a bit of weirdness on his part for a few months before he brought me into the circle and told me about Grimms and Wesens. Strange thing is, a lot of the people we're putting away, have been..." and wasn't sure how to say this to someone who was one.
"Wesen?" she asked. "That's not strange - you're partnered with a Grimm - they were bred to excell at finding wesen."
"Bred?" Hank repeated.
"Yes. According to the stories I heard as a child," Valentina clarified. "Detective Burkhart is the first live Grimm I have ever seen."
"Si. At the museum not far from my grandparents' apartment, there is a mummy of a man who died at some point in the 1700s. The story in my family is that the man was a Grimm who got lost." With a faint shiver, "There were two ghost stories in my house when I was a child - one was of La Llorona taking children into the river. The other was of that mummy going on a killing spree."
"Sounds like you definately had better bedtime stories than I did as a kid," Hank said.
Valentina shrugged. "Two more reasons to not go for a traditional occupation. Didn't exactly work out."
"I'm a cop," she said. "Balam traditionally guard sacred places - and mete out punishment to people who pee in the baptismal font, basically." And what I've told you, Hank, is about half of everything I know about my kind. The rest is just stories. Except for the tsaatl family who lived down the road from us - a family of cops.
So, not all that different. I should know. "If I had a nickel for every guy I hauled in for doing that, back when I was a rookie," Hank sympathized.
"You'd have a lot of nickels?"
Once Hank parked, he said, "Okay," as an airplane passed overhead on its way into the friendly skies.
"It was good to talk to you," she said. "Refreshing, I believe my mother would say."
"So long as that's a good thing, its fine by me."
"It is. You're new to the world," Valentina said.
"I'm that obvious?" Hank asked, not liking that. I suppose some of my questions *were* a little blunt.
"No - you're still full of curiosity. Hard to find people like that anymore."
"Well thank you. And it was nice to meet you too."
"Thank you. Well, I should go now - my flight is in twenty minutes, and I have to check in. Thank you, Detective Griffin."
"De nada, Detective Espinosa."
She started to open her door, but paused, and looked at him. Hank recalled moments like this in pretty much every chickflick he had ever had to sit through.
What happened was: "And if you have any questions, give me a call," Valentina invited.
Hank nodded. "I might just do that."
Author's Note: Tsaatl is a fictional noun derived from the Nauhtl -tl and the Danezaa tsáá'.