Good Cops Like You
...
Today, Nick's Aviators might as well have been there to protect the citizenry from the intense excitement beaming out of his eyes. After months of shadowing, partner patrols, parking duty, and desk jockeying, today was the day; today was Officer Nick Wilde's first day alone on a beat.
It was just city center but he had precious few times in his life that could compete with the pride he now felt. Striking out on a lone beat was nothing overly special at the ZPD, and this one in particular was only going to be a half shift but for Nick it represented the solidification of all he had become during the last year and a half. Being allowed on his own beat was the culmination of all the considerable effort he had put into himself being actualized as a trust in his abilities, held by his superiors, coworkers, friends, and one particularly special bunny.
It was a little after noon and, as the bright July sun beat down to warm his dark red fur, Nick started his route around the fountain. This was the site of the most important event in history and Nick realized that over the thirty-two year course of his old life, he had maybe walked past it twice, and neither of those times had he ever stopped to look at it, much less think about it. He watched the kits and cubs and fawns as they ran around and splashed in it. From his vantage point he could see Zootopia Grand Central Station and he imagined a bright-eyed Judy Hopps just oozing optimism as she stepped into the city for the first time. He smiled to himself thinking about it.
After a few hours he had walked the whole train station, around the museum, circled Little Rodentia, checked the alley behind City Hall and passed out no less than three 'Junior ZPD Detective' badges. Being so close to HQ, he had a lot of leeway on how this area needed to be patrolled. He decided it wouldn't be too much of a problem to walk out a few blocks and get some coffee at a little convenience store he knew was in that area.
He and Finnick had been refused service there once. That time hadn't even been a hustle and they had been willing to pay full price for their purchases. Nick wasn't mad about it; if he had gotten mad at every joint that refused him service he would never have had time for anything else. He doubted they would even remember him or recognize him if they did, but it was as good a place as any other to stop, so he figured why not give it another shot?
This was definitely no Snarlbucks or even a Cin-a-bone and he had to pour the coffee himself, but today, nothing was going to taste bad. They even had carrot-spice creamer, which, he had begrudgingly come to terms with several months ago, was now thoroughly his favorite. He finished playing barista and set the cup on the counter. The ram behind it stared at him and hesitated for just an instant too long before starting on the register. Nick wasn't even going to bother noticing it as he looked down at the selection of candies and snacks below him. He was just about to reach for a bag of dried blueberries when the ram suddenly bleated out, "Hey-y-y-y! You gotta pay for tha-a-at!" as he pointed to one of the back aisles.
Nick spun around to see a young fox dart out from behind the far racks. The kit came to an abrupt stop as Nick came into view, or more accurately, as Nick's attire came into view. Nick had expected to see fear in those eyes, as that was what most petty delinquents experienced when facing down a uniform, but what he found instead was anger. Nick watched the kit size up the situation; Nick was the only thing between him and the door.
Don't do it, kit. The smaller fox bolted in a desperate bid for escape. He weaved left and bobbed right as he made his dash for the door. "Hey!" Nick yelled. Being the second smallest mammal on the force, Nick had learned from the first smallest that for him, everything had to be about speed. Slick Nick had become Quick Nick and he wasn't about to be outfoxed on his first lone patrol. Even still, he barely caught the kit's arm in time as the young fox had tried a spin maneuver to evade capture.
Over his years of hustling Nick had become an expert at reading mammals in an instant. During his time at the Academy and now on the force, that skill had become practically weaponized. So before Nick had even finished spinning the fox around to look at him, his mind couldn't help but be flooded with observations as he stitched together a profile: A crease on his ear, the ear itself that was just a little too droopy, the fur that was just a little too thin, just a little too lacking the healthy luster of his own, a few missing tufts indicative of pre-mange, the dusty clothes, and the too-bony arm that he now gripped in his paw. Then came the uniquely fox things, things that other species might miss but Nick knew all too well. The acrid scent of high stress in those pheromones was something that wouldn't just happen overnight. Nick guessed his age at twelve, maybe thirteen. As his captive's face came into view, Nick could see the spots on his gum lines as the kit defiantly bared his teeth at him in a snarl, as well as the thinness in his cheeks under the fur. And then, something that was not just uniquely fox but something that was uniquely Nick: those eyes had packed away fear a long time ago but they hadn't quite yet been ready to give up anger.
Using no more than his peripheral vision, Nick could see the offending paw clutching several Hoof Bars against his chest. No conscious thought had had the time to materialize but Nick's recognition of the product was colored by the experience of Judy practically force-feeding those to him as he bulked up at the Academy; they were as nutritious as an entire produce aisle, jam-packed with protein, and dense as his badge. They were also completely, utterly, and undeniably disgusting. It wasn't exactly a thing he would expect to be the first choice of a delinquent young fox.
From an outside frame of reference, no perceptible time had passed since Nick had grabbed the kit, but with his profiling complete, a plan emerged. In a quieter, but still stern voice, he again said "Hey," as the smallest micro-expression of pained empathy twitched through his face. He let a grin form to replace it as he winked at the furious fox in his grasp. "Don't you think you should let dad pay for that first?"
Nick saw the smallest fissure form in the mask his captive was showing the world and through it was the slightest shadow of fleeting hope. He let go and turned towards the clerk as he reached for his wallet, cheerfully adding, "and…" looking back down, the kit hadn't moved, "three Hoof Bars." He gave his best foxy smile.
The clerk scowled at him but the badge tended to stifle the casual verbal abuse that used to plague him. Now most mammals, overcompensating for their feeling towards foxes, would simply say nothing. But that didn't stop their faces from accosting him with all their deepest and truest feelings, as this clerk was now doing. The register clicked and whirred and the new total appeared on the readout. Nick slid him a twenty and told him to keep it. He put his paw on the younger fox's back and walked out of the shop.
...
The two stood on the sidewalk and stared at each other. Nick didn't have to ask why he was stealing Hoof Bars and he knew this kit didn't want to answer that anyways. So why not just skip to the end?
Nick tilted his head down a little further to look over the top of his Aviators, "I know there is no way that you actually like those," he stated flatly as he tapped one of the bars with a claw point. "C'mon, let's get some real food," he said as he turned to start walking away.
Nick knew that the kit wouldn't come if forced but he was betting the combination of seeing a fox in uniform, getting let off for a crime without even a warning, and the potential of a free meal might produce enough intrigue to get him to follow on his own volition.
"Why are you dressed like a cop?" The kit had ended up following him.
Nick savored a sip of his coffee before he answered, "Because I'm a cop."
"Foxes can't be cops," the kit said confidently.
"Oh, really?" Nick said slyly as they walked down the street. It would be a left and then two blocks to the ZPD parking lot.
"Why did you help me?" the kit asked.
"You ever eat a Hoof Bar, kit? Trust me, you needed help." Nick took another sip of his coffee. He made sure not to look back or even really acknowledge the other fox as they walked. Showing compassion, talking about how sorry he was, fawning over those missing fur patches was not the way to win hearts and minds with foxes. If he had a mask up, which Nick was sure he did, trying to force it open would only push him away. But providing a disinterested mystery with a potential payoff at the end would scratch the foxy part of the kit's brain and he wouldn't be able to help but follow. It's called a hustle, kit. But this hustle was for a good cause. Nick knew this kit probably hadn't had a decent meal in a while and that was something he could fix. He figured he wasn't going to win trust anytime soon, but, as the kit continued to follow him, it seemed he had definitely won some curiosity.
They walked in silence for the next block and a half until they could see the broad imposing sandstone slabs of the ZPD. This finally seemed to sell it that Nick wasn't playing dress-up.
"A-are you going to arrest me?" The kit had stopped following Nick and seemed to be considering if he could outrun the older fox.
"I thought foxes couldn't be cops." Nick had now stopped too and finally turned to look at him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key fob. He clicked it twice and one of the SUV cruisers behind him roared to life with enough power to be felt even at this distance. The rumble accomplished its intended purpose and the kit's eyes and ears flicked towards the headlights that had just kicked on. Nick bent down to get at a better eye level with the kit. "I wasn't kidding," he said in a friendlier, gentler tone before motioning his head towards the idling cruiser. "Let's go get something to eat."
...
"So, any preferences?" Nick asked as they pulled out of the lot. The kit looked intensely uncomfortable in the seat next to him. Nick knew what he was going through. Hope is a dangerous thing for foxes. In his own life it had, until recently, so rarely followed through on its promises. The more you believed in it, the more it hurt when it failed to come through. So why even give it the chance? There would be no words to convince the kit that Nick was being honest. An important part of 'never let them see that they get to you' was not needing to rely on others in the first place. This fox would believe to his core that no food was coming until it was in his muzzle. Even then, he would fear it was going to be taken away at any moment. With all the nice things that had entered Nick's life these past two years, he knew the feeling well.
"Um, Buggaburger?" And there it was, just the smallest bit of hope in those words. It was Nick's new life mission to not disappoint it.
I don't falsely advertise anything. "No problem."
The drive wasn't far, just five blocks, but it was silent nonetheless. You couldn't force foxes to do anything, they had to choose to do it on their own. Nick parked the cruiser and they stepped inside.
"Anything you like," Nick said as he pulled off his Aviators and stuffed them into his chest pocket.
Nick was beyond thankful when the kit wasn't bashful with his order: Double crawler with everything, a large fry, and a vanilla shake. Nick himself got a portabella melt with a blueberry shake. He put it on his Mouster Card and, after a short wait for their trays, they sat down at a booth by the window. The kit, now a wolf, mowed on his quarry.
When he started to slow down Nick decided that if he hadn't won him over by now, it was never going to happen. With that in mind, Nick initiated the next step in his well-intentioned hustle. "My name is Nick, Nick Wilde. And yes, I am an officer," he said, pointing to his badge. "Foxes can be officers, buuut..." he stretched the out the word and rolled his eyes for dramatic effect, "so far I am the only one."
"Why did you want to be the only one?" the kit asked, still trying to eat as much as he could before whatever phantom threat that took nice things from foxes had a chance to find him.
"Well, I don't necessarily want to be the only one, I hope that someday other foxes will join, too."
"Why would you want to be a cop, though?"
"Someone I trust told me I would make a good cop. They believed in me, got me to believe in myself, and it wasn't easy, lemme tell you, but here I am: Officer Wilde, ZPD." Nick had sat up tall and straight as his cheeky grin formed again. "So there you are, foxes can be cops. Foxes can be all kinds of things, you know."
The kit kept eating while he mulled it over. Slow down, Wilde. This kit was just trying to scrape together a few calories and here he was trying to initiate an existential crisis. Nick decided to change the subject.
"Any chance you want to tell me your name?"
The kit's eyes flicked downwards; he remained silent for a pawful of seconds before returning his gaze back up to Nick's and answering,. "Mike."
"Ah, Mike," Nick said gleefully as he stuck his paw out over the table. "Nice to meet you, Mike."
Mike considered the outstretched paw for a moment before hesitantly offering his own. "Nice to meet you, Officer Wilde," he replied shyly as they shook.
Nick gave a light chuckle. "You can just call me Nick if you want."
"Oh, er, okay. Um, thanks for not arresting me, Office-er, I mean Nick."
Nick racked his brain for a lecture he had had last year on cub abuse. There were leading questions that you were supposed to ask to get more information about how bad things were at home. Nick frowned in his head as he ran through the logic of it: he would find out that, at the very least, this kit was being neglected, he would have to report it, mammal services would come get him and he'd get tossed through the system. Nick knew from other kits in his youth that there wasn't much difference between a foster fox and an abused fox. Sans solid family structure, it was arguably safer for a fox to strike it out on his own. He sighed as he leaned forward and pressed on in a lower, quieter voice, "So, do you, um, do you have to do that a lot? To get food?" Picking up on Mike's hesitation he quickly added, "It's okay if you do."
Slowly, Mike nodded his head in the affirmative.
Nick knew this was going to be the answer; he wasn't in the least bit surprised, but having it confirmed still made his heart sink. Mike had barely looked up at Nick throughout any part of the meal and he was grateful for this now as he was having the hardest time keeping his own mask up. Pressing the point further wouldn't gain Nick anything he didn't already know so he changed the subject again. "After this I have to get some paper work done at the station. You wanna come with? I can have someone look at that ear."
Mike reflexively put a paw to his ear as he slicked it back.
"You don't have to say what happened if you don't want. We'll just have someone come fix ya' up, no questions asked," Nick assured gently.
When they got back in the car Nick reached up towards the cabin light and depressed a panel that dropped down to reveal a sunglasses holder. There was a spare pair of Aviators that matched Nick's own. They were both authentic Ram-Bans, the real deal, not some knock off, and they were ruggedized enough that his current pair had stood up to his entire time at the Academy. He handed the spares to Mike. "Here; those are polarized UV 1000, you can keep 'em." It was the type of gift only a nocturnal could appreciate and Nick laughed to himself at the memory of when Judy had tried to look through them. For her, they were pitch black.
...
Upon seeing two foxes, one smaller than the other, in matching, sharply mirrored Aviators, Clawhauser simply could not resist shouting out his customary, "Oh-Em-Goodness!"
"Hey, Spots!" Nick called out as they approached the desk.
"And I thought Hopps was cute, but look at you two! Ohhh!" He had his paws to his face as he grinned madly.
"Take a number, Whiskers."
"And who do we have here?" Clawhauser leaned forward with interest, looking down at the awkwardly shuffling kit who, despite the aviators masking his eyes, was keeping them resolutely downcast.
"This is Mike, he's my shadow today." Nick smiled and pointed up at the cheetah. "Mike, this is Officer Clawhauser."
"Hi," Mike said in a shy voice, bringing his eyes up for the briefest of instants to meet the cheetah's before swiftly returning them to the floor.
"Hey, Spots," Nick began while leaning in, "You know if Miriam is in today?"
"Yeah, you want me to call her for you?"
"I'd appreciate it. Can you have her meet us in one-three-two? I wanted to have her help me show Mike around."
...
Room one-thirty-two was a nurse's station and it was able to take care of just about anything that might happen to an officer while they were around the station. Miriam had become the ZPD's RN on-call last year while Nick was still at the Academy. She was great at what she did and Nick knew he could count on her to keep this low-key because like him, she would understand the dilemma of just tossing a fox into foster care.
"What did you do this time, Wilde?" The question came from the (if Nick was being objective, and as a cop, he prided his impartiality) stunning (he was mated, not dead) vixen that had just entered the room.
"Hey, Miriam. Surprisingly, it's not me this time." Nick grinned at her.
"I see. And who is this?" she said in her gentlest, non-threatening voice as she bent down to Mike's level.
"This is Mike," Nick answered as he put an arm around the kit.
As Miriam did her work, she shot Nick several covert glares as she checked over the kit. After she had finished checking his eyes, mouth and ears, she applied various ointments on some of the exposed skin. When that was complete she'd managed to find a lollipop in the desk at the side of the room. Nick was smirking and thinking about why that would be in a place that was mostly for officers when Miriam roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway.
"Nick, who the hell is that?" she said in a hushed whisper.
Nick grinned sheepishly. "I told you, his name is Mike."
"Where on earth did you find him? I haven't ever seen a canid that close to mange in my life! I know you of all mammals should have noticed his weight! And Makers above, that scent! Do you have any idea how much anxiety it takes to do that?"
"I know, I know," Nick had found out long ago that knowing the answer to something in advance didn't lessen the blow when it was confirmed. "How bad is he?"
"Bad, Nick," she said quietly.
"Miriam, if I report this… You know what happens to foxes in the system."
"I know, Nick, but…"
"Look, I'm gonna check out his place when I drop him off. I'll check in every few days, see if anything changes." Nick knew he was pleading but it was a good plan. Having the fuzz knocking around and taking an interest in your kit could usually get even the most stubborn, negligent caretakers to fulfill their title-sake.
Miriam put a paw to her face. "Fine," she remitted, "but…"
Nick, with a paw on his heart and the other raised, cut her off. "I promise I will check in on him and we will cross the services bridge if we get to it. You have my word. And Miriam, thank you. I owe ya' on this one."
"Big time, Wilde."
It took Nick about an hour to finish up his paperwork for the day. He had sat Mike at Judy's desk which was across from his own and Nick had thoroughly enjoyed watching him move her carefully organized things around while he played on the computer's guest account.
...
There was still plenty of summer evening sun left as they departed the ZPD. Nick had gotten Mike to, reluctantly, disclose his home address so Nick could drive him back. He knew this area of the Rainforest District. It was a reminder that even with all the personal progress he himself had made recently, Zootopia as a whole still had a long way to go. The cruiser crept up to the address, Roaming Hollows Park, a trailer park, and Nick could see the single wide in question surrounded by scrubby, unkempt grass. The chain-link fence almost mocked that it was there to keep the residents of the park in more than to keep anything out. Along with the warm breeze streaming through the open windows came muffled shouts of hot anger and rude growls. Silhouettes could be seen in the curtains of the trailer pointing fingers and baring teeth at one another. Nick looked over to the fox next to him, his head looking down at the folded paws on his lap.
"Say, uh, you maybe want to get some dinner before I drop you off?" Nick tried to play a cool tone in his question.
Nick received a timid nod and looked back to the road in front of him. As he sped off he reached for the cell on his belt. His pad print unlocking the screen, he thumbed the call button twice. "Hey, Fluff, you still getting dinner together?" A pause. "That sounds good. Hey, you think there would be room for a guest tonight?" Another pause. "No, it's not someone from work. He's…a friend I made today. Look, it's a long story, Carrots, I'll explain it to you when we get there. For now, just trust me on this, okay?" Pause. "Thanks, Jude. Love ya', owe ya', all that stuff," Pause. "Probably about twenty minutes. Maybe fifteen if I put the flashers on." He looked to grin at Mike but the kit was still staring at his paws. "Just kidding! I'll see you in fifteen. Love ya'" He pawed the red square before she could answer and put the device back on his belt. The rest of the ride was completed in silence.
Their new apartment wasn't exactly the lap of luxury, but when compared to Judy's old room at the Grand Pangolin Arms, it was a mansion. Nick clawed through his key ring, selected a brass one, and opened the door. "Bunny! I'm home!" he shouted gleefully, his arms in the air.
Judy was in the kitchen, but in a studio apartment that meant she was also in the foyer, dining room, living room, and laundry room too. He dropped his keys on the table as he walked to her and bent to place a gentle kiss on her lips. He stood and turned, with an arm around her, to look at the fox still standing in the entryway. "Mike, this is Judy," he pointed his free paw to her, "Carrots, this is Mike," he pointed back at Mike.
"You're dating a rabbit?" Mike said as he cocked his head and skewed his ears in puzzlement. His look showed he didn't mean it in malice, but it was something he clearly hadn't expected.
"Easy pal, she's a lot tougher than I am," Nick played his tried and true card of humor to defuse the situation.
"I-I, I didn't mean to, um..." Mike stammered in embarrassment.
"It's okay!" said Judy with a laugh. "Though you should have been more surprised that I would date this scruffy fox." She elbowed Nick, causing him to oof dramatically, and approached Mike with an outstretched paw. "It's nice to meet you, Mike." Mike offered his and they shook. "Now, are you hungry?" Mike smiled and nodded his head.
Over their dinner of alfredo bowtie pasta, Nick tactfully kept conversation away from topics that might force Mike into talking about things he wouldn't want to bring up and Judy, his partner in every way, had no trouble keeping up and followed his lead. They told stories of some of their more interesting cases, including the Night Howler crisis which received an excited "That was you guys?" from Mike. After dinner was over Nick could see Mike's dismay in realizing he would have to go home soon. Not yet able to bring himself to be the one to take away a fox's nice thing, he suggested that maybe they could watch a movie first. Judy had picked up Savage Skies on Bul-Ray last week but they had yet to find a chance to watch it. After the movie (and Nick's continuous playful nudges to Judy as she shamelessly ogled the secret agent rabbit hero, Jack Savage, whom, for no apparent reason at all, somehow managed to find himself shirtless in nearly every scene he appeared in), Nick could see that maybe fear hadn't entirely left Mike. Faced with the prospect of taking him home once again, Nick still couldn't do it. He just wasn't ready to crush this kit's hope. Judy got some spare sheets and one of Nick's ZPD t-shirts while he set up the pullout.
...
"Nick," she used that drawn out conciliatory tone as she stroked his chest fur. It was the way she had said his name on the sky-tram after he had spilled his deepest secret to her. The way she had said it so many times this past year and a half as he struggled to forge a new fox out of himself. "We can't keep him forever, you know."
He squeezed her tighter to his body. "Carrots… I-I had to do something, he's just a kit." He looked down at her. "To tell you the truth, Judy, I don't know how I made it as long as I did. I liked to think it was because I was so much smarter, but… but that's just not true. It was dumb luck, plain and simple. I can't just sit by and watch while he rolls the dice for the rest of his life like I did. Like I was going to keep doing. Judy, you have no idea what you did for me. You took a chance on me and made my whole life better. If I can't make life just a little better for just one kit, what was the point? If I can't do that then I really don't deserve any of this."
Judy kept stroking the fur on his chest as she listened. She knew it was one of the few surefire ways to calm him when he was stressed. It was something simple and something uniquely hers to give, and she did so now without reservation. She wasn't mad at him. This was just one of those Nick things. It was one of the consequences of him having buried the good inside of him, to protect it from pain, for so long. On occasions when it did surface, it spilled out of him with more force than his considerable senses could control. It was, in actuality, her favorite feature of this particular fox, but, it did come at a cost: nearsightedness. "So what's our plan, then?" she asked in the understanding that she was his partner, and whatever the situation, they would face it together.
"I-I dunno, Judy, I..." Nick said and then took a deep contemplative breath and looked back up to the ceiling.
Nearsightedness, Judy thought as she zig-zagged her small claws through his fur. She had seen it first at the sky-tram station. As she slid off the edge of the platform, the last thing she saw was Nick opening the gate to the sky car. It still brought her heavy shame that as she dangled by a claw, a thousand feet in the air, she knew she had messed up badly in trusting him. She knew he was gone, he had left her for dead, and that any second now, that jaguar would be back and she would be. She had known it to the bone and if she hadn't been busy fighting for her life, it would have consumed her. But the fangs never came and she had managed to pull herself back up, and she saw him, the real him. Nick had stayed. He hadn't left her. He couldn't have left her. He couldn't have left anyone. And for a flashing instant she could see the good overflowing from deep within him. But that dumb fox stayed for her! With absolutely no plan, whatsoever! Giving no forethought to what was next! He stayed to face a savage jaguar with nothing but his wits and the shirt on his back! Nearsightedness. She had then so nearly seen her first ever witness on her first ever case mauled to death as her academy-drilled reflex had so barely managed to find cuffs in time. Nick had leapt without looking, because it was the right thing to do. She would never wish that to change, and if she had to spend the rest of her life backing him up on the consequences, she would gladly take the job.
"I mean, would you be okay with it if he stayed here for a few days while we figure things out?" Nick knew he was reaching on this one.
"Then what, Nick? Are we going to take in every stray we find out there?" She really didn't mean to be bursting his bubble, which she now realized was a goal she had likely failed to accomplish, but if they were going to make progress in solving this problem, they needed to talk honestly about it.
"Seriously, Carrots?" Nick looked down at her, a devious smile on his face, "You're gonna just set one up for me like that? A rabbit, worried about having too many…" Judy had removed her paw from his chest and he immediately realized that he had underestimated his need for it. He abandoned the joke, hurriedly saying, "Okay, okay! I'm sorry, Fluff. That was insensitive and I apologize." He pushed her paw back onto his chest and rubbed it back and forth with his own a few times, just in case she'd forgotten what she'd been doing.
"He can stay for a few days but that isn't a long term solution, Nick," she resumed petting him on her own accord.
"What if I found him a job, you know, like a real one?" Nick might not always have known how he was going to finish something, but he was still a sharp fox, and plans were his specialty. "I think that would have really helped me out when I was that age, but…" Nick trailed off thinking of all the things that foxes just couldn't, no, that wasn't right, weren't allowed to do.
Judy kept her stroking calm and steady as she felt the tension in his chest fighting back against her; it always did when he thought about his past. "Hmm," she sighed contemplatively. "Maybe I could have my mom reach out to Gideon and see if he has any room at the new bakery on Alpine, maybe a dishwasher or something? Nick? Nick!" Judy let out a whisper shouted crescendo.
Nick had been letting out a very low, but very menacing growl and his ears were drawn back as far as they would go. He brought the rumble into a cough and tried to play it off. He really hadn't meant to do it but ever since she had told him about what had happened, and he had felt the subtle crease of scar tissue under her fur, something primal flooded over him, and, when he heard that name, it was something he simply couldn't control. He took a deep breath and said, "Sorry Fluff, you know how I feel about him." Nick looked down into her eyes as he gingerly brushed his pad across her cheek.
"Nick, we've talked about this," she said as she leaned into the touch. Her fox was so fiercely loyal and protective of her. She knew she should consider herself lucky to have such devotion, but, like his other passions, sometimes it got the best of him. She kept her paw on his chest and continued her efforts to soothe him. No matter how predatory he liked to think he was, he was powerless against her claws.
Relaxing a little, Nick said, "I just don't think Gideon-" he growled under the name, "would be my mentor of choice. I know you said he's different now, but maybe he's a little too different, don't ya think?" Nick laid his head back to look at the ceiling again.
"Yeah, you're probably right about that, he is a little... off, now. Did you have someplace else in mind?"
"I was thinking maybe you could talk to Mrs. Otterton?" Nick asked hopefully. "Foxes have really good noses so, you know, I don't really know a lot about flowers but a good nose wouldn't hurt, right? And with them being preds anyways, it wouldn't have to be any of that bending barriers stuff, ya' know? Just stability, plain and simple."
Judy smiled. "That's a great idea, Nick. I'll give her a call in the morning." She nuzzled her head into his arm and traced her paw extra slow over an extra long path across his chest and received a contented quiver for her effort. "Nick?" she said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"I'm proud of you, you know that, right?" She looked up as he looked down and their eyes met.
His response wasn't in words but it was more honest than anything language had to offer, as he rolled over onto his side and pulled her in close.
As they lay there, her back tight against his bare chest, he felt more contented and safe than he ever had before. Consciousness began to ebb as he waded into the shores of sleep. His mind played images of a happy fox kit, running, playing, and feeling as safe as he did now. He wasn't sure if the kit in his mind was him or the one on the couch outside, but he did know one thing. "Judy," he said dreamily.
"Yeah, Nick?" she whispered softly.
"I'm glad you found me." And with that last confession, sleep took him under.
...
"NICK!" Judy may have been small but that voice, even from the next room over, was a fierce roar that even the savagest of cats would have trouble matching.
"Yeah, bun?" Having been so violently ripped from REM sleep, Nick's voice had a cautious tone. He only had a few seconds of consciousness under his belt today but that was more than enough for him to know that Judy's tone was not that of alarm, but that of anger.
"Get out here. Now!"
Nick somberly rolled out of bed. He gave a few exaggerated stretches, a whined yawn, and slowly began to walk the distance to whatever gallows he had built for himself this time. As he did, he raked his claws through the matted fur of his cheek in a futile attempt to bring some symmetry back to his face.
He found Judy standing at their humble dining table holding a slip of paper in one paw while the other threw something at him. He oofed as that something, small and dense, but not very hard, hit him in the chest.
"Mine is empty, too." Judy was doing that thing with her foot that usually drove Nick into a tizzy with its cuteness, except it was directed at him, and he knew the dangers of enjoying it when it was directed at him.
The projectile fell from his chest into his paw. It was his wallet. Opening it, he could see all of his cards and credentials in their proper places, but the largest pocket, where the bills went, only contained fabric. He quickly looked at the couch, knowing what he would find there.
"He's not there!" Judy shouted at him and his focus quickly returned to her. She held up and shook the piece of notebook paper in her paw. "Here, read it," she said in a mix of accusation and reprimand.
He took the paper and read it.
Thank you so much. I am so sorry. You can't help me, I don't deserve it.
Nick read it over and over again, his heart dropping lower with every pass. After several moments he finally looked up at her with his muzzle open. In what was a rare show, he was at a loss for words. "I-I, uh, I..." he stammered as the guilt and dismay swirled around him.
"Nick, there are reasons there are rules for this. We can't just bring every at-risk cub home with us. Some parts of the job have to stay where we find them." Judy's tone was filled with the disappointment he was so terrified to find there.
"I-I'll go to the bank today and..."
Judy cut him off. "It's not about the money, Nick!" she shouted at him.
He looked at the ground, the disappointment from within himself was rushing in fast. "I know, I know," he said, embarrassment clinging to his admission of fault.
Judy could see that her words were threatening to drown Nick right here, right now. She had seen something amazing inside of him that night on the cable car. She had spent so long getting him to open up as, together, they jumpstarted emotions he hadn't used in decades. Pulling him out of the flat line of indifference had allowed them to reach the highest joys of life together. But this also opened him up to the flipside of that curve, the side that was the whole reason for giving up the latter and cutting himself off in the first place. He had spent so much of his life protecting himself from that type of wound, and she had convinced him to drop his defenses for the hope of something better. He had trusted her and once unguarded, she had been the first to strike at him. Tender from having gone so long unused, her attack from the podium at the ZPD presser nearly destroyed him, and she vowed then and every day after that she would never do that again. As she remembered her renewal to that promise last night, she knew there was a price to be paid for the good her fox could give to the world and she wasn't about to default on it now.
She walked to him, his head still looking down at an empty billfold, and she put her arms around him. "I'm sorry I yelled, Nick, I know you meant well and you weren't wrong to try. I still mean what I said last night," she pulled away to look up into his shame-filled eyes, "I am proud of you." He took a deep breath and returned her embrace as the tides of self-doubt began to recede.
She pulled away again and looked into his eyes and saw some of his hope pushing through the guilt. She smiled and shook her head at him, "Oh, you foxes, sooo…"
"Don't say it, Carrots," he interrupted in playful relief as he realized she was no longer mad at him.
They smiled at each other and she pointed at the bathroom and mockingly ordered he get ready to go. He gave her an equally mocking but attentive salute and marched off.
...
It had been two days since Mike had left. Nick thought of him often and tried to reconcile what had happened, what the note said, and what, if anything, he might have done differently; he could think of nothing. Last night he had swung by the trailer park but no one was home. This morning he had, very reluctantly, made a report and contacted services. To his no great surprise he was informed that they had a three month long backlog at the moment but was reassured that they would take it into advisement which, Nick knew, meant they would do nothing. This event had stirred up a lot of Nick's feelings on what it meant to be a fox and he was happy to have Carrots back on patrol with him as, together, they worked through understanding what those were.
Hope is a dangerous thing for foxes. The world had done a pretty thorough job of breaking foxes, he had decided. But foxes themselves weren't entirely blameless in the matter; if they wanted to be better, they had to want to be better. It was a vicious cycle of thought; being too scared to accept hope from society, and society being too fed up with rejection to offer it anymore. A cycle of not being trusted and not willing to trust. While this was currently the trend, it wasn't necessarily the rule. Nick had broken out of the cycle and, even though a small part of him still gnawed in terror that this would all be taken away suddenly, he knew it was possible to break out. But it had taken him thirty-two years and a nontrivial amount of rabbit sheer force of will to get him to realize it. Expecting a twelve-year-old to be able to figure that out, believe it, and then act on it, all in that order,was asking a lot. It was asking a lot of any mammal. They resolved that the only thing Nick could do was be there, to let Zootopia's downtrodden know that there were options, that here, you really could be anything, and that, should they choose to accept it, he would be there to offer them a paw up. Change starts with me.
...
It was near the end of their shift when it started raining. They were just about to start heading back when the call came in.
"We have a 10-31, possible 10-17 at Roaming Hollows Park. All RFD units, please respond."
The ice in Nick's veins threatened to paralyze him but he grabbed the radio and shouted, "Wilde-Hopps! 10-4!"
Judy was about to remind him that they were not in the Rainforest District but then saw the look on his face.
"That's Mike's place," he pleaded desperately.
Judy stepped on the accelerator and jammed the button for the sirens. Nick frantically typed away on the computer as he tried to pull details of the situation from the network. They were in downtown but they were close enough to the climate pass that it only took Judy four minutes to speed them to the location. Even being a district over, they were still first on the scene. This petrified Nick as he knew how long four minutes was in these situations. The power slide stop in the mud at the center of the park brought him back to the moment and he resolved to keep a cool head; that was the only thing that would be able to help anyone now. They got out of the cruiser, tranqs drawn, and approached the trailer.
The door was ajar and Nick looked down at the ground. The rain-softened mud cast deep prints of what could only have been, based on the spacing, the perp running away. But the rain that allowed for such a clear trail was also threatening to wash it away. "I'm on it!" Judy yelled as she ran to follow the path.
Nick briskly made his way to the trailer and barked "ZPD! Stand down!" He approached the door and let training reflex clear the room for him. If he hadn't had night vision it would have been almost black in there. But he did, and he saw all of it. He holstered his tranq as he rushed to the side of a small body, ignoring the two larger ones. He had had extensive training for field first-aid but he knew he wasn't going to be able to do anything with what he had on his mammal. "10-52, we need EMTs here now! Repeat, EMTs now!" he yelled into his radio.
Biting back his primal instinct in favor of his training, he ran back out of the trailer to the cruiser and grabbed the trauma kit. He hardly remembered the run back. Blinded by adrenalin, guided by drilled muscle memory, he cut open the kit's shirt and ripped open the pack of QuikClot with his teeth. "C'mon, Mike! C'mon!" he growled as he worked to get gauze and pressure on the multiple wounds. Thick blood soaked through every gauze pad he used and it pooled and streamed heavily around his digits as he pressed down.
He hadn't heard the sirens but they must have come because he was now being pulled back by someone telling him that he stood relieved and an EMT was shouting that he was taking over. As he was drug backwards he saw Mike's face. He hadn't had time to see it before, but now, with nothing else to distract him he could see that he had been wrong; Mike's eyes did know fear.
After that, everything flowed as a detached blur. With his involvement in current events now complete, there was no longer any tasks for his training instinct to lock onto. His adrenalin high crashed; hard. It had been Wolford that pulled him off his first-aid duty. Some amount of shell shock was common the first time something like this happened to an officer, but seeing the completely blood-soaked fox, Wolford knew this was going to be different. He had carried Nick to one of the ambulances and sat him on the bench inside. He wrapped a thermal blanket around Nick's shoulders and just sat with him while the rest of the ZPD and EMTs canvassed the area.
Hopps had come back a short while after and was running to find Nick. She put her paws over her mouth as she saw him. "Oh Nick," she gasped as she approached. Like her, he was completely drenched and spackled with mud, but under that, even against the contrast of his dark uniform and dark fur, there was no missing the darker crimson that covered him and dripped into messy, rain-watery puddles on the floor below. Wolford, who had an arm around Nick to steady him, used his other to put a digit to his muzzle. Judy knew he meant for her to be quiet. Nick didn't need words in that moment and if he was as bad as he looked, she doubted he would even hear them. His ears were flat to the sides, muzzle slightly open, and his face locked in a vacant, wide-eyed stare. She steeled herself and went to sit down on the other side of him. He was beginning to shiver quite violently, a combination of the wet and the adrenalin withdrawal, and she pushed the blanket tighter against him. After a few minutes he reached over, took her paw, and held it tightly.
...
Given that he had been effectively catatonic, it was pretty impressive that Nick only took about twenty minutes to regain his senses and begin coming out of shock. No one would blame him for crashing so hard; his expert performance in the heat of the moment was beyond reproach and his semi-metaphoric collapse over the finish line was a testament to the fact that he really had given it his all, right to the end. A cop had to be cool under fire; what they did after was not relevant. When the worst had passed he broke his empty gaze and looked at Judy with a grave sadness.
"Hey," she said gently as she rubbed his shoulder, the emergency blanket crinkling, "there you are."
"Did you get him?" he asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I did."
"Good."
"Nick, are… are..."
"I'll be fine, Carrots," he interrupted. "I've got you next to me." He gave a meek chuckle as he bumped his shoulder against hers and squeezed her paw. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. He looked up at Wolford, "Thanks for, uh, gettin' me out of there, Wolfy."
"Anytime, Wilde-Fire."
Nick let go of Judy and looked down at his shaking blood-soaked paws. She felt his breath quicken as he looked back at her. "Hey, uh, Carrots, do you think you could take me back to the station so I can get washed up?"
...
The ride back was in silence. Nick's head was pounding with fatigue and his mind was jammed gears as he tried and failed to avoid processing the experience. He remembered most of what happened and he didn't need to ask about the parts that he didn't, because he was pretty sure he knew how those had went, too. When he got to the station he took a long hot shower and scrubbed until well after he was certain that the events of the day had been thoroughly removed from him.
"I'm ok Carrots," he said as they drove home, "I know you want to know how I am feeling and if I knew, I would tell you. I am honestly just exhausted right now."
Upon arriving home Nick walked straight to their bed and promptly passed out on it.
...
The next day he still had nothing to say to Judy and she wasn't ready to press him on it. He was notably silent during roll-call and then spent the rest of the morning at his desk filling out his after action. He found reports from other officers, including Judy, and read those, too. He learned that Mike's dad was MIA; the fox he had seen his mom arguing with a few nights ago was apparently a boyfriend. More than that, he was a tranq-head and he didn't pay his debts. The events of last night had been a hit from a collector. Mike, his mom, and her boyfriend did not survive the encounter. Judy had managed to catch up to the perp, an ocelot, tranqed him (oh the irony), and dragged him back through the mud to their cruiser. Nick read a report from the paramedics that referenced himself; he had, apparently, performed above expectations and his quick thinking with the trauma kit had been the right call. They even noted his perfect execution of triaging which wounds to focus on. For all the good it did. There was a report from another EMT that described checking on him while he sat in the ambulance and he frowned at not being able to recall the encounter. He wasn't sure if really wanted to keep going down memory lane with this one but even as he thought it, he remembered Mike's bloody look of terror as Wolford pulled him away. Great, that one is gonna stay with ya' for sure. He rolled his eyes as he placed a copy of his report in the filing cabinet.
All day mammals kept asking if he was 'okay'. It was getting kind of annoying, actually. "I'm fine, honest, I am," he would say. And he did mean it. He really was fine. I am, right? He would admit he wasn't as jovial today. Why wouldn't I be fine? It hadn't been the blood, though that had been pretty terrible, he realized. It really sucks that it was a kit. A kit that he knew, a kit that reminded him of himself, a kit he had tried to…
And there it was. I couldn't even help a fox. His failure stared him in the face. What am I even doing here? It was more a numbness than a pain. But if it's numbness, why is it getting to me so much? He was no stranger to that numbness; it had practically been his whole life. Is it still my life? It was the only way to avoid the disappointment from others, from himself. But I am a disappointment. Is that what he was reverting back to? Never let them see that they get to you. How did he do that again? Am I really going back to that? Could he really just ignore his failure? Is it really getting to me? Shouldn't failure get to him? Why did I believe this time would…
"Nick?" Clawhauser ripped Nick back into the moment and he realized he had been staring at the filing cabinet for quite some time now.
"Um, yeah, Spots?"
"Chief wants to see you in his office." Clawhauser was simply incapable of hiding his feelings and had just the saddest look on his face.
"I'm fine, Spots." Nick patted his friend on the back as he walked out of the room.
...
"Take a seat, Wilde." Bogo didn't look up from the papers he was reading.
Nick walked to the chair across from Bogo's desk. He had sat here quite a few times over the last six months. The chair was laughably large for his small frame. It forced him to choose between having his back against the rest and his legs sticking off the front, or sitting closer to the edge, letting his legs dangle juvenilely; he chose the former.
"So, you ready to quit, Wilde?" Bogo still did not look up at Nick.
Nick opened his mouth slightly but the only thing that he could think to say was, "Uh, Sir?"
Bogo slammed his hoofs and the papers to the desk and finally looked at Nick, whom had just jumped, right in the eyes. "No quips, no jokes, no smug grin?!" Bogo yelled at him. Nick fought to not let his gaze drop but he couldn't help a momentary glance at the desk and away from Bogo's imposing expression. Bogo leaned back in his chair, relaxed his voice, and smiled. "So that's all it takes, huh? All that rebellious spirit? Broken by six months on the force and some dead kit?"
Nick looked up and snarled angrily, "He wasn't just some dead kit!"
Bogo leaned forward and very deliberately spoke each syllable "And. Don't. You. For-get. It."
Nick wanted to say something as Bogo leaned back again, but finding no words, the creases on his muzzle remained, leaving the tips of his teeth bared.
Bogo spoke matter-of-factly "Wilde, you and Hopps have been too lucky."
In an instant all the unprocessed feelings of the day ignited. Enraged, Nick stood up on the chair. He leaned over with a paw on the desk and used the other to punctuate his words. "Lucky?! Lucky! You think we're lucky?! We have worked our asses off! And you damn well know it! We have closed more cases, brought down more bad guys, wrote more tickets, stopped more crimes than anyone! You think we're just lucky?! We worked for that! We worked double what everyone does and it's never enough! Hell, you can even leave me out of it! You know she works harder than anyone else here combined! Luck has nothing to do with it! She worked for every damn bit of it! We both did!" Nick was nearly panting as he finished the tirade.
"And he still died," Bogo said, not having flinched or changed his tone.
Nick's resolve shuttered as his eyes once again dropped to the desk and his muzzle relaxed enough to cover his teeth.
Returning to his drill instructor voice, Bogo commanded, "Sit down, Wilde!" Nick did so. "Wilde, I don't give a damn how hard you work! I don't give a damn that you were both top of your class! I don't give a damn about how many expectations you shattered to get here! And I sure as hell don't give a damn that you were the first fox or she the first rabbit in history to be on the force! Do I make my-self clear?" He pounded each syllable with his hoof on the desk. "That wasn't the ZPD's first dead kit and it won't be your last!" His hoof now pointed at Nick. "You can work as hard as you like, do everything right and it will still happen! Again and again and again and again! That's the job, Wilde! It's not supposed to be easy! And it never becomes easy! I don't need lucky cops, I need cops that can get up day after day and serve this city! Giving their best while getting the worst! Because the next kit that dies isn't going to care that you were at home with your tail between your legs brooding over the last one! So you better figure out how to stow this, Wilde, because it will happen again! And I don't need emotional foxes! I need good cops!" Bogo relaxed back in his chair again and made a contemplative sigh. He then dropped his tone to something that resembled reassurance, "I need good cops, Wilde, and there are a lot of mammals hoping that isn't you."
Nick took a long moment to collect himself as the words sunk in. When they did, he sat up straight and took a deep breath. He adjusted his tie and then looked Bogo right in the eye. "Understood, Sir. Will there be anything else?"
Bogo looked away from Nick and started clicking through something on his computer. "Go home and get some rest, you look terrible. I am putting you on administrative leave for the next week so you can get yourself straightened out. Then I expect you back here, ready to go. Understood?"
"I don't need it, Sir," Nick said plainly, "I will be here tomorrow."
Showing no visible reaction to his answer, Bogo replied, "Good. Dismissed."
Nick hopped down from his chair and began walking to the door.
"And Wilde," Bogo called out.
"Yes, Sir?" Nick stopped and turned around.
Bogo removed his glasses and, using the harshest, deepest, most menacing tone Nick had ever heard come from the Chief, growled out with deliberately painful articulation, "If you ever bare your teeth at me again Wilde, I will personally give you something to really mope about."
Nick considered it as the shadow of a grin tugged at his face. "Would ya' at least buy me dinner first?"
"OUT!"
...
Nick ran to find Judy before his razor-thin moment of realization collapsed and was gone forever. He found her at her desk and he took a knee so they were level. He reached out and pulled her into a long and passionate kiss.
"If that starts a howl, it's on you, Nick," Wolford jeered as he walked by laughing.
Nick broke off the kiss and looked into those optimistic amethysts that Judy called eyes. She smiled and said scandalously, "Nick, we're on duty."
Nick cocked his eyebrow. "I'm not. Chief gave me the day."
"Oh, yeah?" She was so happy to see her fox was back.
He reached out and held her paw in his. "Judy, do you remember when I told you that hope is a dangerous thing for foxes?"
"Yeah. But Nick, you…"
"No, no, no, shhh," he said quickly putting his other paw to her lips. "It doesn't matter. Fox or not, if I'm going to keep doing this whole..." his paw air quoted, "'make the world a better place' thing," he placed that paw to his chest, "I have to hope, no matter how hard it is. This city needs it, deserves it. Even in…" he looked down and reconsidered, "Especially in the bad times. I want to be a good cop, Judy, but... I just can't do it without you." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her paw. "Will ya' help me?"
As they looked into each other's eyes, Judy could see that a hopeful light had returned to him. With no intention of disappointing it, she pulled him down by his tie and whispered in his ear, "I'm not going anywhere." She then initiated a kiss that absolutely shamed the first one.
This time it was Fangmeyer who walked by and he actually did start a howl. It was promptly joined by Wolford from across the room and soon, echoes of wolves from other floors, and even several non-wolves on this one, joined the call. Nick had a wide grin when the kiss finally ended and he turned his head to the small crowd they'd attracted. "Seriously, guys. What is it with the howling?"
.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.I.
Note from the author 10/25/2017
It has been over a year since I wrote this first story. If you are reading this for the first time, or are coming back to try it again, thank you!
Shortly after I finished this first story, I began working on the much longer story, Three Months a Fox. If you liked this, I encourage you to go check that out. While all of my stories exist in the same universe, this one probably has the most connection with Three Months a Fox in references and background on Nick's character, as well as a bit on Mike's history.
Special thanks to fatescanner who recently helped me re-edit this. I have learned a lot about writing in the past year, and it was good to get this story up to snuff with the rest of my work. Thank you!