Trigger warning: child abuse, trafficking/rape, attempted suicide.
Also, I'll go ahead and let everyone know that this story will not really go anywhere. I'm a snippet writer. A one-shot wonder (sometimes).
The reason for saying that is because I actually feel like it's too deep a topic for a one-shot, so I'm gonna try to pace it believably and wrap it up as well I as I can.
Disney owns Zootopia.
Enjoy!
"I want that report on my desk before you leave." Chief Bogo stated, emphasizing each word carefully with a point of his hoof.
Judy's ears drooped, but she nodded determinedly. After utilizing Mr. Big's services once more during a case with a highly uncooperative suspect, she expected the reprimand, though the time saved was undeniably appreciated.
The Chief leaned back in his chair, "Otherwise...good work, as always, Officer Hopps."
The bunny sat straight and proud in her chair, and gave an enthusiastic salute, "Just doing my duty, sir!"
Rolling his eyes, he motioned to the door of his office, "Dismissed."
She nodded vigorously, "Okay, thank you sir, I will make it a point next time to-"
She was cut off as the door suddenly swung open. The chief turned abruptly, with that terrifying what have you done expression. Neglecting to announce one's arrival in the police chief's office with a courtesy knock was a sure way to encounter such fury.
To the buffalo's surprise, a visibly distressed Dr. Badger entered.
Standing up, concern colored his face. "Doctor?" He was aware that physical exams for the new recruits were taking place today, but rarely did they warrant a personal visit. A simple phone call usually sufficed.
She shut the door quickly behind her and began to approach the desk, but paused when she noticed the rabbit, also standing, next to a comparatively large chair.
"Sir...may I speak to you privately, please?'
The Chief nodded and turned to Judy, "I'll take your word on it, Hopps. Dismissed." He said tightly, turning his attention back to the doctor and motioning toward the vacant seat.
Judy gave the badger a warm smile as she showed herself out.
It was not acknowledged.
Disturbed, the bunny shut the door slowly, and leaned against the cold frame. Whatever had alarmed the usually composed and friendly physician must be truly serious. Her worries immediately centered on her soon-to-be partner.
Attempting to console herself, she whispered, "He's fine, Judy, gosh..." The rabbit shook her head at her paranoia, but still found herself unable to move from the door.
"It...it's about Nicholas Wilde."
Her heart sank.
"...I'm listening, Dr. Badger."
"Overall, he...is healthy."
She could not restrain the sigh of relief that escaped her. But, it was short-lived. "Well, what is it?" She whispered again, flustered.
"However, I have discovered a few causes of concern...I believe he may have been subjected to severe...intentional trauma."
"...Intentional trauma? Be frank with me Doctor, what are you saying?"
"His x-ray revealed a total of twenty-six previously broken and fractured bones, including three concussions. The majority of the evidence being on the arms, legs, and ribs... Sir, the angles of these breaks are consistent with outside assault."
Judy had to remind herself to breathe. She heard the surprisingly patient sigh of the Chief.
"There's a reason for the nickname 'Wildecard', Doctor. Though he's shown promise, that fox is a gamble. With what we know of his history, it doesn't surprise me that he's made enemies. Enemies that likely sought revenge at some point. All I need to hear from you is whether he is physically fit for service or not. Yes or no?"
"Sir...that may be true, but the majority of these breaks...they're old."
The bunny officer did not miss the shake in the badger's voice.
"...How old?"
"Most of them...I'd estimate about twenty years old, sir...he would've been a child during most of these assaults...
I am telling you this because I believe it is reason to perform further psychological evaluations on Wilde. I have some knowledge in the field, and...abuse victims...the ones that don't want to to talk about it, they often rely heavily on coping mechanisms, such as deflective humor and substance abuse. Though he passed the urine test, the fur test, which is capable of going back many years, was failed. The history is evident, the signs are there. He tested positive for several illegal substances...heavy substances. The liver panel showed signs of excessive alcohol consumption, as well.
They can only maintain the facade so long, before the cracks begin to show. My concern is that, in a demanding career such as this, he may become unstable in the field...and there is one more thing...
I found significant nerve damage in the neck area that is consistent with...electrocution. I believe...I believe he was in a shock collar at one point, sir."
Judy did not even remember sliding down onto the floor. Her shaky paws opened and clutched at her knees. She was blinking rapidly, but still could not see clearly. Her stomach churned.
She heard nothing for several seconds. She wasn't sure if nothing was being said, or if her heavily thudding heart drowned the words out.
"...Whatever some sick animal did to that fox...shouldn't get in the way of him trying to better himself, now. Your concern is appreciated, Dr. Badger. I will keep an eye on him, and heed your advice should the need arise."
The rabbit could hear her own simmering fury and disgust reflected in the chief's voice.
"Carrots?" Her head jerked up at the sound of her friend's voice.
"What-what happened? What's wrong?" Kneeling down to place his paws on her shoulders, he suddenly seemed to realize where she was. The fox's concerned fear was quickly replaced by indignant anger. "What did he say to you?"
Not waiting for a response from the distraught rabbit, who could not seem to find her voice, Nick stood and pushed the door open forcefully.
"Is there no satisfying you? Judy is the best cop you have on this force, what did..."
She watched sorrowfully as Nick's tirade came to an abrupt halt. His eyes widened as he exchanged glances with the doctor. The shadows that came over those playful green eyes Judy had come to love so much sickened her to her core.
He'd seen these looks before. Pity. Disgust.
They knew.
After the thorough physical examination, Nick had hoped the doctor would assume youthful recklessness was the cause of what he knew she would find.
Such was his luck.
-Twenty-two years earlier-
He should have been warned.
A ten-year old living on the streets didn't know the risk they were taking by just simply being seen.
Young foxes were the highest statistic. Yet, ignorantly, he wandered. Oblivious to the evil lurking, and watching, in the streets.
He went from store to restaurant, and back again, just trying to survive. On occasion, a compassionate cook would even make sure to give him fresh, not from the trash, food. Or a store employee would set out a bag if they closed before he could come in to steal what he needed.
But, no one, no one, ever warned him about this.
So, when he was approached and given the offer of not only food and shelter, but also a bed...
He took it.
He thought about it every night. It consumed his mind while he laid on the filthy mattress and the constant hummmm of the tracking collar never relented to remind him that he was a slave.
One wrong move.
SHOCK.
One scream.
SHOCK.
One attempt to run out the door.
SHOCK.
He mouthed off frequently in the beginning. Driven by the need to fight back somehow.
He didn't speak anymore. It wasn't worth it.
He hated himself for it. He hated the thought that he let them break him.
Once, he had cried.
The collar fired...again...again...and again. Until, finally, the battery died. That was it. That was his chance. No tracker. He could run. In his desperation, he had dashed for the nearest escape.
The window.
It was barred. But, he was still just small enough to fit through. He hit the glass with his elbow so many times that it had begun to bleed even before the glass finally shattered.
His mind was racing.
thisisit thisisit mychance couldbemylast chance my only chance pleasepleaseplease this has to workhavetogetoutnowthey'recomingthey'recomingiknowithurry!
In his frazzled state, he hadn't heard the door swing open. He hadn't heard the click of the tranquilizer gun.
Upon waking, he learned he had committed a serious crime, and justice was something they took very seriously.
It had been nearly three weeks before he could walk again.
He thought back to that moment often. The moment the tranquilizer took effect. That moment unconsciousness took him. That moment he drifted into blissful oblivion of what his life had become.
One night, it him like an oncoming train.
As if he were in a trance, he stiffly walked to the window, once more, and stared.
They never fixed the glass.
They wanted it to be an example, a reminder.
"You might think you're smart enough to escape. You might think it looks easy. You're gonna remember how wrong you were every time you see this window."
He counted eleven windows underneath his level on the neighboring building.
He never knew how high it was until the morning he was finally able to walk again. He hadn't even noticed that night.
Now, he had his surroundings memorized.
He slowly crawled up onto the window sill, and positioned himself between the bars.
The panic began to settle in his chest, just like last time.
He told himself if another mammal came in before the count of ten...
He would fall.
A tear glistened on his cheek.
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
The doorknob turned.
Raw terror raged through his small frame. His breath came out in harsh gasps.
"Wait, stop!" Footfalls thundered across the dingy room.
The last thing he saw was the reflection of the collar's light in a shard of glass before he squeezed his eyes shut...and pushed.
The fall lasted forever, yet was over in a flash.
He hoped it would be instant. He knew what broken bones felt like.
He landed...on something...soft?
And...moving?
Was he already dead?
The movement stopped so suddenly, he slid forward several inches.
Disoriented and confused, he blinked several times before his night vision adjusted. They had never turned out the lights.
He froze upon hearing the creak of a car door, followed by a string of curses spat by a frighteningly deep voice.
To his surprise, the head of a small, tan fennec fox appeared.
The mammal's shocked expression mirrored every bit of the confusion he felt. The older fox slowly looked up at the building and back at the young, terrified fox. "Kid...d'you just...jump?"
Nick stared, dazed.
Frowning, he held up his paws, sensing the young mammal's fight or flight instincts were in alarmingly high gear. "Hey...listen...it's alright, I ain't gonna hurt'ou. Ain't none o'my business wha' you runnin' from, y'ain't gotta tell me nothin'. I don't even wanna know. Y'can come w'me...or y'can leave. S'up to you...but I think you need som'help, kid." The fox's eyes drifted over the alarming amount of dried blood on the kit's matted, raised fur.
Hesitating, Nick did not respond. Another stranger, offering help for nothing in return?
Or...go back out on the streets...
Alone.
"Hurry up kid, don't wan'you bleedin' on my mattress, dang. You gettin' in or not?"
Desperate for someone to trust, he nodded quickly.
"A'ight. Come on." He said, holding a paw out to the young fox. Grasping a frayed tie-down strap, he slowly pulled himself forward, shaking as he reached for the offered paw.
The older fox shuddered. He wasn't lying when he said he did not want to know what happened to this kit.
Gently pulling the young fox toward the van's ladder, he caught sight of a strange orange light emitting from his neck. "What the...what is that? A...a collar?"
Nick's paws flew to his neck. How could he forget?
The tracker.
Bolting down the ladder and underneath the van, his heart thudded heavily as he desperately scratched in vain at the device.
"Whoa! Whoa! Hey, calm down, a'ight? We gonna get that thing off'a you." Holding his paws up once more, he ducked down and cautiously approached the panicked kit.
"It's a'ight...it's a'ight..." He slowly reached toward the collar but jerked back as the light suddenly turned red and emitted a sickening crackle.
The older fox gaped helplessly as the kit seized up, groaning in agony and clawing at his neck in between the discharges.
"Hang on! What kinda sick son of a-whoa! Hang on!" Scrambling out from beneath the van, he yanked the hatch open. Diving inside quickly, he retrieved a pair of lock cutters and dashed back under the van.
"Kid! Hold still! I'm gon'cut it off, a'ight? You gotta hold still!" He felt tears prick at his eyes as the kit writhed in pain.
Finally getting a good grip on the collar, he pushed as hard he could.
SNAP
The young fox went limp.
"No...no, no, no... Wake up, kid!" He yelled, frantically shaking his too thin shoulders. Leaning down, he pressed a large ear against the unconscious fox's muzzle.
Detecting far too shallow of breathing, he held a paw against the now bare neck to detect an equally troubling erratic heartbeat. He let out a sigh of relief as the pulse began to regulate itself.
Sitting back on his heels, he carefully parted the cream colored fur on the bloodied neck, shaking his head sadly. "You scratched yo'self up pretty good...let's ge'you outta here, kid."
Sliding an arm around the kit's waist, he awkwardly stumbled out from under the van and gently lifted him inside the door.
He nearly jumped at the large green eyes suddenly flying open.
"Nice'a you to wake up now, after I haul yo'sorry self up in here." He said with a sad smile, attempting to relax the young fox.
The troubled, emerald eyes widened even more as his paws drifted slowly over his neck.
"It's gone..."
The fennec cringed in sympathy at the raw, raspy voice. "I tol'you I'd get it off." He crossed his arms and winked. "What's yo'name, kid?"
Still dazedly stroking his neck, he blinked, coughing suddenly. He flinched as he swallowed and tried to clear his throat. "Nick."
The older fox quickly handed him a bottle of water. "Y'can call me Finnick."
-Present day-
Judy had never felt such a fierce, all-encompassing need to embrace someone to the point that it hurt in her entire life. She had never felt such heart shattering grief. It pained her to think of what kind of horrific memories she was trying so hard to not imagine rushing through his mind.
She had no idea...
...and Nick would take his story to the grave to keep it that way.
His voice snapped her out her daze. "Those injuries were over twenty years ago. You don't need to be afraid that I'm damaged. You don't need to send me to a therapist. I'm not going to snap one day. I know what the books say, but," he laughed bitterly, "experience teaches better. No offense." He glanced at the doctor, then back at the chief.
"All I need is a chance."
It took tremendous effort for Chief Bogo to maintain his neutral expression.
The realization left him stunned.
He vividly remembered, and wished he didn't, the one time he had seen cubs and kits in shock collars.
Only three months after his graduation, he, along with several other officers, was assigned his first high-risk operation.
The trafficking raid.
Not even twenty-two years passing made it easier to think about. Thirty-four young mammals were rescued that night. Broken, catatonic shells of what of what they should have been.
He knew all of their names. But, there was one in particular he never forgot. The one name he never knew.
A young red fox who, in a state of sheer desperation, had attempted to jump to his death, because he thought the officer was another customer.
He screamed at the kit. He moved as quickly as he could in a vain attempt to stop him.
But, it was too late.
He jumped. They never found him. He failed that young fox.
But, he won't fail him again.
"Nicholas Wilde...you will have it."
Judy couldn't stand it anymore. Audience or not, she dashed for her friend and hugged him with all the fervor she possessed. "Nick," she choked between her tears, "if you ever need anything, if you ever just need to talk, I'm-"
"All ears?" Relief washed over her to see his usual playful smirk, as she swatted his chest. She'd been bracing herself for an I don't need anyone's pity reaction, but...it appeared that he took her empathetic breakdown quite well.
"Settle down, Judy. I know." He said softly, smiling a genuine smile.
Maybe his luck was finally turning around.
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
I cried writing some parts of this.
It's hard to think about how much reality there is in Nick's experience here. Actual statistics are that every 30 seconds, 1 person is forced into sex trafficking, and little more than 1% escape alive. It may seem like hopeless, daunting numbers but there are some good organizations out there making a serious difference, for anyone interested- The A21 Campaign and End It are a couple.
On a lighter note, thank you for reading. I hope the shifting perspectives were not too confusing. For anyone wondering about age differences here - I imagine Finnick about about a decade older than Nick here. Whether that's true or not, I don't know. We do know Nick is 32, which would make him 10 in this story, but Finnick's age hasn't been stated as far as I know.
Do let me know what you thought!