The train back to Bunny Burrow. Judy mused on how each trip, coming or going, had marked a milestone in her life. This time, six years and change after she left for Zootopia, it marked the end of her police career. She had gotten the final notification last week, a full disability discharge.

She examined her reflection again; her replacement eye was bothering her again and adding to the tearstain that was now a permanent part of her look. Along with all the scars. She looked around to make sure on one was watching and popped the thing out and put it back in its carry case. She put her eye patch on again. 'Argh, Pirate Captain Bunny' would go over well with the little ones. Hopefully.

But how would the others react? Mom and Dad and a few who had come to visit or help during her recovery knew the full extent of her condition, but the rest had yet to see her. It shouldn't be too bad, the scars were no longer lurid, and the fur had grown back, that helped. And the cheerful full-length dress hid her leg brace. No hiding the crutch though.

Such an ignominious end, hit by some idiot who was texting while driving. At least it wasn't like Jackson over at the Second; three months earlier he was killed by the same kind of fool. A touch of bitterness there. He barely got a notice in the media, while she, the Hero Savior of Zootopia, that was how they still referred to her half the time, became the centerpiece to a new driving safety campaign. Fortunately, the one PSA that included her trauma record image only aired once, too bloody graphic. She'd seen the image, and it was like viewing her own death.

Enough of that kind of thinking. A little mental hygiene exercise to settle her down and keep positive. This whole trip was a bit of that kind of therapy as well, along with the welcome reconnect with Family. She was out, fully on her own, taking a trip and taking care of herself. She missed Nick, but this had to be a solo run.

Poor Nick. Just when they were really settling in to the comfortable routine of married life... Nope, still risk going to the bad places. Better thoughts, better thoughts. Ah, a welcome distraction, the landmarks of Bunny Burrow ahead and the anticipation of arrival. Small duffel strap hung over one shoulder, the little travel case over the other, crutch clamped to her arm. Ready for show time.

There was a little collective gasp from the crowd of Hopps at the station when Judy stepped out. She came out steady, though stiff, a faint 'ting' from the aluminium body of her crutch. While the joy in her face was genuine, her body was a gaunt shadow of itself, her coat dull and thin. They allowed her the dignity of coming to them rather than rushing in too quickly for unbidden help.

Her Mother was the first to hug her, "You look terrible! Gonna get you fattened up right quick!" They shared knowing glances. "Thanks Mom, that's what I'm here for."

The rest of the Hopps Clan on hand, adults only, as Judy might prove to be too shocking to the youngest, milled around her awkwardly, not sure how to approach the handicapped Hare. A lot of tentative one-armed hugs later the party was in a mini-bus and off to the Hopps compound.

There was a crowd of family at the main house waiting for her. Again none of the really little ones on hand, just in case. There were some shocked faces, a few grimaces, and the same slightly guarded welcome. Judy understood the dynamic of that. Mainly it was simple uncertainty as to how to react, but there was also a contagion fear, could that bad luck rub off? She had noticed it back at the precinct. That and she was no longer one of them, no longer an acting officer. She still had a few friends, but even they were now being kind to the outsider.

But, over the days that followed, her condition became the norm and she was fully family again. The younger ones were carefully introduced and reacted better than feared. 'Pirate Captain Judy' did work after a fashion, and the smallest were simply happy to have an adult around who couldn't escape them too quickly. For her part, Judy basked in the distraction of all the kits' attention.

She also fitted well into the role of caregiver to many of the littlest, freeing her sisters for other chores. And she found that her damage was less an impediment than she feared. She still couldn't keep up with more agile kits, but the lifting and handling of even the chubbiest bunny was still possible. And being able to DO things, really contribute to the situation and others, was the best part of it.

Judy had never liked being fussed over, she had been an awful patient during childhood illness. Later, in the several misadventures with the ZPD that had put her in Hospital, she had jeopardized her recovery repeatedly in her frustration and impatience to get out from under nursing care. In this latest and worse case, she endlessly fretted and fumed over the attention, even as her body was still shattered from the accident.

Nick's assistance was the worst. Not that he was bad at what he did. Far from it, as he was steadfast and attentive to her every need, no matter how ignoble. But that he was witness to her at her worst, at her most vulnerable, had been a source of terrible dismay. That she had done no less for him, more than once, never entered her mind.

But here, with her kin, she could be helpful again.

True to her farming upbringing, Judy was always up at the crack of dawn with the rest of the family. When she wasn't needed for babysitting, she walked around the farm, for exercise, of course, and to recollect on her time there in her youth. Good times with a loving family. Yet, her ambitions always set her a bit apart.

She had never thought such superior or more valuable, though some took her efforts as a rejection of their humble choices. There had been some small resentment back in the day, even more so when she became the Hero of Zootopia. She had seen the look a few had given her, and was dismayed that even now, they had the cruel satisfaction of seeing her brought low.

But this morning was a good morning, and for a moment, she didn't have a care in the world. She leaned up against an old dead tractor, seemed like every proper farm had a rusted hulk somewhere on their property, to rest a moment and watch the sun burn off the last of the morning mists. It was there where her Mother found her.

"Hi, Bun Bun."

"Hi, Mom. Beautiful morning."

The older Doe nodded and the two basked in the still tentative warmth. Finally, "How you doing?" Judy was looking better. In the days spent here, she had gotten her appetite back and even gained a little weight; though never plump enough for her liking.

"Times like this, pretty good." While leaned against the tractor, Judy took her crutch off and rubbed her arm. "I'm going to have to do more work on the other arm," comparing the two, "Least I get too asymmetrical."

"And the pain?"

"Not so much anymore." She lied a little.

Another pause in the sun.

"Thoughts...?"

Judy sighed, "Nothing but thoughts. But they're thoughts of nothing." She grimaced. "All I thought about, all I lived for, for twenty years, was being a cop. And I never had a plan B." She tugged at an ear. "For the last," quick calculation of the accident and beyond, "Forty-odd weeks I've been racking my brain and I got nothing."

Its like I'm starting over, with a new life, but I'm also a thirty-year old crippled Bunny with nothing, and nothing to look forward to.

"Judy! You have Nicolas! Don't you ever forget him!" Bonnie was shocked that her Daughter could talk so.

Judy rubbed her brow, "You're right. I'm just feeling sorry for myself. And being his Wife is special. But that apartment gets so empty every day." She wasn't going to cry on such a nice morning.

"I know we've talked about this before, but could you think of filling it up now?"

"Not with my own. While most everything still works, with all the scaring, and at my age and condition, its not a chance my Doctor, and, I guess, I'm not willing to take. And even if, while they would be mine, they wouldn't be Nick's." She hugged herself in sad frustration and sniffled, just a little. "While Nick would be a good Father to anyone, I can't help feel that it should be more shared." She blinked her wet eye, and snuffled, damn allergies.

"You know, you'd be a good Mother to anyone as well."

That thought stuck with her for the rest of her visit, and beyond. Early on, She and Nick had tossed out all kinds of scenarios. Various surrogacy options as well as adoption or fostering possibilities were discussed. But as it was clear that Judy was too focused on her career, the notion of trying to split her attention between police work and motherhood was a non-starter.

But now.

Judy stepped off the train in Zootopia no less stiff than her departure, but so much better in spirit. Nick noticed it immediately. "Wow! The total Hopps immersion therapy has done wonders."

Judy's hug confirmed it. No longer a needy, fearful or desperate grip, this was the good old sharing the joy embrace. The two exchanged 'miss you's and then Judy gave Nick a little nudge-nudge. Normally, this was a 'how about some sex?' code, and Nick thought it best to ask aloud, "Madame, are you suggesting an act of physical congress?"

Judy responded in her best imitation Hungry Homer voice, "uuhmm, physical congress..." And gave her Nicky her best Cute Bunny Smirk.

Nick was visibly impressed, not so much in the immediate promise, though happy sex time was always special, but that it looked like Judy was really back. Even after her physical recovery, she had been an emotional wreak, and their earlier attempt at lovemaking had become a traumatic struggle, aggravated by her new disabilities and disfigurements.

Judy was always a bit of a perfectionist, and in their relationship, she had the constant concern that she could never quite measure up to what a Vixen might offer. While they had worked out those issues Very Satisfactory before, she had been too aware of her new compromises and could not get beyond them.

But now she seemed really healed.

And so it was that the rest of the day was spent in gentle passion, rediscovering each other over the long absence and new circumstance. That evening, while they were considering getting out of bed, not that they needed to, Judy posed a question. "What do you think of the pitter patter of little feet around the apartment?"

"If it is another sub-let to some more rats, then no." The wall adjacent to the building's main hallway was inhabited by an extended family of rats. While they had their own entry door in the hall, the occasional plumbing accident and all hours polka music was a reminder of their residence.

Judy gave him a look. "I was thinking of some kits."

"How many of what kind?"

Judy made a little face and said with some hesitance, "Actually, something other than rabbits or foxes?"

Nick considered that for a long moment. A part of him was very much a male of the species, and the notion of no personal genetic legacy was not a pleasant thought. But, at the same time, he never thought of himself as being particularly parental, in part colored by his own childhood experiences. Further, while this was a decision primarily for Judy, he would have to live with it too. And a darker thought, he had to be prepared to be the primary caregiver, given the dubious luck that seemed to plague the couple.

"Well, Tigers are cute as cubs, but I don't think you'll like their dietary requirements and diapers are hard to change on a baby that weighs as much as you do."

"Yeah, I was thinking small, and not too frisky."

"Not sloths?"

"Not sloths."

The next days were spent doing some research and then on to Social Services for the first in a tedious series of interviews. Judy found them unpleasantly personal, to Nick they were often insulting, but as they were all too well acquainted with the often obnoxious processes of city bureaucracy they braved their way through.

Then to the adoption agency proper.

The agent was a rather stern and haughty looking older Lioness, who only glanced at the pair as she regarded her computer screen. "Your application and supportive documentation was both timely and comprehensive. Very helpful in the assessment. No obvious red flags." She stopped and pointedly looked back and forth at the Fox and Hare, then back to her monitor. You are interested in a less 'energetic' and smaller species, understandable with mobility issues." She glanced at Judy with that. "And are willing to consider a 'difficult placement' as well." She pounded on her keyboard for a few moments then considered what she then saw displayed.

"Hmm. I happen to know this case." She turned and gave Nick and Judy her full attention. "How would you feel about twins?" The pair exchanged looks and shrugged. "Twin who?"

"Its a boy and a girl, still very young, so bonding shouldn't be an issue. They originally came in as foundlings, but we were able to get an identity clarification so there would be no parental complications."

"And!?" Judy was getting anxious.

"They're Skunks, Mephitis."

"oh."

Skunks were an often-overlooked minority species. Though they, more often than not, no longer had defensive scent glands, they still had the unfair reputation of being malodorous in day-to-day life. They were also regarded as somewhat dim creatures, due to their less energetic nature and poor eyesight, though that was very much not the case in practice. But given to stereotyping, society tended to shunt them off into menial and usually nocturnal labor, not unlike raccoons and opossums.

Both Judy and Nick knew all that, especially the notion of a disregarded mammal type, and exchanged looks. "Could we see them?"

The Agent gave them a little double take, not expecting that answer. Checking her watch, "The ward is open and we can go right now."

The ward was bright and cheery and largely empty, a good sign. And most of the cribs had little 'pending' tags attached. The Agent consulted with the watch Nurse and they were directed to a double size crib off to the side. The pair of baby skunks lay therein, tiny wobbly things, even though they were many weeks old, they were little bigger than bunny newborns.

"Other than being a bit underweight for their apparent age when they first arrived, they seem to be in perfect health." Informed the Nurse. "I don't know if it was mentioned, but their sent glands are vestigial and won't develop, so that won't be an issue."

"Do they come with operating instructions?" Nick deadpanned.

"Not exactly, but there are several parenting classes available that could help."

Nick made a face at that. The notion of family skills taught in a classroom rankled, though not that he had a clue how to be a parent. True, he had a way with kids, at least in small doses, like visiting the Hopps mob. But he had never had to face the 24/7 of a child of his own.

"I've had a lot of experience with kits, with my younger siblings and all, but what might be special in their case?" Judy did have all too much experience with little ones, from newborns on up, but baby bunnies and the somewhat different needs of young hares were almost certainly different from these tiny bundles.

The Nurse and the Agent exchanged some looks and passed a few names back and forth. Finally, the Agent had an answer, "Flora Hughes, has a day care that specializes in several classes of smaller mammals. She could tell you more than you'll likely ever need about these kind of babies."

Nick and Judy took a long look at each other and then Nick announced, "Pencil us in on the pair. We've got some things to check out, but these little guys just found themselves some new parents." He then considered a moment and asks, "We do get a two-for-one discount on them, don't we?"