"10-97, Central."
The zebra-striped police SUV bucked forward as it skidded to a stop in front of a Happytown corner store. Nick thumbed the radio off, scanning up and down the sidewalks. The streets were still crowded, and two dozen furry faces were already turned to watch the commotion. Judy threw the cruiser door open and hopped—characteristically, Nick supposed—out onto the pavement. The fox slunk after her, quietly hefting the tranquilizer rifle.
He hated the look of the thing, to be honest. It was big, and heavy, and ostensibly serious, yes—but it was all day-glo colors and bright yellow caution stripes. The darts looked like fishing lures. ZPD patrols were allowed lethal weapons—Wolford and Fangmeyer were inordinately pleased with their new shotgun, for one—but Nick's partner had adamantly declined. She hadn't come to Zootopia to hurt people, she said. He agreed, most of the time. But sometimes this city was too big and too cruel and he was that little fox kit, who was cornered and afraid and didn't want to hurt anyone but wished he could. Sometimes.
The Zootopia Express powered past a couple of blocks away, bell ringing as if to kick off a ring fight.
Directly in front of them, the corner store's doors slid open. Nick's paws tightened. An enormous white Bengal tiger—huge, bigger than Bogo—was menacing two much smaller animals, driving them through the open doorway. It was a female hare, with a child she was now shoving behind her protectively, and—shit—it was the two from the diner they'd spoken to not ten minutes earlier.
"Shit," Nick observed.
Judy balked. "Nick! That's the two from the diner!"
The rabbit didn't appear to make a decision. She simply took off at full tilt, hauling a tiny stun gun from her holster. Yelling about ZPD, and put your paws in the air, and other such formal niceties. Horribly, stupidly brave.
He choked back a "Carrots!" It was too late, and she wouldn't have listened, anyway. Hissing through his teeth, he raised the rifle to cover her. The Bengal stopped, giving the two hares a moment to scrabble away, and turned toward the tiny rabbit charging toward him. He took a step forward.
Nick needed no further encouragement. He pulled the trigger.
Judy had exceeded her partner in nearly all areas at the academy. He'd been too big to hop around on people's heads like she had, and too small to do anything else. His temperament was ill-suited for academics, too. Nick had always assumed the strength of his policework would come from his more intangible qualities. But he was a better shot—the best in five years, the instructor had told him. So, that was something. Maybe.
A green-tufted dart thudded into the Bengal's shoulder. He twitched irritably, glanced at Nick—and continued bearing down on Judy. Shit.
"Shit," said Nick.
The tiny rabbit dropped to all fours as she ran, whipping past a fire hydrant and up onto the curb. She banked sideways, leaping up and springing off a signpost, back toward the tiger. Her flying kick hit him at full speed in the stomach.
The tiger stumbled back a half step as Judy pushed off, then recovered. Massive claws slid silently from sheaths. He started toward her again.
"Fuck," Nick amended.
He rammed the bolt backward and forward to chamber another dart, and fired. Another green plume erupted in the tiger's chest. Nick's paws were flitting confidently across the bolt and the trigger now, firing again, and again.
Judy was on the defensive, flitting expertly in and out of range of the huge Bengal's claws. Tiring him out, as she knew how to do. Waiting for him to go down. But he wasn't going down. He was huge, and angry, and completely, terrifyingly conscious. The tiger moved confidently, circling purposefully this way and that. Something nagged at the back of Nick's mind. Something was wrong.
There was undoubtedly a regulation tranq dosage for this species, and Nick had probably exceeded it. But things were going poorly, and that was Carrots out there, and Nick had never given much thought to rules anyway. He rammed the bolt forward and fired again. Something was wrong. He fired again. All of the darts were connecting. Something was still wrong—
In one awful moment, it clicked. Gradually, purposefully, the Bengal was backing her toward the fire hydrant. She wouldn't see it. Not until it was too late.
Nick opened his mouth to yell a warning, and the tiger lunged. Judy hopped back, collided with the hydrant. A huge fist closed on her neck, lifting her up off the ground as her stun gun fired uselessly. The Bengal wheeled around, flinging her at full force against the storefront. Nick could hear the thud from the cruiser. Judy slid down the side of the building, crumpling into a tiny blue heap.
Nick's heart stopped. "Fuck" seemed inadequate, this time.
—
Fifteen minutes earlier:
"Nicholas Wilde."
She was watching at him over a cup of coffee, salt-and-pepper fur backlit by the sunlight pouring through the diner window. Smiling, essentially, but something in her expression made him put his fork down.
"Judith Hopzmann," he offered.
"Not quite."
"Jumpovitch."
"That's a horrible name. And we're not all named after hopping."
"You are."
"NICK."
"You look great today, Carrots."
She hadn't expected that. Nick smirked. Flustering the rabbit had become one of life's greatest pleasures. And she did look good, anyway. Beautiful. Not that that—
"Thank you, Nick. Why didn't you ever ask me out?"
Now he was on the back foot. "I. Sorry? What?"
Declining to repeat, she just raised her eyebrows and smiled radiantly. Nick hastily assembled an expression of confused innocence.
"Why didn't I?"
"Don't make that stupid face, fox. It doesn't suit you."
Her mouth was smiling now, but her eyes weren't. There was no getting out of this, apparently—but that had never stopped him before.
"Know something I don't, Carrots?"
"Clawhauser said you were going to ask me to dinner three weeks ago. And then you didn't."
"I was...busy. Fighting crime."
"Yeah, Nick, I was there. Listen, were you afraid I was gonna say no?"
"No, I mean—"
Nick floundered. He had, apparently unwisely, told Clawhauser about his plans. He'd then spent the following two weeks talking himself out of it. He hadn't been afraid of her rejecting him. Well, maybe a little. But that wasn't the issue.
Growing up as a fox in Happytown, Nick had learned what it felt like to lose people. Friends. Sometimes family. He'd learned what it meant when you got too close to people, when they would die, or leave, or worse, and he loved this rabbit and she was so small and good and willing to throw herself in harm's way for anyone, and he wasn't sure if—
"Excuse me," said a tiny voice. "Are you Officer Judy Hopps ZPD?"
Saved by the bell. They both peered down over the table. There was a girl of about seven—a hare—clutching a piece of paper and staring up at them.
Well, no. Staring up at Judy. Nick was getting about as much attention as the napkin dispenser. Not that he minded.
Judy smiled back warmly. "Yes, I am! You can call me Judy. What's your name?"
The little hare gaped. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment.
"Bina Arnevet," said another hare—the kid's mother, Nick presumed—stepping up behind her. "She wanted to meet you."
"Pleasure to meet you, Bina." Judy shook her tiny paw. "This is my partner, Officer Wilde."
Nick waved.
"Are you a fox, Officer Wilde?" Bina asked.
Nick looked at his tail and swished it around. "Last I checked."
"And you're friends with Miss Judy?"
Nick's first impulse was to quip sarcastically, but this was a Teachable Moment. "Best friends," he said instead. "I joined the police force because of her."
"Oh." Bina seemed to consider that. Judy flashed her partner a smile he didn't particularly deserve right now.
"What have you got there, Bina?" she asked. Bina handed the paper over shyly.
It was an official ZPD poster of a triumphant Judy in full police uniform. Nick had seen them around, briefly, following Mayor Lionheart's arrest. He'd resented her for it at the time. He'd noticed they'd fixed her slightly crooked teeth for the posters, and that he was altogether too familiar with the smile of a rabbit he'd only known for two days. The posters had disappeared from public facilities shortly thereafter, around the same time as the ZPD had quietly announced her resignation—not that he'd been paying attention—and he hadn't thought he'd ever be happy to see them again. But here they were.
"This is...me," Judy said, looking bewildered.
Bina drew a deep breath. "I want to be a police officer like you Miss Judy will you sign my poster please!"
Nick handed her their mutual pen. "Congratulations, Carrots. You're a celebrity."
Bina hopped up and down as Judy scribbled on the poster. As the two chatted excitedly, the older hare stepped over to Nick.
"I'm Rachel, her mother," she said in a soft, heavily-accented voice.
"Nick Wilde." He shook her paw. She was big and lanky, slightly closer to Nick's size than Judy's. He briefly imagined his partner's kicking strength on a fully-grown hare and winced internally.
"I really appreciate this," she said. "She loves Officer Hopps."
Me too, he didn't say.
"She's wanted to be a police officer forever. Her father and I always told her it'd never happen. And then," Rachel gestured to Judy, still talking to Bina, "it was in all the newspapers. What could we say?"
The fox nodded. "Judy...changes things."
The older woman eyed him. "You're lucky to have her in your life."
I know. "She's a good cop," he said instead. He poked at his eggs, feeling naked suddenly.
Zootopia's first rabbit officer was wrapping up a comically long autograph.
"I'm going to put my z-mail address on here, okay? Write to me any time. I want to hear how your studies are going."
Bina nodded.
"You're going to make a great police officer," Judy said, affixing one of her Junior ZPD stickers to Bina's dress.
The little hare beamed.
"We should get going," Rachel broke in, shepherding her daughter away from the two officers. "Thank you both so much."
Nick mock-saluted. Judy offered convivial farewells until the family was out the door, then turned back to him.
"Well done, Officer Wilde. We should send you to the grade schools."
"I quit."
"Har har. I mean it, you were good." Her eyes softened in that wonderful, sincere, awful way they always did. Trying to convince him that he mattered, that he was wanted. It was unbearable.
He'd had a plan. He wasn't going to fall for her. They would be friends, but professional. Professional friends. They'd work together and get lunch and go home and think about other people and other things. Someone else would take her to the policemen's ball. It was a great plan, one he'd made a dozen times. But none of his plans seemed to survive first contact with Judy Hopps.
She was looking at him expectantly. He realized his smirk had slipped, so he put it back on.
"That was all you, Carrots. You're a hero to all of rabbitkind. I'm just the sidekick."
Judy smiled and sipped her coffee. "Fine. We'll have to find some starry-eyed fox kits to follow you around, then."
"I quit."
"I thought you quit already."
"I'll double quit," Nick said. "I'm going back to my life of crime."
"You can't get rid of me that easily, slick," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth."
The fox put a paw over his heart, closing his eyes dramatically. "Carrots. You do care."
"Yeah I do, dummy. Maybe you should ask me out." She imitated one of his smirks.
Their radios sputtered abruptly.
"Savannah and Happytown units, strongarm robbery in progress on Fifth and San Leon. Corner store. Civilians may be down."
"That's a block from here, Carrots."
She grabbed her radio. "One-Alpaca-One responding, over."
"Acknowledged."
Judy locked eyes with Nick, worryingly serious this time. "We will finish this discussion. After."
"You're the boss."
The diner door was still swinging on its hinges, bell jingling merrily, as the massive ZPD cruiser peeled out from the curb and down the street. Nick reached back between the seats for the tranquilizer rifle. He'd loaded it with darts before they went out on patrol, but he checked it anyway.
"Nick. We'll be fine."
They were coming up fast on the corner store.
"Sure, Carrots."
Nick thumbed the radio. "10-97, central."
—
Five minutes later:
Judy wasn't moving. He was yelling her name, but no sound was coming out. The rifle clicked empty. The tiger gave Nick one final, inscrutable look, and bolted off into the crowd. Nick wasn't watching. He tossed the tranquilizer gun to the ground, where it skittered uselessly across the pavement.
He covered the distance to the sidewalk in moments that felt like years. Bystanders from the street and store alike had begun to coalesce around the fallen rabbit. His partner. His rabbit.
"Hey!" he yelled hoarsely, still not finding his voice yet. "Get back! Get away from her!"
People weren't hearing. He began shoving big, stupid animals aside, pushing his way towards her. "Easy, fox—" someone started.
A loud, vicious snarl leapt unbidden from the fox's throat. His ears were flat, his nose wrinkled furiously. Prey animals flinched and quailed. He didn't care right now.
"Move BACK!"
They did as they were told. Nick could see Judy now as a space grew around her. She was lying supine on the concrete. Her eyes were closed, forehead and nose bloodied. He couldn't tell if she was breathing.
There was a tiny hare kneeling next to Judy. Shit.
"Shit," said Nick.
"Uh...Bina. Kid," he tried again. "You gotta go." She looked up at him, cheek fur mussed and wet. Shook her head no.
"Where's your mom?" He strained to focus on anything besides his partner.
"I'm here," the elder hare's voice came from beside him. "Do you need me to get her?"
He looked at the kid again—she was just sitting there stoically. Guarding. Holding Judy's paw.
It was too much. Nick's legs buckled. He put his arms out, finding his way to a spot of pavement next to his partner's head. He leaned his ear to her mouth—she was breathing, ragged but steady. Still with him.
Distant sirens began to draw nearer. Nick and Bina's eyes found each other, both streaming tears now. But her jaw jutted determinedly, and his trembled and hung open, and for the next few minutes, he was the little fox kit again.