It's Bailey's War Now Too Chapter 2, a zootopia fanfic

Legal disclaimer: for safety's sake

Disney owns the rights to the movie Zootopia and the characters therein. They are used here without permission, and I (nor any other author) receive any financial gain.

Again, the root story is "Red Tails and Wilde Skies" written by Selaxes. By all means go back and find it. It will be well worth your time.

Chapter Two

Pop-pop's bones proved to be more accurate than the weather network. This was nothing new. Stephen Hopps always double checked with the old buck before he planned out the day's work. When things were really odd in terms of conditions, he would spend hours in the old male's room, seeing what had been done in the past. Climate change didn't enter into how pressure systems affected arthritis and old injuries. When his right shoulder ached in a certain way, Pop-pop would advise Stu to leave the heavy tractor in the barn and put more paws to work.

As he put down his tea, five young kits poked their collective heads through the open door, with Bailey politely rapping on the old oak frame.

"We've finished our chores, sir. Will you still tell us the story about your brother?"

"I've been waiting for you younguns." Pop-pop tapped the old footlocker that now sat prominently next to his comfortable armchair. True to her word, Bella had sent two of the older boys down directly after supper. While he put his thoughts together, the old buck had cleaned and polished the wood, somewhat ashamed of himself for burying it for so long. He waved them in, and they arranged themselves on the floor. While they were settling in, the old grey-muzzle pondered back to those days, when fear ruled the skies and seas around Bunnyburrow. How much should he say? What did they need to know now, that would make them understand what the past meant to the troubles of today?

Just about every young animal in the burrow was at least somewhat in awe and fear of Pop-pop. He was known to be quite the crank, not at all fond of the casual attitude that mammals had toward their elders these days. Given any opportunity, he would slap the earbuds out of a passing bunny and tell him or her that they needed to pay attention to what was going on in the here and now. "Never a thought on where you are, what you're doing!" (He had stolen the line from a movie that he had taken his own kits to see, a long time ago.)

"I have to tell you, this is a story of action, cruelty, heroes, traps, escapes and..." His eyes glazed over for a moment. "love."

There was a collective "Ewwww!" from his audience.

The senior gave his head a fierce shake. "And she always said we bunnies were the emotional ones."

"She, Pop-pop?" Elizabeth asked in her quiet way. She was as game as any of her 275 siblings for an adventure, but she rarely spoke. On the other paw, she was also quick to see and hear things that her contemporaries often missed. Sometimes, it was like she had a sixth sense, able to see what was coming before anyone else. Three floors down, in the dormitory she shared with a full dozen of her sisters, she could hear rain falling as surely as if she were out on the veranda out front.

"I'll get to that, young lady." Pop-pop came out of his reverie. "It's a part of the story I'm going to tell you." He looked through the open door of his bedroom, to a small silver frame that sat on his bedside table. It was at an angle that didn't allow anyone currently in the sitting room to see it.

"But let's put this story in its right place. I know you are young, and we tend to keep things from you 'for your own good', not that I agree with the notion. Probably what let The War go on as long as it did." Reaching to the tray that sat on the table next to him, Pop-pop picked up the Zootopia Herald, which he had just finished reading with his breakfast. The front page was emblazoned with a story of the unrest that still gripped The Great City even weeks after The Incidents had stopped.

"A while ago, some animal that should have known better decided that predators and prey were not meant to work and live together. She decided that she was going to 'fix' things. Put the predators in their place." With a disgusted grunt he threw the paper into the recycling bin. "That's what The War was supposed to prevent. That's why I'm telling you about Bailey Hopps." On a bureau across the room, next to a positively ancient radio, was a picture of a young doe, she was dressed in a uniform of the ZPD. It was clipped out of an older edition of the Herald, and showed her pushing two animals, a pig and a cheetah, apart in the middle of a riot.

"The Hopps family has been in this since the beginning. At one time, it was considered a curse at worst, an embarrassment at best. Now we don't even talk about it, as I see from the lack of attention your history lessons pay to what happened." He looked at the framed clipping. It was a sad reminder about having to relearn.

"As bad as things are, at least animals are finally starting to see the light, even if it has to be aimed right into their eyes."

Bailey had made it into town early the next morning. The shops were only just opening up, the proprietors sweeping off the cobbled walks out front, or placing out some of the wares that were meant to entice shoppers in. The produce stalls were looking a little bare yet, the local farmers just finishing up the chores around their homesteads and cleaning themselves up before heading into town with deliveries. Many times he had accompanied his father on just such trips, still aching from loading the old wagon and hitching it up to the new tractor.

In the earlier years of his recollection, there had been hired horses that had pulled the loads, or maybe a donkey or two. It wasn't that long ago that mechanization had allowed the equines to put their backs and minds to less unctuous labors. Some of the locals still dug shoes forged on the Clay farm into the soil pulling plows and wagons with creaky old wheels on the less prosperous farms.

Looking at the selection in front of the market, Bailey realized that a lot of what was being sold now was seconds. Most goods went directly to the train yard, to be shipped into the city. The War Ags pushed for greater and greater production in Bunnyburrow. Every parcel of land that could possibly be tilled was in use. Stu grumbled at the necessity of planting more potatoes than greens, but when Virgil had left, he had put his best foot forward and started tearing up a couple of the fields that had been lying fallow. His mother's beloved flower beds had been pulled up by the younger kits and given over to what was needed in the warren in what the paper so patriotically called "Victory Gardens".

With a wince, Bailey thought about what his actions, so early in the spring, were going to mean to the family. Every set of paws was required to keep the acreage producing what were still deemed the best crops in the county. Those paw weren't going to be of much help if the Axis managed to land on this side of the channel though, he reasoned. It might mean some of the kits would have to grow up a little faster, but everyone had to pay some price with so much at stake.

The Greys, a family of red foxes, had grudgingly given up much of the land they held, not being as bound to the soil as the lapin neighbors that outnumbered them by such a huge margin. Still, they were producing poultry and eggs as best they could. It wasn't a very tasteful occupation in the county, but there were predators fighting against their own kind, and they needed the protein in their diets. Old man Grey still snarled at the War AG for the district, an aging hedgehog who stared at every aspect of agricultural activity with an air of dissatisfaction.

Bailey sat his bundle of belongings on the bench outside the storefront that currently housed the local recruiting office. It was still closed up tightly, but a few lads, most older than himself by a couple of years, were waiting with varying degrees of patience and anxiety. It would appear that he show put on by Edward "Lucky Buck" Sward had fueled the pride of quite a few of them. They had dreams of glory and vengeance against the Axis in their heads. He looked at them as he pulled his last peach from his pocket and began nibbling at it. Did even one of them realize what was really at stake, and the price they might be asked to pay?

Finally, an elderly old buck in a uniform from the last war arrived and unlocked the door. This was it, once Bailey Hopps went through that door, there was no turning back. Chucking the peach pit into a nearby waste can, actually, a compost bucket, (In these days of scarcity, nothing could be casually discarded.) he picked his bundle up again and followed the rest of the group in. The male in charge, a Home Guard Captain by the name of Bracefoot ordered them to get in line.

"You can just drop that bundle there by the door, boy." the Captain told Bailey. He looked him up and down. "Well, at least one of you seems to have put some thought into coming ready to travel."

As he was dropping his load, Bailey noticed a sign by one of the desks in the room. "It is a crime punishable with prison to falsify enlistment documents." Thinking of the forged letter of permission in the pocket of his jacket, he gulped nervously, but did not falter for a moment. He did as instructed and returned to his place in line. Now was not the time to lose his nerve, that had passed when he entered the office.

The Captain told them that they were to "stay in formation" until his staff arrived and then processing would begin. After some few minutes, a few of the bucks started to slouch and fidget, getting restless. Bailey stood stiff as a board, scared out of his mind about what he was about to do, but not willing to let it show. When the fidgeting turned to shuffling and muttering, Bracefoot turned from the small stove where he had been starting the coal to heat water for tea.

"I told you to stay in formation! What way is this for soldiers to be acting?" With an imperious look on his face he glared at the motley line. The lads just stared at him slack jawed. They hadn't even signed on and they were already being ordered about? Bailey tried to pull himself even straighter, if such had been possible. His ears quivered and his whiskers arched forward. He'd watched Virgil ever since he'd come home. Whenever an elder addressed him, he had come to attention out of habit. Some of that had rubbed off. It was a fear reflex at that moment for Bailey. He had an image of his mother coming up behind him with the biggest of her wooden spoons, ready to rap him on the knuckles for some infraction.

"No respect for your elders the lot of you!" The old buck ranted and rumbled for several minutes. No, recruits just weren't what they were back in his day. Do as your told and don't ask why, that's the way things were supposed to be. He stomped up and down the line, poking a finger in the nose of each present. At the rate he was going, the inner lining of his ears would soon be as red as the coals that now glowed in the potbellied stove and the kettle that was threatening to boil dry.

They were saved from further lecturing by the sound of the door being opened. Several members of the Home Guard entered. Only one, a buck nearly as old Bracefoot, was wearing a proper uniform. It too was a relic of The Great War, and fit only by the grace of a bunny slimming with age. The rest were dressed in decent enough shirts with arm bands declaring their membership in the Guard. Their Captain was the only one who carried a proper weapon, an old Webley service revolver. Bailey was willing to bet the ammunition was the same age.

Before the door could close behind the last of them, a rather small animal pushed his way in and got into line next to Bailey. The gopher was breathing heavily and carried a canvas pack on his back. He immediately adopted the posture of the rabbit next to him, drawing himself to his full height and pulling back his shoulders. His fur was a darker brown than even most of his kind tended toward, and his eyes, while bright and shiny, were almost so dark that you couldn't tell where the irises ended and the pupils began. He wore a clean yet uniformly dingy cotton shirt. His trousers, just a little short in the leg, were stained about the knees, though still presentable. His braces, crossed over his back to accommodate a short torso, were newer.

All of this Bailey really only saw later, as his attention was focused sharply on the old buck who was acknowledging the arrival of his unit, and complaining still about the questionable worth of the youngsters Bunnyburrow was producing these days.

Finally, once the tea had actually been made and the Guard settled to their various desks, the Captain turned again to the lads.

"Alright, then. Let's get you lot sorted out. Anyone who is here with conscription papers will form a line before Lieutenant Earburton here. Those of you who had the spine to come of their own volition will line up at my desk here." The buck walked around his desk with his cup of tea and shuffled some papers as he sat down and took a sip, blowing over the rim. He didn't look up for some moments. When he did, there were only three animals standing before him. A young buck, a gopher and a porcupine.

"What, only three, out of ten of you?" He slammed the papers down on the work surface. "This explains a lot." he bellowed with a glare at the other seven.

He pulled out three sheets from a stack of pages in a bin on his right. "Alright, just sign here, date it, and step aside."

"Don't you need our birth certificates or anything, sir?" Bailey reached for the papers that were neatly folded in the pocket of his jacket.

"Serendipity, you are an eager one. No, we just take your names here for our records. The paper you sign just says that you are willing to serve at His Majesty's pleasure, and that you will swear your oath if you are accepted. From here you get on the first train to Swinedon. There they'll give you the look-over and see if you're fit." He glanced up and down the bunny in front of him. "Farm lad, right? Well, you'd have to have a permission letter from your father or employer then. Farming is considered an essential occupation (And rightly so, I might add!) and you need an exemption to join up." He took the paper that Bailey signed and pressed a stamp onto it. He waved the buck away and pawed the pen over to the gopher.

Bailey knew that there was a daily train out that would arrive in just over an hour. He took a seat on the bench that looked out over the main street of Bunnyburrow. It hadn't occurred to him that there was more involved in serving then just signing up. How stupid of him. Virgil had gone through the process. He should have paid attention. It was all well and good to run off and join the army, but there was no getting around his responsibility to his family. After the enlistment papers, the physicals and any other paperwork, he would have to wait until he got the call to report for actual training. He didn't have the means to keep himself in Swinedon until then.

On the other paw, once he was signed up properly, short of dragging him back, his parents would have to accept his choice. He'd given himself a good day's head start before he would actually need to stand before his father. Then he would just have to hold himself as firm as he could. Maybe by that point he'd have found an argument that would hold water with the family.

"What's so interesting about the post office then?"

The voice startled the young buck back to the present. He looked to the speaker to find himself looking at a gopher a little older than himself. There was something familiar about the tough young male, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"I didn't really think this through. I really need to serve, but my folks are gonna have a fit. If we have to wait for call-up papers, they might just make me stay until I'm actually eighteen. Even then, it'll be a tough sell with my mother." Virgil had only just made it back from across the channel alive, and now Judy was flying. Bonnie was not one to cut the apron strings if she could help it. Even Johnny was still a worry, estranged as he was from the rest of the clan.

"Sorry, forgot my manners. Bailey... Bailey Hopps." He stuck out a paw, which the gopher took into his own rough one.

"Albert Baker. My mates call me Bertie. I thought I recognized you. I got out of school just a couple years after you started at St. Lapinous. Went to work in the mines when the family funds dried up. I was getting set up to study architecture." Albert shook his head with a wince. "Big change picking at coal seams after drafting in bright classrooms."

The two males turned their attention out onto the streets. Shortly, there was the sound of a tractor from down the road that lead to the Hopps farm.

"Oh crackers, I'm in for it!" Bailey put his ears down and turned away from the window.

"What's the matter?" Albert hadn't heard the tractor yet, not having the lapin sense of hearing. His was a somewhat quieter world.

"My father is bringing the crops into town. If he happens to look this way, he'll drag me out, no matter how it looks." He slouched still further, trying to hide his relatively long, lean stature. Years of gymnastics had made him a rather distinctive figure from the rest of his kin.

Fortunately for Bailey, Stu Hopps was far more interested in the way the wagon was following the machine. The bunny that had hitched it up hadn't been nearly as diligent as the wayward buck that was trying so carefully not to be seen. It had rattled the entire trip in from the farm, threatening every few minutes to completely decouple from the tractor. If anything spilled or was spoiled, there'd be a trip out to the wood shed for certain. Where in the name of all things rabbit had his son gotten to that he was now later getting the goods to the market stall than was proper?

"Why didn't anyone notice Bailey was gone?"

"Beg your pardon?" Pop-pop came back from the part of the past that he'd immersed himself in. The old buck had almost forgotten that he had an audience.

"Why didn't anyone notice that Bailey was gone?" Trinity repeated herself.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"Two hundred and seventy-five." Trinity stated proudly. She knew that the Hopps clan was one of the largest in the tri-burrows. In fact, it was one of the three which gave the area its name.

"Do you know where every one of them is at all times?"

"Gosh, no sir. That would be... Oh, I see!" Comprehension overtook the young does face as she realized just how easy it was to hide in the crowd that lived in the warren, and how long it would actually take to realize if someone was missing.

"Exactly. Bailey knew that there were paws enough that the work would get done. Everyone would just assume that he was off doing another chore." Pop-pop looked around at the kits before him. "That's why we like you young ones to watch out for each other, work as a team. It keeps you safe."

He looked back into time again, and remembered his team, his surrogate family those first tentative days.

It took some time, but eventually Stu had passed the Home Guard office, and Bailey dared to turn around again.

One by one each of the young lads in the room had signed the necessary form, and taken seats. The porcupine that had volunteered like Albert and Bailey sat at the end of the bench. He was giving Albert a fair bit of space, not wanting to accidentally bristle his orderly, but very sharp spines. He'd introduced himself as Leonard Crowly. He was older than either the buck or the gopher, being nearly twenty-five. He was dressed in his second best suit, somewhat older, but still in good shape. He was a typesetter down at Hayworth's print shop a few blocks down.

It hadn't been quite as simple for the conscripted mammals, mostly bucks from the area who didn't have occupations exempting them from service. They had been required to sign a second document swearing to appear when called or have warrants sworn out for their arrest and return to Swinedon for charges of desertion.

"I don't mean to be nosy," Leonard said, "but I heard you say that you didn't want to come back to wait for your call-up?"

"I think that might be easier on my relations with my kin." Bailey admitted ruefully. "My parents are still getting used to the idea that my brother Virgil is going to get back into this scrum, and I don't know that they won't put up a fight if I stick to my guns."

"I think I can help you out. I have family that I'm going to stay with and give their address for my orders. It might be a little tight, but I'm sure they would be more than willing to take you in for the short term, at least until the next training group starts up."

"I can't afford to give them anything for room and board right now. Maybe I can pick up some work when we get to Swinedon..."

"Burrow under that hedge when we get to it, Bailey." The male held out his right paw, as Bailey had done with Albert. It had just the faintest trace of black ink on the tips of the claws. "I'm sure we can work something out with my uncle." He pulled a small paper packet out of a pocket and shook out three willow sticks, offering one to each of his new companions. They sat in a comfortable silence, save the sound of sharp teeth chewing.

The sticks had been seasoned in a brine solution before being air dried. Most mammals with incisors that continually grew usually kept a pack of sticks handy to gnaw on. This kept the teeth short enough to be comfortable and make conversation intelligible. Soaking in brine gave them a salty flavor, and added minerals that were a dietary necessity for many. Some larger animals, like bovines and equines carried salt cubes that they would lick at on occasion. Evolution hadn't touched some of the necessities of many species.

Some minutes later, an old goat, a local by the name of Hodges cleared his throat and called out to the young males. "The train to Swinedon is due in shortly. Fall in and follow me down to the station. Any of you conscripts get a mind to wander off and I'll lay on you with my stick!" He went to the door as the animals got into line. Bailey and his new friends grouped together, with Albert lending a paw to pick up the awkward bundle that the buck had put together the previous night.

Unfortunately for Bailey, the route to the station went right past where Stu and a couple of the older bucks were unloading the wagon near the lines. Not daring to get out of step and bring down the ire of the goat leading the group, he hefted the blankets to his right shoulder and let his ears drop. If one of them should look his way, his face at least would be out of view. He'd be just another bunny off to do his duty. His clothes were common enough in appearance that a quick look would not give away his identity. Bertie helped out by shouldering his own pack the same way, so that the change would not seem out of place.

Hodges led his charges to the ticket window and confirmed that the next train was on schedule. There had been some damage to the lines in recent bombing attacks. Mostly just a nuisance, with repair crews roaming up and down the rails at all times. Military travel had priority over anything else, so there was usually a carriage reserved for recruits being sent to the training camps or personnel being moved from one station to another. The train gave a whistle as it approached the level crossing down the way, and the brakes screeched on the big iron wheels as it slowed down.

Bailey got aboard as rapidly as he could. He couldn't risk the chance of being seen. He almost stumbled when his bundle put him off balance, but Leonard threw out a paw and steadied him from behind.

"Thanks, that was a close one. Be a laugh on me to go through all of this and show up with a broken ankle, now wouldn't it?"

"That's why it pays to work together. You, me and Albert stick together and we should be just fine."

Pop-pop sat up a little straighter in his chair. His eyes were just a little misty, having recounted the first meeting with friends now long gone. There weren't many left of that generation. So few animals left who really understood what they had gone through, the things they had seen and what they had been forced to do in the name of freedom.

When he looked down around his feet, he saw the young kits were still paying rapt attention, either sitting on their haunches or lying on their stomachs with chins resting on paws.

"It may have been one of the worst times for Bunnyburrow and Zootopia, even the whole world, but you see, good could still come out of it. Bailey made friends that day that would be with him his whole life. Even as they got old and moved on after the war, they always felt like they had brothers out there." Pop-pop looked at the recycling bin he had thrown the Herald into earlier.

"You see, even animals that aren't 'our own kind' are still family. Predator, prey, large or small, we each have something to offer in the name of kindness and kinship."

Stephen Hopps knocked on the door to the sitting room. He was filthy from doing those chores about the family holdings that couldn't be put off for something as trivial as rain and wind.

"Hey, Pop-pop, just wanted to let you know that you were right. That weir down in the lower fifth plot was just about ready to wash out."

"Never argue with arthritis, young buck!"

The kits all jumped up and went over to Stephen.

"I'll go see if the kettle is on for a hot cup of tea, Dad." Bailey ducked out of the door and sprinted down to the kitchen.

"Brian and I will take Trinity and Colton down and get them ready for supper." Elizabeth took the younger doe by the paw while her brother took Colton with him to the boys dormitory two floors down.

"Get 'em working together from the start." Pop-pop exclaimed.

"And together they'll see themselves through anything." Stephen replied, turning and wandering down the hall in search of a hot shower and a change of clothing.

Author's Notes

Nothing really to say here except that I hope that I am keeping true to the feel that Selaxes intended when he wrote the original chapter in which Bailey decided to take up the fight. I take it very seriously when another author entrusts me with a story line that they have created.

He did ask that I change the names of the current heads of the Hopps household. In this alternate universe, it seems a bit confusing to have another Stu and Bonnie. Therefore, in this continuity, they are Stephen and Bella Hopps. Sorry for any confusion this may cause the readers. I had considered explaining that names would be handed down, generation to generation, but that would still leave questions.

A quick note on the War Ags. The need to supply the armed forces and feed a nation under siege were great. As a result, the War Agricultural Executive Committee set up sixty-one districts that they would manage, ensuring peak efficiency. Every scrap of land had to be used wisely and to its best potential. Representatives of the committee, commonly referred to as the War Ags, went from farm to farm and graded them. If a sufficiently low grade was given, the land could actually be taken by the government or handed over to new management, with the owners relegated to the status of hired help.

This left many a farmer highly irritated, to say the least. I picture the Greys as being some of those that didn't make the cut. A lot of Gideon's behavior in the movie could be seen as passed down frustration and self doubt resulting from having most of their land appropriated.

You will have noted a change in the title. Sorry to confuse you all. There were a number of working titles, starting with "Bailey and his Bullets." This would only become sensible later as the story spun on. This seems to fit better, since our young buck stole off to make his contribution, to fend off the threat to his very family.

Lastly, Pop-pop seems quite out of character here, doesn't he? We are all familiar with the outburst about foxes being red because they were made by the devil. In the version of the movie that I have on DVD, the character and his line were left on the cutting room floor and only appeared in the out takes. Along with a much loved scene in which Judy returns to Precinct One only to have a larger vehicle park directly over her. It's a shame such comedy gold gets relegated to the special features section of a disc.