I'm in pain.

It takes a few seconds for my body to let me know I'm in agony, but it does, and it doesn't spare any detail. My face and chest and arms and legs all scream, rattling every joint and fibre until my entire being is just one big ball of hurt. I breathe deeply to keep my cool, and it just about placates my aches, but being my typically overconfident self I try to sit up in bed and I'm duly punished for it.

I fall flat on my back and breathe until I'm somewhat settled again, and once the last throbs soothe try to place where I am. I'm in a bed, possibly mine, although if it is someone's been kind enough to clean it for me. Same goes for the room I'm in. It could be home, but in my agonised state I don't trust myself to call it correctly. My mind is a mess – mysteries can wait until I've had some rest.

As my eyes wander around my setting they stop at the wall directly opposite me. Screwed into it is a mirror, and in it I can see my state. My left eye is black and swollen; my right ear is nicked like a key, and the ugliest cut I've ever seen is carving my snout in two. My mouth drops open in shock, and promptly closes again when I see I'm missing a handful of teeth. At least that explains my pain, though it only worsens my befuddled brain as the old mystery is replaced with a bigger, more frightening one: what on earth happened to me?

My thoughts are interrupted by a hammering at the door. I bolt upright, too startled to even feel the pain of doing so. Who could that be? Its volume leads me to assume a large creature like Bogo, but I can't imagine why he'd be paying me a visit outside of the ZPD Headquarters. Besides, the knocking sounds too frantic, too desperate, like a barrage of small paws coming together to make one big noise.

"Come in," I say uncertainly.

The door bursts open, and a rabbit comes sprinting towards me. Out of instinct I fall flat on the bed and brace myself for an especially painful impact, but it never comes. She stops herself at my bedside, her paws raised like she wanted to grab me, but something clearly held her back. Perhaps she realised in the nick of time that grabbing someone isn't the most polite way of introducing yourself, but her big, teary eyes and heaving chest tell me she's simply stunned by my appearance.

"N-Nick," she stammers.

I feel bad, very bad. Possibly even worse than the pain my body's generating. It's stupid, I know – I've done nothing wrong (I think), but seeing how I've made her feel, even if it wasn't my fault, stirs up worry inside of me. I open my mouth to speak, offer her reassurances, but the words won't come. All I can do is lie and look and feel awful.

She levers herself up onto a chair at my bedside and leans over me, not once breaking the deadlock between our eyes. Neither of us can look away. I try to add to it – speak, move, blink, anything – but nothing comes. It takes her expression morphing from tears of sorrow to tears of fury to move things along.

"When I find the people who did this to you," she seethes like a demon, "I'll do more than just lock them up. I'll pull every string I can to make sure those lowlives never see daylight again. I don't care whose toes I have to step on or if I end up losing my job over it, they messed with the wrong bunny."

It's the angriest I've ever heard her, angrier than I thought possible. It clearly shows on my face, as she seizes up like she can see she's freaked me out.

"I'm sorry," she says, ears flopping down to her sides, "I'm running on coffee and emotions. They wouldn't let me visit until morning, and I couldn't sleep last night thinking about what happened. But it's all okay now. I'm here, you're stable; it's all going to be fine."

She reaches out towards me and strokes my cheek. It feels nice, even if it's aggravating some bruising there. It soothes me enough to rediscover my voice and ask the burning question in my mind.

"What happened to me?"

It comes out as a faint croak, and she pours me a glass of water before she even says a word. As she holds it to my mouth to let me lap at it she says her piece.

"I don't know exactly what happened, I wasn't there. I only have the witness statement that Bogo showed me to go on. It said that you were walking home at night after a shift and got jumped by a gang of five panthers, I assume for your phone and money and such. According to the statement they beat you for a while after you resisted, but fled when one of them found your police ID in your wallet. Luckily a witness saw it all unfold and was able to call an ambulance right away." Her voice cracks, "That doesn't make it any better to see you as you are though."

She leans over me at a perilous angle, like she wants to fall on me and smother me, protect me from the horrible things in the world. Fresh tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes, and my throat tightens.

"H-How do you feel?" she stammers, "Is it as bad as it looks?"

"Yeah," I whisper. Her face somehow sinks further.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? If you need more painkillers I'll drag a nurse in here if you like."

"It's not the pain that's the problem."

"Oh, what is it then?"

I sigh, "It's the fact that I'm going to lose my title of sexiest fox in Zootopia."

I don't know why I said that. I'm still mulling over the sheer stupidity of it in my head for a good few moments after saying it. I had good reason: Judy's sadness was killing me. I just wanted to lighten the tone and hopefully cheer her up for my own sake, but making a stupid joke like that? When I'm lying beaten to within an inch of my life? Smooth, Wilde.

I steal a look at her. She's staring at me dumbstruck, even more surprised than I am at the words that came out of my mouth. All I can think to do is give her a goofy smile. Well, if you've already dug your own grave what's a few more feet? I wait for her to explode at my inappropriate humour, but she doesn't. She smiles, and laughs, and keels over.

"Nicholas Wilde, I could just kill you right now," she says through the giggles. She rests her head on the side of the bed and bangs it off the mattress a few times. "You are such a big, big pain."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Because...because...come here!"

She climbs onto the bed and squeezes my neck in a tight hug. My body yells in protest, but I'm not listening. Every inch of her fur against mine is the best medicine I've ever tasted.

She shifts her grip so she can cradle my head, and I don't resist as she rests it in her lap. She rocks me from side to side, and a smile of bliss forms on my swollen lips.

"You still haven't answered my question," I say cheekily. I can't help myself. I'm bloodied to a pulp, but having my face stroked by a happy and smiling Judy that I've cheered up has thrust me into a good mood.

"Oh, okay. Hmm, this is a very tough one indeed. Let me put your head down and climb off this bed while I think of an answer."

Damn. She's almost as good as me these days.

"On second thoughts, I think I can live with this mystery," I say.

She chuckles. "I thought so."

I reopen my eyes so I can look at her. There's still tears in her eyes, but they shine along with her smile.

"You're such a pest, but you're my pest," she says, "I'm glad you're still feeling yourself."

"And I'm glad you're here to be my nurse." I wink, "It's a shame you didn't come in the outfit though."

I surprise myself again with that line, but I approve. I'm on a roll, and she seems to like it. Sure enough she laughs.

"Don't push it," she says, waving her paw as if she wants to give me a playful slap but knows she shouldn't.

"Well at the very least can you kiss me better?" I wheedle. She rolls her eyes.

"Alright then, you cheeky so-and-so."

She bends down, and I crane my neck as best I can and pucker my lips to receive a dose of bliss, and then I wake up.

The darkness stuns me, as does the sudden lack of pain in my body. I lie there beached as the reality sinks in, and when it does I resist the urge to punch the wall. Judy's not rushing to my bedside, she's not laughing at my snark and cradling my head and leaning down to kiss me. She's just lying on me while she dreams of some other man and pretends I'm him.

I start to feel nauseous, so I gently lever Judy off of me and climb out of bed. The clock shines 4am right into my eyes as I stand at the window, glaring at the moonlight with bloodshot eyes. I'm going to be dead by tonight, be it through tiredness or carelessness, or my soul being ripped clean out of my body. It's not fair. It's just not fair. Even in my sleep I'm tormented by my obsession with her and the fact that she'll never be mine. I try so hard to look away, distract myself and hold my tongue in the name of the greater good, and this is how my mind repays me. I'm distraught, I'm in despair, and I've...I've...I've had enough.

"Judy Hopps," I whisper, barely loud enough to hear even under my mouth, "I think you're amazing. I've never known anyone like you. No one else has treat me with the same care and friendship as you have. You're my best friend, but I want to go one step further. I know you might think that's weird or scary, but I promise that I will never, ever, ever hurt you. You mean far too damn much to me to just play with you like that. I know you may not feel the same way as I do right now, but please just give me a go. If it doesn't work it doesn't work, I can live with that, but I plead with you to just try me for a little while. I will give you everything I can possibly give and more, I just want you to be with me so I can show you that. Show you properly how much I care."

My throat stings as I breathe out the last word, but the knot in my stomach unravels with a huge burst of relief. That felt good. So much pent up anguish and frustration, finally released. But now that I've let it out and said it it dawns on me that it's not enough. I want more.

I stroll back over to the bed and scoop up Judy, setting her down on my chest as I lie down again. Like before her arms slip around my ribs as she cuddles my breast. In my mind plays the thought of her dreams, the thought of her doing the same thing to a dancer or one of the muscular enforcers from work, while I watch helplessly from the sidelines. My eyes steel with disgust. Not at her, but at myself. That's my future as things currently stand. If I say nothing she's always going to be dreaming of those men, and eventually she'll get one, and that's me finished. If I say something then I at least stand a chance of winning her over. Maybe it'll spook her, I don't know, but I've reached breaking point. Now that I've seen what it looks like I want Judy for myself. I want her to run to me; keep vigil at my bedside; cry when I've been hurt; laugh when I tell her jokes; hold me close and kiss me and mean it. I want her to say that she loves me, but that isn't going to happen unless I step up to the plate.

And I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna risk it and try to win her hand. 'The greater good' be damned – what's good about standing idly and torturing yourself because you're too much of a coward to take a chance? I've lived my life thinking silence and self-preservation is my road to happiness, but what has it brought me other than little patches of relief in an otherwise miserable time? I've avoided rocking a boat that's taken me nowhere, and I've had enough. What is it that Judy keeps saying? Try Everything? Well I think I'll join her, just this once. Hopefully she doesn't choose now to change her philosophy as well.

My face softens and my eyelids weaken as I look at her, content in my embrace. Should I wake her up and get it over with? A yawn answers for me. I really do need to sleep if I want to stand a chance of getting through tomorrow's shift. Reluctantly I let my head sink into the pillow, and feel myself drift away. At least I'm more comfortable now, and hopefully whatever dreams befall me before the alarm goes off will reflect that. Waiting also gives me time to think of how best to approach and tell her what I want to say. My positivity surprises me, but I appreciate it. I owe it to myself to look up rather than at my feet for once. Perhaps my old mantra needs a small tweak: never let anyone know that they get to you. Except when you want them to.


Well, I've decided to change things up a little. I didn't want to just leave it at 'forlorn friends have no idea they feel the same way', so here we are. It also gives me an opportunity to further expand on my interpretation of the characters and explore better how they think, act and react.

I know Nick's feels. I reached the same breaking point (not the exact same scenario, but the same concept) a few years back, and I've been better for it since. Here's hoping it works out the same for you, bud. ;) I'm not quite done with this story yet, though - one chapter more, methinks. :)

Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)