Whatever Comes Next

by Robin830

When a new threat emerges in Zootopia, both Nick and Judy are faced with unforeseen challenges; challenges that require them to muster courage, take chances, and face the past... whether they want to or not. They must decide who to trust, who to fear, and who to love—all while saving Zootopia from impending peril, of course. (May contain mild language and violence.)

4. Fortress Walls and Jumbotrons

Warning beforehand! I have no medical experience whatsoever. I tried my best to do my research and stuff, but the fact of the matter is, I don't know if it's 100% accurate. Heck, I don't know if it's 30% accurate. Just bear with me if it's not.

Thanks, Hawktooth, for the name of this doe. Credits to you~

Hope you enjoy. (:

… … … … …

Chapter Four: Fortress Walls and Jumbotrons

Despite her longing to reconcile with him, Judy would have given anything to prevent the circumstances leading to their reunion with Sam.

Bogo had insisted on Nick and Judy accompanying him to the hospital. They had been Sam's foundation for the longest time, after all, and were the only officers that had a chance of effectively comforting the coyote. Jack wanted to come, as well, claiming it was so he could see the effects of this mysterious drug for himself; he told them that he would meet them there, and abruptly left.

Judy suspected that wasn't the only reason Jack wanted to go to the hospital, but didn't acknowledge it; to her, there was nothing else more important that getting to Sam before he tore himself apart.

When they entered the hospital and Bogo exchanged a few private words with Mr. Packard's nurse, Nick had placed a warm, comforting paw on her back and kept it there. It felt good; sturdy. His comfort was a necessity for Judy, especially at a time like this, and she was silently thankful that Nick knew she needed it.

When she entered the Mr. Packard's hospital room alone, it didn't feel strange for Judy to see the young coyote in Zootopia Medical Hospital again. What was strange was that this time, Sam was sitting beside the hospital bed and not in it—and that his father was the one hooked up to the breathing machines.

Judy felt something catch in her throat when she saw this. She had a certain fear hang over her for a long time: she would walk into the hospital room and see Sam barely hanging onto his life, IVs tangled around his arms and his paws and the heart monitor counting down the seconds he had to live. Fortunately, the coyote laying in the bed wasn't Sam, but he looked so much like him that it made Judy's heart jolt. It wasn't until she focused on the slightly smaller coyote beside the bed that she let herself release the breath she was holding.

Sam looked as tired as a sun-dried cornstalk. He was dressed in a ruffled button-up shirt, cuffs and collar unbuttoned messily; a navy blazer hung over the back of his chair. Judy couldn't see his face, but his muzzle poked through the two trembling paws that were pressed against his eyes. His mouth was open slightly, and Judy could hear his breaths like they were right next to her ear—shallow, quick.

Judy felt a simmering mix of concern and dread churn at the base of her belly. A quick once-over of the room revealed that Sam didn't bring much more than his blazer, with the exception of his glasses—which were currently tossed onto a nearby table next to three empty Styrofoam coffee cups.

Judy tried her best not to look at the older coyote laying in the bed, currently unconscious. That wretched canine wasn't her concern right now—his son was, who had not yet seen that the rabbit had entered.

She took one cautious step forward; she paused for one long, stretching moment before she finally let herself whisper, "Sam."

The coyote's head popped up suddenly, his brown eyes wide with surprise and rimmed with fatigue. A relieved puff escaped his mouth when he set his eyes on the bunny. "J…Judy?"

Judy felt a certain tightness release its hold on her heart. She was so, so scared that she would walk in and Sam would reject her completely, insist that he needed to be alone. But he didn't! In fact, he looked grateful that she was here.

This is what made Judy run forward and wrap her little arms around the coyote's fluffy neck; Sam didn't seem at all surprised by her sudden movement. She pressed herself tightly to him, knowing he needed the comfort more than anything else at that moment.

"Oh, Sam," she murmured into his shoulder, feeling the shudder of oncoming sobs racking his chest as his shaking arms weakly hugged her back. "I'm sorry, bud, I'm so sorry."

"N-No," he answered in return, his voice thick; Judy could tell he was trying his best to hold back tears. "I'm sorry…Judy, you guys were so nice to me and I just—"

"Samuel Packard," she chided, pushing him away so she could look him in the eyes. "That is the last thing I am concerned about right now. This is not about me or Nick, this is about you." She pointed at him with one fluffy finger, narrowing her eyes to further prove how serious she was about her statement.

Sam nodded, giving a great sigh. His breath smelled like bitter coffee. "I don't know what happened," he murmured shakily. "I really don't…he…"

Judy shushed him, placing a paw onto his shoulder. "You don't have to talk about it right now, Sam…"

"I know I don't, but I'm going to have to eventually. It's going to be equally hard either way."

Judy chuckled lowly; it was so typically Sam, immediately getting down to the ugly part of the subject before assessing anything else. "Do you want to wait for Nick?"

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes lowering. Suddenly, he seemed so much older to Judy; his boyishly handsome features were marked with the darkness of age. "Y…Yeah."

"Well, he went to get food. He'll be back in just a second," she answered.

A knock sounded from behind Judy, and Sam's eyes flicked to the door. Judy turned to see, as well, and discovered that it was the fox himself, holding a plastic bag and a drink carrier.

Nick looked like he was going to let something sarcastic and amusing fall out of his mouth, until he thought better of it and shifted his expression into a compassionate smile. He set the food on a nearby table. "Hey, kid."

"Good...good to see you, Wilde."

The two canines pushed toward each other, shaking paws; Judy was sure it would have been a much more joyous greeting if they had not been in the current situation. Nick dared to clap the taller coyote amiably on the shoulder and chuckle, to which Sam gave a small, worn smile.

Nick glanced his green eyes over to the coyote in the hospital bed, and his face flinched. Judy knew he was trying to hold back a grimace for Sam's sake, but she had to agree that the sight of Mr. Packard in this was both horrifying and, admittedly, only slightly satisfying. Any other day they would have said he deserved every amount of pain he endured…but the fact that the crushing of Sam's heart came along with his downfall made it that much less gratifying for the two officers—well, for Judy, at least. But she was sure Nick felt the same.

Nick cleared his throat. "Do…Do you want to go to the cafeteria to eat? The other police have to talk to the doctor, it might take a little bit."

Sam looked torn for a moment, glancing back toward his comatose father with a reluctant pull of his lips.

"It would probably be better," Judy whispered, setting a comforting paw onto Sam's arm. "Give you a chance to breathe, you know?"

After a long, heavy moment, Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah…Yeah, that's a good idea."

When the trio walked out of the hospital room, Sam gave no move to look at the two police officers and the Chief, who were standing patiently in the waiting area. Judy had no idea where Jack was, and that made her uncomfortable…but her focus was on Sam now. Their time in the cafeteria would give Delgato, Fengmeyer and Bogo a few minutes to discuss Mr. Packard's condition with the doctor without fear of emotionally harming Sam any further.

… … … … …

Jack patiently listened from around the corner of the waiting room, trench coat unbuttoned and hat hanging in his paw by his side. He pretended to be browsing a vending machine filled with brightly-wrapped, carbohydrate-packed Zootopian selections of biscuits and crisps; but his attention was not on the ridiculous snacks. His ears were turned slightly towards the waiting area, listening intently.

"Delgato, Fangmeyer, change of plans," Bogo's voice grumbled as an elevator gave a small ding. "I want you to go find and interview any possible witnesses of the attack. I'll handle the doctor."

A small huff of indignation. "But, sir, there weren't many mammals ar—"

"You think someone couldn't have heard the screams of a doe getting mauled?!" Bogo snapped. "Leave no rock unturned, you two. I would have expected you to already know that."

A series of awkward shuffles. "Y…Yes, sir."

"I expect reports on my desk before the end of the night. Dismissed."

Jack let his eyes skitter away from the vending machine as he waited for the tiger and the wolf to leave. Once he heard the familiar ding of the elevator beginning its descent, he turned away from the vending machine and made his way around the corner. There he found Bogo waiting patiently, arms crossed tensely and his eyebrows pursed only slightly.

"Thanks, old chap." Jack nodded at the buffalo in appreciation. It was important that the other officers didn't see Jack at the hospital, for why would the new accountant need to be there?

Bogo grunted. "I should talk to the doctor, too."

"No, no," Jack disagreed, firmly shaking his head. "I'll fill you in. I'm sure you have a lot of things to get in order because of this incident, so I'll let you take your leave."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely, Chief. Thank you."

After a brief farewell and Bogo's reluctant trip into the elevator, Jack cleared his throat and straightened his tie. He had had just enough time to drop back by his hotel and pick up a few necessities for getting this information out of the doctors; his American accent may have not gotten much practice, but now was a better time to exercise it than never.

"Excuse me," he said to a passing nurse, a small bunny with brown fur whose nametag read Becky. "Can you tell me where Dr. Whistlers is?"

Jack noticed the bunny's ears turning a bright shade of pink. "Uh…well, the doctor's a bit busy right now..." she murmured, clutching her tiny clipboard to her chest.

"Are they with a patient?" He had to force himself to use simpler language; he was so tempted to say, Might I ask if he or she is currently tending to a patient? When acting, he had to remember that Americans were much more to-the-point.

Ugh. You need a better performance, Jack.

But the nurse believed his act; she shook her head, running a small paw along the base of her ear distractedly. "Er…no. She's doing paperwork, I'm afraid."

Jack reached into the inside pocket of his suitcoat and pulled out a shiny badge, sitting dutifully at the end of a worn ball chain. He showed it to the nurse, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of it. "I just have a few questions about her patient, Mr. Packard. Do y'think you could get her to see me…" he glanced down at her nametag again and smiled, "…Becky?"

Her ears turned a fiery red, and she clutched her clipboard like it was her life support. "Er…" she glanced at a nearby set of double doors, which presumably led to another hallway. "I'll…see what I can do. You…" She swallowed. "What was your name?"

"Detective Logan Danvers, ma'am."

She nodded quickly, and began to shuffle past him with haste. "I'll…I'll go let him know, Detective," she managed as she inched away.

Jack gave her what he knew was a flirtatious smile. "Thanks, doll. I'll be waiting out here."

She nodded again and rushed off toward the double doors, her ears standing perfectly erect and her strides a clumsy staccato.

Jack couldn't help but chuckle. He especially liked playing Logan Danvers, an American detective with a tendency for flirtation; Jack had developed more of a serious personality that went along with his traditional British values and job occupation, so acting as this rabbit with—what Jack imagined to be—a lifestyle that included watching football games in bars and sweettalking the ladies into stupors was, he had to admit, quite amusing.

A few minutes later, the flustered nurse named Becky returned and managed to force out a stammer that sounded something along the lines of, "Follow me."

She led him through the double doors and into an office. There was a desk, meticulously neat and covered in various trinkets; snow globes, little glass and wooden figurines, patterned picture frames. Despite the dust-collecting potential that it all had, the desk didn't have one speck on any surface it may have possessed; the only thing that could possibly have qualified as "clutter" would have been the neat stacks of paperwork shoved to one side and the obviously stressed dhole that sat behind it in a wrinkled lab coat.

Dr. Whistler's appearance was much messier than her office let on, with her ruffled fur and creased face; she glanced up at the hare and gave a deep, silent sigh, motioning in with one paw. "Thanks, Rebecka."

The nurse nodded and slunk back. Just before she slipped out the door, though, Jack gave her one last winning smile that Logan Danvers surely would have sent her way; her ears almost immediately turned pink, and she quickly ducked out without saying another word.

Dr. Whistler set a pair of crooked glasses at the end of her nose, and held out a paw to the hare. "Rebecka said you were a detective."

Jack reached and shook it firmly. "Yes ma'am. I'm here to ask some questions about Jeremy Packard, then I swear up n' down I'll be outta your fur."

She gave a slight tch. "Oh, believe me, I want this figured out as much as you do. What did you say your name was?"

"Didn't say, ma'am. Detective Logan Danvers." The American accent was coming out easier now.

"Ah," was her reply. "Well, Mr. Danvers, I assume you're here because you want more information abot this damned drug?"

Jack nodded, taking a seat in one of the doctor's desk chairs; he took a moment to note, that unlike most doctor's offices, this one didn't have large posters of detailed portions of mammal's anatomy. "Cops are working on it, too, but the Chief thought they might need my help."

"I see." The dhole focused on his over the rims of her wire glasses pointedly. "What exactly do you want to know?"

"Just start from the beginning. What you know."

She cleared her throat, and supported her weight with her elbows on the desk as she laced her fingers together. "Well, I only know the effects of the drug, and parts of the drug. I don't know what the drug is itself."

"Okay," Jack said.

"I specialize in canine medicine; I wasn't the doctor of the other two kickers, but those doctors and I have collaborated...the amount of toxins that were in the two mammals' systems as well as Mr. Packard's was enough to send an elephant into cardiac arrest." She quickly leaned over to her stack of paperwork and started thumbing through it, dark eyes jumping from page to page. "That in and of itself makes it very difficult to treat."

"Why is that?"

Dr. Whistlers looked up at him pointedly. "Because, Detective, all things consumed contain some amount of toxins. Our body filters these toxins, but our body can only do so at a certain pace. If too much of anything is consumed all at once, then it could cause serious harm to a body. The livers of these mammals were basically soup by the time they died."

"So what you're saying," Jack replied pensively, "is that they could have made this drug out of almost anything."

She nodded. "Correct." Pulling a paper and laying it flat on her desk, she ran a finger along the printed lines. "What tells us that it's a drug and not a bunch of mammals coincidentally binging on preservative-coated goodies all at once is…yep, here it is." She slid the page over to the hare. "Benzoylmethylecgonine."

Jack looked down at the report, and then back up at the doctor. "Cocaine?"

"There's a reason they call it angel dust."

Jack was not a medical professional, but he certainly knew a lot about the body; he also knew a lot about drugs, being in the spy business and all. But Logan Danvers did not know much about these things. He knew a lot about the law and where to get the best bean steak, but not about medicine. Jack had to remind himself this as he connected the dots in his head along with the doctor.

Jack peered down at the paper, making a show of not being able to discern its text. "Well, an overdose of cocaine can lead to cardiac arrest, right? Is that why they died?"

Dr. Whistlers sniffed, and pushed her glasses up her snout. "We thought that at first, but the levels of cocaine in their systems actually shouldn't have been enough to cause an overdose. It was likely the combination of cocaine and another agent that caused the cardiac arrests. The presence of cocaine could also mean that it may be addictive."

"Did you find any indication of what the other agent might be?"

She motioned for the paper, which Jack handed to her; she skimmed down it with one finger. "Our druggies had super-high levels of potassium, which is probably the other half of the reason for their cardiac arrests. They also had high levels of folate, copper, phosphorus, niacin…"

Jack sighed, and rubbed the top of his head with one paw. "So, basically anything we can consider to be consumable."

"Essentially." She glanced again down at the page. "I mean, we could narrow it down to plants and bugs—or, even fish and poultry—that contain higher levels of potassium, but we would still be left with a list that has tens of thousands of possibilities." She took a deep breath, slapping the page on the top of her pile in frustration. "But the fact of the matter is, anyone can take a massive amount of something that is low in any nutrient, concentrate the nutrient from…whatever is may be, and receive high levels of the nutrient."

"And they couldn't buy bulk of potassium itself, because that would be too trackable," Jack murmured as he rubbed his chin with a paw. "They'd have to harvest it."

"I suppose."

Jack thought for a moment. "Well, were there any special toxins?"

"The toxins that were in their bodies were toxins that are found everywhere." The dhole scratched her cheeks with a few claws. "And to add on to our bad luck, by the time they died and we were done frantically trying to keep them alive, there's no telling what their bodies had already processed and filtered."

"Did they vomit?"

Dr. Whistlers cocked an eyebrow. "Odd question, Detective."

Jack shrugged; he had forgotten to be Logan for a moment. "I just figured that you could sample the puke for the toxins they already processed, or something." Focus, Jack!

"Well, I wasn't going to be the one to scrape it off the floor," she answered bluntly. "But fortunately, we have a living patient who had a cardiac arrest because of this drug." She took off her glasses and slowly set them on the desk next to a milky glass figurine of a palm tree. "Unfortunately, when I tested him, I didn't find anything else different. It's a wonder he's still alive."

"How is he alive?"

Dr. Whistlers shifted uncomfortably, her dark eyes suddenly ladled with sadness. "We're…not sure, to be honest," she replied carefully. "But what we are sure of is that it won't be much longer before his body will decide to quit on him."

"So the drug is fatal."

"Not necessarily," she answered. "Either this drug is extremely potent, or our druggies took a whole bunch of it. There's no way to tell." She picked up the paper she was examining earlier and waved it in the air, her evidence for her claims. "With the amount of shit that had been crammed into them, if they didn't die by cardiac arrest they would have died by liver failure. That's what's threatening Mr. Packard's life right now."

There was a small length of subdued silence that covered the office for a moment, before Jack decided to speak up again. "How do they go savage?"

She looked down at a tiny picture fame and adjusted it on the desktop. "There's no indication in any of their systems of a toxin or poison that makes them become aggressive."

He suppressed a groan. This mission is growing increasingly more vexing, Jack thought to himself.

The dhole shrugged. "I do know that the cocaine could play a role in their aggression, though. Cocaine makes its takers paranoid; it can also make them aggressive, though it wouldn't make these mammals as violent as they were, even if they are predators." She leaned back into her office chair and crossed her lanky arms. "It doesn't necessarily cause aggression, but it's the source of their increase in paranoia, which in turn could feed their aggression."

Lovely. "I do have one more question, Doctor."

"Okay, shoot."

"If this drug could be fatal," he said carefully, "then why haven't the other dozen or so predators been admitted into hospitals? Do they have no need for a hospital?"

For a moment, she was unmoving. She simply stared at Jack with dark, somber eyes. Finally, she replied, "I don't know."

Jack didn't feel any more frustrated by this; he couldn't possibly have. He just added to the top of the already-massive pile labeled figure out later. "Brilliant…"

"But," Dr. Whistlers continued, tapping one claw against a tiny porcelain doll. Tink, tink. "What I do know is that if the drug is fatal, they're probably dead, or on the brink of it."

Jack grit his teeth, concentrating hard on a wooden figurine of a bird sitting on the edge of her desk. Then whether it's deadly or not...someone definitely doesn't want them found.

… … … … …

"Sam, you really should eat. Just drinking coffee isn't good for you."

Judy had chosen a table for them by a window that looked over the street, with the dim light of dusk glinting off nearby buildings and into the cafeteria. Nick knew that she probably figured a view like this would cheer Sam up a little bit, give him a little taste of sunlight. They were sitting with their meal spread out before them; Sam had the window seat. He kept stealing glances outside.

Nick had purposely bought Sam's favorite: Italian food. A big chunk of lasagna oozing marinara sauce and beetle bits steamed inside the to-go container that sat in front of Sam, but the coyote just picked at it; he hadn't taken a single bite yet.

"Thanks, Wilde," Sam murmured, sending the fox a halfhearted smile. "For the food."

"Yeah, no problem, kid," Nick replied. He tried to read Sam, but he wasn't exactly an open book; unlike Judy, who was more like a Jumbotron than a book. "But Carrots is right; you should eat. Nothing is a bigger thank-you than an empty plate."

Sam stared down at the lasagna for a moment. "I…I'm not very hungry. Sorry."

"That's okay," Judy whispered, placing a comforting paw on his shoulder. "Nick and I…we just figured that it would give you some strength."

Nick flicked his sight from Sam to Judy, who was retreating her paw and gazing sadly down at her garden primavera. Nick relished in the fact the he could almost always read her; right now, with her twitching nose and slightly pouting lips, she was upset that she couldn't do more to help Sam.

He suddenly had a strange, overwhelming sensation to hug her. Weirdo.

"Jessica and I are engaged, you know."

Judy's eyebrows soared and she gasped; Nick blinked at the coyote, astonished. "Wait, what?"

Sam chuckled lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry I didn't tell you guys sooner."

"You better be sorry!" Judy teasingly scolded, poking at Sam with one fuzzy finger. "That's a big deal, Sam!"

"Yeah, we didn't even know that you two had gotten back together," Nick mentioned, leaning over his eggplant-stuffed ravioli. "She seemed pretty…pretty set on…uh…" he tugged on his collar as Judy pointedly glared at him. "…becoming independent." Whew. Well said, Nicky.

The coyote shrugged, and dared to place a marinara-soaked beetle into his mouth. "After a while, I... realized how much of a pansy I was being. So I moved out of my dad's place." He gave a sputtered laugh, carefully placing his fork on the table. "You guys were right, I should have pressed charges on him."

"Sam…" Judy muttered, her voice silky smooth and dripping with honey. She had used that voice on Nick so many times before; it made every part of him soften up like butter in the sun.

But Sam just shook his head, slumping tiredly. "It's really…" He placed his head in a paw. "It's really shitty that it took twenty trips to the hospital, losing two friends, and Jessica breaking up with me to realize that."

"Sam, bud," Nick intervened, trying his best to give the coyote a sincere-looking smile. "Everyone makes mistakes. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"But… I hurt you guys."

Judy scoffed. "You have your father in the hospital in critical condition and you think we're worried about our feelings?"

Sam wavered for a moment, looking down at the headstrong bunny with glassy eyes; and, for one moment, he was completely vulnerable. Nick could see he was suffering deeply, under too much stress for a coyote as young as he was; his heart was completely broken.

That's when Nick realized.

"Sam," he suddenly felt himself whisper, his voice tearing through his throat like briars. "Sam, was Jessica the doe that Packard attacked?"

Judy's eyes widened into saucers, and she looked to the coyote for confirmation.

A tear slid down onto Sam's muzzle. "Stupid…" he growled. Then all of a sudden, he slammed his fists onto the table; their food boxes jumped with the impact. "Stupid! I'm a stupid piece of shit!"

Judy leaned toward him, her paw outstretched. "Sam—"

"It's all my fault, Judy! It's…all my fault." Tears started to drip onto the table. "As soon I moved out and got a new place across town, I went and bought a ring and proposed to Jessica! Just...right there, in front her employer's house. At ten o'clock at night."

"Where she nannies?" Nick asked carefully.

Sam nodded, pressing his palms to his exhaustion-ladled, watery eyes. "That's how I found her…I had saved up so much money, I was going to get her that daycare she's always wanted! I told her about my new apartment, how it was nice, and once I graduated with my biochemistry degree we could start a family, maybe adopt a few kits…and buy a house with a…" he sniffed, running a paw over his furry grey-and-brown head. "…a white picket fence and all that. I…" he chuckled through his tears. "I had no idea she would actually say yes."

"How is that stupid?" Judy insisted, a warm smile caressing her face. "That's sweet, Sam! Very romantic."

"It's stupid because I thought I could do it without my dad finding out!" he snapped; Judy didn't recoil, though. Lord knows she was used to the teeth, with Nick snapping playfully at her all the time.

The fox sucked a breath in. "How did he find out?"

"I don't know, and it doesn't matter," the coyote replied, flinging his paws up in the air in exasperation. "One moment Jessica and I are at my place, talking about our wedding and eating bean dip, and the next thing I know my dad comes rampaging in."

"And he attacked."

"No! He just screamed at me. He was going to hit me, but Jessica had threatened to break his kneecaps with a baseball bat," he said, and suddenly gave a wide grin. His tears' paths flexed with the wrinkling of his cheeks. "I love that doe, man…God."

Nick glanced at Judy, who was already looking at him with a set of very furrowed eyebrows.

"But he had threatened me," Sam continued, "said that I was going to regret getting engaged to a scum prey and that…he would disown me as a son if I did."

"And what did you say?" Judy asked, her voice a tiny, concerned squeak.

"I told him to get his ass out of my apartment." A small gurgling sound came out of Sam's mouth, like he was trying to hold back a sob. "I… I t-told him that I would disown h-him as a father before he would disown me as a…as a son. I even…" his fists clenched on the table and his lips curled up into a suffered snarl. "I even went and got a last name change! After that night, I couldn't stand the thought of Jessica or whatever children we have getting that… that prick's last name."

Nick felt a mixture of worry, satisfaction, and shock. When he and Judy used to communicate with Sam often, the coyote would insist that his dad was "a good guy, really, he just has prejudice" and that Sam would endure his abuse and not press charges because if Mr. Packard didn't have an outlet, then "innocent prey like Jessica will be the punching bag". Nick and Judy pushed and pushed the coyote to press charges against his father since he was a legal adult, but he wouldn't—not even for Jessica, whose relationship with him was the reason for Mr. Packard's abuse.

So to see Sam angry at his father, calling him names he deserved to be called was...relieving, but also concerning. Relieving because Sam finally realized what Packard was doing to him and he moved on with his life, but concerning because Sam standing up to his father resulted in this horrific situation, and Sam realized that.

It was also concerning because Sam's anger at his father was evidence that the young coyote had finally reached the end of his frayed, practically unraveled rope.

"I took M-Mom's maiden name," Sam mumbled, tears slipping past his palms and spiraled down his wrists; almost like tear-and-fur candy canes. "I'm…Samuel Feral now…"

"That's great, Sam," Judy said gently, her honey-voice lathering itself across the table. "That's fantastic. She'd be proud of you."

"No, she wouldn't," Sam immediately hissed through his teeth. "No, no. I screwed up, Judy, don't you see?"

"Sam, you had no idea that you dad would go so far as to take a drug and maul Jessica." These words poured out of Nick's mouth almost harshly. "This is not your fault. This was never yourfault."

"But I could have realized he was going to do something like this! I could have stopped it. It would have been better to leave Jessica alone, so I could protect her…" He let out a short, choked moan. "Like how she broke up with me to protect me…I should have done something, I…"

"Look," Nick interrupted, trying to imitate Judy's honey-voice. "I don't blame you for proposing to Jessica. You loved her, and your prey-hating dad was finally outta the picture. You and your sweetheart could move on with your lives. How could you have known he was going to track you down?"

"I didn't," Sam growled. "But once he found me and Jess? I did nothing. I kicked him out, yeah, but I did absolutely nothing to protect her! I should have broken up with her right then, because I should have known my dad…would come back and—and…"

"Sam, you cannot possibly be blaming yourself for what your dad did!" Judy exclaimed, folding her little muscular arms. "This wasn't your fault. There is no one to blame but Mr. Packard."

"Jessica would say the same thing, if she was here," the coyote replied. The tears had stopped, and now he just simmered in his self-hatred. "But she's not. Instead, she's in emergency surgery right now, and it's because I'm a blind dumbass." His head fall back into his paws, and a small, muffled whimper could be heard.

Nick was at a loss for words and apparently, so was Judy. They just gazed at each other, Nick hoping Judy would have something to say that would make Sam feel better; the longing in her massive purple eyes showed Nick that she hoped the same thing from him.

Sam heaved a great sigh, rubbing at his eyes furiously. "I'm…I'm sorry, guys…" he stammered, sniffing deeply. He chuckled, glancing up at Nick, and then to Judy. "What a reunion, huh? Must feel good getting greeted with a pity-party."

"Sam, you have no idea how happy Nick and I are to see you," Judy cooed, smiling softly.

Nick let out an amused chortle in an attempt to liven up the mood. "Carrots, especially. It's insane how many shirts I had to scrub snot out of from her crying about you into my stomach."

Sam let out a small, tired laugh, and Judy cocked an eyebrow at her partner pointedly. "Don't act like you weren't worried either!"

"Oh, I was. Just not snotting-all-over-my-partner worried."

"You're ridiculous."

Nick pulled a smirk onto his lips. "Ridiculous, and dashingly handsome." He gave her a wink.

She rolled her eyes, but Nick knew she couldn't help the smile she wore. "Give me a break."

"I…I really missed you guys."

The statement was sudden and unexpected—at least, it was for Nick. When Sam said it, the fox took a moment to absorb the statement and then let himself smile; he reached across the table and patted the coyote on the shoulder. "We missed you too, kid."

"I'm just…so sorry," he mumbled, shaking his head. "The way I talked to you guys…especially to you, Judy, I…" he scoffed at himself. "A friend shouldn't do that. I know I hurt you both."

"Honestly, we're just relieved to see that you're okay," Judy blurted, and then her lips tightened. He obviously wasn't okay. His fiancée and father were both in the hospital in critical condition. "S…Sorry…"

"It's alright," Sam replied softly. He shifted his tired, red-rimmed eyes from the bunny to Nick, who felt a wave of sadness wash over him when the coyote's gaze fell on him. "Mom, she…I wish she was here, she'd…" he gave a small, choked laugh. "She would have found some way to make me feel better."

The death of Sam's mother, Christiana Feral, was the turning point for the young coyote's life. It had happened before Nick and Judy came into the picture, before meeting Jessica Whitehall; his mom had died of cancer, which is the reason why Sam wanted to become a biomedical scientist. With the death of Christiana came the loss of half the household earnings, so Sam had to keep a job throughout high school to help pay rent; then, when Mr. Packard became addicted to alcohol and the expense of college reared its ugly face, Sam had to get a second job. Nick really felt for him. There was so much weight on his shoulders, and he had experienced a massive amount of loss; the kid deserved happiness.

But if Sam's prey-hating, violent, grief-ridden father had any part in his life, he would never be happy. At least, that's what Nick believed.

For the month that Sam endured the abuse of his father, Nick would often offer his place for the young coyote to sleep; he, Sam, and Judy spent many nights talking and bonding over pizza or Chinese takeout. He would often wonder if that was what having a younger brother was like: teasing relentlessly and listening to dreams, offering fatherly support and blunt advice. He liked it, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was good at it; and he wasn't the only one who noticed. Judy would tell Nick that she was proud of how great he was with Sam.

And that's what Nick needed to be now. A big brother.

For one brief moment, Nick felt the walls of his emotional fortress lowering; he knew that it wouldn't last long, so he jumped at the opportunity.

"Kid, as someone who had loved ones and lost them, let me give you some advice." These words that Nick heard came from his mouth—he could feel the vibrations of his voice, he knew his lips were moving—but Nick, for some reason, didn't feel like he was the one speaking. "If your dad lives, then press charges against him and get his ass in jail. Then once he's in there, visit him. A lot. Make sure he remembers that he has a son and that he's a father."

Their wide-eyed, shocked stares burned him.

"And if Jessica lives, don't break up with her. Marry her, because if you don't, you may regret it for the rest of your life. I could…" Nick sniffed passively, pretending that it wasn't to cover up the fact that it felt like someone was hacking at his chest with a gardening hoe. "I could have developed a decent relationship with my mom if I had not decided the death of my dad was a good enough reason to run off and become the poster boy of bending the rules."

A soft, long, barely noticeable gasp came from the bunny sitting across from him. Nick didn't look at her, he couldn't.

Nick stared pointedly at Sam, who was listening tentatively with a gaping mouth. "Hang onto whatcha got, kid. Don't screw your life up just because you think all hope is lost—'cause the second you push them away, you push away a part of yourself, too."

Silence hung dubiously over the table. Nick felt his ears vigorously heat up, like someone had slammed them in the door of a hot oven; he purposely didn't look at his friends, who he knew were rendered speechless. He covered up his flustered face by shoving a piece of his now-cold ravioli into his mouth.

After a moment, the silence was too much for him; he jabbed his empty fork at Sam's plate and said through a mouthful of eggplant and pasta, "Eat your lasagna."

… … … … …

One of Jessica's nurses found the trio in the cafeteria around eight o'clock to report that the doe was out of surgery. Because Sam was Jessica's fiancé he could go into her room to see her, but Nick and Judy could not; so after ordering Sam to keep them up-to-date and to at least try to get some sleep, they parted ways. Nick and Judy were walking down the hallway back towards Mr. Packard's room in a tense silence; Judy's eyes kept pulling themselves up at her partner.

She tried her best to look at him sneakily. His green eyes were passive and almost grave, his posture unusually stick-straight. His shoulders pulled at the fabric of his uniform shirt—he had muscled up from his and Judy's daily workout—and his paws were sunk deep into the pockets of his dark pants. A thin line had replaced his mouth.

A great number of questions tugged at Judy's heart, and many of them she knew Nick wouldn't be okay with being asked; still, they burned her tongue, and more than one time she turned to him and almost let one spill out of her mouth. So when they entered Mr. Packard's hospital room again and saw Jack staring pensively at the coyote's unconscious form, Judy was relieved for the distraction.

As for Nick, however, he visibly tensed when he saw the hare. If he had glanced her way, he would have seen Judy give him a cocked eyebrow that told him to behave—but he didn't.

Judy gave up on subtly getting Nick's attention and stepped further into the room. "Any useful information from the doc, Jack?"

Jack leaned more toward Mr. Packard, his eyes squinting. "I got some questions answered, sure," he murmured quietly, "but too many new questions. Too, too many." His ear twitched. "Straightened things out with Mr. Feral?"

Judy nodded, and grew uncomfortable when she figured that he knew about their fiasco with Mr. Packard before he even walked into Bogo's office earlier that afternoon. "Y…yeah. He's…as fine as he could be, I suppose."

Jack grunted softly in reply, a simple hm. He was obviously distracted with Mr. Packard; Judy had no idea how the hare could possibly examine the coyote for any length of time. She could hardly even glance at the fiend.

Then, Nick asked the burning question. "Savage, why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Jack never took his eyes off the body.

Nick scoffed. "He's…barely alive, and you're checking him out like you're deciding what carrots would go best in your vegetarian Cornish pasties."

"I've never been one for Cornish pasties."

"You know what I mean, you—"

"What are you looking for, Jack?" Judy interrupted before another one-sided argument ensued, sending a warning glare to Nick. The fox just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms grumpily and turning away.

"I'm not entirely sure, Miss Hopps," he answered, rubbing his chin and running his eyes over the coyote's blank face. "But I felt better looking at him for myself." After one slim moment, he sucked in a sharp breath and his eyebrows tensed. "Actually, Miss Hopps, I believe I require your assistance in a small matter. Won't take but a moment."

"Uh…sure. What do you need?"

The hare waved her over, and she complied. She could practically feel Nick's glare melting itself into the two as she walked to the opposite side of the hospital bed.

Jack pointed to the coyote's oxygen mask. "Hold this fast to his face while I turn his head."

Judy's stomach turned, for reasons he couldn't quite place. "Uh, okay…" She did as she was told, pressing one paw down on the clear cylindrical mask and tightly securing it to his muzzle. For a moment, she wondered if they should call a nurse in to do something like this, but then decided that it was unnecessary; if it was necessary, Jack would have done it by then.

With concentration, Jack wedged two paws carefully under Mr. Packard's head and slowly lifted; the coyote's head lolled towards Judy, and she dared to glance down at his face. It was sickening, to be honest; he was almost like a dead body, barely breathing and face sunken. She had glared at this face so many times, seen it in boiling anger more than anything; it was strange to see it almost…at peace.

If there was one thing that Judy had not grown accustomed to in her job, it was dealing with bodies—whether they be dead or an inch away from it. She felt her stomach roll around in her intestines and tried not to appear too unnerved.

Jack wouldn't have noticed the expression on her face anyway; he was too busy staring with narrowed eyes at something on Mr. Packard's neck. Whatever it was, Judy couldn't see it from her angle. "Nick," he called back to the fox, "please get the disposable camera from the pocket of my coat. It's laying on the table."

Nick grunted, but did as he was asked. He returned with the camera pinched between two fingers. "I suppose I'm on picture-taking duty, Crumpets?"

"Yes."

"What am I taking a picture of?"

Judy winced as Jack pushed Mr. Packard's head up further. "Do you see the discoloration of the skin underneath his fur? Right…here?"

Nick peered where Jack was apparently talking about, and shrugged. "Yeah. Birthmark or something?"

Jack looked at him exasperatedly. "The marks are black."

"Okay, so, a tattoo," the fox snapped back; Judy would have nagged at him for his behavior if she wasn't too buy wishing she could get as far away from Mr. Packard as possible.

Jack nodded in agreement, looking back down at the coyote's neck. "That's what I'm thinking."

"Well, what do the marks look like?" Judy asked, focusing on the faces of her coworkers instead of the washed-out face of Sam's comatose father. "Do they form a picture of something?"

Jack twisted his mouth in reply, and gestured toward the area in question with his head. "Nick, old chap, would you part the fur so we can get a better look?"

"Why don't you do it, 'old chap'?"

"I'm kind of holding the bloke's massive head," Jack answered, chuckling. "Trust me, if I had a free arm, I wouldn't ask. But I don't, so do you mind?"

Nick glared at him, his upper lip twitching. "I'm gloving my paw first."

"Fair enough."

Nick turned to snap on a latex glove begrudgingly; while he did, Judy sent Jack a massive apologetic look. Jack noticed, and shrugged lightly in reply as if to say "it's fine"; Judy was very glad that the hare didn't take Nick's attitude too seriously. It would have made things much harder than they already were.

Nick turned back around and flicked his eyes up toward Judy, and then back at Jack; then he glared down at the camera in his ungloved paw as if it just murdered his family.

Judy winced; he noticed the exchange of looks between the two rabbits. Sensitive fox.

She couldn't see exactly what Nick was doing from her angle, but Jack did inch over to give Nick room. After she assumed he parted the fur, she heard two or three clicks of the camera; she also saw Jack's eyes narrow into small slits as the fox took the photos.

"D…S," Jack mumbled, and then glanced up at the bunny across the bed with wide, alerted eyes. "D.S.—is that of any significance to him? Initials of his deceased wife, perhaps?"

Judy blinked, and shook her head as confusion took hold on her throat. She tried to think of anything; what sports teams he liked, relatives, job history. "No, nothing like that…"

"Strange." Jack glanced over to the simmering fox beside him. "Do you have the pictures, Nick?"

"Yes," Nick said forcefully, crossing his arms. "And don't call me Nick. I prefer Officer Wilde."

Jack chuckled with amusement as he and Judy carefully lowered Mr. Packard's skull back onto the pillow. "To be fair, you did tell me to call you Nick."

Nick stiffened and Judy had to hold back a laugh with one paw; this was true, he did. Jack was right. The points for the hare were piling up.

Jack straightened his tie, and nodded respectfully at the fox. "But, if you prefer it, Officer Wilde it will be."

Nick scoffed, flicked off his latex glove and passively tossed it in a trash can. "I'm going to go get a coffee," he said abruptly, and turned to leave with an angry swish of his tail. When he got to the doorway, he paused, one paw rested on his doorframe. He turned to focus his green eyes on Judy.

"You coming, Carrots?"

Judy tried to swallow the awkward lump in her throat and glanced from Nick to Jack, who was observing silently and patiently.

"I…think I'll stay here, Nick," she answered quietly. "I want to briefly discuss something with Jack."

Nick looked crestfallen for the smallest second; and then he put up his walls. His face turned stony again, and he shrugged. "Whatever. Take your time." And with that, he left.

Judy heaved a great sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. What was getting into him? She adored Nick, but he was too complicated for words.

"I'm not offended by his behavior, if that's what you're worried about."

Judy glanced up at the owner of the voice; Jack was already smiling at her, his blue-grey eyes painted with kindness. He had his paws stuck inside his slack pockets, suitcoat unbuttoned, ears in an amiable position.

His sincerity put her at ease, she had to admit.

She shook her head, scoffing softly. "I don't know what is up with that fox. I really am sorry."

"No need to apologize," he shrugged. "As long as his blatant dislike for me doesn't interfere with the quality of our performance, we'll be right as rain."

"I don't even know why he dislikes you. You're very nice, and I think he would get along well with you if he gave it a chance," Judy mentioned, circling the bed and trying not to look at the body that laid in it.

"Well, Miss Hopps," he replied, still smiling, "if I was worried about making friends, I would not have entered this…line of employment."

"Oh, but that's so sad!" she exclaimed. "Having friends is important, I think."

"I suppose I do have friends. Coworkers." He shrugged again, rubbing at his neck. "But I'm more of an introverted hare, honestly. Having many friends is not something of major concern; I mean, I do have quite a few mob bosses out for my head." He chuckled lightly, the sound almost muffled.

Judy gave him a wide smile and offered him a shrug of her own. "I can be your friend, you know."

"Miss Hopps, you've known me for a little over…" He checked his watch. "…three and a half hours."

"So?"

Jack let out a genuine laugh; his smile was pleasant. It kind of reminded Judy of Nick, actually. Nick's face was constantly plastered with a smirk, so when he smiled sincerely it made him look much happier, handsomer. It was the same concept with Agent Savage. He always seemed so serious and immersed all the time; even when he smiled, it was always simply polite or maybe a smirk. But now that Jack was smiling—really smiling—it left Judy with a satisfied, warm feeling.

"Was there something else you wanted to discuss with me, Miss Hopps?" he chuckled, folding his arms and cocking one intense brow. His smile was still genuine.

"Oh, yes. Right." She placed her paws on her hips, meaning to look no-nonsense but probably accomplishing only looking cute. "You looked up me and Nick before you came today, correct?"

Jack nodded once. "Yes."

"And you said you knew about his tax evasion stuff."

"Yes."

"Then…" Judy swallowed, the lump in her throat growing. "Then do you know about my money troubles? From paying for the Academy?"

Jack's smile faltered a bit. "I do."

Judy suddenly felt a bit angry, a feeling that had stark contrast to the warmth she had felt just minutes before. She narrowed her eyes at the hare, clenching her teeth. "So, you just offered the ten grand for the mission because I had money problems? Were you bribing me?"

"No, Miss Hopps," Jack immediately answered. His smile was gone now, and his eyes were steely and intense. "I wasn't. If this mission is successful, then you are worthy of the money."

"Is ten thousand dollars each what 'skilled informants' usually get paid?"

"I don't see why you're complaining," the hare replied. "Your money troubles would be solved, and a great portion of Officer Wilde's tax evasion debts would be paid off." Jack suddenly chuckled-his smile was only polite this time. "It's no bribe."

"Then what is it?" Judy snapped. She liked Jack, sure, but she was not about to be coerced into doing anything. She was an independent rabbit—she would be fine without Jack's money. "My debt is only six thousand, and instead you offer me ten thousand. Why?"

"It's a gift," Jack replied plainly. "A gift from one friend…" The genuine smile. "…to another."

Judy was at a loss for words. She didn't know whether to be thankful or offended at the hare.

"Just because of the line of work I am in, Miss Hopps, doesn't mean I am heartless." Jack looked at her pointedly; the smile didn't waver. "I want to make the world a better place, just like you."

"By giving me and Nick ten thousand dollars? We don't need charity."

"Miss Hopps, I am aware that if you didn't pay off your loan in time, you would not be able to be a police officer anymore." He jutted his head at the door. "And without Officer Wilde paying off his tax debts, he could go to jail. If giving you both money meant keeping two of Zootopia's best officers patrolling the streets, I would say that that is very much worth the expense." He smiled again. "I realize you are a strong-willed mammal, and I respect that, but there's no harm in accepting an act of kindness."

Judy thought about his statement for a moment. He was right; she needed to look past her pride. She honestly couldn't think of a better way to get the money in time. The appearance of Jack was a stroke of good fortune, she had to admit; not only did it give her time away from the paperwork desk and parking meters, it would help her keep being a cop and pull Nick from his debt. It was definitely very kind of the hare to do.

She sighed, and forced a small smile onto her face. "You're right…I'm sorry, Jack." She rubbed her arms self-consciously. "Thank you. You didn't have to, y'know."

"No need to be sorry," Jack replied, shrugging. "I understand. I would be wary of me, too."

"I just…I constantly feel like I need to prove myself," she admitted, scratching an itch on her cheek awkwardly. "Because I'm a bunny."

Jack nodded, giving a breathy chuckle. "Believe me," he raised his eyebrows, "I know how you feel. My superiors were not exactly pleased when I made it into the organization."

"But you did!" she said, relieved that someone else had experienced her pain. "And now you're the best!"

"And so are you, Miss Hopps," he pointed out, his eyes somehow friendly and steely at the same time. "Chief Bogo said so himself."

She suddenly felt her heart soar to the ceiling. "R-Really?" she squealed; she couldn't help the large grin that had slapped itself onto her face.

"Really." Jack winked at her. "Don't tell him I told you that."

… … … … …

Nick was relentless with the amount of creamer he poured into his coffee.

God, that…that pretentious douchebag! He was an irritatingly smart hare, he knew that he was grating on Nick's nerves and yet he continued to be insanely maddening. Nick loathed the fact that Jack had the upper hand in their little spats, since he himself was usually the one who did; he loathed even more that Jack seemed to be okay with Nick. Maybe even like him a little bit!

That wasn't how it worked. He was supposed to dislike Nick back, fight for being the "alpha male" or whatever. The worst part was, Jack didn't even seem to care about that. What it did seem like was that Jack was fully focused on the mission, and expected that Nick was too.

Nick grunted angrily as he sucked down some coffee, turning back toward the hall that led to Mr. Packard's room and beginning his walk back. And Judy! She seemed to like Jack; they got along fairly well. Nick was hurt when she didn't go with him to get coffee—it wasn't something he should be upset about, though. It wasn't like she was already better friends with Jack than she was with Nick, right? They had only known the guy since five o'clock.

On another frustrating note, the way he had opened up earlier to give Sam advice was eating away at him. He was embarrassed, almost; he knew that eventually, Judy would ask about his mother, since he had mentioned her. She had asked before, especially around his graduation from the Academy, but Nick always blew off her questions; now that he revealed at least some small information about the relationship between his mother and himself, he knew that Judy would be on his case about it soon enough.

Not that he hadn't been thinking about his mother lately. Frank Swinatra made sure of that.

Then he thought about Judy, and worry wrenched its way into his chest as he neared the door of Mr. Packard's hospital room. Nick had deduced what was bothering his partner so badly the past couple of days: she had money problems. He didn't know what they were specifically, but it made sense—her looking for a second job, jumping at the mission when an offer of a large cash reward was mentioned. He had not yet had time to talk to her about it due to the craziness with Mr. Packard and Sam, but as soon as the two were alone, he would make sure to.

He approached the door and was about to place his paw on the handle, when he heard the voices of the two rabbits. There was Judy's voice, edged, and Jack's voice, disturbingly kind. It sounded like Judy was lecturing the hare, which put a smile on Nick's face; he decided to listen in. It was satisfying to know that Jack deserved to be nagged by Judy too.

But then, he heard Judy sigh. "Thank you. You didn't have to," said her muffled voice.

"No need to be sorry. I would be wary of me, too," was Jack's reply, his voice deep and irritatingly British.

"I just…constantly feel like I need to prove myself. Because I'm a bunny."

Nick felt his heart jolt. She was…opening up to him? Nick told himself to calm down. She was a Jumbotron, after all.

A snicker. "Believe me, I know how you feel. My superiors were not exactly pleased when I made it into the organization."

He rolled his eyes. This is making me sick. There were a few more words exchanged between the two, said in friendly voices that grated Nick's nerves with each candy-coated syllable. He chugged at his coffee while he waited for the stupidity to end.

"This mission was obviously a stroke of good luck for me," Judy's voice said. Nick's ears pricked. "The six thousand dollars I owe the bank for attending the Academy would have been hard to save up all by myself."

Thorns dragged across Nick's chest.

"Well, now you have a solution, Miss Hopps."

Nick's paw clenched around his coffee cup. What the heck?! She told that…that stuck-up, rich bunny about her money troubles before she told her best friend?! And she even refused to tell him, too, insisting she needed to assess the situation first. Well, she obviously assessed it—with a freakin' spy she had only known for a couple of hours.

"Have you told Officer Wilde yet?"

Jack's words caught Nick's attention, and he stared at the door as he waited for Judy's reply.

There was a slight shuffle. "No…not yet." A sniff. "I knew that if I did tell him, he would probably offer me money that he couldn't afford to give away. He would insist; I don't want that. I want him to get out of this tax evasion hole he dug for himself."

Nick tried to hold back a scoff. Carrots, I'm your best friend. Best friends tell each other things. They don't go telling spies their darkest secrets.

"Well, it probably would be best if you told him, since you have a way of paying it off now."

For once, Nick was glad Jack had opened his mouth; that didn't make him any less angry and the two rabbits, however.

"Yeah, you're right," Judy's voice squeaked; then, she chuckled. "Are you sure you don't mind Nick calling you 'Crumpets' and 'Sir Crumpet' and all of that? I can understand if you don't like it."

Jack gave a light, muffled laugh that rattled Nick's nerves. "Officer Wilde is obviously well-read in British cuisine and customs and the like," the hare replied, "but what he obviously doesn't know is the meaning of calling someone 'Crumpet' in Britain."

Nick blinked.

"Oh? What does it mean?"

Jack laughed again, a bit louder this time. "If you call someone 'Crumpet', then it usually means you find them sexually attractive."

Nick's stomach dropped to the floor and his heart slammed into his brain. He suddenly felt completely and utterly stupid; the low growl that rose to his mouth came on its own accord. A mixture of horror, embarrassment, and anger boiled in his belly, and he felt the sudden urge to just leave without letting Judy know where he went.

But Judy gave a series of loud, ringing guffaws that made Nick feel ten times more humiliated—and betrayed. "Oh, goodness. That's hilarious!"

"Don't tell him, though. I'm sure he doesn't actually find me sexually attractive."

"I won't tell him if you won't!"

They intended on keeping him in the dark? Letting him continue to embarrass himself?!

Suddenly, muffled steps started to near themselves toward the door. "I better take my leave, discuss things with the Chief," Jack had said. When Nick realized how much closer his voice was getting, he backed up a few steps and waited with his coffee clenched in one paw.

"Okay," Judy replied, her voice growing less muffled as someone turned the knob on the door and opened it, swinging it inward. The two rabbits revealed themselves, smiling amiably and disgustingly at each other. "I'll wait for—" A set of wide violet eyes fell on the fox waiting for them. "Nick! Did you get your coffee?"

Nick didn't know what to say at first. He just glared at them; he couldn't make himself say anything. Should he tell them he heard what they were talking about? He almost did, but then decided otherwise and went with the simple reply of, "Yeah."

Judy blinked, immediately realizing his mood. Her ears fell behind her head. "Uh…good."

There was an awkward few seconds of silence, Nick glowering at the two rabbits standing in the doorway before Jack cleared his throat and inched past the fox.

"Don't forget," the hare said, lowering his ears and pressing his trilby hat on his head; he ran a finger across the brim swiftly. "Three days from now. Three o'clock."

Nick's anger soared. Jack was acting like nothing happened. What a freakin' joke.

The hare flung his coat over his shoulder, and nodded respectfully at them. "Farewell." And with that, he stuck his paw in his pocket and walked toward the elevators, shoulders set casually and gait refined.

When the elevator doors closed, Nick mumbled something about calling a cab to get them home and immediately got himself away from the bunny. He knew she probably was worried and scared that he had heard their conversation, and he was okay with that. Let her be upset for a while! She deserved it, after telling a spy about her troubles before telling her best friend.

Nick contacted the cab company, finished his call and shoved his phone back into his pocket; he decided that at some point in the near future, he would definitely have to give Miss Hopps a piece of his mind.

… … … … …

So, there ya go.

Again, I have no idea what the heck I'm doing with all the medical stuff. I tried my best and did a ton of research, but I don't know how legitimate it is.

And drama, drama, drama! Sam is going through a tough time right now, so it's a little difficult to show his usual character…I've grown quite attached to him, though. He's a lovely, nerdy little cinnamon roll.

By the way, Dr. Whistlers' species, a dhole, is a canine species native to parts of Asia. Look them up, they're pretty cool animals. (:

Review! I want to know how you guys are liking it. It keeps me pumped.