"How's it hanging, wolf!" Francine called out, nearly tipping over the remains of her fifth beer.

"Like you have to ask," Fangmire smirked.

"Hush," Francine teased, "or everyone'll want a turn."

"Jealous?" the wolf asked sarcastically.

"Only if Wolford starts getting on top," Francine snarked back.

Fangmire ignored the dig. "Well, you oughta be: I'm rollin' large tonight," he said cockily.

"Find a fiver in the gutter, Big Roller?" the elephant asked.

"Three large, courtesy of my new bestest friend and partner," the wolf said with a self-satisfied smile.

Francine looked at him suspiciously, not sure that the wolf was messing with her.

"Why would Wilde give you three grand after you almost broke his nose?" she asked.


FIVE HOURS EARLIER

Fangmire munched on a cold Bug Burga and leaned against his cruiser, watching traffic roll by on Lion Way. Nick had told the wolf to meet him there just after lunch and with the completion of the burga, Fangmire decided lunch was over and Nick was late - one more thing to take out of the fox's hide when the chance arose. He was just about to call Nick when he spotted the fox walking down the street, head down and hands in his pockets.

"The affect of a loser," Fangmire said cheerfully to Nick, observing the fox's downcast looks.

Nick looked up and Fangmire faux-gasped.

"Stitches? I barely touched you, you cry-baby," Fangmire said.

"I want to apologize for what I said yesterday, about your mom . . ." Nick started.

"Well here's something novel, at least. Sorry you huwt my feewings?" Fangmire asked sarcastically.

"I'm sorry I stole from your family," Nick continued. He pulled a thick white envelope from his pocket. "Three thousand. Everything I have. That should make up what I took from your mother, with interest."

Nick extended the envelope to Fangmire, who looked at it with surprise before taking it. He opened the enveloped and riffled through the starchy bundle of newly-minted cash, the kind of cash a bank dispenses when you close the savings account that your mom opened when you were in the 5th grade.

"I take this and we're even, that's how this works?" Fangmire asked, still captivated by the sheaf of bills.

Nick shook his head. "You know that's not my intent."

Fangmire chuckled a little.

"See, Nick, ideas aren't your friend: you have them rarely and treat them poorly when you do. You think you can buy me off for three grand?"

Nick looked into Fangmire's eyes resolutely.

"I'm not trying to buy you off, Fangmire. I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry for the pain I caused your family. I'm hoping this can make up for that," Nick said, "If you can't accept that, just give me the money back."

Fangmire openly laughed and slid the envelope into his front pocket.

"Ohhh, that rabbit really got to you, didn't she, Slick?" Fangmire said, "After walking behind her a few times, I can see how, too."

Nick gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. He wasn't going to take the bait for a second time.

"Not even a growl?" Fangmire continued. "How cute: she's got you thinking you can really just slip into a blue uniform and suddenly you're not Nick Wilde, con-artist and all-'round vulpine sleeze, anymore. Nope, now you're Officer Wilde, stalwart pillar of the community and proud representation to foxes everywhere. You can believe that all you want, Wilde, but just because you've grown to like the smell of your own BS that doesn't mean the rest of us don't think it stinks."

"You're a broken record, Fangmire. Give me the money back if you can't accept the apology," Nick said forcefully.

"I'm not like you, Wilde; I don't take and then give nothing in return. I accept your 3,000 bucks in exchange for this: a simple story.

"I don't need your story, Fangmire; give me the money," Nick said, trying to force the anger from his voice.

Fangmire smiled at the stewing fox.

"Oh, but you do, Nick: you very much do. Listen and learn:

"When my father found out you duped his darling, beloved wife out of the family savings, he did not get mad. My father was not an emotional man. He was a mechanical engineer and a man who believed that all problems come with a solution. You just have to find it: the right one and the only one. So when presented with this particular problem, he knew exactly how to solve it."

Fangmire looked at Nick with a wan half-smile. "How do you think he solved that problem, Nick?"

Nick shook his head in irritation.

"Here's where you get your money's worth, then," Fangmire said, "He knew that if he beat my mother, she would take it like all the other beatings he administered over the years. He knew he had no leverage there. And without leverage, all efforts are pointless. The man understood leverage with absolute clarity. He knew with the right lever, you could move the most immovable of obstructions. And what greater lever is there than love? Especially the love of a mother for her first-born son. All problems come with a solution, Nick, and he'd found his."

Fangmire looked at Nick with feral hate.

"By the time the ambulance arrived, I'd been convulsing for about five minutes, or so the police report said. Five days later, when I could open my eyes again, my father was in jail and my mother was living with my grandmother. For the longest time, my vision was blurry. But then I woke up one morning I saw everything with perfect clarity. It was right then when I realized the brilliance of what my father had done: he'd taught me the most important lesson there is. You know what that lesson was, Nick?" Fangmire asked.

Nick couldn't say anything as he looked at the wolf in dismay. The animalistic hate in Fangmire's eyes turned into a hard stare.

"My father taught me that leverage is everything: you don't hurt the people who hurt you, you hurt the ones they love," Fangmire said coldly.

Nick looked at the wolf in disbelief.

"You're a psycho, Fangmire, a textbook psycho."

"I have leverage and you don't. I'm not done with you by a longshot. The ones you love, Wilde, you can't protect them all. But thanks for the three grand, anyway."


"3,000 dollars for that line of BS?" Francine asked delightedly, clapping her elephantine hands together.

Fangmire was not smiling.

"I'm glad my personal pain could bring you joy," he huffed.

"You're so full of crap that your eyes are brown," the elephant laughed.

Fangmire quickly changed the topic. "About that truck?" he asked.

"Change of plans, thanks to your partner," Francine said sourly.

"This should be good. Let me guess: some indignation over a prescription to Judes?"

"He went in to get his boo-boo sewn up and ran into our mutual friend. There was a bit of a tete-a-tete on the subject of Judy's healthcare followed by a threat to have the good doctor thrown in jail.

"Nothing that hyena lawyer can't handle," Fangmire said.

"That's not the problem. He got snoopy about Sprinter and the doc freaked," Francine said. "She 86'd him from the ward, but she wants to shut things down until she's sure he's done playing Junior Detective."

Fangmire shook his head dismissively. "It was an accident, alright? There's nothing to worry about."

"If it was an accident," Francine asked, "why do you need this?"

She pulled out a folded pink form from her breast pocket: the Sprinter's accident report.

"To make sure it stays an accident and I still want those pictures," Fangmire said.

"I'll bet you do," Francine said.


FOUR HOURS EARLIER

Judy poked at her falafel and waited for Nick's arrival. The day was gloriously sunny, but the sunshine did nothing to brighten Judy's mood. She felt weary and disconnected; rudderless. Leaning on one elbow, she poked her plastic fork into the bed of lettuce under the four balls of steaming falafel. A nibble nearly brought on a full revolt from her stomach, so she pushed her lunch away and sighed heavily.

Nick was late and for some reason she couldn't put her finger on his tardiness irritated her to the point where her fur was almost bristling. In fact, everything on this bright, sunny afternoon seemed to irritate her: the kids laughing at the park across the street, the scent of her lunch, even the cloudless sky - all of them seemed to conspire to needle her. Instinctively, she reached into her purse for the Scent-X bottle; it wasn't there. Her ears shot up and she started to frantically dig through the contents of her bag. Her breathing quickened and a sense of panic rose in her mind. She was about to upend her purse on the table when she remembered that she'd put the pills in her desk drawer before she left. A deep feeling of relief replaced the panic and she exhaled a heavy breath. Her apartment wasn't far away. If she ran really quick, she could . . .

She could what?

"Judy, what are you doing?" she asked herself.

She knew the answer already and it terrified her. Despite the warm sun on her fur, her blood ran cold. Her ears dropped as did her jaw. Two emotions rose up powerfully in her. They were unfamiliar, but she but she knew their names: shame and guilt.

Nick rounded the corner by the park, walking towards her. She didn't know if he'd seen her yet or not. She wanted to stand up and run, but from what? From Nick? Her heart was pounding now and the sense of guilt intensified as the fox walked closer. His head was down and his shoulders slumped. In a moment, he would raise his head and see her, and then he would know. He would look into her eyes and see into her heart. And then his would break.

"Run, Judy, run before he sees you," that inner voice pleaded.

She put her right foot down on the pavement and looked for a direction to bolt in.

Nick looked up just as Judy looked back at him. Their eyes locked.

She froze.

He smiled wanly at her and offered a weak wave. He was just across the street now.

She waved back, but her mind was filled with a numbing fear.

"He'll know . . ." that voice said, "He'll know and he'll hate you."

Her jaw trembled.

The fox walked up and sat just across from her. , but said nothing about it.

"Hey, Fluff," he said, and offered her a half-smile.

"Hi, Nick," she replied on auto-pilot, fighting with her own emotions.

He looked at the lunch in the middle of the table and asked, "Not hungry?"

"Stomach's a little off," she replied. The sense of dread that had consumed her began to subside and for the first time she realized that Nick wasn't himself, either. He looked weary and beaten, not at all the chipper, cheerful fox she was used to.

"What's wrong, Nick? You looked tired."

The fox looked up at Judy and again their eyes locked. Judy's heart skipped a beat, but then he looked down again. He said nothing.

"Nick?" she asked quietly. Her own concerns rapidly faded and were replaced by worry for the fox. She was actually glad to feel something else.

Nick looked up again. He looked at Judy for a long time.

Judy waited for him to say something.

"Judy, I'm in trouble and you're in danger," he finally said. There was relief in his voice, but also concern.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" Judy asked, reaching her paw out across the table.

"It's Fangmire," he said, "he's a complete psycho."

"Fangmire?" Judy asked, confused, "He's never been anything but nice, in fact, he fought with Bogo to get you on the force."

"Because you keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Nick replied.

"I don't understand?" Judy said.

Under the warm sun, Nick told Judy everything: the punch in the patrol car, his encounter with Dr. Childers and the hyena lawyer, and finally about the money.

Judy was speechless by the end.

"Internal Affairs, Nick, you have to go to internal affairs," Judy finally said, her own concerns now totally swept aside for the moment.

"It's worse," he said, then told her about his talk with Clawhauser and McHorn.

"I don't think Fangmire would be stupid enough to try to hurt you physically, and you're untouchably clean professionally. Leverage, he knows he doesn't have any leverage that he can use to get to you," Nick said. He sounded relived now that he'd gotten everything off his chest and realized that Judy was in far less danger than he'd originally feared. "I think you're safe. He can't hurt you, so he can't hurt me. Just his little petty torments and I can deal with those. He was actually right about the value of that story: I know his game now and I know how he works."

For the first time that afternoon, Nick smiled.

"You're untouchable, Fluff. I think I know how to beat him now . . . Judy?"

The rabbit was simply staring at him with her wide, violet eyes.

"How could I have been so stupid?" she said weakly, then bolted off her seat and began sprinting back towards her apartment, her heart pounding and anger at herself filling her mind.

Nick jumped up and took off after her.

"Judy!" he called out as he started to gain on her.

Judy ran like she was being pursued by Hell itself.

"You stupid, STUPID rabbit!" the voice in her mind screamed. She rounded the corner to home and pounded up the stairs to the front door. She was frantically digging through her purse, looking for her keys, when a panting Nick caught up with her.

"Hopps, what the heck is going on with you?" he asked, half doubled over from the sprint.

Without saying anything, she kept digging until she found them. No sooner did she have her keys in paw than she dropped them on the ground. Quickly, she reached down to grab them, only to find Nick's paw on them first. He looked at her, a look that paralyzed her in place.

Her head dropped and she said simply, "Can I please have my keys?"

Nick handed them to her and she unlocked the front door.

"Come in, please," she said sadly, not daring to look at Nick again.

Nick followed her as she trudged down the hall, then unlocked her front door.

"Fluff?" Nick asked with concern.

"Please don't call me that," she replied and her answer chilled Nick.

"Judy, what did I do wrong?" he asked carefully, following her into the narrow confines of her apartment.

The rabbit shook her head. "You made friends with the wrong bunny."

That totally stopped Nick.

"What're you talking, Fl - Judy?"

She opened her desk drawer and pulled something out. Her ears and shoulders dropped at the same time.

Nick put his paw on her shoulder as he looked over the top of her head at the black bottle she was holding. It was resting in her right paw while her left paw covered the top, as if she could somehow make it vanish from existence if she could just hide enough of it from view.

"That's a Scent-X bottle," Nick said, "Where did you get that? You know those are illegal!"

As she held the bottle, she thought that she would have given her soul to have just one of Nick's hugs right then, to feel his arms around her and know that everything was going to be alright, to feel safe and loved. But she knew there wouldn't be a hug coming. Not now and maybe not ever again. She started to shake.

"I'm sorry," she tried to say, but her mouth wouldn't form the words.

Nick reached over her shoulder and slid the bottle free of her paws. She didn't try to stop him. He looked at the black, plastic bottle and gave it shake. The pills inside rattled.

"Oh, no, Judy, tell me these aren't . . .

She closed her eyes and nodded, the fist of guilt slowly crushing her.

Nick sat down on the edge of her bed and stared at the bottle.

"He knows, doesn't he?" Nick asked, feeling his hopes and stomach sink.

Judy nodded again, still facing away from him.

"Turn around, Judy."

Judy shook her head, holding back her tears.

"I need to see your eyes. Please look at me."

Slowly, Judy turned towards Nick until they were looking at each other. The sense of shame she felt was overwhelming, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry or to feel any form of self-pity. She resolved at that moment that she would take her punishment, whatever it would be, without tears.

"I didn't make friends with the wrong bunny," he said, looking directly at her, "because you and I know we're more than friends. Every time I look at you, and you look at me, I know we're more than friends. We've been dancing around this for six months, so I'm going to say what I should have said last winter: I love you, Judy."

Confusion wracked Judy's mind. "Wh-what?" she stammered.

"I love you and I forgive you," he said again, resolutely and simply.

His confession did nothing to assuage her sense of guilt. If anything, it made it a thousand times worse.

"Judy, tell me now: do you love me?" he asked.

Again, she found the words wouldn't come. Instead, she nodded slowly.

"Say it, then," he said.

Judy took a couple of deep breaths, and then said the words she'd wanted to say for so very long, and under such different circumstances.

"I love you, Nick Wilde," she whispered. Her resolution began to waver.

He stood and said, "Come here," and extended his arms. She didn't wait: she ran to him and collapsed in his arms as the first tears fell.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed over and over again, this time knowing that her apology wasn't one of omission, that she was finally being honest with him. The guilt fell away in huge hunks with each sob.

She began to feel something she hadn't felt in a long time: she began to feel like herself again.

"We're going to get through this, Judy," he said, stroking her back.

"Call me Fluff, please?" Judy asked softly as she looked up at him.

He leaned down and kissed her nose, "Fluff." He knew that things were far from ok, but for this particular moment, that didn't matter.


SIX HOURS LATER

"The folder, please . . ." Fangmire asked of the trembling Oryx across desk from him.

"Do you know how much trouble I can get in for this?" the frightened herbivore asked the wolf.

"A lot," Fangmire replied, "but not half as much as your partner. I guess we know what goes into thirteen twice now."

"Die in a fire, Fangmire."

"Almost did, walked out a hero and won the admiration of a certain chiefly water bison," the wolf smirked. "Give me the folder. Now."

Without another word, the Oryx slid the manila folder across to Fangmire, then got up and walked away, but not before saying, "You really need help."

"All I can get," Fangmire muttered to himself as he looked at the folder. "Officer Judy Laverne Hopps, Psych Eval"

He leafed through the pages until he found what he was looking for: fears and phobias. What he read brought a sick smile to his muzzle.

"Well, Miss Judy Laverne Hopps, how utterly ironic for a bunny. This is going to be fun."

The wolf closed the folder and left it on the desk, humming happily to himself as he walked away.