The Hare of the Fox

by ScaraMedn

Three years after solving the Nighthowler case, Nick and Judy have fallen into a routine that leaves both content. However, a new arrival makes ripples in their lives that neither were prepared for. New revelations and a powerful enemy with a grudge will force them to face their inner demons and rethink their priorities if they hope to have a future. A/N: Not a SavageHopps fic.

11. Chapter 10

Jack hated shopping. He absolutely despised it. On that note, he had a great appreciation for his species. Rabbits stopped growing in their late teens, so unless they let themselves go to fat, they could theoretically wear the same clothes for decades and it wouldn't matter. They could, but few did. Updating one's wardrobe was something of a necessity. The point is that they could. This solved a huge number of problems in Jack's mind.

He'd had a tailor. Just one. A master craftsman who had his little shop in the meadowlands and in his shop was a file with Jack's name on it. In it, his measurements were written in a precise script that any idiot could read. All Jack needed to do when he found he had a need for a wardrobe update was to contact Mr. Alastair Borden and place an order. In 3-6 weeks the desired garments would appear by courier, perfectly fitted and neat as you please.

Jack had operated in this manner for over a decade and been quite content. This kept him in his work uniform suit and occasionally a garment set that had a touch more personality, annually. It was all he had needed.

Now, he knew Nicolas P. (Bloody) Wilde, or as Jack had started thinking of him, "The Laughing Bastard, Jr.". Jack shook his head at the state of his wardrobe and muttered dire aspersions on his friend.

The term was still very new to Jack. He knew the terminology and definition of the word, but its practical use in relation to himself was a bit beyond his faculties most days, at least as far as it related to Nick. As Jack's friendships had been entirely non-existent for years, this didn't surprise him. However, the extent of the influence of a "friend" on one's life surprised him greatly. Right at the top of the list for unexpected surprises his friendship with the fox provided him were three items. The first of these was the state of his poor, abused, overstuffed and totally disheveled wardrobe.

In the Nox, Jack had returned to the land of the living recovered from his hangover and quite hungry. In searching for the refreshments he'd abandoned after the disastrous meeting with Inga, he stumbled into the clutches of his friend, the fox. The fox had another friend, a North Saharan Fruit Bat by the name of Abraham Tepis. The subsequent fitting had resulted in one of the most exposing and intimately uncomfortable experiences of his life. For almost an hour, he had stood, arms up and practically nude, while Mr. Tepis took measurements that not even a forensic anthropologist could have a use for, and this while Nick had done a running commentary. Jack was sure he'd have red ear syndrome after that experience.

Much to Jack's further consternation, all that measuring had resulted in some of the finest clothes he'd ever seen, let alone worn, making the experience grudgingly worth it. Four full suits, three pairs of casual trousers, a variety of dress shirts, two poet shirts, foot wrappings, a fine wool-lined long coat and a fedora all appeared two days later, along with an equally impressive array of garments for Hopps in skirts, blouses, skirt suits and dresses. Apparently, Amanda Tepis was just as skilled as her father and less prone to embarrass their clientele to death. While Jack had been subject to Wilde's cheek, Hopps had received similar, if more welcome attention in private.

The clothes crafted by Tepis & Co. were bar-none the best clothes Jack owned. He had no idea what they cost, as Wilde refused to divulge said information, but whatever it was... worth every penny.

Unfortunately, this left Jack with three consequences which he was completely unprepared for. Most irritatingly, he now owed Wilde for the clothes. Jack disliked owing favors, as they tended to compromise one's integrity. Jack firmly felt that he was already compromised enough when it came to Wilde, for an increasingly long list of reasons.

On a related, though somewhat less significant note, Jack would have to switch over from his old tailor, just on principle. His sensibilities screamed for both continuity and for practicality. In this case they conflicted because he wanted his routine, but the new clothes were just too good a quality not to continue with. Such a change in Jack's life, despite appearing petty, was rather significant for the lagomorph. It felt like the ending of an era.

The second problem concerning Jack was that Jack Savage now had more personal goods than could reasonably be maintained in a hotel. It was a daunting possibility, but he was being forced to consider buying a flat.

Jack had needed to mentally shake himself out of the stupor that the very idea caused in him. The idea of him, Jack Savage, putting down roots? Absurd!

Just like the rest of my life since coming to this city. Everything else has changed, so why not this?

Beneath his feigned sanguinity, Jack was genuinely anxious at the possibility. He'd been on the move almost his whole life, but now... He'd heard the term "nesting" many years ago in Avia. It was distressing how close his own behavior was becoming to that avian characteristic. He was starting to look at furniture, not as materials occupying space or handy cover in a firefight, but as something he might want for himself. His fears were further amplified when he quietly asked Hopps about it.

Or, "Judy", I should say.

The casual addressing that had been adopted between himself and his fellow rabbit law enforcement officer was something rather new to him still and also a challenge. It was comforting to have a fellow bunny to associate with. If Jack was really honest, it was good to have an actual confidant. He'd made the comment in the bar at the Palm about how nice it was to have a confidant, but he was drunk and jumping the gun severely at the time. Now, less so. Judy Hopps was proving to be exactly what Jack needed: a support.

Even when it was heinously embarrassing.

She confirmed that some mammals nest too, usually around the time they decide to settle in an area and begin seeking a mate, or starting a family. Among said mammals, rabbits featured prominently. That confirmation had nearly given Jack a heart attack. All his window shopping and quiet daydreaming came into stark relief after that conversation. Fortunately, Jack had relatively little time for such things and the behavior had been intermittent at best. He had limited time for it. There was his job, after all.

And that was where he had to stop, because anything else he could name only dug him deeper.

Yes, he had his job, but not only that anymore. He had a private life. One that only added fuel to his nesting anxieties, especially on the heels of Judy's "one of the girls" comment, the other day. Once upon a time, when Jack clocked out he knew he had several more hours of work maintaining his various covers ahead of him. On assignment there was equipment that needed maintenance, escape routes to keep clear, perimeters to check. At home, paperwork had been his greatest ally. Hours and hours could be consumed filling in forms, writing painfully detailed reports and cross referencing everything.

Now, he had a team that did that all for him. He had several. Almost all his responsibilities were delegated to some extent or other. Equipment was a whole department. Escape routes and perimeters were for the field teams to handle along with security details and surveillance. He didn't write any more than a dozen report sheets or forms in total on any given day. Instead, he read reports, which was infinitely quicker than writing them.

Even so, it still takes more bloody hours than there ever are...

Hyperbolic griping aside, he was always done his reading well before clock out and that included and up-to two hour lunch, some days. This left hours and hours and hours empty, waiting to be filled. To Jack's dismay and delight, they were all too often filled by a smug, cheeky, irresistibly charming, painfully handsome vulpine and his partner, the energetic, sweetly caring, empathetic, optimistic rabbit.

They were such good friends and far better than he could have hoped for. The guilt was murder on his peace of mind. He could strangle them both...

As if I didn't have enough I worry about. Sweet cheese and crackers... Great, now I sound like her. And inside my own head, no less!

It was bad enough that he was picking up her mannerisms, not to mention Wilde's.

Wilde.

Jack was sorely tempted to pour himself a drink, or just flee for somewhere. Anywhere. That bloody fox was wrecking him.

In the Nox, Nick hadn't demanded, or pushed, or even pulled. Those, Jack could have handled. He had vast experience with those. Counter-interrogation was a skill set he had possessed for many years. It was always a challenge keeping a secret or out maneuvering an interrogator, but with the experience Jack had, a novice officer of the ZPD should have been no trouble.

And yet…

Jack had no idea how the fox managed to get under his fur so quickly. And he hated to admit the possibility that he wanted to, despite all he said in protest. He also hated to admit that it did him good. The whole "getting it out will help the healing process" gubbins that the psycho-babblers had spouted at him for so many years was true. He'd never forgive the fox for proving them right. Just like how he would never understand how Nick managed to make him tell everything so easily and laugh as he did it.

Somehow, that fox got him to want to talk. He had many things he had to talk about and wanted to. Jack was many things and among them was "a mammal of his word." Promises were made from his mouth to Wilde's ears of stories, details and frank honesty about his father. He'd told secrets he'd held close to his heart for years; the day he fell for John, the day they began their relationship, their trials, travels, tribulations, disagreements and celebrations. All difficult stories to tell to an audience that deserved to hear it. He spoke through both tears and smiles of good days and bad and felt better for it.

Much to his surprise, and eventual stupefied horror, he quickly found that he couldn't stop. His tales shifted from those of his beloved partner and friend to include a bit from his own career. Then more, and more, until he was rambling about everything. His own past, his life with John, his lost family; near misses, terrible assignments and moments of glory were all spread before the fox and his lapin accomplice. All the stories that hurt to tell came tumbling out of his mouth with the slightest opportunity, as long as it was that blasted fox who was listening. At first, anyway. Any hesitance he felt about speaking to Judy vanished, as the days and nights wore on. Before long, Jack was baring his soul to her as much as to her predatory partner.

They were extraordinarily patient listeners. They asked questions where they were needed, but usually just let Jack meander through wherever the story took him. In one week he'd told volumes, and not just about John. He'd told his own tales. Things that he hadn't even told his former lover until they'd known each other for close to two years.

In return Jack received tales of growing up as a street brat and running cons in the city from Nick, while Judy provided farm-doe tales of a pastoral youth and her struggles with having dreams too big for her community's understanding.

I endured eleven days of tender loving care at the hands of a world-class sadist during my captivity in Amphibia and gave them nothing. I spend ten minutes with that smug furball and I'm laughing while I tell my life story. Bloody hells…

Jack kept replaying conversations in his head, hoping to figure out how Nick did it. All he'd managed to figure out is that irritation, innuendo, terrible puns and blind turns in the conversation somehow worked. Worked on him, at least. That was not an admission Jack liked to make, for a whole list of reasons.

Most of the conversations they'd had sounded more like a comedy routine than a series of confessions. Nick would start out irritating him about something. He'd stall. There'd be some terrible jokes and suggestive comments and suddenly Jack was a fountain of words.

"So, Jack, who do you actually work for?"

"Classified."

"You know I won't accept that line. Who do you work for?"

"Can't talk about it."

"You mean "won't." Who do you work for?"

"That's not a simple question, Wilde."

"Yes, it is. Who do you work for?"

Jack's eyes rolled. "The government."

"Come on, Savage. ZIA? ZBI? An MI division? Ursine Intelligence Forces? Mousessad?"

"I'm paid by the Pay & Rations division of the Treasury, if that's any help."

"Not really, but if that's the best you can do…"

The buck sighed. "Wilde, when I say "the agency", that's exactly what I mean. I work for a government agency."

"You make it sound like a temp agency."

"More or less."

"What, so you know how to lay out a letter?"

There came a knowing chuckle from a certain grey furred agent of… someone. Everyone? "Well, yes... That's a pretty basic skill. Ok, ok. I relent. The agency I work for is just that: The Agency. We provide support for investigations, logistics, intervention, extraction & insertion, operations... Basically anything and everything. We're sent where we can be useful, based on our skills and experience."

"So, you…"

"We work with whoever needs help domestically, or with our allies. To me, all those agencies and bureaus or whatever; ZIA, ZBI, UIS… They're just all part of the same alphabet soup. I answer to my director in the Office of the Intelligence Services Taskmaster General. Past that, it's whoever can't get their job done this week."

"Are you serious?"

"My agency was originally created as a counterespionage task force to combat the Reptilian External Security Initiative, in the war. When the war ended, our reason for being vanished. The RESI became the Reptilia Bureau of Internal Safety and their mandate changed -officially- to internal matters. My agency was deemed too useful to be disbanded and too specialized to be easily absorbed into another service."

"There wasn't a place for you, anymore?"

"In conventional terms, no. The ZIA handles external security and intelligence gathering, the MI divisions handle larger scale security and military concerns, while the MSA provide specialized surveillance support and handle electronic crime. The ZBI covers inter-provincial investigations and larger scale internal crime and the ZPD handles local policing. Any overlaps are covered by specially formed task forces. Counterespionage is a bit passé."

"So, you're like handymammals?"

"That, or hatchetmammals. Officially, we're liaison officers and agents of the Taskmaster General's office. "Ringers" is a term I've heard used before, but that makes us sound like a carnival game."

"Oh, the places I could take that line of thought."

"Don't even think it, Red."

"Too late! So, do you actually have a mandate at all? A Charter or something?"

"Yes, and no. Officially, we render assistance where needed and support the Taskmaster General. The only cases we handle ourselves are ones related to past cases the Agency handled in its previous, wartime incarnation. Of course the individual ministries and secretariats have their own enforcement and investigative divisions... inland revenue, treasury, employment, diplomatic corps, burlesque... It's mostly ethics and anti-corruption stuff on our end."

The foxes ears perked suddenly as he leaned forwards. "What do the ministry of burlesque investigative officers do? Look up skirts?"

"Hang on a second, Jack," Judy chimed in. "With all these law enforcement organizations, who oversees them?"

"Who polices the police? That's easy. The Taskmaster General. He or she has the official final word, after the overseeing directorate."

"And you're an agent of his office."

"Correct."

"So you're like internal affairs?"

"Somewhat. We do handle in-house investigations, but only at the highest levels. It sounds pretentious, but the fact is that we aren't an enormous organization. The ZPD has IA and most of the alphabet soup is self-policing, for face-saving if nothing else. My agency only gets involved when it's really hit the fan. We don't often get called in as official investigators of the Taskmaster General, but when we do..."

Nick's chuckle made Jack pause and turn his head. "Something funny, Red?"

"The Taskmaster General."

"What's funny?"

"You said "he or she." Isn't the word taskmaster consider masculine? Little odd when a female holds the office."

"Like the current one? Yes, we did consider calling her the Taskmistress, but that led to some very awkward misunderstandings. Some mammals got inappropriately excited, so we had to change it back."

"Wow! Jokes from the Tiger Bunny."

"Didn't think I was capable of it?"

"What can I say, Jack? You're full of surprises." Jack was about to respond, when Nick continued. "Like that pass you made at me at the Palm."

Jack fumed at the memory. It'd taken five minutes to get his ability to speak back and by then, there was no convincing Wilde that it hadn't been intentional. What Jack found most frustrating about it was that Nick didn't seem to mind at all, unlike Judy, who pouted. Jack was also frustrated with himself for being pleased because of it.

He'd had a long conversation with Judy that first night in the Nox. Nick being the only mammal who hadn't had a nap that day, he retired early, leaving the two rabbits in an extremely awkward silence.

Their eventual conversation was stilted at first, but eventually it got moving. It was quite wide ranging and was extremely uncomfortable at points, but by the end they had hammered out an understanding, of sorts. Jack's apologies and Judy's explanations had done a lot to get the two lagomorphs on the same page.

"It's called projecting, Hopps. I've been projecting my preferred reality and my desires onto Nick. It wasn't real attachment; just an emotional indulgence. One that's cost us all, and you especially. I know you have feelings for Wilde. The events of the day notwithstanding, I don't know if he's caught on or not, or if he can even take it seriously given the state he's been in all day. He may still be "dreaming". In either case, it's entirely my fault that you're in this situation and your relationship with him has been jeopardized. It was not my intention. Just... a selfish delusion; one with too high a price for mammals that don't deserve it. You shouldn't be suffering for my idiocy, but you are and I can only apologize."

"You're doing that a lot lately."

"I have a lot to apologize for."

"That's true, but not what I was talking about. You keep talking about indulging yourself and delusions. I don't get it."

"Well, what would you call it?"

"I didn't say you were using the wrong terms, just the wrong tone. Jack, you've made mistakes and you've stepped on my toes. No, I'm not happy. I'm also not going to judge you just yet."

"You'll give me a chance to condemn myself properly?"

"I'll give you a chance to show us you're different than what you've shown us so far."

"So, you'll give me enough rope to hang myself with."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. No one is condemning you, so stop beating on yourself. Self-hate won't help the situation. I'm not happy with you, but the madness of the last day or so aside, I've had no complaints."

"Other than how I've treated your partner."

"Yes, Jack. Now, stop being nit-picky and just accept what I'm saying."

"What are you proposing, Hopps? That we "start over"?"

"This isn't a school yard, so no. What I propose is this: We can do just what Nick did today. We take the last day and write it off. We deal with the mess we already have and when we have the time for it, we can address the rest."

"Like your romantic interest in your partner."

"Much as it hurts to put that on hold now, I've been waiting for a long time. I can wait a little longer. This mandatory leave is a chance for us to deal with the biggest concern, your behavior and your issues with Nick, so talk to us. We'll listen. You help Nick reconnect with his father, get a chance to grieve or cry or whatever you need, and we see where we are after that."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you get out of it?"

"What I get is a happier partner and that's enough for me."

"For now."

"That isn't your concern, or even mine at the moment. I'm giving you a chance to have your say and show Nick and I who you actually are. Despite everything that's happened, none of us know each other very well. I'm willing to give you a chance to prove that the last month was a fluke. Who knows? Maybe you'll get two friends out of this, instead of a nervous breakdown."

The rest of the enforced leave, which turned out to be eight days, was… emotional. The three mammals spent almost all the time they were conscious in conversation. Much of it was light; quips, jokes, airy banter and chit-chat, but then there were the conversations that left one, two or even three of them in tears or ranting.

Or both.

Jack didn't realize how much anger he'd been restraining, how much he blamed himself for John's death, how bitter he'd become, or the depth of the lies he'd been telling himself. Several times he found himself weeping into Nick's chest or onto Judy's shoulder. After one particularly bad rant he'd had about the years he'd wasted on revenge, he'd ended up red eyed, fists clenched and cheeks stained and soaked with tears, when Nick crippled him.

"I don't think you're obsessed, Jack."

"What?"

"You said you spent years on a revenge obsession. I disagree."

"Oh? Then what was it?" Jack's question was rife with incredulity.

"You spent a decade and a half stamping out a criminal empire. You didn't go on a killing spree. You investigated, made arrests, documented, testified. You were an agent. You protected innocent animals and saved lives using the skills he taught you. That isn't revenge. That's continuing his legacy of service. You spent fifteen years honoring his memory. That's not obsession. It's devotion."

Something in Jack broke and the tears hadn't stopped for hours. And all that time, they were with him. They held him as his frame was wracked with sobs and as the misery and grief finally started to flow out of him. Hours later, he woke with his head resting on Wilde's lap. Wilde was stroking his ears, soothing him. Judy walked in from the kitchen with a cup of tea for him. After a few sips, a stammered apology was stopped by a fox's paw pad on his lips. All Nick did was shake his head. An ear ruffle later, Jack gave up trying to apologize.

Jack felt lighter than he had in years and it was a good thing he did. After the weight of feeling expressed through the rest of that day, he couldn't handle any more. Fortunately, Nick provided some levity. For once, the fox didn't say a word. He just went to the smartphone mount on the wall and put on some music. His choice for an opening song was surprising, but welcome; "Here Comes My Baby", by the Tremelopes.

Energetic and bittersweet, it fit Jack's mood. He sat and let the music roll over him, lifting his spirits. Nick pulled Judy up and they danced with great energy and little grace all over the living room. Jack was content to sit and enjoy, but the police partners had other plans. Jack was abruptly pulled up from his seat by Nick and unceremoniously shoved into the arms of his fellow rabbit, while the fox moved into what passed for "dancing" solo. His protests were met with complete disregard and eventually, he just gave in. The rest of the evening was spent in dance and song and laughter that grew less tentative as the music played.

Nick's taste in music was eclectic and the variety was both pleasing and surprising, if somewhat questionable. Rock, motown, pop, electronic, classical and jazz rolled out of the speakers over the course of the evening. Ewe2, Pant-thera and Metallicat mixed with Harry Elefante, Anteathra Franklin, The Spice Gaurs, Dropkick Marsupials, Ariana Groundhog, Mad Cow Posse,

Ram-stein, Gypsy Kats, Ellie Gelding, David Guerilla, Credence ClearOtter Revival, Gnu-Kids on the Block, System of a Dromedary, Whitney Horseton, Dharma Wallaby, Ozzy Oxbourne, Rhillama and more.

The memory of that night pulled a smile onto Jack's face, which was quite the feat, considering his situation. Jack had work to do. No, Agent Savage had work to do, and he was getting none of it done where he was.

Despite his personal-life crises and the imminent problems associated with the Echo file being unsealed, there were the more immediate problems caused by their sudden departure; the training that had been put on hold while Savage had been "on sabbatical" with Hopps and Wilde, for a start. Upon their return, the time lost had needed to be made up. There was a schedule to keep and they were definitely behind.

The several weeks immediately following their return had been disgustingly busy. That was largely thanks to the newfound energy Jack seemed to have discovered during his break. His reputation as a 'typhoon in a tea cozy' was lived up to and exceeded from the very first day back.

On the clock life was a frenzy of activity. Missed classes were made up in better than due form and the quality of the teaching was noticeably better. The officers of Precinct One began to end their days with very long, hot showers and experience nights of extremely deep sleep as the new and improved Agent Savage put them through their paces. The improvement seen as a result of this newly motivated instruction was equally impressive, as Bogo grudgingly admitted.

Off the clock life was no less busy, at least for two rabbits and a fox. Afterhours, Jack was kept occupied for a decent amount of time each day training his new friends in the art of counter-espionage. They were long hours, but necessary and increasingly few. Both his pupils were already trained in many areas and were quick to learn. He quickly found that he was doing less teaching and more polishing. What skills they didn't already possess were quickly acquired and their inherently competitive relationship drove them to hone their new skills with a gusto Jack found almost humorous.

This was especially true when the "distress" was added to lock-picking. The theory was that adding stress to the task would simulate a situation in which the outcome meant life or death. Unfortunately, with those two, timers didn't quite apply the necessary stress to the exercise.

"Time! Another failure. You're dead, Wilde."

"Funny enough, I'm still breathing."

Jack sighed. He'd been doing a lot of that.

"Come on, Nick. Don't you have any sense of urgency?" Judy chided.

"You're one to talk. How many have you succeeded at again?"

"…None…" she replied.

"You were saying…?"

Jack rubbed a paw across his muzzle and sighed. Again. "Alright. That's enough," he interjected, knowing he had to get them back on track or risk losing the rest of the evening to their banter. "You have equally terrible success rates."

Judy grumbled while Nick huffed.

"What's missing? This is supposed to be a life and death simulation drill. Escape and live, or fail and die. It's the most realistic of all the situations you're likely to find yourself in and the most likely, by far!"

"We know, Jack," Judy groused.

"Then, enlighten be as to why it doesn't show in your performance."

"I don't know. I honestly, don't know! I know it. In my head, I know it, but I can't quite feel it. Does that make sense?"

"I suppose so. You've been training hard, and with the added stresses of your activist obligations. At least this is the last test."

"Thank Gods…" followed a snarky vulpine mutter.

"Yes, thank you, Wilde, for your input."

"What do you want me to say, Jack? I'm burned out and I only have work and this. We've been at it for nine weeks."

"No. You finished up in seven. You've been tutoring me for the last two," corrected Judy.

"Quite," agreed Jack. "You put off this test so you could do it together. It's… sweet of you."

"Not helping," Nick grumbled.

"Not my job, Red." Jack gave the fox a cheeky smirk.

"Yes, it is, actually. According to you, it is, anyway," Nick pointed out. "So, help!"

"Oh, very well. I could lock each of you in the washroom of the opposite sex at the end of the lunch hour. That might motivate you."

"NO!" the pair replied in unison.

"Pity… Well, we need something to make you each feel motivated to escape."

"Hang on. What is the purpose of this exercise? The actual tactile experience you are trying to expose us to," prompted Nick.

"I am trying to create a situation in which you feel the visceral fear for your life and maintain your poise enough to…"

"Ok, let me rephrase. Does it have to be fear of death?"

"Um… well, no. Loss, or pain; something imminent and viscerally repellent."

"Does it have to be a locked door? Would handcuffs be ok?"

"Yes…? What are you thinking, Wilde?" Judy's expression mirrored Jack's words.

"Handcuff us and set a timer. When the timer goes off, the one that isn't cuffed tickles the other."

It was an idiotic idea, but one that had borne fruit. Judy had been motivated to pass her test. Wilde failed twice, much to Judy's delight. Jack was unsure if the failures were genuine, or a contrivance to allow Judy to touch him. Contrivance or not, Judy's paws had roamed long past what was needed for the test and lingered. The jealousy that had flared hot and raw in his chest was not a welcome emotion.

Jack had been laboring to end his projections and bury the emotional overlap that had made such a mess of things, with limited success. Fortunately, that was only a serious issue when he was around Wilde for any length of time and that was only at the ZPD. It was at first, anyway.

As the hours of training waned, the hours of personal liberty waxed and soon there were entire evenings and mornings, sometimes whole days that the three had free-ish. Outside of the ZPD, Judy and Nick still had personal lives and much to his consternation, so did Jack, for once. While Judy struggled to balance her desire to disappoint no one and reduce her commitments, Nick had his own commitments to attend to, which were somewhat less time consuming, and Jack had to figure out how to have a personal life. There was nothing to stop him, but he was severely uncertain. It was an odd vacuum in his life; a sense of absence he was unaccustomed to. One Nick filled as much as he could, which was uncomfortably often for both rabbits concerned, but for very different reasons.

While he spent much of his newfound freedom with his two friends when they were free, that didn't fill in all the now lonely hours. Special Agent Agnes Birchclaw was momentarily speechless when her boss quietly (and a little nervously) asked her to arrange a team dinner at a local eatery. Jack had spent several evenings getting to know his team on a personal level and once the ice broke a bit, he found he enjoyed it far more than he expected.

As the official and unofficial trainings came to an end, preparations began for the official and unofficial next steps. The final weeks of the official training went well past what had been initially promised in terms of educational experience. Jack seemed determined to remake the ZPD into a force to be feared. When the operation finally began against the smugglers and their associates, the ZPD demonstrated their new acumen superbly.

Over the course of four days, a series of coordinated raids took place. Agent Savage's people provided support and intel, while the ZPD executed the strikes. The results were quite satisfactory, in Jack's opinion. Eighty-four smugglers were arrested. Contraband and documents were seized, incriminating other criminal organizations and a dozen high profile mammals, including government officials and local notables.

Casualties at the precinct were minimal at four officers wounded or injured, no fatalities. Officer Snarlov received minor bruises and cuts in an altercation during an apprehension, Wolford received a minor concussion, Grizzoli was the victim of environmental hazards, receiving moderate burns to his arms and chest, and Trunkaby suffered a sprained knee during a chase.

On the other side of the butcher's bill, a total of eight criminals wounded or injured, two fatalities, mostly from gunshot wounds. One of the cells was smuggling fully ballistic weapons and decided to fight using their merchandise, rather than surrender. The firefight had been brutal, if brief, and the perps had been brought down with a combination of non-lethal measures and SWAT involvement.

The jewel in the crown, though, was the four containers of live cargo seized at the docks in the Marshlands District. Three of the four were shipping containers found containing the victims of mammal trafficking, bound for the slave markets in Amphibia. The fourth was a selection of adolescent beavers, snow leopards, chinchillas and red pandas that were en route to a fur farm. The fur farms were known for cruelty and abuse of the worst kinds, including "propagating their own stock". Once this case was done, Jack's colleagues in the international sphere would be eager to begin the hunt for the fur traders.

However, despite all these successes, Jack had been less than satisfied. Something felt off. Weapons, a variety of drugs, mammals, luxury items and consumables all were present; medical devices, a collection of ancient Pandani vases and Etuskian bone sculptures, several firkins of aspsynth… but nowhere near the amount of money that should have been present.

It didn't make sense. In the case of a standard operation of this type, there was always liquid capital around for use. Bribes, supplies, emergencies, transportation, sales and receipts; there was always need for cash to be available. They'd taken three cell leaders and an underboss at a distribution hub, but there was nowhere near enough. It was barely even enough for payroll and no one had any answers. Why was there so little cash? The puzzle kept Jack preoccupied almost completely when he wasn't otherwise preoccupied.

Things were not the same. Jack, for the first time in what felt like centuries, had a personal life and he had no idea what to do with it. It was an adjustment. Now, he actually had things to be preoccupied with. His mind was not solely occupied with his duties and his hours were not all work and deception. He had new ways to spend his down time and company he looked forward to keeping. Of course, time was not as endlessly available as he would like. That was a new complaint to adjust to, as well. He still had work and there was training after hours with Hopps and Wilde, who also had their own personal business to attend to. Nick had his own private business and Judy had her activism, so his friends were not always available. This led to Jack being tentatively social in other areas.

These significant changes and others were not missed by the other mammals around the three. The two rabbits and the fox were getting along. Spending time together during breaks; even, meeting socially. The atmosphere around them and the tenor of the training changed dramatically. Gone was the dark, viscous tension that had plagued the first three weeks. Now, there was new life and a vibrancy that no one missed and no one could explain.

Well… Not quite no one…

Angie walked into Jack's office with her arms full of the latest reports for him to review and sign off on and placed them precisely on his desk, next to the other neatly arranged piles. "So, are you seeing your couple this weekend?" she asked in a cool, conversational tone.

Jack looked up from his desk, brow wrinkled before her words registered and confusion colored his features. "My what?

The caracal barely managed to hide her smirk, not that it looked much different from her usual expression. "Your couple. Are you seeing them again this weekend?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. My cou- you mean officers Hopps and Wilde? Yes, then I'm seeing a couple of friends this weekend, but they aren't a couple." Obviously still confused.

"That is who I meant, but not what I meant, Agent Savage." She turned to go, shaking her head.

"Special Agent Birchclaw, come back here and explain yourself!"

"Yes, sir. What's to explain, sir?"

"You said "my couple". That isn't "a couple of friends." Explain what you mean."

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"Permission to be frank, sir?"

"...granted..."

"Permission to use your first name, sir." Now, Jack was given pause. Angie was the only agent he allowed to call him by his first name and only after hours. Whatever she was on about was personal.

"Close the door." Was all he said by way of assent. Having done so, the petite feline asked again.

"So, Jack, are you seeing your couple this weekend?"

"I asked you to be clear, not repeat yourself."

"You know, Jack. The couple you're seeing."

"Angie, they aren't a couple and I see them daily."

The feigned lightheartedness dropped from her face. "The couple you're "seeing", as in "dating", Jack."

"We are speaking mammal to mammal, now, agent Birchclaw, so I will let this slide. However, if you ever insinuate such a thing again, I will expect your resignation."

"You've never terminated anyone without sufficient reason, Jack."

"Very well. Convince me with your "sound reasoning" and your position is secure."

"No problem there." Jack was unsettled at her confidence, and her smirk. "Define dating, Jack."

"In this childish context, or generally?"

"This one obviously, Jack. And while we're at it, let's hear your personal definition, not some textbook quotation."

"Dating, v. The act of spending of time with another mammal, often to exclusion, in the interest of creating an emotional bond, possibly leading to a romantic commitment."

"Perfect."

"Your evidence?"

"You spend almost all your free time with them, you go to dinner with them at least twice a week, you're less formal with them than anymammal else."

"Those are facts, Birchclaw. Also, perfectly normal for mammals engaged in a friendship. How does that mean I'm "dating" them?"

"I wasn't finished. Since you got back from your sabbatical, you've been social with your team. A first. There was that little joke at the morning meeting about getting a few pairs of the shorts you borrowed from Hopps; another first. One some of us hope you weren't joking about, incidentally. You came back from a week with them a different mammal, Jack. Less stiff. More approachable. You're cracking jokes, engaging in casual conversation, smiling, laughing. No mammal changes like that without something to motivate it."

"That's proof I'm finally being a mammal and not a paragon and that they helped me get that way, not evidence of an emotional investiture, let alone "dating". Do you have any actual evidence?"

"You mean other than how much personal time you spend with them? How many offers to have dinner or lunch with us that you pass on to see those two? What was that about "to exclusion"?"

"It's hardly to exclusion."

"There was that date with that cute buck, last month..."

"And it didn't work out. I'm not adept at social flirting, Birchclaw."

"The Great Jack Savage is inept at flirting? Stop pulling my tail. If you're going to try to whitewash this, be less feeble about it. Before you get indignant, I saw your date's face at the end of your lunch with him. He was ready to say yes, if you got on one knee."

"You're exaggerating."

"Yes, but not by much. Jack, you had a good date with a buck who wanted a second date to start, seconds after the first one finished and you ended it."

"Gently."

"Yes, you were a perfect gentlemammal and neatly placed him in the friend-zone; a buck who would have been good for you and you knew it."

"What's your point?"

"To exclusion…?"

"One instance does not a pattern make, Angie. That proves nothing but poor decision making on my part. It does not mean that I'm pushing opportunities away because I'm fixated on a desired partner, or partners, as you keep implying."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Sure, Jack. By the way, Officer Wilde left a message for you. Here." She held out a folded paper note .

Jack reached for the note and was momentarily blinded by a flash.

As he grimaced and rubbed his eyes, Angie's voice, excessively smug and filled with victory echoed in his ears. "If all you say is true, sir, then how do you explain this? Is this how a mammal looks when getting a note from a colleague? A friend?"

Jack blinked his eyes clear and looked up, only to have the irritation drain from his face along with the blood. The picture displayed on her iCarrot screen was crystal clear. It was a picture of him, typically reserved Jack Savage, reaching for the paper in her hand. Eyes wide open, a broad, soft smile plastered on his face, ears up, forward and eager. Disproportionately pleased to take it. He was practically sparkling. And all that despite the topic of discussion.

"It reminds me of something. Doesn't it for you?" Jack looked up sourly at his grinning fellow agent. "Your expression looks just like Officer Hopps, every single time she sees Officer Wilde, doesn't it? What is it that everyone thinks about those two? Everyone thinks they're dating, or so close to it as to make no difference, don't they? From all the time she spends with him? And all their familiarity at work? And the banter? And the nicknames? Don't they, Agent Fluff...?"

"That might, might imply I have a fixation on Wilde. It does not mean I'm dating the two of them." The phone on Jack's desk chose this moment to ring and desperately seeking an escape from his subordinate's interrogation, he slapped the speakerphone answer button. "Savage."

"Hey, Jack!" Judy's voice chirped from the speaker. "I only have a minute, but I wanted to let you know where we're meeting for drinks and dinner, tonight. It's 7:30 at Full Moon Cafe, ok? Nick couldn't get reservations at Sandy's like you wanted, but he did pick up that psychological suspense film you wanted to see, The Otters, I think? Anyway, it's your choice of movie this time, so it's your turn to bring the wine. Can you go light on the tannins this time? I gotta get back to patrol. Nick says hi, by the way. See you tonight!" And she was gone.

Jack was frozen until Angie cleared her throat. "So, boss, do I need to clean out my desk?"

"I'll see you in the morning, Birchclaw."

"Don't forget the wine, sir."

Jack had been unhappy at the end result of that conversation and his ill mood had lingered until he'd met with his "couple", for dinner. The grump had lasted all of six minutes and his drink order, before Judy had started asking what was wrong.

Her and her damnable empathy.

She hadn't let up through the entirety of the meal. She was gentle and coaxing, persisting despite rebuffs are redirections. She even pulled Nick in over dessert to get it out of him "in the interest of preventing any regression." Jack had been put out at her turn of phrase, but the expression on her face was worth it when he did finally tell them on their walk back to Nick's apartment. It was priceless.

"Agent Birchclaw is under the impression that I am dating you two, as a couple." Was all he needed to say, before her eyes bugged and she lost the ability to speak. Nick snickered around a mouthful of pecan tart before asking Jack to elaborate. He then related the conversation in its entirety, including Judy's deliciously timed phone call. By the time Jack finished his retelling, Judy was alternating between looking daggers at her partner and hiding behind her ears. Nick, on the other hand was holding his mirth back in no way whatsoever. Jack's feelings on the fox mirrored Judy's in that moment.

Thankfully, said moment passed, expertly swept aside in a shuffle of banter, joking and teasing. None of them wanted to pursue it. It was obvious that Judy regretted pressing him into speaking. Jack got some satisfaction from her contrition. Unfortunately, she became so self-conscious after his little revelation that she was practically mute. It wasn't until they were almost back to Wilde's apartment for their movie that she regained some of her usual buoyancy. The emotionally charged atmosphere had gradually diminished, but never quite vanished, however. It was clear that a lot was being felt, but not said.

In retrospect, Jack couldn't blame Birchclaw for her assessment, distressingly plausible as it was, despite being incorrect. Since their return, they had gone on several "dates", the three of them. Blood rushed to his ears as another thought rolled through his mind.

Quite a few of them just with Wilde, as well.

Jack fought a losing battle with his cheek muscles and smiled at the memories. While Judy had been struggling to disencumber herself of her excessive personal obligations, Nick and Jack had possessed much fewer limitations on their time. That led to many evenings in one another's company. The fox was a good companion and made even the most drab of evening plans enjoyable. Especially, Jack unhappily admitted to himself, when after a couple drinks and he got more tactile.

It was encouraging; relieving, even. Jack knew he was still dealing with his emotional baggage and getting his psyche back together. The lingering emotional connection to Wilde was just the last of the grieving process, which (as Jack understood it) was potentially a long one. At the end of the day, he had a heart lifting prospect ahead of him: as the baggage waned, the friendship would wax. At the end of the whole grieving process, he would have a close male friend for the first time in decades. The idea brought a genuine grin to his face.

Besides, Jack knew for a fact that the fox felt amicably towards him, not amorously.

Red flirts with everything that moves. Of course he'd flirt with me, especially with our colorful, albeit brief, history.

With that, Jack shook off the doldrums and his earlier folly. He had a "date" today with his other, rabbit, friend. Yes, it was to shop for clothes, but Jack was willing to suffer through it to enjoy one of the few days solo with Judy. Nick's presence was helping him heal, but it was a bit taxing after a while. Too much sentimental fallout. It'd be nice to "get out with the girls", as Judy put it. She was also bringing along a "fashion consultant" friend of hers, whatever that meant. It would also be a very nice break; something of a last hurrah before the madness returned. Echo's file was due to unseal in less than a week and once that happened…

Gods only know what'll follow.

In either case, Jack collected himself and departed from his new digs at the less ostentatious, but far more secure Gilded Paws Hotel, just outside the city center. He'd been forced to relocate after the debacle at the Palm and was glad to do so. The new rooms he had were much more his stylistic preference and significantly less expensive. After everything the ZPD had been through on his behalf, it was the least he could do. It also helped that the new location was significantly closer to Precinct One and roughly equidistant to either of the haunts his friends favored.

A short walk later, Jack made it to the rendezvous in the garment district slightly after 10:00, still bemoaning his overstuffed and increasingly difficult to organize clothing situation.

He had plenty of clothes. The distressing Dr. Moreau and bunnicula suits aside, he now owned a baker's dozen worth of suits, several sets of casual clothes and cold weather clothes that he was sure he might need a maximum of twice in his life. Now, here he was meeting Judy and a fashionista, or whatever, to buy more! Jack feared something was wrong with him for agreeing.

At least I don't have to worry about that creepy shoe fad.

Jack shuddered at that distressing fashion trend. Mammals didn't need shoes. They had been a necessity for equines and certain other hooved species once paving was something civilization did, but the improvements to materials science over the last century and change had made the old metal cloppers a matter for the history books. The most an equine or anyone else needed was an over-the-counter hoof, claw and talon hardening treatment once a week. It cost a pittance! Yet, for some reason, some mammals spent exorbitant amounts of money on shoes.

Jack blamed that diva, Gazelle, for the trend. She was an excellent performer and her taste in backup dancers was quite delightful, in Jack's opinion. She was a role model to many young mammals, had done worlds of good for species tolerance and minority rights, and even done outreach and support work for the LGBTQIE and alternate sexuality communities. She was a genuinely good mammal. That did not give her the right to bring back shoes.

The fashion statement had become a blight on good taste, not to mention good sense and Jack did not approve. What made it worse was that the soles of said crimes against good sense were textured to be the same as the mammals who wore them! If they weren't, they'd be a slipping hazard! Absurd! Simply absurd. Mammals had feet and the instincts to use them correctly. The species wouldn't have survived, otherwise.

It was during this disgruntled mental tangent that Jack's company arrived. If he hadn't been worried that his new life was dulling his edge, he was after being snuck up on by a contender for the title of World's Largest Polar Bear.

"Hey, Jack. Ready to get going?" Judy snickered behind a paw in response to Jack's momentary panic.

"Certainly! Certainly. Let me just put my skin back on. Be right with you." He took a moment to collect himself before turning to his friend and her enormous companion.

"So. This, uh, enormous individual is your fashionista friend?" Jack ventured, with no small amount of disconcertion.

Judy giggled and Koslov chuffed a rumbling laugh out. Otherwise, there was no change in his impassive expression. Jack found the incongruity unsettling. A tiny, high pitched giggle was also heard and Jack's ears didn't fail him.

"I see. You have another companion."

Koslov rumbled another laugh and knelt down, bringing his paws to Jack's eye level. The rabbit couldn't help drawing the comparison of having an avalanche looming over him.

I suppose that's the feeling they're attempting to cultivate. Most effective.

In the hulking ursine's paws stood a tiny arctic shrew. Jack knew immediately who he was addressing.

"Mrs. Fru Fru Big, I presume."

"You know me?"

"It is impossible not to, madam. Your family aside, you're quite the talk of the social columns. Oh! It is Mrs. Big, I hope. Or did you take your husband's name of Frostscratch?" "

"Oh, thank you! I didn't change my name my husband did. He's much happier this way. His family was always a bit cold towards him." Jack's eyebrows rose at the statement, but he wisely chose to let it pass.

"I see. So, Mrs. Big, I take it you are our fashion advisor for the day?"

"Please, call me Fru Fru. This is Koslov, my bodyguard, and any friend of Judy's is a friend of mine. So, I will be your fashion guru. Judy tells me you need a completely new wardrobe and I am the shrew for the job! Shopping is my favorite pastime!"

Jack could see why. She was tiny, but all her clothes were designer labels and her jewelry, makeup and accessories were all top notch. That did not, however, mitigate his displeasure with Judy.

A whole new wardrobe? We'll be here for months!

"Shall we go? We have a lot of ground to cover."

Jack, resigned to his fate, nodded the affirmative and traipsed off on the heels of the enormous bear. Judy, who had remained uninvolved in the conversation, though she was amply amused by it, finally joined them in conversation and they were off. Five and a half hours or so later, they were mid-fashion show and Jack had a newfound respect for fashion models. He was tired. Weary was a better word.

They had been to a dozen boutiques all over the city. He was convinced he now had more clothes than he could ever wear and most of them he didn't comprehend the need for. What happened in the fourth shop summed it up beautifully. It was their longest stop, after all.

They'd gone to the place for what Fru Fru called "a solid pair of hip huggers." Jack immediately thought of a boa constrictor he knew once upon a time, but it couldn't have been that. As it turned out, she was trying to get him blue denim trousers, though why she didn't just say "a pair of jeans" was beyond Jack's comprehension.

And why do they need to hug anything? They're work clothes! What's the point?

He'd drifted through the racks until he found his waist and inseam measurements, collected a few he thought would be worth trying on and set off to the dressing room. He was met there by his entourage, who had many more pairs of jeans for him to try on. They'd commandeered his selections and summarily deposited them in the "no" pile. The next forty minutes were highly uncomfortable.

Jack ended up leaving with four pairs, all of which were too small and one, much to his displeasure, had sparked Fru and Judy into flat-out fangirling. They were black, lightly distressed, stretchy and tight; more like tights than trousers with little shiny sequin accents on the hips and ankles. They were horrid. All he'd gotten by way of explanation was, "You'd wreck a gay bar in those. You have to get them," from the shrew.

What I have to do is bury them.

The rest of the morning had gone much the same, as had more or less the first hour and a half after lunch. Now, they were set up in another boutique that Fru Fru seemed very familiar with and Jack was working through all the clothes he'd been shanghaied into buying. Again. As if it wasn't enough to try them on once during the acquisition portion of the process, now it was all about the combinations. He felt like a doll.

While he had been burning hours (and his fur it felt like) changing clothes with a disgusting frequency, his audience had been enjoying tea and critiquing. They voiced opinions on everything, most of which he barely understood. They had him swap different bits whatever outfit he was wearing until they found a combination they liked, then they assessed alternate options and variations…. Jack was entirely lost. His disconnection became distress when Judy started making a list of things they'd need to pick up "next time." His one consolation was he'd been spared those infernal jeans and been happy about it, but the ladies had not forgotten them. They had chosen to save the fun for last.

"Ok, Jack. It's time."

"We're done? Oh, thank the heavens."

"Oh, uh… Not quite. There's still these." Judy held up the so-called club-wreckers with a few other choice items, some of which Jack didn't remember purchasing.

I don't even know of a club, let alone one I'd frequent. At least it's the last one...

Disgusted, Jack wiggled, literally wiggled his way into his last outfit. He hated it seconds into the process. The jeans fit like they were painted on. They weren't uncomfortable. Far from it, they were quite easy to wear, just a lot tighter than Jack preferred. Next was what Jack could only assumed was a shirt Wilde would consider formalwear. It was a rich purple, patterned in black and teal, reminiscent of Wilde's preferred garments. Only, this version had taste, Jack grudgingly admitted. The one concession Jack had been granted was that it was a buttondown number and was relatively lacking in the outrageousness he'd had dropped on him so far. It was comfortable and figure hugging, but not restrictive. His paws were moving to tuck it in properly, when Judy's voice cut through the curtain of the changing cubicle.

"Don't tuck it in, Jack! It won't fit. And put these on too!" So saying, a grey paw slipped through the curtain bearing a black pleather belt with a textured silver buckle and a pair of black, silver accented foot wraps. Grumbling, Jack added the "final touches" before jerking the curtain back and stepping out. The rabbit he saw in the mirror was not him.

The jeans did, in fact, hug his hips, along with everything else below the waist. The cut and sequins accentuated his hips, giving him a feminine flair, while the shirt brought out his masculine aspects. The belt buckle and foot wraps drew attention to his natural lapin curves and lean musculature, respectively. The dark, strong colors contrasted with Jack's fur tones, making it seem luminous, while the purple and blue made his eyes blaze.

He was brought out of his moment by movement in his peripheral vision. Judy was giddily snapping pictures. Jack's ears dropped as his paw found his his hip and a disgruntled pout crossed his visage. Naturally, both females squealed and the pictures continued. Jack didn't bother saying anything. He knew he'd be ignored.

Once the impromptu photoshoot was done. Jack was finally allowed to sit down, which he did gratefully. Judy was flicking through the spoils of her photographic endeavors when she got a text.

"Guess who's checking in."

"Do I have three chances, or should one be plenty?" Judy smirked and quirked an eyebrow. It was all the answer Jack needed. "Wilde."

"Who else?" The phone chimed again, drawing Jack's jaundiced eye Judy's way. "And he likes what he sees, apparently." The slightly put out tone of her voice was sidelined in Jack's mind as panic flooded through him.

"You sent him a picture?" Jack squeaked, as he snatched at her phone.

"Uhhuh." Judy turned the device to show the picture in question, her grin rife with unrepentant amusement. It was the outfit, but what sold it was his grump, the paw on the cocked hip and the lowered ears framing his face. He had to admit he looked pretty good. Ok, he looked great; resplendent and androgynous and completely at odds with everything he'd ever considered a part of who he was. What was worse, he made it work. Fru and Judy had done well choosing the outfit. It suited him beautifully from the color scheme to the accents and he knew it. Unfortunately, he also knew that the grump would only fan the fire of Nick's enjoyment. The bloody fox loved it when he looked petulant. It'd been demonstrated too many times to even be a question.

Confirmation of Jack's assessment came upon reading Nick's reply.

::Wow. That's... Hot, cross bun never looked so good.::

Does he ever stop with the puns?

It was blessedly shortly thereafter that Judy departed for the washroom, commenting on drinking too much tea. Jack took the opportunity to get himself some tea and have a sit. Maybe that would dull the rosy tinge in his ears and the flutter in his chest.

He found himself in a quite companionable silence with his remaining two companions. One of which belted out a snore that sounded more like a tractor trailer downshifting. Jack glanced at Fru Fru with a smirk and saw the shrew cast an amused grin at her bodyguard before turning it Jack's way.

"I guess with a secret agent and a super cop around he can take a little break.", Jack commented.

"Yeah. He works too hard for me. I love the big grumpy lug, though. Let's let him sleep."

"Yes, let's. Would you care for something to drink? Tea?"

"No, no. I've had mine. But while we're alone I want to ask you something."

"Not about my work, I hope."

"No. Nothing like that. About... Well, how long have you been interested in Nicky?"

"Suddenly, I'm very uncomfortable with this conversation."

"Don't be. I won't say a word and I mean that. It's obvious with how you react to his compliments that you're emotionally invested. Romantically, if I were to guess."

"You sound unsettlingly like a psychiatrist."

"That's because I am one, Honey."

"You're what?"

"Oh, I'm not licensed, but I do have a Ph.D. in psychiatric medicine."

"Y-you ha-have a..."

"Daddy encouraged me to go to school and I always loved it. You know his work. I never needed a job, but I had to do something. I'm not a druish princess, after all. I went to school until I met my husband. Now, I have him, little Judy, JuJu and Nicky! The point is no more school for me for a while. I'll have to be content with my current degrees."

"Which are...?"

"A Ph.D. in psychiatric medicine, a Master's degree in mammal behavioral science, an MBA in international trading management, a bachelors in art history, and a minor in Pandani film."

"Bloody hells..."

"Not what you expected, huh?" She said with gleeful relish.

"Not at all. ...Do you want a job?"

She giggled before replying. "Thank you, but no. I want an answer to my question. How long have you had feelings for Nicky?"

"They aren't for him. They're projected emotions. I was involved with my partner many years ago, who was also Nick's father. He died and I never grieved. I... repressed it all, until I found Nick."

"Yes... Then you'd be forced to. Judy did mention some of that to me. Nothing personal! She was upset and I got her to vent to me. She just told me about your behavior towards Nick and how it confused her.

"O-ok. So, you can piece the rest together, I suppose. He and Judy helped me work through the worst of it. I'm getting better. Once this baggage clears up, Nick will just be a friend instead of a surrogate."

"I see. So, you had episodes where you mixed up Nick and his father, right?"

"Yes. Quite a few of them."

"When was the last time?"

"When we... when we were in hiding in the Nocturnal district. I woke up to find Nick cooking. I couldn't tell whether I was seeing him or John. It... was a bad one."

"What happened after that?"

"I had a rant. I... I lost it, mostly on myself. How I'd wasted my life," Jack looked into his tea. "Nick turned it around on me. What he said... it broke me." And here he had thought he was done with the emotional sharing.

"You had a release."

Jack cringed. "I cried for hours. When I woke up afterwards, they comforted me. I haven't had an episode since."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I'm just impressed. That's all."

"With what?"

"That you survived."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you know about grief death in your species."

"Yes, rabbits can mourn ourselves into cardiac failure when our mate dies."

"It's pretty obvious John was your mate, as far as your emotions and subconscious were concerned, at least."

"I- I can't deny that."

"So, I'm impressed. Especially with the obvious intensity which your emotions manifest."

"It was hard. Many hard years. But, now I'm getting over it! I'm grieving and not dead, so I'm doing alright, aren't it?"

"Mostly."

"Well, yes, I suppose I could be doing better."

"True, but not what I mean." Jack looked askance and Fru Fru continued. "Jack, I need you to listen to me and not get upset ok? I know it's a lot to ask, just let me finish."

Jack nodded slowly, full of apprehension.

"Good. Jack, this may sound weird, but grief doesn't wait. I mean, you already grieved back when he died. You know the five stages, I assume." Jack nodded uncertainly, not liking where this was going. "Ok. You made it through denial quickly, probably because you're a realist, but when you got to anger, you stopped in your conscious mind. There, you repressed the process, which might have saved your life, but your subconscious wouldn't let it go at that. It can't. You kept your conscious mind from experiencing the emotions that could kill you, while your subconscious processed them. Fear, bargaining and acceptance were all unconscious milestones, but you couldn't express the emotional backlog until you were forced to. Luckily, you didn't release them until you had the emotional support to handle the load."

"With Hopps and Wilde."

"Exactly. They helped you stay grounded and helped you endure the flood."

"So, what does that mean?"

"Um, it means that the "baggage" you mentioned isn't there. All of the backlogged feelings you had probably came out in that one huge rush. You've got scars from your loss, but you've dealt with it to a point where you can live with it, now. It likely also means that you aren't projecting anymore. You probably haven't been since that night."

"Wait a moment. Are you saying what I think you are?"

"That the emotions you're experiencing for Nicky have nothing to do with your previous lover? Yes."

Naturally, it was that moment which Judy chose to return. It took reminding her of the "are you seeing your couple" conversation to stem her concerned curiosity and even then, Jack knew it would only be a matter of time. Assurances of future explanations later from him and Fru Fru's "professional" assurances that he needed a little time managed to ease the police officer from launching a full investigation. Then, Judy checked her watch and went into panic mode. It was already 4:00 and she had an event.

"One of my last, thank gods!"

Jack was too stunned to do more than help the groggy Koslov and now hyperactive Judy with loading all the bags and parcels into the limo. Ten minutes later, Judy descended from the vehicle, asking Fru Fru to drop Jack at Buck & Doenuts. Still distracted by his revelations, Jack couldn't be bothered to remember why. Another quick drive saw him to his destination and he alighted to the sidewalk with all the focus of a poleaxed prize fighter.

"Now, Jack, just have a seat and relax for a bit. I'll see that your things make it to your hotel." All Jack managed was a tired nod. "Look, just let yourself digest it. When you're ready, my best advice is to trust yourself. Ok? You'll be fine." Jack nodded again, feeling weary again.

After their exchange, Fru Fru sat back and Koslov drew her into her the depths of the vehicle. Before the door closed, the white-furred giant leaned down for a quiet word of his own. "Listen to little mistress. Trust heart. It smarter than head. But no hurting she-bunny. Hurt her and be bun-cicle."

So saying, the door was closed and the limo swiftly vanished into the late afternoon traffic.

Jack plodded to sit on a bench not far from where he had been dropped. A nice shade tree provided some relief from the heat of the day and Jack tried to relax.

So they're real… Bloody hells….

He sat and ruminated, letting his eyes roll shut. The little thoughts of the moment wander through his mind. It was quite relaxing, but unhelpful. Jack was very much out of sorts and thinking didn't help any more than not thinking.

Before long he was granted opening night tickets for his very own daydream theater's grand opening for an extended montage of snippets from the last few months. All the little moments came swimming up from the depths for cameos. The day he'd fallen asleep on leaning on Wilde in the park after brunch, the afternoon that was suddenly midnight because they were talking and lost track of time, Wilde convincing him to share a blanket because his heat was acting up, the night at the bar where he had his ears ruffled for the first time; the nights out to eat and play, the more frequent nights in relaxing in his company. Months of little moments. Each one precious and perfect at the time, now made catastrophically meaningful in retrospect.

He was at a complete loss and completely lost. He didn't know why he was at his new favorite bakery in the city. He knew he was supposed to be there, but the why of it escaped him. It escaped him right up until he heard a familiar voice next to his ear.

"I didn't think that picture was a preview for our evening, Sugarfluff. I feel horribly under-dressed for takeout and a movie at my apartment, now."

Jack suddenly could hear nothing at all over the drum solo in his chest.

A/N:

First, ktvalmiri, you outdo yourself. You have my most ardent thanks for for all your hard work. Your continuous tolerance for my crimes against grammar is saintly.

Second, to my readers. Thank you to the following persons who have given me so much support and encouragement (as well as the occasional fact check), via reviews, PMs and comments. Your feedback is nothing but an encouragement and I appreciate you taking the time to read my scribbles.

PBJNachos

HawkTooth

Matri

Hate Eater

Combat Engineer

RobinsonCrusoe

Icelane

lightryder

Erinnyes01

Archangel12575

ThePeacer

Octopod

Cemsay

Kai-Zr

And all the readers under the name of Guest.

Third, and last for now, the drabbles are up! Check my profile for the first installment. Many more to follow.

On with the show!