Driving along the moonlit country roads that lead to a backwater chunk of civilization officially named "The Brambles" but locally known as "Preds' Corner", Nick, Judy, and Gideon passed a dire bend which, earlier that day, claimed a moment of terror. While riding unsecured in the bed of a pick-up truck with Bo and Esther, the city fox Nick was launched through the air and into a deep grotto of the bordering woods, thanks to the combination of high speed driving and a nasty bump. Judy, riding in the passenger seat of said pick-up, did not know of the danger until Bo announced the situation to turn the driver around; aside from some mind-splitting headaches he was otherwise, and fortunately, uninjured. Despite all that the fateful bend represented, it garnered no attention from the van's occupants.

"It was a mandatory predator sensitivity workshop, Nick," Judy explained, less coolly than she'd want, but her partner was pushing every button he could on the subject of her self-perception as a vixen, toughened to his jabbing though she might be, "all prey in the precinct participated, including Bogo."

"And yet," he mused, lounging with whatever space was available in an already cramped van, "And yet of the multitudinous species of predators you chose the humble fox. Isn't that something, Bangs?"

"Well," paused the baker, keeping his eyes to the irregular road but also endeavoring to refrain from a discussion while enclosed with it, "I remember what's said about 'imitation' and 'flattery'," he began, to which he heard a smug grunt from Nick, "but there was something in there about 'sincerity', too," he concluded, to which he heard a smug grunt from Judy. Personally, he was glad to talk on a lighter subject either way. "So this 'Bogo' guy, ain't he that buffalo I saw on the news? That boss of yours sure is gruff."

Likewise, Judy was glad for the diversion of conversation, "He's a little coarse, but not so bad and actually quite nice once you get to know him; he's the chief of police, so he needs to be tough as nails and twice as sharp."

"And a total Gazelle fan," Nick added, ignoring the combined snicker and shush from his partner, "I catch his hips shaking to 'Try Everything' when he thinks no one's looking," and then did the customary wiggling-in-the-seat dance with a wheeling of his fists, "Big guy's got moves, deny though he might."

The driver gawked, "Not in a hundred years could I guess that," he proclaimed, "It just goes to show, don't it?"

"Except the cover of Bogo's book plainly reads, 'The Guff Stops Here'," smirked Nick.

"Which reflects about ninety percent of his personality," Judy said with an apologetic smile, "he will bring the hammer down on you if you step out of line."

"The remaining ten percent is the fun side I like to exploit. We have a game we play, Bogo and I, where he has to find my newest napping spot in the precinct," explained Nick with the easy air that came so readily to him, further ignoring Judy's hissing tsk of mild disapproval, "When he wins, he gets my daily report. When I win, he still gets my daily report, but I now have the satisfaction of knowing that he needed help from the precinct's best ears. Isn't that right, Carrots?"

"You will get stuck in or behind something one of these days, Slick, and I won't come to save you," Judy half-heartedly warned, "I will instead laugh to myself waiting for the custodial crew to find your sorry tail. It's the only way you'll learn."

"I don't learn. One of my issues," quipped Nick. To this, Gideon chuckled and shook his head. To that, Nick and Judy exchanged quiet smiles. Coming up on the side of the road was the somber, dark collection of rocks and a single tree which Nick, Judy, Esther, and Bo sat after their lunch date in Preds' Corner, and not long after that was the somber, dark collection of buildings which might have boasted a nocturnal vibrancy at any other time of the decade. As it stood, its grave silence washed over the van an ephemeral melancholy, perhaps Gideon most of all, for whom the town was familiar and its nightlife momentous. At his muted sigh, Nick spoke up, "Hey Bangs, after this whole TBR is over and the bunny population returned to manageable levels, how about we go to that… that thing with the rhyming title; what'd you call it?"

"The Prowl & Howl!" exclaimed the excited farm fox, and with an affirming, grateful snap of his cousin's fingers Gideon continued, "Oh, you betcha, Stretch. It's kinda like a mini, weekly TBR for preds with food and games and stuff. Most weeks it's a bunch of us hangin' around, sometimes watchin' a movie on an outdoor projector or pheasant hunts in the woods, but every other month or so it's something big. Like one time, after the pred-scare, Hyena Gomez did a charity concert, and there was a potluck, and a bunch of preds even shipped in from the city to join."

"I was so bummed I missed that!" lamented Judy, but then spoke with acceptance, "I understand why I couldn't get time off, since I didn't have much in the way of seniority at the time - I caught it on ZooTube anyway, but still."

"So that's what the entire hubbub was a few months ago," said Nick, adding under his breath, "My community service had me combing Coyote Canyon for trash…"

Gideon continued in exposition about Preds' Corner as they turned down the residential service road, pointing out each family farm along the way: the Turners, the Catmulls, the Umbertons, the Tweeds, the Nods, the Kumamoris, the Blackfoots, the Mallupes-

"Mallupe?" interjected Nick.

"Yeah, they're our nearest neighbors. Edward Mallupe and Pa were at odds for the longest time, but they eventu'ly made nice," Gideon explained, spreading a grin across his snout, "They keep those ravens you wondered about."

"Goody," cringed Nick, if only for an instant, "I don't suppose you remember a Mack Mallupe, by any chance?"

"That'd be Ed's oldest," recalled Gideon, "He left for the city years ago; up and disappeared into thin air… kinda like Aunt Jackie, I guess. And after him's Mallory, but we all call her 'Lory'-" and then paused, "How d'you know Mack, anyway?"

"Yes, how do you know Mack, Slick?" asked Judy, wholly unsurprised of the fox-cop's spontaneous knowledge of an obscure wolf from out in the sticks, considering he apparently entered the city and thus into Nick's sphere of influence, as though earning enough proximity to ping off Nick's interpersonal WiFi. Frequent were the boasts of "knowing everybody" in Zootopia, such to the point that Benjamin Clawhauser, as an in-joke, gifted him for his birthday a small stack of business cards reading simply:

Officer Nick Wilde

"I know everybody"

They turned past the "GREY" mailbox, the bend at another fateful junction. It was at the end of that driveway which young Gideon stood in trepidation after the Carrot Days Festival, when his and Judy's destinies forked as a river down two sides of a mountain only to join once more at the base. Its gravity went largely unnoticed as they awaited Nick's brewing answer.

His fingers steepled with a thoughtful hum, fanning and then folding to touch at pursed lips, indexes tapping as his green eyes shined with recollecting ponderance. He remained silent save for quiet grunts as they rolled up the dirt stripe cleaving silver lit lawn. "That is a pickle," he finally answered, well after Gideon's van idled and the engine was at last turned off.

Judy blinked at such anti-climax, expecting - hoping - for another insight into the fox's tangled web of urban lore, "That's it?"

"That's it," he affirmed disinterestedly, and popped open the passenger-side door to step onto bare earth, twisting some life back into his spine with exaggerated jerks of his torso.

"That's not 'it'," defied Judy, scooting along the seat hurriedly to follow her partner, habitually locking the door on her way out, "You know who Mack Mallupe is, Nick, I'd bet you even know him personally."

"I honestly don't, Carrots," he admitted with a smirking shrug, "I only know that Mack Mallupe - of whom some might associate the name of 'Sparrow' - is a modern-day pirate whose 'high-seas' is the darknet. Now, you didn't hear this from me," he continued, leaning in with a false whisper and even erecting his paw to emphasize how hush-hush such information was. Gideon, of course, scampered over to hear what he 'didn't hear' from Nick, "but Finnick may or may not have learned everything he knows about computer use from Mack. Maybe."

"Wait… 'Sparrow'?" gawked Judy, "As in 'The Sparrow'?"

Once again, Nick shrugged his disinterest with an unsure grunt, "If you invest much into the gossip of Internet forums; I know I don't."

"Oh my gosh, all the behavioral profiles on Sparrow are wrong," she realized and touched her mouth, "They're miles off point, literally, over two-hundred miles off point. The best they could figure is he's an antelope from Ficus Grove. This is huge!" she declared, and grabbed Nick's shirt as though to shake him down, "If you know how to find the Sparrow-"

Nick stood upright with his paws folded professionally behind his back, "Carrots," he said in continued professionalism, looking down at her as she nearly dangling from holding onto his shirt near the collar, "I would never betray the confidence of someone who may or may not be a close associate of mine, especially not someone who is definitely a close associate of mine. Besides," he berated and carefully released her paws from his borrowed wardrobe so that she might stand before him crestfallen, "we are off-duty, out of our jurisdiction, and have enough on our plates without facing down impossible challenges, so quell your obsession for a night, Carrots, and let's take advantage of this chance to relax."

Gradually, her ears went up again, arms crossed and head tilted, "You look weird taking the ethical high ground," teased Judy.

"It feels weird," he agreed and smacked his lips, "It's mixing with that emotional outburst from earlier that I can still taste. Maybe I am turning into a bunny…"

Gideon's shoulders and belly shook with hearty chuckles as he twirled keys around a finger on his way to the front door. Behind his back, Judy and Nick once more exchanged satisfied smiles, hers more in relief and his in gratitude. With a click of the lock and an effortless push of the wooden slab, the Grey house was opened to reveal a golden-lit living room, cozy, quiet, and empty. "Essy, we're home!" Gideon called in joy, blue eyes sweeping to find a half-open laptop sitting on the kitchen table beside an either cold or empty teacup (as there was no steam wafting up from it). "Essy…?"

Green eyes and tall ears scanned as Nick slipped in, taking in necessary info through narrowing pupils and flaring nostrils; grunting with inward analysis, he hunched only momentarily before standing upright without a hint of concern. Judy remained near the door, for her auditory assessment needed both inside and out for adequacy, but she, like her partner, detected nothing amiss.

"Essy!" cried Gideon, clapping his cheeks and catching his breath with a frantic swipe of his puffed tail that the bunny opted to dodge, "The darknet took Essy-!"

"No, no, Gid," cooed Judy, cradling his elbow, "Listen to me, okay? Esther's fine, she's probably taking a bath right now, maybe she wearing her headphones. In fact, I'm sure I can hear her down the hall. Let's go check, okay?"

"Y-yeah…" Gideon finally whimpered.

"And," Nick swiftly added, "It's worth noting that there are no signs of struggle. See?" he said with a broad sweep of his arms that evolved into enumerating gesticulation, "Esther's a kickboxer, right? If anyone came for her, there'd be overturned furniture, holes in the wall, broken glass, all such things you'd see from a fight."

"Yeah…" he repeated, shuddering, "b-but there's none of that, so she's okay?"

"That's right," the taller fox said in his most soothing tone, closing the distance between them in the short time he spoke until he could look the stouter fox in the eyes, waiting until they focused on him before he continued. "Now we're breathing," he instructed with an appropriate, gathering gesture to further demonstrate his own slow intake of air.

Gideon inhaled.

"And out."

Gideon exhaled.

"There, nothing to worry about," cooed Judy, guiding Gideon away from the door so Nick could shut and lock it, "Let's go find Esther, down the hall, in the bathroom."

His steps were stiff at first, almost dragging along the floor until his paw pads lifted to renew use of his legs. "Okay," Gideon mumbled, repeated a few times with calming breaths, heading towards the kitchen table to slump into a sturdy chair and sink his face into a pair of readied palms, though not from shock or grief, it seemed, but shame.

Nick and Judy stood nearby, unsure for the moment what to make of this new emotional reaction; she took a step forward but halted to the paw on her shoulder, and glanced up to a quietly shaking head that soon nodded down the hallway. The rabbit smiled sadly, quite sadly at Gideon before nodding in response, and nodded a second time in confirmation after Nick leaned in to whisper so low that only her acute hearing could pick it up, "Take your time."

"I'll go get Esther," announced Judy.

"Okay," he mumbled again, face moving from his paws to his folded arms.

The bunny muted a sigh and scurried out of the room, but slowed her pace once she hit the hall. Nick jutted his jaw to watch the lazy breath of a forlorn fox, such positioning he'd recognize anywhere as profound disappointment in oneself. Unspoken, the taller fox walked further into the kitchen while his cousin stewed, spotting the softly steaming teapot set to simmer on the stove; from there, it wasn't hard to locate some spare mugs with which to pour hot water into. Esther even had the courtesy to leave out an opened box of Trill Grey tea (an aptly named tea for such a situation).

"Hey," said Nick, setting down one steaming cup of tea at Gideon's elbow while he sat in the adjacent chair, "Lookin' kinda glum there, Bangs, considering we' got that nasty whipped cream business behind us. What's up?"

Weary, blue eyes peeked to see the beverage his nose and ears already knew of, but only hid his face again. "Like you don't already know," he muttered into his arms.

Nick blew on the tea before lifting it to his mouth to test its temperature, but when it was too hot to even put near his dark lips he set it on the table instead. "Despite what I lead everyone to believe, I am not psychic and I actually do respect the feelings of others, but if you really want, I'll explain this ennui rather than hearing about in your own words," he conversed, reaching over the table to acquire a jar of honey, which Esther was courteous enough to also leave out for them. "Before I do, I'm sure you recall when I bullet-pointed my first impression of you - a resounding success, I might add - so I'll ask again," he said, tapping a spoon against the mug's rim after stirring honey into his tea, "What's up, Bangs?"

Once more, eyes of blue not only in color but of deep lament lifted to the probing green, Gideon's brow knitted and ears pinned with severity. The head lay down again, but this time setting his chin on the crossed arms, "I know the darknet didn't take Essy," he admitted weakly, "I must've sounded so stupid but I couldn't stop myself sayin' it, I guess because I was scared I lost her and jus' couldn't handle it…" He pointed at the spoon, which Nick handed over, and dragged the honey closer. "I mean… I'm safe, at least for tonight, because they still need me at the pie eating contest tomorrow, right? But they could've taken Essy to stop any funny business, ya'know?"

Softly blowing on the tea, Nick cradled the mug and found that he could at last touch the lip to his own, nostrils flaring patiently as he breathed in the scent before softly sipping. He quietly trilled at the taste and arched his brow as he looked to the dark brew, even letting his tail wheel behind him once (and only once). Eyelids hooded, he observed Gideon scoop honey into his own tea, and a muted clink of metal to ceramic provided the only stepping stones to span that awkward silence.

"How d'you do it?" he asked, voice dragging along as his feet did not minutes ago.

"'Do' what? I'm multi-talented and can do many things, so you'll need to specify."

"Be so cool about ev'rything. You prob'ly see me and think, 'Lookit this big, dumb farm fox, needin' his paw held like some baby-kit… How's I ever get such a cousin?'. And then there's you, slick, big-time city fox, so sly he prob'ly knows what I'm 'bout to say before I know m'self," rued Gideon, no longer stirring the spoon but only twirling it in the tea, "It'd be better if I weren't a part of this whole thing… aside from being the cause of it all, I mean. We shoulda told Essy this mornin', Stretch, at least she's city fox enough to help, not some doughy bumpkin like me."

Nick sipped, listened… granted, out of his comfort zone and unsure what he was thinking when he volunteered to act as Gideon's emotional support; blood relation only goes so far, after all. If this were Bo, he'd shove every inch of tongue he could into his own cheek and tell the bunny to "Sly up, fox right", and give him such a thorough bushwhacking that his tail would likely break the sound barrier in the process. The muscle-headed rabbit could handle such encouraging abuse, all things considered. But this… this borderline catatonic bundle of nerves bound up in scarred flesh required professional help (or the next best thing in a pinch, Judy Hopps).

What would Dad do? pondered Nick, and recalled from his youth when the older fox leaned back in his chair and conjured up some fantastical story paralleling the current situation to wrap everything up in a nice moral. Maybe if I lean back far enough and fall, I could get another laugh out of Gloomy Gid… or freak him out and get a repeat of Friday night, complete with mouth-to-mouth. What would Mom do, then? The answer was, Nick realized, right under his nose; literally, under his nose. He looked at his delicious, honey-sweetened tea and then at Gideon's untouched beverage. "Drink your tea," Nick said not unkindly, You giant, pouting baby-kit.

Gideon peered over the edge of his folded arm with a frown and furrowed brow, "Why?" he eventually defied, and uncharacteristically nudged the cup away from him.

"Because I went through the trouble of making it for you, and you put honey in it," he chastised, commanding what little authority he knew how and hoped it was enough, "So drink it, or it'll go cold," and sipped in punctuation.

Blue eyes glared back at green - those exact same "Savage Greens" his Ma had; if there were any proof that he and Nick were related on his mother's side, it was those eyes - and felt his defiance waning. Yes, he alluded to being a "baby-kit", but up until that instant Nick treated him like an adult. "Maybe I'll have m'self something stronger," Gideon finally responded with what little defiance he could still muster, "I know where Pa keeps some What's Bruin?; it's microbrew, but sometimes he splurges, and I think after today-"

"Tea first, Gideon," Nick reminded pointedly, "and stop slouching."

Another glare, if lesser this time, and the stouter fox straightened his back to retrieve his rejected offering of a hot drink, gripping firmly around the mug's handle in a languid sip. He wasn't going to admit it to Nick - and likely didn't need to - but the honeyed tea helped, so much so an airy sigh relinquished when he reached up to run fingers through his disheveled bangs and smooth them out. Gideon's ear flicked as the adjacent chair creaked, and glanced over as the taller fox casually leaned on the hind legs, keeping a knee propped against the edge of the table.

"To answer your earlier question," Nick finally said after his cousin's third sip, judging primarily the time taken to savor its taste and the resulting sigh, "I'm so cool thanks to years and years of practice. Admittedly, my time as a kit wasn't half-so-harrowing as a psychotic bunny rabbit gunning to villainize me, but I had my share of antagonism."

"I thought about hurling Grav across the playground so many times," Gideon said, "It would've been easy, too, but I knew Pa wouldn't like it if he found out."

"Not to mention the hundreds of bunnies who'd tattle on you if you did."

"It crossed my mind."

"When I was a kit, my dad would leave for extended lengths of time," Nick continued, arm extended to set his half-finished mug of tea upon the table before narrating to the room as a whole and the audience of one, "John Wilde apprenticed under some prestigious tailor in Downtown, which meant he was assigned a lot of work for little credit; since we lived in Conifer District, it also meant a two-hour commute, assuming all the buses and trains lined up properly. He was the tailor's best, so when a big-money client needed a bespoke suit, John Wilde was called to assist," he paused and addressed Gideon directly, "'Bespoke' is tailor-speak for a custom suit."

"'Bespoke' is a fancy word that means it's very expensive," smirked the farm fox, "According to Pa."

"Very expensive and takes a long time to make," the city fox smirked right back, "For a fast worker like Dad, up to a week or ten days. Some nights, it was only me a Mom. Other nights, due to her own skill as a seamstress, she was called in to speed up the process, because the Wildes worked very well together."

"I guess, that's when ya' stayed with yer dad's side of the family, huh?"

Nick scratched under his chin as he slung an arm behind the chair's back, letting his seat creak as he marginally rocked to-and-fro, "Not as such. You see, other kids all had their relatives - even Finnick had an aunt or uncle - but it was only a party of three for us Wildes. Fun factoid: 'Wilde' is old Zootopian for 'without extended family'."

"Wow… really?"

With a sharp clunk of his chair's front legs to the floor, Nick laughed and backhanded Gideon's arm, "No, of course not," and pressed on at a snorting roll of blue eyes, "While Gnu York boasts the freshest and most immigrants in Zootopia, those that travel up the Lion's Tail river eventually find the Conifer District, so our neighborhood was a melting pot of predators from different cultures; when I needed babysitting, I stayed with any one of such families. Sure, I learned lots of neato languages and customs, but it wasn't all lollipops and cultural diversity."

"Now you're gonna tell me a li'l fox wasn't welcomed with open arms."

"Even though back in ye olden times, a fox was considered a good omen because we found the safest places to hunker down. Go figure, right?"

"Color me surprised."

"They tried to find other fox families, of course, but we were one of the few in that specific location. At face, the parents were accepting, after all, Mom and Dad wouldn't entrust my safety to someone they didn't know personally. Their offspring, however…"

"Ran ya' through your paces, huh?"

"That's a nice way of putting it," mused Nick, "Really made me appreciate having my parents around. Like I said, I lucked out and didn't bunk with anyone like Grav, but on that same token, I was an easy target for larger pred kids. So, as they say, I learned to 'sly up, and fox right' real quick," and took a sip from his tea. There, he thought, that should do it.

Gideon hummed introspectively, and indeed seemed less troubled as a single clawed finger tapped to the table. "I s'pose I really only have myself to blame," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Nick inquired with a drawling emphasis on the 'h'.

"I could've gone to Ma or Pa at any time, but even as young as I was I wanted to handle Grav on my own… I guess I've always been stubborn like that," he chuckled softly, "At least they were there at the end of the day, and of course there was Essy, even though she was a pain-in-the-neck and bossy." He huffed, "but then it kinda spiraled, and I didn't want them finding out what all I did."

Nick shifted in his seat, reclaiming the single degree of composure he let slip through his fingers, "Does this have something to do with what Grav said Judy said, that thing he put up on a plaque?"

A response was not quick to come, only a slight swirling of tea in its mug. "Yeah," he finally admitted, "It never felt so bad, what he was doin', because Jude believed in me… and she was the only one that did after a while… but then she said that and something snapped. We were kids, we didn't know better; it still hurt when she said it, though, and since I was older than her I understood what it meant, so it jus' hurt more," and shrugged, "I couldn't help bein' a fox, so I was gonna be the fox ev'ryone thought I was… I guess Travis egged me on, but it's not his fault. What I did is what I did."

"Yet your parents never found out until Carrot Days?"

"May not look it now, but I could be pretty sly as a kit. And I guess all the prey parents were too scared to confront 'em about it," he then chuckled, "Pa can be pretty intimidatin' without tryin' to be. Even bigger preds gave him a wide berth sometimes."

"And his eyes really change from blue to gray, like Esther's do," Nick wondered aloud.

"I only seen it happen once, and I bet you can guess when," Gideon said, exchanging a knowing glance with his cousin, "Though the way Ma tells it, Pa was hotheaded in his youth, got into lots of fights before he came up north, but he left that all behind him. Now, if he ever gets really mad, he'd turn away to stare and sniff at his paws like there were had somethin' growin' on 'em. I ain't ever seen him bare fang or raise a claw to anyone… unless it was a hammer on a nail."

"Or watching soccer," Nick added with a grin to a chuckling response, and tossed a thumb into the living room and the TV-facing chair; the grooves caused from white-knuckled claws were – undoubtedly – known to them both.

"So what about Uncle John, Stretch? You know so much about my Pa, but I know zilch about yours," he asked in palpable eagerness.

"John Wilde, as I'm sure you can expect from my father, is a fox of many talents," Nick began, grinning no less than before, "Tailor, storyteller, acrobat-"

"Acrobat?"

"Oh yes, he was quite nimble in his prime. You wouldn't know it looking at him now, thickened out as he has," Nick explained using broadening gestures around his chest and midsection, "It drove Mom up the wall every time he leaned back in his chair, and he could not only keep balance, but stand up and walk the chair around the kitchen on only its back legs; and then he'd do it on the front legs. But here's the kicker: I'd be sitting on his shoulders the whole time."

Gideon stifled laughter, "Yer kiddin'! Oh, if Aunt Jackie is anything like Ma she'd be all puff-tailed and glarin'. Y'see," he chuckled, "Pa had a habit of throwing me 'n' Essy high in the air and then catching us; sometimes he had to dive for us. We loved it, but Ma weren't too thrilled, I can tell ya' that much."

Nick joined in the catharsis of shared merriment, watching as all the telltale signs of nerve and anxiety melted away to jiggling bulk. Silly me, I should've known I was the right fox for the job, he mused, Good thinking on my part.

"Uncle John's got his own shop, I think you said, so I figured you'd be right in there helpin' him instead of hustlin' those 'Pawpsicles'," Gideon remarked, and then held up his paws to read a sign, "'Wilde & Son Tailoring'. Now I know what you're thinkin', 'Gid, how can you say that when you aren't a carpenter like your Pa?'," but his smile and paws drooped when he spotted Nick staring at the ceiling with his head hung over the back of the chair, frowning. "Stretch?"

A response was not quick to come.

"I mean," fumbled Gideon with a recovering twiddle of his fingers, "I think you also said something about that night specifically, when the shop opened up, and bein' muzzled, which would… umm, what's the word… 'associate'? Yeah, you'd associate one with the other, but your parents helped you through it, didn't they?"

A response still did not come, beyond a leaden sigh.

"Oh…" he said, and slumped back in his seat, paws around his tea once more, "I-I'm sorry, Stretch, I didn't mean to pry, but I figured them hearing about something like that, they'd be a bit more… I dunno…"

"I didn't tell them what happened that night." An awkward silence returned to the table, but there was no clinking spoon to disturb it this time. Nick peered upside-down at the empty hallway expectantly, Feel free to barge in at any time, Judy, and then looked once more to a pursed-mouth Gideon.

A glance flickered up before the stouter fox's dark lips moved in speech, "Well, you can't have kept it for longer than I kept this from my parents," tried Gideon with a pointing at his back, "They still won't find out until Thursday… maybe Friday, give 'em a chance to get in the door, and all. Essy will know tonight, though."

"No, Gideon," Nick said, idly scraping his claw tips across the finished wooden tabletop, "They still don't know. I never told them. Not in all the time living under their roof, not since I reunited with them after fifteen-plus years. Never.

"I thought I could handle it," he continued when the quiet chaffed too coarsely, "I thought I was to blame, so I tried to fix it," and drew an invisible circle on table for no apparent reason than to affix his attention elsewhere. "If I made my own scout troop that could trust me, then that should do the trick. Made sense at the time. But it was only me and Finnick, and he couldn't afford a uniform, so we made and sold Pawpsicles to fundraise for it. This went on for a while, but eventually, a cop found us and it just so happened that his son was not only a Junior Ranger Scout, but in the same troop I was supposed to be, so he knew I wasn't going to meetings," he coughed and looked at a rapt Gideon, sitting back with a stretch of his arms, "Let's just say he misinterpreted our intentions."

"What'd he do?"

"'Do'? He went to our parents, of course. I managed to convince him that Finnick had nothing to do with it, and was only helping me sell the Pawpsicles, so at least he was let go. As for me…" and he sighed, and cupped his snout to rub it, "I knew I couldn't convince the officer that I wasn't some shifty little fox, so I didn't correct anything he said about me skipping out on the meetings, using the uniform for personal gain, blah blah blah, but I still couldn't bring myself to say that I was muzzled. As if I needed anything else to show I was untrustworthy, right?

"Things were looking pretty bleak for young Nicky Wilde, but I knew I could bounce back; I was good at that. Except when the officer left, my Mom and Dad looked at me with such disappointment. We didn't even leave the entryway after the door closed. I told them that the troop didn't accept me, I was crying and apologizing with a slew of naive rationale… and in my hysteria I mentioned the uniform that Mom worked so hard to pay for as the big reason for doing what I did. That's when Dad knelt down, took off my cap, looked me right in the eye and said without even raising his voice, 'Nicky, that uniform can be purchased from a catalog; trust cannot'."

"Ouch, right in the soul," Gideon winced and clutched his chest.

"Suffice to say, my world shattered. I was to go to bed without supper, dessert, bedtime story, and I was grounded until further notice," Nick continued matter-of-factly, "I laid awake thinking about what I did, why I got in so much trouble, and it occurred to me that it wasn't what the prey kids did to me, it was that I lied about it. I lied to them about it."

"Yeah, that's kind of he one thing foxes don't do to each other," came an apologetic reply.

"It was… late, I forget the exact time when it happened, but I felt like I could come forward, that if I told them I was muzzled, and that's why I tried to hide it, maybe they'd understand. I couldn't possibly get in any worse trouble, anyway. So, I tiptoed down the hall and crouched at the top of the stairs when I heard them talking in the kitchen. And then Dad called himself a 'hypocrite'," Nick paused and sipped at lukewarm tea, wondering if he should go through the bother of reheating it.

Gideon's brow furrowed severely as he blinked, "He called himself a 'hypocrite'?" he repeated back.

Nick nodded, "He used such a word to describe the tailor he worked for plenty of times, so I understood what it meant, and yes, I was as confused then as you are now, and as curious, so I crept down the stairs, careful not to hit any of the squeaky floorboards so that I could get to the kitchen without my parents knowing. The rest of their conversation up to that point was a blur, but I remember them looking at me as I would at them if they caught me reaching into the cookie jar. They asked why I was downstairs, but they wouldn't listen when I said I had something to tell them. While I could hardly string more than two words together since I was fighting back tears, I managed to say that I wanted to tell them the truth… and then they asked how they were supposed to trust me."

Gideon looked prepared to extend a sympathetic paw; but didn't. He seemed ready to express some condolence or encouragement; but didn't. Maybe he couldn't.

"Don't worry, Bangs, it's all in the past," smirked Nick, "The next morning, Mom made pancakes, so I think she was trying to make amends, which I as a kit wanted more than anything. It was tense in the Wilde household for a while, but I earned their trust again, and by ultimatum of the officer that 'if he ever saw me in that uniform again', it was stored in a box; I managed to swipe the handkerchief, though, which I kept in my pocket to spite him.

"All was mostly well until I turned… twelve, I think, and puberty hit me like heaping sack of awkward. It didn't help that it was one of those times when Mom and Dad had to suit-up some high-falutin' client. I begged them to take me along, just that one time, because hey, I was practically an adult, right? But nope, I had to stay behind again, and this time for almost a month, the longest of them all. Finnick and I kept up our honest business of Pawpsicle sales for some spending money; there was no crime in that (especially when we gave that particular officer and his son 'free samples'). But in that month my parents were away, we expanded, making more, selling more, using his business acumen and my charisma – unrefined as they were - to buy low and sell high, even branching into products beyond frozen treats.

"It was then that I really started resenting my parents," Nick stated, "You know how they say, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', and 'Familiarity breeds contempt'? Well, I took that differently and either enjoyed when they were gone, or pretended they were. Figures that they didn't have any more clients that called them away, after that," and seemed, for a moment, to wonder on the irony before continuing. "I learned to detect lies by watching my Dad and Mom; I was convinced they could smell dishonesty, and the more I thought about everything they said to me, the more it felt like they were lying to me. There were times when they were covered in tells, but made no correction or confession afterwards. While I didn't have any solid evidence to go on aside from a gut feeling and raging biochemistry, it was like they'd been lying to me my entire life, and yet had the nerve to say they couldn't trust me."

"Tha's kinda shortsighted, if you don't mind my sayin'."

"It was dumb, Bangs, plain and simple. Anyway, I didn't mention their assumed deception, only sulked and was generally angsty; 'that'll show them', or so I thought. And then I turned seventeen, and felt like I could own the world… if only I weren't controlled by my parents. So, I grabbed all the stuff I wanted to take with me, shoved it in a bag, and left to go meet up with Finnick, who was eighteen at the time and had a van. Before I left, though, I wrote 'BYE' across the whiteboard Mom kept on the fridge, all caps, triple underlined, and in permanent marker to really get my point across. That was the last time I saw them face-to-face…" and brought the remainder of his tea up for a final sip, but then grimaced, "Eww, it's cold. Didn't you say there was some Bruin stashed around here somewhere?"

"Oh, um, sure," said Gideon, and took up both emptied mugs (as well as the teacup left behind by his sister) to the sink for a quick rinse. From the looks of it, aided by his readily transmitted state of mind, he was still processing all he received and, as was his way, busied himself through menial activities, such as general tidying of the kitchen. "So, you been away from them for years," he finally said, "Why go back Friday, of all days?"

Nick scratched through the fur on his head with an introspective grumble, "Why not on a Friday? Fridays are great days to do things, especially when you have the day off. It was what happened on Thursday that I decided to see them again, though. That big, blue, buffalo-butt boss of mine struck a chord with me, and it felt like my entire life just flipped onto its head," he explained with a wild gesticulation of a spinning paw.

"I guess it was some kind of backhanded compliment, or somethin'?"

"He called me a 'decent cop', believe it or not. Judy called me the same once, back when I was but a simple civilian consultant on the Otterton case, and a few fellow officers did as well in my time at the precinct, which was more tongue-in-cheek I think, but to hear it from Bogo - of all mammals - felt like I finally accomplished my lifelong dream of being trusted and accepted." The guard Nick carefully maintained lowered as he drifted through a retrospection that, at least for the time being, clouded the fact that someone else was within earshot. "It reminded me of a promise I made to my parents as a kit, and I realized that whatever they told me or didn't tell me, while it hurt, hating them for it hurt even more." He then cleared his throat to reassume his default levels of snark, "And I refuse to turn into one of those, 'If only I told them when I had the chance' types. That is far too much emotional baggage to hold onto."

Gideon leaned on the counter, simply looking at the city fox with his cheek on a fist.

"Yes?"

"You opened up a whole lot to me t'night, Stretch."

So I did, he smiled, I will need to learn this black-belt degree of innocent disarming, it could prove quite useful, and shrugged, "Well, I know all about the scars on your back, it's only fair that you know about the ones on mine. Tit-for-tat, as it were."

The farm fox chuckled, "I guess so," and turned to retrieve something from the fridge.

Nick peered down the hall, ears flicking as he heard girlish giggling and muffled glee. I see, having yourself a jolly time while I'm out here opening old wounds and bearing my very soul, scoffed Nick, and then jumped when a heavy something landed on the table in front of him. He stared and frowned at an aluminum tube - amusingly, one that he could probably shove Judy into - emblazoned with the caricature of a smiling bear logo and the unmistakable words of the 'What's Bruin?' microbreweries. He poked it to confirm its existence, and then glanced over it at the second can Gideon popped open with a bubbling hiss. "Bangs," he said flatly as his cousin gingerly sipped cider with one paw, "This is bear-sized."

"Yep," came nonchalant agreement.

"As in, 'sized for bears'."

"Tha's what it means," he grinned, "If you can't finish it, I'm sure Essy or Jude can help ya'," before noisily sipping.

With hooded eyes and an unmistakably, unamused half-frown, Nick kept his gaze on the other fox in the room as he reached for the pull-tab to crack open the brew. "A point of curiosity, why does Goliath have bear-sized beverages; is he in the habit of entertaining bears?"

"Sometimes the Kumamoris visit, or ya' jus' have bigger preds like the Catmulls, but I think the real reason is that Ma allows him only one can when he drinks," Gideon explained with a tap of his index finger, "So, he only has one."

The taller fox grunted approvingly, and tilted the can to nurse it. His brow quirked at an audible gulping, watching the farm fox continue to hold his cider in one paw and swig it, before setting it calmly upon the table with a self-contented grin… to which a single, momentary glance was paid to Nick. This, Nick could not abide, so he cradled a can which he could not fully get his paws around to lift it, and then tilted his head back far enough to ingest without spilling, idly wondering how he managed to get into such a situation. "Whew!" huffed Nick, setting the brew down perhaps a bit heavier than intended, "Heady stuff."

A warm, contented hum wafted from Gideon as he propped himself up on his elbows, "Thanks, Stretch."

"For…?"

"Helpin' me."

"Of course; we are family, after all, it's what family does," he paused, Even if - in the context of this particular conversation - it could take a while.

"I really weren't sure if I could tell Essy," he admitted, if quietly, "but I feel better about it, now."

"Well, hot tea plus cold cider equals liquid courage," grinned Nick, "Ancient fox recipe."

"Hey Blue," came a familiar, casual voice from immediately over Nick's shoulder, eliciting a sharp yelp and raised fur, "Why is it whenever Judy and I go do something by ourselves, you hit up the watering hole?"

His paw gripped securely around the can, even slouching a bit to rest an elbow on the tabletop, "Again with the sneaking," he critiqued, not bothering to even glance over his shoulder with a half-hearted sneer, "Bangs, how long was she behind me?"

A pair of arms wrapped around Nick's neck in a grateful embrace as her nose touched to his cheek with a soft kiss, "I came in at the part about family helping family," Esther explained. Green eyes blinked, darting from the vixen to a pair of amused blue eyes whose brows arched in a facial shrug. Nick's splayed, warm ears relaxed in the resulting situational equilibrium as her arms moved to fold atop his head as though he were furniture. "So what's this you weren't sure to tell me, Giddy?" she wondered aloud. It was the blue eyes' turn to blink and dart from vixen to greens, which in turn did not play at unspoken snark or challenge, but exchanged a knowing look.

"Cherries, have a sit," Nick suggested to her, and guided the Bruin a bit away from him.

"That serious, huh?" answered Esther, and when she took a step back to sit where her laptop remained at the kitchen table Nick reached up to lay a paw on her arm. The taller fox looked up at her, fur freshly blow-dried and unbrushed, garbed in a workout tank-top and jogging pants, and slid his chair out to rise from it in offering.

"Here would be best," he said soberly, holding the back in one paw and gesturing. Esther was visibly stunned by the severity of the atmosphere, so obvious in the demeanor of one fox and the other, but she cautiously accepted the seat as Nick pushed it in for her. With both Greys comfortably positioned, he stepped next to his cousin and gripped the sagging shoulder, which promptly squared, "We'll be right outside," he stated with a thumb jutting towards the backdoor of the kitchen. Nick joined a patiently, quietly observing Judy near the entrance of the hall, and followed her out when she unlocked the door to exit into balmy evening, the skyward glare long since waned to give way to starlight, moonlight, and the beckoning mystique of fireflies out in the bordering woods.

Judy walked with her paws clasped behind her back, not the at-attention of an officer's stance, but a simple farm bunny's gait that came with a whimsical half-skip every other step as she went out to the yard. Nick continued to follow after closing the door, paws in his pockets with the thumbs hooked outside as he kept easy-enough pace. Numerous quips ran through his brain like a movie reel: "That was fun", "Could've gone better, could've been worse", "I think I'm improving on this whole 'empathy' thing", among others, yet there was a certain, solemnity that followed them in the silence of chirping crickets, croaking frogs, and whispering breezes.

She came to a fence at the edge of the Grey homestead and nimbly hopped up to sit, resting an arm on the nearby post to lean on it. He walked up with a swish of his tail and leaned forward, arms crossed, elbows providing all the stability he needed as one leg hooked behind the other. In this manner, they looked out at similar eye-levels across the night-covered landscape dotted with pinpoints of electric light, leading to one brilliant aura that - surely - was the not-too-far-off fairgrounds, and another, greater one over the distant city of Zootopia tucked beneath the horizon. Judy's feet kicked idly and Nick's tail flicked.

"I can see why Mom left for the city," Nick finally said, keen nocturnal eyes focusing on the spectrum, "It can't have been this bright over thirty years ago, but even so, she must've stood right here, saw it every night, that distant beacon calling to her: 'Find me, join me, on an adventure for two'."

The rabbit smiled, and wondered if she should pay his poeticism with snark, but it didn't feel proper at the moment. "Hey Nick," she asked, and was answered by a curious grunt, "Should we have left them alone? Gid's been dangling by a thread this whole time. I understood that driving kept his mind off everything that's happened, but in my family-"

"They need to figure this out, Judy, without anyone else listening in or watching" Nick interrupted, and looked up to her as she looked back, "This way, they don't need to put up any defenses… they can be one-hundred honest with one another, which is what he needs most right now. He's kept his scars secret for years, over half his life, and that means he's done things to keep them from Esther; now's the time to come forward with all that, and even though he trusts and loves us, if we're there he might try to put on a brave face.

"Your fur smells nice, by the way, coincidentally the same as Esther's. And it's also slightly damp, coincidentally," he poised, smirking.

Given opportunity to avoid an awkward question that would lead to an awkward answer – an exchanged summed up in "bunny things are different from fox things" - Judy ran a paw over the top of her head and down an ear, humming in a capricious denial, "Well, we both know each other's stance on coincidences, don't we, Slick?"

"It actually answers how you managed to delay her for so long," he said, and turned about to rest his elbows on the fence, but looking back at the house, "Relaxing enough, I hope?"

"The tub is sized for Goliath, as I'm sure you guessed, so after she drained it a bit I was able to get in in a quick soak. After all, we got pedicures today, so why not share a bath," she mused and wiggled her toes, "By the way, top-notch ploy with Mack Mallupe, I almost believed that he was really the Sparrow; it's just too bad Gid's stress level skyrocketed when he thought Esther was in danger… I honestly thought that little act calmed him down enough."

"Oh, that wasn't a ploy," Nick admitted, "And I won't say another word on the matter, unless it's to Cherries herself as to why she didn't mention the Mallupe family when she brought me out here earlier today."

"What!" reeled Judy, pivoting in her seat, "Mack Mallupe really is the Sparrow, and you know him?"

"Sorry, Carrots, you are not Cherries, so I will not say another word on the matter," he repeated, holding up a palm and turning his face away.

The bunny's violet eyes narrowed with a disgruntled groan, but she looked at him sidelong with a forming smirk as she brought up one leg onto the fence with her, "Well, I'm not Esther, but I know why she didn't mention them," she said, "I actually asked about Mack in casual conversation - to confirm your story, as it were - and she volunteered the information without knowing it. Apparently, she knew him personally before he left."

Nick gave his own sidelong glance, setting his jaw with an introspective growl, "I'll bite. You share yours, I'll share mine."

"You first."

"Fine, if only for your admirable, fox-like behavior," he smirked, "It was around the time I got on Mr. Big's naughty list-"

"With the skunk-butt rug?"

"Yes, that. Anyway, Finnick and I kept on the lowest downlow we could get down on, which meant we beelined for a safehouse in Acorn Heights known only as 'Granny's'. Along the way, we ran into Mack, claiming to know who we are and had a better course of action than straight-up hiding. Now, the age difference between us and him is about the same as between you and I, so of course I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to accept his sagely wisdom."

"Har har."

"You laugh, but I don't hear a denial," he grinned, "In exchange for helping us, Finnick and I helped him as eyes on the ground for potential safehouses. We saw him only the one time, though, and everything after that was done remotely, usually through a third or fourth party. Finnick, with his head for figures and foul mouth, took to computer programming like a fish to water, and then we lived happily ever after clinging to the city's underbelly like a couple of devilishly handsome remoras."

"So you've been harboring a fugitive this whole time?" she said blandly.

Nick scoffed and flicked his paw to dismiss the accusation, "You and I both know the Sparrow's only real crime is evading arrest from that scandal-ridden chief of police before Bogo. Now, you hold up your end of the bargain."

Judy studied him severely, but sighed in relent, "Fine, if only because I like how your eyes glow at night," she teased, and nudged his shoulder with a foot, "So, you and Esther walked down that service road, right? Well, after about the third or fourth vague affirmation, she reasoned that you weren't very interested in her family's neighbors and changed the topic of conversation before ever hinting at the Mallupes."

"Typical," he grumbled and bit on the knuckle of his thumb, "I almost face-plant into Mack's origin story yet fall short immediately beforehand..."

"I'm sure the sheen in her fur wasn't distracting at all, either," she continued to tease, and this time nudged his cheek with her foot, "Walking all the way from Gid's bakery, and lugging a suitcase no less. Quite the hike, I'd say." She retracted her foot at the playful snap of his jaws, to which she grinned brighter, "Whoop! If we were keeping score, that'd be a point for me, I think."

He glared, even facing her with an elbow still planted on the fence and a fist to his hip, tail whisking behind him, but he scoffed and permitted a smile, "Sly bunny."

"She does like you, you know."

"I know."

A pause, dangling leg swinging lightly, "Fox courtships…"

"Ah ah ah, I'm not volunteering any more information, Ms. Nosy-Wiggles," he said with a waggle of his finger.

"Alright," Judy replied calmly, and sat upright with both legs hanging down once again, but this time facing the farmhouse, "Let's talk about the case."

"Gladly."

"I know there was something you didn't say because it would likely put Gid into a coma if he heard it," the bunny stated, and could not help her sentence inflect a sullen mood at the end as she looked onwards to the Grey family home.

"We're jumping right into it, I guess," the fox said under his breath, and pulled out his phone to address it, "When did you figure it out, Carrots?"

"I didn't figure anything out," she avoided, and rubbed her feet together, "It's just… a feeling I have, about something Grav said." She glanced over as Nick's face lit up not with excitement, but as his phone screen illuminated them both.

"I actually saw him in the restaurant," Nick said, "For only a fleeting second, but he was there… the only bunny in that entire place that looked me in the eye, even if it was from across the room. I hardly recognized him at Phil's when Bo and I went to get a drink, and I overlooked the encounter until I started thinking about his motive for all this. Why he went through so much trouble - and got into so much trouble, considering his otherwise spotless record - to assure the death of some fox he tormented as a kid, when it would have been so much easier to stay in the city and never see or hear from him again.

"As we both know, coincidences are rarely ever just coincidences, and the fact that Grav drew this on a receipt can - easily - be dismissed as a matter of convenience on his part," Nick began, and glanced up to meet Judy's gaze as he held out the snapshot he took of the receipt from their lunch that day, and the drawing of a fox's face upon a shield with the phrase "ka-poof!" written beneath it, "However, Magnus's reaction to the doodle, paired with Grav's aggression towards Gideon in the holding cell and the fact that he dared draw another doodle and leave it where Gideon was sure to find it eventually, points to a significance that I, as a fox and a police officer, would be foolish to dismiss."

Judy nodded in solemn agreement, "Grav went to great pains to keep ears all over Bunnyburrow for the TBR..." and felt the pit of her stomach weigh heavily as that dark feeling dropped into place at a conclusion she already dreaded. It did not fill her with fear or trepidation - never again would she cower to that abyss - but a determination for a greater purpose, "He wants Gideon's head as payment, one way or another, but we're not going to let that happen."

Nick flicked off his phone to spin it idly in his palm, "We did good, partner, but short of deus ex machina, we'll be hard pressed to find a way to bring the Psycho Senior or Junior to justice in time to clear those targets on our backs. Safe as we are for tonight, they're calling out the hounds after the pie eating contest tomorrow, for Gideon especially."

"We did well," Judy corrected on habit, but then breathed through her teeth "And that's… something we'll need to work on. I can wake up early and make a few calls; we bunnies may not be much for the night, but you can bet we're up at dawn and ready to take on the day. I'll see what I can do with the Burrow Watch, maybe set up some kind of protection for you and Gid."

"I'm absolutely tickled pink to know I'll be guarded by bunnies," the fox said dryly, "For the record, we did both good and well; I know what I said."

"Don't knock the Watch, Nick," tsktsk'd Judy, "They're not part of the sheriff's office but they work closely with it, ever since that whole thing with the 'Missing Prince' shook the Burrow from the train bridge to Hares' Bluff. Now, I can pull a few strings to-"

Nick's paw flew up as he hurriedly mumbled over his partner's brewing plan, "Wait, wait wait wait… wait," the fox insisted.

"What, what is it?"

"I think I just found our deus ex machina," he grinned, and gripped his phone as its lock screen illuminated a special kind of crazy in his eyes, the kind that often ran a thrill up and a chill down Judy's spine. She scooted along the fence to peer over his shoulder, "Would you say that the good Felix has an… invested interest in the wellbeing of the bunnies currently in Preds' Corner?"

"…Yes, most of them are from Knotash, where Felix Lapis lives, but I certainly hope you aren't planning to hurt any of those bunnies, Nick."

"'Hurt'? Of course not, I would never," he smirked, and pulled up a text message for Finnick, that as Judy's violet eyes could readily see, was preparing to encrypt itself, "That said, mischief I will readily invoke, but only enough to grab his attention."

"Nick…"

"You worry too much," he cooed and scratched under her chin, continuing his text message only when she batted at his fingers, "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"That's what worries me," glowered Judy.

Some parts of my story are inspired by my most excellent friends and confidante, Nieve (veteran author, master wordsmith, you probably know his work), and proper credit is due: Finnick's prowess in computer programming, as well as the allusion to a corrupt chief of police preceding Bogo, I got from him, and were such superb ideas I couldn't help but utilize them.