It was noon in Savannah Central. The sun shone gently through the windows of the Z.P.D. headquarters and onto the floor of the main room, where the city press had assembled and waited restlessly.
For several minutes, the press room lectern was empty, save for a dozen-and-change microphones from the city's leading news organizations. The massive screen in the back of the apparatus, usually used for displaying photos of suspects, victims, or hero officers, showed only a large Z.P.D. badge set against a flat blue. The messaging was clear-the force was closing ranks today, standing together as an institution behind the remarks that were to come.
Nick turned his attention from the television, arching off the hospital bed to adjust his shirt. It was an itchy old Cud Zeppelin number he should have thrown out a decade ago, so it figured that was what Finnick grabbed when he'd brought Nick a change of clothes.
The half dozen White Fangs the fennec had smuggled in amongst them, however, were very welcome. Nick twisted, reaching across his IV to grab a bottle, and pulled the cap off with his front teeth. He took a long swig, ignoring the harshness on his sand-blasted throat, and returned his attention to the television.
Bogo was taking the stand now. The occasional camera clicks and flashes had increased to a fever pitch, but the huge buffalo didn't blink as he took up position behind the microphones. He paused for a few seconds, waiting for the hubbub to die down before speaking.
"Good afternoon," he began. "You are all likely aware of recent events in which Officer Judy Hopps was critically injured responding to a robbery in Happytown. In the past week, apprehending the individuals responsible has been a priority for this department, and we have made several arrests and undertaken several actions to that end."
Nick chuckled, nearly snorting beer out his nose at Bogo's liberal application of cop-speak.
"Yesterday morning," the chief continued, "the Z.P.D. launched an operation to secure the arrest of our primary suspect, Sada Basu, who was in hiding within a section of the climate wall. During the course of the operation it was ascertained that the suspect was holding two children as hostages. Those cubs are now safe. Unfortunately, in the course of the operation, the suspect died."
The press roared to life, shouting over each other as cameras flashed again.
"I want to stress," Bogo continued over them, "that every precaution was taken to safely apprehend Mr. Basu. In fact, we were able to ensure the safety of the cubs thanks to quick action and tremendous courage by one of our officers, who was injured in the-"
"Chief Bogo," interrupted a particularly loud voice from off camera, "was he shot? What was the cause of death?"
"Our officers used tranquilizer rounds only," Bogo explained. "The cause of death was cardiac arrest."
"From the tranquilizers?"
"Preliminary analysis from the city coroner found evidence of controlled substances in the suspect's system. That's all I can say at this time."
"What drugs? Was the tiger on night howlers?" came another voice.
"We're not prepared to make a determination at this time," Bogo reiterated. "Now-"
Nick sighed and reached for the remote to switch the TV off. He'd seen the conference before-the news stations had been running it all day-and there was little else worth hearing. Bogo had deftly handled the Gulo Karnovsky shooting without offering many details, though those would come out in time. The rest of the half-hour was dedicated to selections of Basu's personal history, as well as an update on Judy's much-improved condition.
A department laptop sat on his right, perched on a bunched-up pile of sheets. Nick was technically on medical leave, imposed upon him by Bogo, but he'd continued to idly peruse his reports on the Basu case, checking for inaccuracies and errors. He'd annoyed Judy, via text messages, into going silent over an hour ago, so the reports were all the entertainment he had now.
His leg hurt. It was stitched up again, with a fresh bandage applied, and the beer was helping. But it would be some time before he could walk comfortably again. He had a few slight cracked ribs and a broken nose from his one-sided fight with Basu. All things considered, he'd gotten off easy. He wasn't dead. His partner wasn't dead. Basu's kids were safe.
There would be consequences for Basu's death, of course, and for Karnovsky's injuries. Nick would face them squarely and honestly, in whatever capacity was required. Who knew? The public might even buy an honest fox.
The door cracked open, and a nurse-the striped fox from the day before-poked her head in.
"Mister Wilde? I've got your wheelchair. Your colleague's just getting you signed out downstairs."
Nick nodded and flipped the laptop closed. The Z.P.D., perhaps out of contrition, had actually sent someone to pick him up this time. He hoped it wasn't Wolford. The big wolf had more than enough reason to be resentful, after his domineering attempt to shut Nick down had been countermanded by Bogo.
Gingerly, he rotated his footpaws off the bed and slid himself gingerly to the floor, testing his balance as he stood up.
"See," he grumbled, turning to the nurse. "I don't need a wheelchair."
He turned too fast and spun himself off balance, stumbling onto his bad foot and yelping before she caught his arm to steady him.
"Sure, you don't," she said.
"I swear," Nick swore, "I'm just drunk."
She grimaced. "Now you're really going in the wheelchair."
They packed his things-she was kind enough to let him stow the his three unopened beers back in his bag-and set off back to the elevator. Nick, more inebriated than he'd perhaps realized, sat tall in his wheelchair and lifted his beer aloft like a chalice.
"Your king is passing," he babbled to the smattering of mammals in the hallway. "Ready the heralds as I alight from my conveyance."
The nurse snatched the drink from his hand and threw it into a trash can as they entered the elevator.
"You're going to get me in trouble," she hissed, hitting the lobby button.
Nick clasped his paws. "My apologies, Lady Stripes."
She laughed at that one.
"Speaking of trouble," Nick added, "where's my partner? Officer Hopps. Is she gonna be out soon?"
"Actually-"
The elevator dinged for the ground floor, and the doors slid open.
"Nick!"
Judy Hopps's face lit up as she caught sight of him. She was in street clothes, clutching a sheaf of paperwork. Looked like she'd been waiting in front of the elevators too, so…
"Hey, Carrots!" He waved. "Funny seeing you down here."
She limped up to him, standing on tip toes and shoving papers behind his head to give him a quick hug.
"I can take him from here," Judy offered, smiling at the nurse.
"Are you sure?"
"No problem," Judy insisted, not entirely convincingly. Her head barely cleared the back of the wheelchair. But the nurse surrendered it without objection.
"Feel better, officer," she said. "And, um. Thanks again."
They both watched as the vixen trotted off down a hallway to attend to other duties.
"Aw," Judy said, getting the chair underway. "She thinks you're cute. Too bad."
"Everyone thinks that, Carrots," Nick scoffed. "She can get in line."
"Wow." Judy waggled his wheelchair back and forth. "The picture of modesty and professionalism."
"Whatever. Stop that," Nick said. "I was supposed to be the one swooping in to pick you up. Heroically. Except, apparently, they let you out already, which nobody bothered to tell me."
"I think they did, you just weren't listening." The rabbit hopped on her good foot to tilt the wheelchair back and ease it over the threshold of the door. Nick closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warm summer air wash over him. This was a day no dozen throbbing injuries could ruin.
The wheelchair had stopped at the curb. His partner was saying something.
"What?" Nick said. "Sorry, I was...what?"
Just stepped around the side of the wheelchair and tugged at his paw.
"I said get up. Come on, this is our Zuber. Your address is still the same, right?"
He allowed her to help him out of the chair as a nondescript sedan pulled up. Judy opened the front passenger door and leaned in to speak to the driver.
"Judy Hobbes?"
"Uh...yep! Just a second!"
Nick had been about to climb gingerly into the back when Judy interposed herself between him and the seat.
"Carrots, what-"
"I saw the press conference," she said, beaming quietly up at the fox. "'Quick action and tremendous courage,' huh?"
Nick waved a paw dismissively. "I mean, Bogo could have been talking about anyb-"
There were times when he forgot how fast and how strong the little rabbit really was. Before he knew what was happening, she'd grabbed his gesticulating paw and pushed it aside, stepped forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. He stiffened with surprise, momentarily, before relaxing into it, reaching out to grab the car door so they wouldn't topple over backwards. Her mouth was tiny against the end of his snout-but very soft, and insistent, and very sincere.
"Uh, wow, Carrots," he said as she pulled away. "Maybe let me buy you dinner first?"
"Okay," she said brightly. "When and where?"
Someone honked-either scandalized or impatient, it was hard to tell-and Nick laughed.
"Somewhere not here. C'mon, we're blocking traffic."
Nick arrived back at the Z.P.D. two days later, with a slight limp and a dozen aches. He was in plainclothes and high spirits.
"Nicky!" called Clawhauser happily. "How ya feeling, big guy?"
"Like I fell off the top of the Palm Hotel." Nick replied, grinning widely. "Can I see the boss man?"
The big cheetah radioed up, and relayed an affirmative. Nick mock-saluted his thanks and wobbled his way over to an elevator. He keyed for the second floor, half-expecting Wolford's goons to muscle in on him again. But the door slid closed quietly, and the elevator whirred quietly upward. Nick would see them when he saw them.
The door to Bogo's office was cracked. Nick pushed his head in.
"Busy, sir?"
"Extremely."
"Great." Nick strode in anyway. His usual leap onto the chair opposite Bogo's desk became an inelegant clamber, but he attempted to maintain his poise anyway.
"Wilde," Bogo observed, once Nick had managed to situate himself. "You're supposed to be on medical leave."
"Sorry, sir."
"If I'd known you were coming, I would have put out a stool."
Nick put his paws out beseechingly. "Can't a guy come visit his best buffalo pal on his day off?"
"Maybe if you never call me that ever again," said the buffalo, shuffling his papers. "How's the leg?"
"Doctor says it'll be fine in a couple of weeks. If I can avoid fighting any more tigers."
"You'd better start refilling the coffee machine, then," Bogo advised. "Fangmeyer's on a tear."
Nick grinned. "I'll take that under advisement, sir. How's the case?"
Bogo raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "You got your partner back. And a vacation. What more do you want?"
"It's my case," Nick insisted, returning the look. "I want to know, sir."
"So the fox cares after all," the chief said dryly. "Fine. We're not charging Karnovsky."
"Why not?"
"First, we can't pin any of the big stuff on him, but he doesn't know that. Second...we did lab work on the drugs in Basu's system. Laced with low-strength Night Howler toxin."
"No kidding. Think it's Doug again?"
"Hell if I know. But maybe we can lean on Karnovsky a little, find a supplier."
Nick nodded. "What about Basu's family?"
"The cubs are in protective custody," Bogo muttered. "The mother...we have her for another twelve hours. After that, we'll have to charge her with something or let her go."
"And?"
"What do the kids want?"
Bogo sighed. "The kids want their mother back."
Nick shrugged. "Don't charge her."
"Wolford says you're too soft."
"Wolford thinks everybody's too soft," Nick said. "I take it he's given you his opinion?"
"He doesn't get to have an opinion," Bogo rumbled. "He's off the case and on desk duty, after that last little display. Until I say otherwise."
Nick nodded.
"Surprised you don't want to at least slap her with a misdemeanor, though, Wilde."
"You don't have to take my suggestion," Nick said, bristling.
"Still, though, after Hopps?"
"They lost their dad, Chief. " Nick said, much louder than he meant to. "Just...let them have their mom."
A beat. Nick realized he was standing on the chair, sank back down on his haunches.
"I'm...sorry, sir. That was out of turn."
Bogo gazed at him impassively. "Didn't know you had that kind of fire in you, fox."
"Hit a little close to home, sir."
"Don't worry about it. Go home and rest. Say hi to Hopps for me."
"Hopps doesn't live in my house, you know."
"Go away."
It was getting dark, and a light rain was beginning to patter its way down onto the Savannah Central sidewalk. Nick didn't mind. His bandages were off, at last, and the cool air against his feet was a little blissful. He shuffled the orchids in his grasp-from Otterton, because he hadn't known where else to go-to make sure they were secure in the plastic sleeve and out of the rain. This was a night for Slick Nick, not Screwup Nick.
He transferred the orchids to one paw and reached up to adjust his tie. He'd debated including it. It was a little loud under the dark blazer. But for the target of this particular hustle, trying too hard was vastly preferable to not trying enough. He pawed at the fur on his head, trying to get it to lie flat. This wasn't normally a problem.
The apartment building came into view, looming out of the streetlights. Climbing the stairs, the fox clutched the flowers closer and ignored the twinge in his paw. He gazed out into the drizzle as he leaned under the overhang and put a paw on the intercom, dialing the unit number from muscle memory. He'd been here plenty of times before.
The speaker clicked. "Hello?"
"Hey," he said. "It's Nick."
"Hi! Hey! Just a sec."
The line went dead, a buzzer sounded, and his sensitive ears could just make out the electronic lock clicking open.
He pushed inside. It was as dingy and cramped as ever. Nick did his best to keep his besuited elbows and tail from brushing the greasy walls as he made his way upstairs. If he'd been unsure as to whether he was in the right place, the muffled shouting from her neighbors next door would have put him at ease. It did frustrate some of the more amorous of his hopes for the evening, but that was all right. He came to her door, straightened his tie one more time, and knocked.
"Just a minute!"
There was pause, then a patter of feet. The doorknob rattled around a bit, and he could hear the lock being undone. He had just enough time to arrange his face into a lidded smirk before door opened, and Judy Hopps was smiling broadly up at him.
"Hi!"
She was in a cornflower blue halter dress, elegant but unassuming. Beautiful, he thought, even with one arm still wrapped in a sling. He was probably supposed to be saying something right now.
"Oh, Nick! Did you really-"
He held out the orchids to her, and she grabbed them excitedly with her good paw, chattering away.
"Aw, Nick, these are beautiful! Where'd you get 'em? They look really fresh. Was it Otterton? I have to go see him sometime..."
He chuckled at the sight of her, dressed to the nines, with her face half-stuck into a boquet sleeve. And it was at that moment, he thought, that something came down inside of him. A wall he'd put up without realizing it was starting to crumble, and all the fear and worry that he'd buried for weeks found its way to the surface.
His paws started shaking.
"...you didn't have to do this, Nick, seriously, I-Nick?"
Judy's smile turned to worry as she looked up at his face, and it occurred to him that he might be crying. She hurriedly set the orchids down on her end table and rushed forward to grasp his paw.
"Nick, are you okay?"
"Yeah," he lied. Tears were streaming uncontrollably now.
"Pellets. Do you wanna come sit down?"
He let her draw him inside, shaking quietly as she closed the door behind them and led him to her bed. It sagged as he sat down on it, bringing him down to the rabbit's eye level as she stood in front of him. His tail curled involuntarily around his ankles.
"Nick, what's going on?" She was staring right into him with those big dumb violet eyes, all softness and concern and kindness. He looked at the floor instead.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, taking her tiny paw in his big claws and talking down to it. "I didn't plan this. I was gonna be really cool tonight."
"You're the coolest mammal I know, Nick Wilde."
He managed to look her in the eye again. "I was so scared, Judy. You're the best friend I've ever had. I thought I was gonna..."
"Oh, Nick." Her own eyes were welling up, now. She rushed forward to hug him, throwing one arm around his neck and burying her face in his ruff. He put his paws around her and drew her to him gently, letting his tail encircle them both.
"I'm so glad you're okay," he croaked. All of the walls were down now, and more tears streaked down his cheek fur and onto the bunny's head. They held each other, as best they could, for several minutes.
Eventually they drew apart, by mutual unspoken agreement. Judy was smiling gamely.
"You dummy," she said. "That was weeks ago."
He laughed wetly. "That's the thing with foxes. We're never sappy at the right moments."
"No." She reached out the back of her paw to wipe a tear from his face. "This is a good moment."
She leaned forward, then, and delivered a small kiss to the tip of his nose. He stared at her dumbly for a moment.
"Whatcha thinking, fox?"
"Can't say it yet. We haven't even been on a date."
She cocked her head for a second, then got it. Blushed.
"Aw, Nick." She ran a paw over her ears, paused, and looked at him with renewed concern.
"Hey," she said. "We don't have to go out. If you need some time. I have...salads. And movies. You know, on my laptop."
He gave her a red-eyed grin. "Nice as that sounds, Carrots, I am wearing a tie. And I did promise you the best carrot souffle in the city. We're making this happen."
Her face lit up again, and she grasped his paw and pulled him to his feet.
"You did promise me that!" she said. "Wait."
The bunny scampered over to the door, plucked out one of the orchids, and bit off half the stem with her front teeth. Nick frowned.
"What are you-"
She twirled the flower appraisingly in her paw, then tucked it behind her ear.
"There," she said. "Now we can go."
She punched him, minutes later, as they made their way down the sidewalk to his car. He'd borrowed the old unmarked Crown Vicuna from the motor pool again-no sense paying for a rental. And Zuber drivers were...less than reliably tolerant of deviant couplings. He wasn't entirely sure he'd broken any Z.P.D. regulations which, to the fox's mind, was as good as doing things by the book.
"You didn't tell me it was raining!" she groused, clutching her arm around her bare shoulders.
"I didn't," he admitted, shrugging off his blazer. "That was so I could do this." He reached over to drape the jacket gently around her shoulders. She glared at him, but pulled the jacket tighter around herself.
"You're a menace," said the bunny.
"You love it."
"I hate you."
She body-checked him, then kept pressing, snuggling up under his arm as they came to a stop in front of the car.
"Carrots."
"Yeah?"
"You're standing on my tail again."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That's it! Thanks for reading! This was originally posted on AO3, so feel free to check it out there for some extra artwork and author's notes that doesn't support. Stay tuned for future stories in this continuity (both before and after, most likely).