Isaac Mohegan Conall

"I'm fine."

A cool smile plays across Nick Wilde's face. He's been like this for our entire session: calm, collected, at peace with himself, at least on the surface. You could almost believe he was all right. Indeed, if this'd been our first session together I would've said his time in this office could've been better spent elsewhere, yet I know for a fact that there are many layers to Nicholas Wilde, that one must peel them back one by one to get to the truth.

"Have you been sleeping well?" I ask.

It's such a simple question... so innocuous for most mammals. Yet Nick's ear twitches involuntarily, and I can see the strain around his eyes. He knows he's given himself away.

"Nick?"

"I've been... having dreams. Not bad ones really, just... dreams about my dad," he takes a deep breath. "They're kinda nice actually. I'd be laying my head in his lap on a bench, it's a hot summer's day. We're under a tree, and the light flooding between the leaves just speckles across my vision. He puts his paw on my head and..."

Nick swallows, looking down at the floor.

"And it makes me feel like everything's gonna be all right."

"It sounds very peaceful," I nod. "And yet you find them disturbing?"

"When I wake up, yeah," Nick says in a low murmur. "It's a bitch, isn't it? Your subconscious gives you everything you ever wanted, and the alarm clock just takes it away. I just wake up to this gray, dreary morning and it feels like I've lost him for the second time. I'll never see dad again... not the one I used to know."

Nick sighs. "He was just so... nurturing. Positive. He fought so hard to be the best fox he could be! He tried to do everything right! But it just... it's not fair. I'd thought I'd come to terms with it, but..."

Nick trails off, and reaches for his cup. He takes a sip of tea and stares into the mug, contemplating.

"What do you think triggered this relapse, Nick?"

For a moment a twinge of fear crosses his face, but he hides it quickly.

"I wouldn't call it a relapse, Doc. It's just..." his mouth curves into a placating smile again. "I'm fine. Really."

My office proper has a small bar nook and sink, where I can bring the used teacups and saucers for washing. I am quite tidy by nature, so such little conveniences are essential for indulging my habits. Yet the spare office Chief Bogo had been able to loan me has no such amenities. I had accepted it without complaint, knowing the minor issues I would have to endure. I will have to bring the mugs back to the cafeteria two floors down to get them cleaned.

For the moment however I merely arrange the cups and the tin of biscuits at the corner of my desk, and leaning back in my chair I mull over the session. I had smelled nothing on Nick: no strong emotions whatsoever. There was only the earthy musk of fox, and even that had been a little off.

I understood his charade of course. With the scent mask pills he'd been taking he knows that he wouldn't be advertising his feelings as he normally would. Appearing as if he were completely untroubled was simply essential for keeping his attitude consistent with his lack of pheromones.

Yet I hadn't excelled in my career as a therapist on my nose alone. Wilde was good at muting most of the minute ticks and stutters of a mammal who was lying, and indeed a less astute mammal would likely have fallen for it. I would have declared him completely well-adjusted and sent him on his way, with the suggestion that his time in my office would've been better spent elsewhere. As things stand now, the only thing he had gained from this session was the ability to go back to Judy and tell her that I'd given him the all-clear.

Well, at least Agent Elkredge won't be able to blackmail me for further notes on this session. I simply hadn't bothered to take any.

I do not take it personally that Nick had to resort to lying, even with the relationship we've so carefully built these past few months. Nick Wilde trusts me to protect doctor-patient confidentiality. Yet there is a difference between confidentiality and secrecy. The former is protected by the ethics of my profession. The latter is not.

I detest secrets. They tend to breed like flies in carrion, and they create a hideous mess in the end.

Folding my paws in my lap I begin to meditate on the broader issue I'm facing. When Agent Savage so rudely interrupted my evaluation of Officer Kaplan he had quite the interesting reaction when I probed him. By the momentary shock on his face and the prickly scent he gave off it'd been clear that he hadn't realized I had interrupted Elkredge's infiltration of my office for my notes on Wilde, much less the fact that I had willingly given them to his crony.

This of course meant that Elkredge was keeping my own personal secret to himself. Which is good. Yet I cannot help but find the whole affair distasteful.

Secrets upon secrets... they make life so complicated, don't they?

I'm not sure who is more responsible for the conundrum I've been placed in. Elkredge surely is the one who ferreted out my true nature and is hanging that Sword of Damocles over my head. Yet Savage is the one who had given the order to infiltrate my office in the first place.

Well, someone is sure to die once all of this is over. If things work out with how I'm managing affairs on my end, hopefully it will be the right ones who suffer that fate.

Dangerous times are in store for Nick Wilde. Perhaps I should warn him. He is, after all, my patient.

But no. Events must play out as they will. I won't be steering the course, but surely I can give it a little nudge in the right direction.

.

.

Judy Hopps

"Nite, Benjy..." I say, waving out the window as I drop him off at his building. Benjy glances over his shoulder at me and Nick, raising his paw momentarily before dropping it to his side again. He's been skittish this whole past week, and I can't blame him. Dr. Conall really should've put him on leave after what'd happened to poor Danny. Or really, he should've known his own limits and asked for some time off himself. But no, it's that stupid pride of his isn't it?

Males, I huff. Do they all have to act so tough and stoic like that? Like the world would collapse if they showed just a hint of vulnerability?

Benjy had been skittish the whole time we've been out on patrol. Normally he prefers to drive, but today he'd insisted I take the wheel, leaving Nick sandwiched between the both of us. Not that Nick minded of course, but Benjy seemed more antsy than usual, tapping his claws on the armrest or shifting his foot. With these ears I hear everything, and the rhythmic drumming had gotten pretty annoying after an hour or so.

Nick's been growing more distant too. I've been wanting to get closer to him, but when we turn in the squad car I'm almost afraid he's going to leave me behind and wander off to the bus stop on his own. As usual though he follows me to the office to turn in the key.

He doesn't say a word. He doesn't even crack a smile. It's like he's sticking to my side out of a sense of obligation more than anything.

So before we head to the bus stop, before we can split up and take different routes to get home, I take his paw. Nick looks down at me, but he doesn't say a word when I lead him to the stairwell.

The night air is a bit nippy up on the roof, but no one's gonna hear or see us. It's definitely not the tallest building in the area either... in the distance the skyscrapers tower over us, casting their aurora-like glow against the night sky. I used to think it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen when I first came to the city, and I still do, but after a year in Zootopia it's kinda faded into the background. Nowadays I really have to look and let myself bask in the sight before I can really see how beautiful it is again.

Nick doesn't seem surprised when I take his paw in mine. He doesn't even seem nervous the way guys do when a girl wants to have a serious talk with them. His expression's just... flat. Neutral.

And that scares me.

"Nick...? I know you're not okay," I say with a heavy breath, "And I know you don't like to talk about these things and I'm trying to, y'know, respect your privacy and whatnot. But I wanna help. I'm here for you... I just need to know what's going on."

His muzzle breaks into a smile then, but it'd been so long since I've seen him smile today that it seems forced. He places a paw on my head and meets my eyes.

"Aww, Carrots... I'm gonna be fine, you know. Really."

"You can't pretend it doesn't get to you, this whole fox mob family thing."

When Jack gave the briefing earlier in the week it shouldn't have come as a complete shock. We all knew the ZIA hadn't been completely forthright after all. He'd stood up on the podium, apologized for keeping us all in the dark, and given us a concise summary about the Vulpes Sanguinis... one that was tightly edited for low-level security clearance of course.

With Agent Skye's death none of us could give him a hard time for being so secretive. Especially with those dark rings around his eyes and the black shirt he was still wearing. The poor guy clearly hadn't slept well.

But it was when he showed us slides from a raid on an old compound, lectured about incident reports on their victims and activities, that it really hit close to home.

I could feel the eyes of all the other officers in the room then, staring at the both of us. Not just the ZPD's first fox and bunny officers, but the first fox-bunny partnership most had ever seen. Our relationship was a poorly-kept secret too, and while it'd just been a few casual glances in our direction I could hear the questions rolling through their heads. I'm glad I sat on the front row then... no one behind me could see my ears going bright red.

"Like I said, Carrots..." he sighs, "I'll be fine."

"Nick, are you worried that everyone else looks differently at you now?" He tries to slip his paw away, but I just hold him tighter. "Are you worried about what they think you do with me?"

"No, that's not..." his muzzle wrinkles in frustration.

"Please, Nick..."

"You don't understand. You can't understand!" he snaps.

For a moment I pull back in shock. I hadn't expected his mood to escalate so suddenly, even with how prickly he could get about the subject of our species. All these months we've been together I've done my best to understand him, to be sensitive and patient. And it'd worked too. But something's happening beneath the surface now, and he's withdrawing into himself again.

The last time that happened he'd thought he had a son in Tommy Daywood. Could he be hiding something from me now? It's a scary and hurtful thought... I don't want to believe it. I want to believe that he trusts me.

"Nick..." I step forward to hug him, but he takes a step back, like he's retreating from me. "Nick, I can't pretend to know what it's like to be you..."

"You're damn right."

He says it so sharply that it feels like a knife cut. His paw slips from mine, and for a while I can only stare at him as his eyes drop to look at the ground.

"So..." I swallow. "So we're back to this then? Sly fox, dumb bunny?"

"That's- that's not..." I can see the regret in him already: this tense, dark buzz of self-loathing around him. Nick sighs, covering his face with one paw. "I'm a fox, Judy. I wish I could change that, but I can't."

My heart skips a beat. "Whoever said... no one wants you to change! I don't want you to change!"

"But this isn't me!" he says, gripping the front of his uniform. His eyes are wide and feral. I know Nick would never hurt me, but with the way he's baring his fangs and snarling I can't deny that I'm a little scared. "This... this isn't... I wish it could be! GOD, but I thought I could be happy like this, but..."

He breaks off then, and he looks away, his eyes shut tight. "I'm starting to realize this can't last. Not this," he flicks his badge, "and not you and me."

I stare at him, jaw dropping. I can barely understand what's happening right now. How did it come to this? I'd just been worried that he'd been a little depressed this whole time, and maybe he needs to talk to Dr. Conall for a mental tune-up. And now all of a sudden he's thinking we should break up?

"Nick... don't you think you're overreacting?" I say in a low murmur. "No one in the precinct thinks you're anything but a good cop. After all the cases we've cracked together, all the crimes you've stopped thanks to your knowledge of the city... I mean, you even won over Chief Bogo!"

Nick's back presses against the wall beside the stairwell door, and he gazes up at the sky as he slumps to the ground.

I remember reading about this... about predators who've suffered discrimination their whole lives. Sometimes they can get triggered by something that leads to PTSD-like symptoms. Dr. Conall would know this sorta thing way better than me... it's his specialization after all. But even without a degree in psychology it seems kinda obvious what's wrong with him.

"Nick... it'll be okay, I promise..."

He just stares up at the stars, and a shiver runs through him. It's scary when a larger mammal trembles like that... if something can scare a big predator it feels like it'd be something really worrisome for a bunny.

"I'm not giving up on you," I say, scooting in between his legs so I can lay against his chest. It's cold up here on the roof of the ZPD, but Nick wraps his big fluffy tail around me the way he always does. "I'm never gonna give up on you. You just need to believe in yourself a little more."

"I wish it were that easy, Carrots..." he says quietly.

For a moment I can only stare at him. My big, handsome fox... so strong, and so fragile too. If words can't comfort him...

I begin with slow, soft kisses along his muzzle, from the side of his cheek to the tip of his pointed nose. He doesn't respond at first, but soon the tension begins to melt from him and he kisses me back. I feel his pointed fangs brushing my mouth, and a hot shiver runs up my spine and tingles along my ears.

Maybe it's a vain hope, that I might just begin connect with him on a deeper level this way, but at least it's something.

He tenses when I reach down and undo his belt, and those big green eyes open wide as if to ask "Are we really doing this? Now? Here?" But the question's brushed aside in his mind the moment I slip my paw between his legs and begin to knead. His eyelids flutter, and his mouth opens in a soft moan.

"C-Carrots..." he whimpers. "You... you really don't have to..."

"It's okay, Nick... I want to..." I murmur, unbuttoning his shirt with my other paw. I kiss a trail down his body, fingers weaving through his creamy chestfur. Soft strokes and rubs coax him from his sheath, and I scoot down further and further...

He doesn't smell as musky as usual. Must be the cold night air. But he tastes just about the same as I lick.

"Carrots..." Nick moans, and the tension drains from him as a whole new shiver runs through his body.

Say my name... I try to telegraph to Nick, even as I continue to please him. Please, just say my name...

"Judy..." he finally whispers.

The night suddenly seems much warmer.

.

.

Jack Savage

The burnt smell of dark coffee tickles my nose.

I'm in the ZIA break room, helping myself to a hazelnut roast with almond milk and two sugars. The past few days have been a fog, and I've left most of the work guiding the task force to Elkredge. I know I should be there. Elkredge is great when planning raids or anticipating enemy movements, but the subtle and tangled mesh of intrigues that the Frisks can weave are beyond him.

Not that I've been fantastic at it, of course. Plan two steps ahead then take a third... Rufinius' infamous motto. Though sometimes I think it should've been "blow it all to shit and plan around which pieces your enemies will be picking up" should be in there too.

Skye had just been caught in the blast.

My cellphone buzzes, and I take a quick look at the text.

We're ready.

Taking a sip of my coffee I make my way back to Skye's room. Agents and clerks alike give polite nods at my passing. The rumor mill in an intelligence organization turns with astonishing celerity, and despite the medical staff's best efforts to maintain the confidentiality of their patients word does leak out. I can't be bothered by that though... I need to focus, package all my feelings into a little ball and tie them off with a bow before chucking the whole thing into the void.

I need to be numb. Cold. Focused.

There's always something about doctors that makes me want to apologize for keeping them waiting, even if it's only been two minutes. Their time just seems so important, y'know? But Dr. Kyler just gives me a patient smile when I enter, paws folded in front of herself.

"All right, Agent Savage. Let's go over this again very quickly. We're about to take Skye off of the sedatives. If she's recovered like we hoped, she should come around within minutes. But it wouldn't be too unusual if she doesn't wake up within an hour or two. If it's a few days, however..."

I nod impatiently. The longer she's in a coma, the smaller her chances are of ever waking up at all.

"Well..." Kyler continues. "When she does wake she will be very disoriented, even frightened. The breathing tube, the catheter, the IV drips... all of it is very uncomfortable and terrifying to wake up to. That's why you're here. We need you to keep her calm."

"She'll be fine," I say, my voice hard as steel. They don't know Skye... how tough she can be, how unruffled even in the middle of a firefight.

"All right then, lets begin," Kyler says, nodding to the nurse.

The nurse begins dialing down the medication on the IV drip.

I climb onto the bed, placing my paw on Skye's. She's so still, so quiet. In her time here she's lost so much weight too, and she seems so small and fragile right now. I can feel the tendons in her paw, faint pulse running through her flesh. Leaning in I try to gauge the slightest shift in her breathing patterns, listen to her heartbeat and pray that it quickens.

But the minutes tick by and nothing changes.

"Come back to me, baby..." I whisper, touching her face. "Come on, Skye. I know you can hear me..."

But there's only the drip of saline, the beep of the monitors, the hiss of the ventilator as it pumps oxygen in her lungs. Beside me Kyler is chatting quietly with the nurse as I kneel beside my fox. God, I wish they would shut up.

I blink. Did her fingers just twitch?

"Skye?" I say, giving her a little shake. "Skye please... you can wake up now. You're in the infirmary at the ZIA..."

And then her eyelids flutter. Her paw moves. Her head rolls to the side just a hair, and she begins to blink.

"That's it..." I whisper, my voice beginning to crack. "That's it, baby... you're safe, all right?"

Despite how I'd tried to strengthen myself for this moment I can feel the tears beginning to well up. There'd been so many ways this could've all gone wrong. Locked-in syndrome, or a persistent vegetative state...

Dr. Kyler stops talking to the nurse, and slowly approaches Skye on the other side of the bed.

For the next half hour or so we talk to her, try to help Skye get her bearings. She'd squirmed for a bit from the breathing tube down her throat, and her paw had trembled as she reached down to touch her legs. A T-10 fracture along her spinal cord, the doctors had said. I'd known for the past week, but having to explain it to her... that was harder than almost anything else I'd endured ever since I first got the call about what'd happened.

With Skye unable to speak we have to communicate through a tablet, with her scrawling her answers on the touchscreen. It takes a bit of practice at first... after a week of lying in a coma her paw had trembled when she first tried to write, but with just a bit of practice she got the hang of it.

"What is your name?" Dr. Kyler asks as he begins the neurological evaluation.

Skye, she writes in an almost childlike scribble.

"Very good," Kyler says with a smile. "Now can you tell me what year it is?"

2017, she writes, a touch more smoothly this time.

"Excellent. Now, who is the current Mayor of Zootopia?"

Lionfart. Despite the discomfort she's in Skye turns her head to me, her tired eyes blinking. I can almost see the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile around that breathing tube. I chuckle, and Dr. Kyler laughs softly in turn.

"All right, I suppose we can take that one," Kyler smirks.

"Doctor," I interrupt, "do you mind if I ask her a question?"

Kyler looks at me hesitantly. "Well, her mind appears to be intact, but I can't promise her answers will be completely lucid."

"It's important."

Kyler winces, mulls it over a bit, but accedes with a nod.

"Skye," I say, turning to her. "Skye you need to tell me... who did this to you?"

She stares at me. Her eyes are heavy with fatigue, and her nose twitches at the question. Does she even remember what happened? Does she remember falling, being thrown from the balcony? Can she even bring to mind the face of the mammal who, the forensic analysis indicated, broke her wrist and beat her with a blunt instrument?

"Please, Skye... who did this to you?"

Her paw trembles as it reaches for the pad, and she begins to scrawl her response. The strokes blur into each other, crossing at angles that are slightly off. But as the letters form on that pearl white canvas the answer becomes clear before she even finishes.

Nick Wilde.