Pain and confusion. An animal, an organism, struggling in pain and drugged stupor.
Then it clarified into Nick Wilde. Where was he? Why was he there? What had happened? It was a hospital room. And he was in an oversize bed, anchored with innumerable tubes and wires. And he hurt. Hurt badly. All over. Correction. He felt awful all over, but the real pain was in his lower right side.
That's right. He had been shot. It was at the bakery. And the shooter. And how he came to be shot.
Part of him wanted to cry. That he would have considered what he tried to do. And that he had failed.
Suicide was something he otherwise would have never entertained. But in that moment, to save civilians from a drug-crazed shooter, and end his hollow life, it seemed the thing to do.
But here he was. Still alive. He wondered what may have happened. His memory was just a scramble of fragments. Mammals being shot, his own helplessness. Then confronting the shooter, A Puma, wired on Juice? Did he really do that? He remembered a hammer blow to his body, but beyond that?
A Nurse came in the room, seemed happy to see him awake.
Nick had to ask. "So how bad is it? Will I ever play the piano again?" He was surprised at how weak he sounded. Sure, he felt awful, but he could usually muster more than such a weak wheezing croak. At least his wits were up to speed.
She laughed. "Nothing like that. But you do have a nasty hole in you. Hit your liver, and kind of chewed you up in general. But nothing that won't heal in time."
"Oh poot. And here I was, thinking I was in heaven, with such an angelic vision before me." Or maybe he just needed to talk more, as his voice seemed to recover a bit.
The nurse, a rather unremarkable little Wombat, laughed all the harder. "I was warned you were a card, Mr. Wilde. A good sign after all you've been through."
"Yeah, that's me." Said less jovially. Nick suddenly had a future, with repercussions, and didn't have a clue what to do next.
The nurse showed him the bed controls and the call button. And the pain medication control. "You shouldn't need to worry about becoming an addict. It is a better tailored synthetic opioid with the pain managing without some of the side effects."
Nick tried the medication control, and was pleasantly surprised that he could feel the effect fairly quickly. He really did hurt. After the nurse left, he ran it up further. He was in no condition to lie there and fret about things, so sought drug-driven oblivion and was not disappointed.
He didn't really know how much time had passed, between proper sleep, the damage and pain was exhausting, and doped unconsciousness until the new Chief, Kamatti came to visit. Unlike the micro-managing Bogo, she spent her time administering to the whole of the ZPD, so Nick had rarely seen her and didn't really know her.
The matronly Lioness was unreadable as she sat down besides his bed. "So. Almost got away with it."
"Uhm?"
She scowled. "Saw you body cam and the security footage. You're not the first to try suicide by line-of-duty."
Nick sighed. "And failed. But what happened? Did it help with the situation?"
"You don't know?" The Lioness was sadly surprised. "The shooter put that into you while he was still in cover." Indicating his aching and heavily bandaged middle. "Then, when you didn't go down, he got angry and rose up for a better shot. SWAT got him a second before he would have finished you."
"Yay for them." Nick grumbled.
"Wish you wouldn't talk like that."
"I wouldn't be here, costing the city and likely going to cost the city more in the weeks, months, maybe years to come." Came out rather bitterly.
"I suspect the city would consider the expense more than worth it. You are a hero once again."
Nick gave his superior a hard, direct look. "Tell that to the families of those who got shot before I acted."
At that, the Lioness flinched.
"Uhuh. And they have every right to be upset. I should have done more sooner."
"Uhmph! I've watched the whole thing a dozen times already, and can't see where you could have done any better. You would have only gotten shot earlier without drawing him out to be stopped. He had more than enough ammo on him to kill everyone in the place and every indication that was his plan."
"Yeah, what was all that about anyway? Just some spree killer?"
"No. It started out as a domestic. He got upset over something with his girlfriend." Chief Kamatti rubbed her muzzle. "He got the gun from the same fools who had been dealing Juice. He Juiced up there, shot them, then went and shot the girlfriend and her roommate. The shop was where she worked."
Nick shook his head. The one terrible fallout of the otherwise long gone Bellwether case, Juice and other organic or synthetic derivatives of the night howler serum. "So what now?"
"Well, the inquest won't need your testimony, plenty of cameras. There's a push to get to it right away, and you won't be in any shape to attend."
"And make sure I don't say something?"
"For your sake." She gave him a peeved look. "And it is more for the SWAT sniper's shooting hearing anyway."
"Yeah." Nick didn't envy the mammal that had to pull the trigger on anyone, regardless of circumstance, and hoped he could take solace in that he had stopped a monster.
"I suppose you heard that this time I won't be able to go back to duty. Too much damage this time."
"Not that I'd allow you back. You were marginal already, and attempted suicide doesn't help your profile."
"Marginal?" Nick faux pouted. "I'll have you know that I was entirely adequate, thank you."
"Adequate?" Kamatti scowled. "Not for Officer Wilde. Worse, you've been testing in the lowest acceptable percentile for years now. Not to mention your general performance and procedures." She then gave him a more knowing look. "With one exception."
Nick was truly puzzled by that.
"We get feedback from the public you know. And would you be surprised to learn that you consistently get some of the best reports for public interaction in all of the ZPD?"
Nick scowled at that. "If that's true, then you've got a bigger problem than me. I've only done my job."
Chief Kamatti huffed. "That's not what a rather thick file on you says. And it is a lot more than your stock, its what Judy would want me to do."
Nick snarled at that. "Don't ...!" And he turned away angrily.
"Officer Wilde. When you were not indulging in your self-deprecating pity party, you were contributing more to make the world a better place than you ever realized." The Chief scolded in her best vexed mother tone. "Even Captain Post forwarded an appreciation just the other day."
"It was nothing." And seeing her about to object, he shouted, "It! Was! Nothing!" And immediately flinched in pain with the exertion.
"From what I'd been told by Bogo and others, that's been your standard deflection even before." She looked at him in sympathy. "You'd play the glory hound clown over the big bust, but when it was some little thing that showed some heart." A more firm stare. "You'd insist you were doing it only at Hopps' insistence, or later, in her memory."
Nick gave her a look of naked hate, but said nothing.
"As I figure it, all your life you've played roles. Savvy hustler, street-wise cop, cynical fox. And none of them dared showed any tenderness, anything that showed emotional vulnerability."
The Chief's tone turned more tender. "But I bet Hopps saw the real you. And you'd slip on occasion. How you interact with kits, and all those little kind and conscientious things you do that you now deny."
Seeing that Nick was in no mood to talk, she got ready to leave. "Wilde, you haven't always been a good officer, but you've always been a good mammal, much better than you ever give yourself credit."
Nick lay in quiet rage for some time, tears streaming at the same time. He then toggled his pain management delivery, knowing that he could max it and knock himself out, at least for the moment.
Other well-wishers attempted to visit, but he demanded that he be left alone. Considering his still fragile state that was not entirely a bad idea. Moreover, he was quick to become agitated and verbally abusive, threatening his condition and those relationships with erstwhile friends.
But even that got boring, and he settled into the idle long wait that predators were apt to do. And keeping his pain maintenance cranked up made zoning out all the easier.
Another day and another Doctor entered the room. A Rabbit. No, it was Jeremy, Judy's younger brother. Nick cringed, as he had largely avoided the rest of the Hopps family, especially after the first year or so. Too many painful memories. He was a Doctor now, but shouldn't he be back in the 'Burrow?
"Doctor Hopps?"
'Hey Nick. While I do have privileges here, I'm only semi-official. Got a special case." His look implied he meant Nick.
"Oh dear. I hope it's not about what happened." Nick wasn't going to get angry, but instead he felt a rising dread. It seemed that the sight of any rabbit or hare would remind him too much of all that had come before, and it could still hurt.
"Less about that, but if you want or need to talk about that... No, it's more about what are you going to do next?"
"Well, I had never really made any retirement plans, never thought I'd last that long, even without any impulsive moves."
"The ZPD isn't that hazardous."
"I never felt any kind of lucky since... Or maybe I subconsciously knew I might go that way."
"Yeah."
"So, are we going to dance around what you have in mind, what's the farm news, how are the folks, or can we get to it?"
"Okay. We want you to come home with us."
Nick recoiled in shock, and then was stock still, mouth agape.
"Nick, while we understand why you've avoided us for so long, we still regard you as family and morn that you have kept yourself in isolation."
Nick wasn't going to get angry. Despite everything, those silly rabbits were still as close to family as he had left. Finally, "You Bunnies, so emotional."
"Yeah. But I am serious."
"And what would you have me do? Be the resident fluff for the kits?"
"As a matter of fact..."
"What? Are you crazy?" Nick's anger flared.
"Nick, are you that traumatized? Does it really hurt that much?" Jeremy gave him a critical look.
Nick looked away, fuming. After a moment, "I don't want to face them." Then, after a long moment's consideration and more plaintively, "I guess, it's more out of guilt anymore." A sigh. "Having avoided them early out of pain, now it's all those years of neglect."
"Don't let Mom hear anything like that. She'd give such an ear pull and scolding for that kind of silliness."
Nick cracked a wane smile at that. "And where is the Hopps Matriarch? I was dreading that she might show up."
"Old enough now to take my advice about travel. She and Dad are getting on and are Finally easing off from all the warren's business." Seeing Nick's concern at that news, he explained. "They're not all that enfeebled actually. But I was the one who got the call from your Chief, and she filled me in on a few things. So thought it better that they don't try to rush over."
"Thanks for that, especially right after. Still a bit disappointed with the outcome at that moment."
"So I heard." Jeremy poked at Nick's E-chart. "Looks like you'll be here for a while still. Then a lot of physical therapy, the shot messed up your musculature pretty good. You'll be in a back brace for a while." He gave Nick a smile. "But that can be done as an out-patient anywhere, and Tri-Burrows General has a Doctor who already has your history."
"That assumes I go along with your mad plan."
"Got any better offers? Besides being the Great Fluff again, you'll have a warren full of Bunnies eager to take care of your recovery. While there have been a few other preds come through in the years since, you are still the first and favorite."
Nick made a dismissive exhale at that.
"However, along with your basic recovery needed to get you up and out of that bed, we'll need to wean you off your pain meds."
"They're not addictive."
"Not physically. But you've been maxing your doses. Keeping yourself knocked out, I'd guess?"
Nick only grumbled.
"Uhuh. Habitual use can be just as bad. I can understand boredom, or avoiding hard subjects. But like I said, we want you back, and I'd hope that would give you something to think about in a positive way."
Seeing Nick's non-verbal non-answer, Jeremy continued. "Or I can arrange a portable fluffle to menace you here."
Nick had to crack a smile at that, then his face again pinched back into a sad frown.
"Or you can indulge in your self-inflicted misery." Jeremy shrugged and made ready to leave.
"Oh. And if you really want to off yourself anytime soon, here." And Jeremy tossed a small bottle over. "Acetaminophen. With your generally delicate condition, especially with the damaged liver, wouldn't take much of an overdose to finish the job. Not super quick, but if you do it here, they can provides some level of palliative care before you kick it."
"Cheese! You have some bedside manner, Doctor Hopps." And Nick offered a genuine smile.
Jeremy scoffed, "Foxes, so emotional!" And was gone.
Nick shook his head as he considered the bottle for a moment, and then tossed it into a wastebasket. "Three points, and the crowd goes wild for Wilde."
He laid back and considered his new options with just a hint of a smile.