Morning sunlight streamed into the loft, as the raccoon donned a bathrobe and went to make some coffee. He felt a little tired, sore, yet a lot better than he was yesterday. Looking at the scattered clothes between the bedroom and the balcony, he remembered why.

Professional on the streets, He thought wryly, Freak in the sheets. Just the way I like my women.

He sipped his coffee (vanilla cream with sugar, 'cause black coffee's for working) and walked to the balcony, staring out the city as it woke up. Distant traffic could be heard down below, and the sun was finally cresting the distant mountains beyond the bay. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to, no doubt about it.

His phone chimed. He checked it, arching an eyebrow. Guess who got lucky last nite? Finnick had texted him. Below were a series of pictures of him and Gazelle, after they split off in the club. The fennec fox wasn't kidding about his seductive skills (or his discrete picture-taking skills), as he and the larger celebrity had paws and hooves all over each other from the club, to her limo, to a hotel room. Each pic became more risque than the last, and the last one had Finnick taking a selfie in bed, grinning proudly as the pop star cuddled him like a favorite stuffed toy.

How bout u? His friend asked. U n Dawn hookup?

Rocket sent him a pic he took later in the night, after he and Dawn had their fun. The little ewe held onto his arm as she slept, a dreamy smile plastered on her face. U know it!

My Preda. *high-five emoji*

He smiled, sipping his drink. He heard the floor creak behind him just before small, soft arms wrapped around his chest. "Morning, stud." Dawn murmured, "You sleep well?"

"Yeah," He scoffed, "You could say that." He could feel her wool rubbing and tickling the bare skin of his back. He shivered, as he felt a light kiss on his shoulder. No one had touched him like that since... well, since the last time he was with Lylla. The thought made him feel a little uneasy, oddly enough. He was coming to like Dawn Bellweather, sure enough, but comparing the ewe to his ex made him realize that he'd never feel that way over her. Hell, he didn't know if he could feel that strongly about anyone, after she left.

Still, I'd better lay down the ground rules, He thought dourly, Before either of us get hurt.

"Hey, Dawn," Rocket started, turning around to face her, "I want to-" He was interrupted as the ewe pulled him down to her level, firmly pressing her lips to his. He rolled his eyes, but returned the kiss.

"How'd you get so darn good?" She giggled, as she took a breath. "Because you, sir, could give TED Talks on how to take care of a lady. I haven't been with a lot of guys, but you're easily the best out of all of them."

The cyborg scoffed, a little smile on his muzzle all the same. "Glad I could be of service," He chuckled, "But before we get too ahead of ourselves, I feel like we should clear things up." Dawn leaned away with concerned eyes, even as they held each other.

Rocket sighed. "Dawn, I like you. You're a great partner, and a good friend. And I don't want to wreck what we have by leading you on. I'm just..." He curled a paw into a fist, trying to find the words, "...I'm not looking for anything serious. There's a lot of personal issues I still have to work out, and I don't drag you down into that muck. I'm all for keeping things casual, but if you want to call it quits here and now, I wouldn't blame you one bit. I just... want to be honest with you, like you've been with me."

The ewe looked away, sadly. "Oh," She said, mulling things over, "Well... Thank you, for telling me how you feel. I really like you, too, and you're right. We are good partners and friends. I admit that I... might want more... but if I had to choose, I'd rather keep what we have now than risk losing it all."

Rocket sighed. "Good, good," He said, rubbing her shoulder, "That's a relief. As long as you're cool with it, it's all good."

"Speaking of which," She cooed, her hooves sliding down to his hips, "Do you wanna go again? I made some texts while you were up. I'm free until the afternoon."

Rocky chuckled. "Guess it's a good thing I'm self-employed. The boss won't mind if I clock in a little late today."

With that, he picked up the little ewe, and carried her back to bed. Dawn laughed - who said you couldn't have the best of both worlds?

"Yo Rocket, where you at?!" Finnick called, as he entered the warehouse. There was no response. His ears twitched, as he picked up the sound of music and welding coming from further inside. The living room, where his friend saved him from the polar bears so long ago, was refurbished with new furniture and decorations, but lacked the subtle touch of a room used or lived in.

He felt his guest approach from behind, but he motioned for her to stop. "Wait up," He instructed, "Let me talk to 'em first. He's been different lately. Lemme see how he's doin' first." He carefully walked through the front of the warehouse, quietly entering the cyborg's massive workspace. Groot was leaning against a wall, looking pensive and nervous as the fennec walked past. But the Floral Colossus, now a minor celebrity in Zootopia, wasn't what made him stop and stare with wide-eyed disbelief.

Before him was a starship, the size of a dozen of his minivans from front to back. At least, that's what he thought it was: at the moment, only the skeletal structure and frame of the vessel was up, but the large wings and rear engine ports made it clear that this thing was supposed to fly. It had the shine and color of titanium and adamantium alloys, reflecting the overhead lights in almost oily rainbows. Deep within what could be the cargo bay, the blinding light of a welding torch shone and sizzled. An ethereal ballad played from the overhead speakers, and Rocket's deeper, raspier voice sang along with the androgynous, melancholy singer.

I'm not in love

So don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm going through

And just because

I call you up

Don't get me wrong, don't think you've got it made

I'm not in love, no no, it's because...

"Hey yo Rocky! What're you doin', boy?" Finnick called out, approaching the frame of the ship. The welding stopped, and the cyborg flipped up his welding goggles. Spotting the hustler, he frowned.

"What're you doin' 'ere, Finn?" Rocket asked, putting aside his welder.

"You've been quiet for a week, dude." Finnick told him, sounding concerned. "You've been dodging our calls. Nobody's seen you in days, dawg."

"It's been a week?" The raccoon sounded genuinely surprised, as he checked his omni-tool. "Shit, it has."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, what he said."

Finnick glanced back and forth between them. He motioned for Rocky to translate. "Oh, I haven't been here the entire time. I've been hanging out with Dawn a lot."

"Oh, we know." Finn harrumphed. "We've been seeing all the pics and videos of Bellweather coming in and out of your place like it's a Motel 6."

Rocky smiled, as he deactivated the sound system. "Yeah, yeah," He admitted, climbing down from the rigging, "We've been having fun. She's helped a lot with..."

"With what?" Finnick prompted.

The air changed. The happy spark of a few seconds ago had been replaced with a wet rag of malaise. He grabbed a clean rag, wiping the soot and oil off of his fur. "You've been watchin' the news, lately?" He asked.

"Nah, most of that shit's fake, anyway."

"True, true," Rocket admitted, tossing the rag and tapping at his omnitool, "But this shit's real."

On the far wall, a TV screen turned on. It was playing a news report from a few days ago, the snow leopard and moose anchors commenting over copter footage from the desert district. There was an angry mob tearing into the nearby shops, the remnants of what had started off as a peaceful protest. Some were flipping cars and starting fires. Some were running in and out of shops, carrying TVs and clothes and entire bags of loot. Here and there, packs of mammals were surrounding and beating up others - sometimes small mammals swarming a large one, sometimes large ones charging through gatherings of small ones like angry kaiju. Cops and drones were pushing their way into the chaos, wailing on combatants with batons and spray, zapping them with tasers and carrying them away in massive police APCs.

"That," Rocket declared solemnly, "Is my fault."

"Dude, come on!" Finn snapped, "Get real! Zootopia's had riots before. Shit, when I was a kit, a couple Preds were shot up by the cops, and the Rainforest District had riots every night for almost a month!"

"Maybe, maybe." He sighed, turning the TV off. "But now you guys have guns. I've seen what happens when a primitive society gets guns for its first civil war. This place is about to blow, and I don't wanna be 'ere when it does. Dat's why I'm buildin' this spaceship. Soon as it's done, I'm outta here."

"...Dawg, you serious?" Finnick asked, actually sounding a little hurt. "You're just gonna leave us like that?"

"Just like that." He replied sullenly.

"But we need you, dude," Finn pleaded, "We still haven't found those terrorists. We don't-"

"I can't stay here!" Rocket snapped, tossing a wrench against a wall. "I know what's gonna happen to this place! I can't be here when shit goes down! I gotta go out there, to the stars! That's where I belong!"

The fennec stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" Rocket didn't answer. Silence filled the warehouse, the distant sounds of nature and the city blocked with newly installed insulation.

Finnick rubbed his temple, and sighed. "I was hoping we didn't have to do this." He walked over to the door, giving it a knock before opening it. Out stepped a familiar otter lady, dressed in a modest tan work dress. Rocket gave her one look, and ice ran through his veins as his stomach churned with nerves.

No, He thought ruefully, Not her. Not now.

"Hello, Mr. Raccoon." Mrs. Otterton greeted him, smiling as she took his gaze. "It's been a while."

"...Hey, Mrs. Otterton," Rocket replied, suddenly uneasy, "This isn't about Emmett, is it? He hasn't-"

"My husband's okay, Rocket." She assured him, "As okay as he can be, at least. He's been held in quarantine, while they try to figure out how to cure him. Hospital care's pretty expensive, though. If it weren't for a very generous Samaritan paying for our bills, I don't know what we'd do." Her smile became a little larger, lighting up the room. "It's always surprising how big a stranger's heart can be."

Even the cyborg couldn't resist a little smile back. "Yeah, well, maybe some mammals have a lot to make up for."

The otter merely nodded, gesturing to the nearby couch. "Can we sit down and talk for a bit? You look like you need it."

Rocket felt an angry response bubble up, but one look doused the fire within. He sighed, and joined her on the couch, which squeaked under their combined weight. How is she doing that?

"I heard you had a fight with that nice Todd at the police station." She said. "It was on the news. We couldn't hear what you three were saying, but he looked pretty hurt when he left. What were you fighting about?"

"I was... just telling him something he needed to hear." He steeled himself for more of an explanation, but the otter merely nodded.

"You know," She said, "I work as a school psychologist. It's my job to know how mammals are feeling, and understand what they're thinking. I've been watching you for awhile now, Mr. Raccoon, and I know when someone has a guilty conscience."

Rocket was about to protest, but stopped himself. He thought about the last couple months - the shootout in the hospital, the fight, the deals he made with the city and the drones and what happened as a result - and things just seemed to be going down a downward spiral. Yes, he'd been making a fortune. Yes, he'd been getting laid. Yes, he was one of the most powerful people in the whole city. And yet all of it meant less and less, as the pit in his stomach only seemed to grow by the day.

"I don't understand," He murmured, shaking his head, "I feel bad for these guys. I never feel bad for anyone. What is the deal?"

"I take it that you lived a very hard life before you came here." She said, more a statement than a question. "Sometimes, when you're no longer having to fight for your life, you have time to think and process and reevaluate your choices. You're feeling guilty for the things you've done, because now you're seeing the consequences of your actions. This is a strange feeling for you, and you respond by lashing out and running away because that's kept you alive before."

Rocket dared not look at her. He felt like a bug under a microscope. This lady was reading her like an open book. "...How-?"

"I recognize a troubled soul when I see one," She explained, smiling faintly, "But that does leave me wondering one thing." Rocket glanced over to her.

"When we first met," She said, "Back in the police station, you didn't have to help me. I was a stranger to you, yet you came in to my rescue, promising to find my husband free of charge, going all the way to the top to get things done. I've learned enough about you to know that you don't go out of your way to do charity work. So the question I have is, why? Why did you help me?"

Rocket stared at her, and she looked back at him with no sense of judgement, only curiosity and empathy. It reminded him so much of... of...

"What's your name?" He asked. "Your full name, I mean."

"Lisa. Lisa Otterton."

"Lisa..." He chuckled, rubbing his face. Of course. Of course it'd be Lisa. Why wouldn't it be? The multiverse loves messing with me, doesn't it?

"Do I remind you of someone?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"You two were close?"

"Very. Very close."

"And what would she be saying, if she knew what was going on?"

Rocket sighed, leaning back against the sofa. "She would say that I've done well for myself here," He answered, "And I shouldn't let everything fall at the first sign of trouble. And she'd also say that if I'm smart enough to get myself into this mess, I'm smart enough to get out of it."

"Sounds like a smart lady." Otterton chuckled.

Rocket smirked. "The smartest. Only being in the universe who could pull a fast one on me."

"Then you know what to do." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Rocket blinked in surprise. "Solve this case," She said, holding his gaze, "Save this city. Bring my babies their daddy back. Prove that you're everything she believed you were."

Rocket nodded, the gears in his head already starting to turn. He was back on the case, mind focused on the mission. "Groot, Finnick, get ready," He announced, getting off the couch, "I've got to make some calls... and then we're gonna pay a ram a visit..."