A/N: First story, so please be kind. Constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated!

Disclaimer: Do you actually need these? Whatever, I don't own Zootopia and blah blah blah

"AAAGGHHHHH" *thump* "MMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm..."

The tired fox flopped onto his bed, willing the mattress to open up and swallow him whole. Finnick had forced him to make double the pawpsicles that day, on account of "needin' tha extra dough for my lady, Red". Not only was hauling the two Nick-sized popsicles from Jumbeaux's exhausting, but their usual spot in Tundratown was reserved for an event, forcing the pair to drive to the other side of town. Twice the pawpsicles meant twice the work, twice the time, and twice the oh-god-that-sound-shouldn't-be-coming-from-my-back. Stumbling into his apartment, Nick hadn't even bothered to undress before collapsing, willing the sweet embrace of sleep to take him away. "Finnick's lady sure is one lucky mammal," Nick groaned, making a mental note to somehow pay the tiny terror back for the ordeal.

Suddenly, Nick found himself in the middle of Sahara Square, standing on a busy sidewalk as mammals walked around him. Off in the distance was... no, that can't be right… a giant version of Finnick? Nick shrugged and ran over to his newly-enlarged friend, wondering what in the world was going on.

"Take too many of those pills from your spam emails, pal?" Nick joked, before suddenly getting scooped up by a single paw.

"NICK..." Finnick's voice boomed, somehow deeper than usual. Nick looked up, only to see Finnick's face twist into a sick grin. "TOOT... TOOT...". Nick looked down, realizing that his normal attire had been completely replaced with an elephant costume, a perfect replica of Finnick's normal "work uniform". Nick's face reddened, thankfully hidden by his naturally-red fur, when an idea struck him, making Nick look back up at Finnick and smirk.

"Hey buddy," Nick grinned, "meoooow". Finnick was now dressed in a giant cat costume, complete with tan stripes on white fur and whiskers. Nick rolled with laughter, unable to believe the sight of his tough-as-nails partner dressed like a cute little kitty-cat.

"NICK..." Finnick's voice boomed again. "YOU HAVE A VISITOR..."

"Huh? Here? Right now?" Nick asked, confused. He sat up and looked to each side, searching for where his mystery visitor might be hiding.

"YOU HAVE A VISITOR..."

"I know, I know, I'm looking," Nick muttered, checking under Finnick's cat costume's tail, just to be extra sure.

"YOU HAVE A VISITOR," the voice came again, but somehow quieter. Nick perked his ears up, realizing the source was coming from behind him.

"You have a visitor, Slick, you gonna keep me waiting?" the voice repeated itself, sounding less and less like Finnick, morphing into something more feminine. Nick's blood ran cold, and as he turned around to face the voice the world around him ran jet-black, until he was standing in a cold, dark void, far from sunny Sahara Square.

"Hey there Slick," the voice said, shifting and changing into one that Nick recognized from long ago.

"Sunshine?" Nick asked cautiously, dreading the encounter that was soon to come. "W-What'cha doing here, Sunshine?"

"Aww, nervous, Hotshot? I'm just here for some payback, Nicky, simple as that. Just some good old-fashioned revenge," the voice purred, taking on a seductive tone.

"Payback? Could I interest you in a nice, fresh, ice-cold pawpsicle instead?" Nick squeaked. "They say revenge is best served cold, and these pawpsicles are 100% guaran-"

"Payback... for breaking my heart!" Suddenly, a face, her face, appeared within inches of Nick's muzzle. "For leading me on, for letting me go, for tearing my heart out and leaving me to die!" She roared, menacingly inching closer to Nick.

Nick turned to run, only to discover that the infinite void had been filled with his memories of her. Memories of her face, of her smile, of her body, of her laugh, of her growl, of her. Memories, suspended in time, varied in content but sharing the common feature of her.

"Answer me Nick, ANSWER! WHY? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?" The voice grew only louder, ringing within Nick's ears until they hurt and bled. Suddenly, her faces, scattered across all his memories, snapped up to look towards him, scowling and crying and anguished and sobbing, screaming at him. "WHY DID YOU USE ME?" "WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME?" "WHY DID YOU HURT ME WHY DID YOU BREAKMEWHYDIDYOUTORTUREMEWHYDIDYOUKILLMEWHY..."

"Stop... I'm sorry, please, stop... stop, Sunshine please! Sunshine, don't! Chloe!" Nick cried, horrified and sobbing. "I deserve this," he thought. "It hurts... it hurts to see, it hurts to know, it hurts to breathe... I need to get out, I need to get out!" Nick sprung up and slashed out, eyes closed and claws fully drawn, trying to dispel the nightmares in front of him. "Get out! Haven't I suffered enough? Haven't I repented? I'm sorry, OK? Get out!" With each desperate plea Nick slashed the air in front of him, again and again and again, trying with his entire being to escape his own personal hell. "GET OUT!"

Nick woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard as he sat up. His heart beat like a jackhammer, as if it was trying to escape his chest as desperately as he was just seconds ago. Nick looked around, groaning as he took in the casualties of war around him. Apparently, that last bit of his dream- no, nightmare had been acted out in real life, and his bedding, pillows, and clothes had sustained heavy damage. Nick looked down, realizing that his claws were still fully extended with bits of fluff sticking to the tips. The tired-looking fox closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and retracted his claws, feeling his heartbeat slow down to just above its normal pace. Nick turned on his bedside lamp and cracked his eyes open, hissing at the bright light and surveying the damage again.

"Figures that the mattress would split in two... I guess I'm as adept at digging holes in mattresses as I am in real life," Nick chuckled, trying to find humor in the situation at hand. "Well, I'm not gonna get any sleep in here tonight, I guess it's time to hit the fridge," Nick grumbled, limping to his kitchen and pulling out a box marked "Emergency Good Time". From the box, Nick dragged out a bottle of vodka lazily marked "Better Nightquil", with his best approximation of the brand's hedgehog mascot sketched on the label. Flicking the bottle open, Nick dragged himself to his couch before toasting an imaginary crowd. "Here's to the good times," Nick slurred, lifting the bottle to his mouth.

The next morning, Nick woke up from a slap to the face, courtesy of a now normally-sized fennec fox. Smoothing out his outfit and trudging out the door to Jumbeaux's while nursing a hefty hangover, Nick began the day blissfully unaware of the bunny-shaped, cavity-causing, amethyst-eyed ball of fluff about to enter his life.