Medicine.

Timid, green eyes had been fixed to the windows for nearly the entire trip.

It had been hours since the smog of the city had faded into the background, having given way to wild, verdant hills and vibrant blue skies that separated the city from its rural counterpart. They were on the tail end of the unincorporated buffer that only the rails of the train and mostly empty highways inhabited. And for the small, staring fox kit it had been an awe-inspiring and isolated two-hour stent of nothing but wildland, and the soft snoring of the sleeping older vixen in the aisle seat.

I w-wish… Crestfallen lips voicelessly moved in tandem with their thoughts, I wish the hills would keep on going forever…

Nothing in the city, not even the city parks his parents took him to when he was little, was anything like them. No landscape was similar, and certainly none as natural and alive or as green.

And green was, much like his father's had been, his favorite color.

But now, the scenery was slowly shifting before his eyes.

The hills he'd grown so fond of were giving way to flatter knolls and freshly upturned dirt (ready for planting). It wouldn't be long until the hills flattened out altogether, and the landscape would be tempered with farms and houses and general stores.

And that-

Please… stay here. He begged the hills, Don't leave…

-That scared the little fox.

Shy paws pressed longingly against the glass sheet separating him from the landscape. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch what was in front of him, to hold onto it so it couldn't slip by.

But as the minutes passed, his tail could only curl in disappointment. Sadly, things on the train couldn't stay simple and perfect, and real life would have to be remembered.

And for Nicholas Wilde on this particular day, that would mean staring at the 'Welcome to Bunnyburrow' sign and feeling his stomach sour and tie in knots at seeing the intimidating population counter attached to it.

The green hills, much like Zootopia, were behind Nick now, and they wouldn't be coming back.

And he was powerless to stop that.

So instead, the little fox's brain tried its best on thinking about what was going to happen in the next few minutes when the train stopped, and he and his mother would depart from the safety of the vacant train car.

His brain's conclusion was…

I- I- d-didn't think numbers c-could get so big…

…Was unfortunately fixated on the passing population indicator, and not very helpful.

A shudder rolled over the young kit, starting in his neck and quickly trembling down his body. That had been a poor direction for his mind to get stuck on, but unavoidable.

Though distant, the uniquely designed bunny-eared station already loomed over him, reminding him of just where he would soon be stepping out to and what species dominated it.

The doubtful part of him spoke up, giving the specter of his worries form,

A-and they're a-all bunnies…

The kit's breath absently fogged the train car window. His blank stare didn't notice, however. And without remembering to take in the next breath of air, the little fox closed his eyes, and let that thought soak in for a little while.

He hadn't ever met any bunnies before, and he certainly didn't know what to think of them.

What were they like?

Were they kind?

Cruel?

How would they look at him?

Would they dislike him for being a fox?...

Did he deserve to be disliked for being a fox?

These and many more questions gusted through his mind like a tempest, the storm of emotion thoroughly bolstered by the fear that rooted itself in his chest.

Not every part of Nick had completely given up hope yet, however.

For its part, optimism did its best to throw Nick a lifeline,

Wh-what about Jack Silver… That little brave part of himself whispered.

The Silver Hare Ranger.

It was Nick's full experience of lagomorphs as a whole, and at the very least it was a positive image for rabbits. And for a moment, it quieted the swelling doubts.

He had ended up taking a liking to the smaller mammal. He was brave and cunning and fought really hard against the much bigger opponents.

But more than anything, what solidified Nick's opinion was how the character had always been friendly to the Lunar Wolf that he adored. Few rangers sympathized as much as Jack Silver did.

In short, Nick liked the rabbit because he was kind to his favorite character.

But… so had a lot of the other Power Rangers.

Even-

Even the Zebra…

He let out his held breath shakily, and with it came that whirlwind of doubt again. There simply wasn't a lot of room for optimism anymore. Rose-colored glasses had been torn off when biting metal had been strapped on. And though none of the scouts had been rabbits, rabbits were-

Prey…

Like them.

The fox unconsciously rubbed his snout as he shook the recurrent memory at bay. In his head, though he didn't know why being a fox mattered, he was already sure what rabbits would think of him.

The young vulpine wiped at his eyes fervently, keeping his tears in check. Nick didn't want to cry, certainly not with the possibility of the sleeping vixen next to him waking up.

But… he also didn't want to leave the train in the next few moments. He didn't want to meet any rabbits or meet the funny named doctor or move into a new house. He didn't want any of it.

I w-want to go home.

His heart throbbed painfully at that word. He… didn't have a home anymore. Yes, they would live in a house of sorts, but… it wasn't-

Where dad is… His heart wrenched out quietly. That was a wish out of left field, and one that wouldn't come true even if they took the next train back to Zootopia.

His chest grew heavy at the thought, as if an invisible weight had set itself firmly in the center of his heart. He couldn't help but pull his knees up to his chest and hide his face in the crook between. He felt impossibly small then, so small and tiny and dark that he could simply hold his breath and disappear.

And so, that was what the little fox laid his hope in.

May-b-be if w-we don't open our eyes… m-maybe things- maybe things will-

Maybe things would go back to how they were supposed to be. Like they were in his fuzzy old memories. If he kept his eyes closed maybe he would fall asleep and wake up back in his bedroom. Maybe his father would come to wake him up for school or Saturday morning cartoons-

Maybe-

A crackle broke the silence, a strange, droning crackle that made the little fox fill his lungs with bated breath.

It was the sound of white noise that had filled his ears. The common static of the old living room television when the antennas weren't bent the right way and his early morning cartoons hadn't come in clearly just yet. It was a noise he'd remembered now for many years. And a noise that, when he was really young, he'd practically pull his dad out of bed for, so the older tod could haphazardly fix (and then coincidentally end up watching the animated reruns with him).

For Nick, it was all enough to crease the corner of his lips into a small smile.

It had been a hopeful breath, quickly taken in and filling him with a feeling of normalcy from a time too many years ago now. Crystallized moments of watching his favorite cartoons while eating his favorite cereal in his pajamas and all while leaning against the side of his-

The crackling finally fizzled, "Thank you for riding with Mammalia Express, It is our 'Express' hope that you enjoy your stay in Bunnyb-"

And then, the illusion was over. And just as quickly as the breath of fantasy had entered his nostrils, the little fox shakily exhaled.

In its place, glossy, melancholic eyes opening to the same rapidly changing world. His paws desperately went to hold at the sides of his snout as he lifted his face from his knees.

His home wasn't there, nor his happy memories, and certainly not his father. All that was left was the sounds of the train and-

"N-Nicky, a-are you alright, sweetie? Do th-they hurt today?"

And the mother he was worrying to death.

The little fox had turned to look at the vixen next to him. Her purple dress was a bit wrinkled from her impromptu slumber, but her blue eyes took no heed of that. They were piercing his own eyes right then, loving and worried.

Too worried. Always too worried, and too pained in their own way because of it. And right then Nick's tail curled in shame.

W-we can't cry in front of momma… His heart protested timidly.

Without an answer, the kit faced away from his mother's view.

There was a doubling of effort to suppress it all, to dig a hole so deep that no emotion could escape his chest. He could do so little, but he wanted to shield her from his tears if nothing else.

But hiding feelings like these was an impossible task for a kit with unbuilt walls,

Please don't look…

He could only plead internally.

Thankfully, as if even the angels could hear his cry, It remained silent as his mind repeated the begging words.

It wasn't a complete silence, of course. The weary voice continued droning gratitudes over the intercom, and the brakes could be heard through the windows of the train as they were slowly halting in front of the station. And, most distressingly, his mother very much was awake as his ears had homed in on the sound of the vixen digging through her purse.

Nick didn't understand why she was doing that, but at least it gave him time to swallow the lump in his throat, and with that painful ache easing, the young fox managed to open his eyes.

Verdant greens momentarily took notice of the barren stop; it was clear that few mammals used this service out here, at least at this time of day or during this particular season. That was surprising. And though Nick was grateful that there weren't any mammals outside, the desolate atmosphere felt even more lonesome to him, and did nothing to distract from the tension he felt stewing inside of himself.

And because of that, despite what his eyes focused on, his ears stuck firmly to the movements behind him, and when the rustling of her purse came to an end, the sourness in his stomach worsened considerably.

"Nicholas, look at me… please…"

He tensed at feeling her paw on his shoulder. There was a fear in what she asked, one that made him want to shake his head no, but her words left little room for protest. Though it was said with a plea, he knew that her tone was anything but optional.

Nick clenched his teeth as his breath quaked slightly in his exhale. Slowly, and with his paws still covering his muzzle, the little fox turned to face his mother. He didn't dare stop covering his mouth, not even when her own paws came to tug away his own.

He closed his eyes at her touch and couldn't help but tip his snout to her feet trying to keep her paws at bay. It wasn't necessarily an act of defiance, though perhaps an outsider might read into it that way, but more so an act of safety. He didn't like it when others touched his muzzle.

It was with a coo, no words, only pleading conciliatory noise that loosened his own grip and guided his paws to release. It was her oldest way of placating him; Her hums and pacifying shushes.

And with that chorus, the sound of a small container popping open, and expectedly to the younger fox, the feeling of her fingers caressing his wounded face.

His muzzle curled in discomfort as she applied the sticky ointment to the angry red welts at the base of his maw. That had been the most affected area, where the metal had bit so deeply from the too-small device that had dug into it.

Though Nick was a bit annoyed and still felt the nervousness resting in his stomach, it was at least clear now why his mother hadn't said anything else yet. She'd been focused on trying to find his medicine. She had assumed that his forming scars were discomforting him again and that was why his paws had been on his snout when she awoke.

For a moment another silence fell on the two foxes. It was not exactly comfortable, but at least Nick could feel his heart slow down during it. There was a relaxation to how she put on the medicine. She was always better at applying the balm than he was, so it didn't hurt as bad when her paws glided over the closed cuts. And although he didn't like how the balm felt, her paws relaxed him enough to be able to think when the vixen finally spoke up again.

"Do you know what medicine is for, Nicky?"

She had asked it quietly, a bit hoarse, likely from her own emotions. It was a simple question, the type that adults always used for explaining things to children. Though the question would have bothered him a few months ago when he was sure he'd known the obvious answer, but in the last few weeks, he wasn't so sure he knew anything anymore.

Still, he nodded his head ever so slightly in agreeance,

His mother gave a broken smile, she didn't know why she thought he'd speak, she'd seem to forget that inability too often,

"Medicine is supposed to make you better…" The vixen answered her own question before pausing as she delicately ran her finger over a particularly sore mark.

She frowned apologetically, as her son winced. That scar, a thick and rounding hypertrophic welt firmly situated on the right side of the base of his muzzle, would be one of the many that would likely hurt for a long time. And certainly, it wouldn't be hiding under his fur for years to come.

The matronly vixen continued, "But sometimes it doesn't always feel or taste g-good," she stifled a quiver in her voice as she continued, "and sometimes we don't like it very much."

A silence fell over the two for a second. It looked as if the vixen was trying to put her words together. Nick couldn't help but pin his ears a bit, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach, as if what she would say next might hurt worse than any of the scars he already has.

"Well, sometimes the medicine we need isn't something we can put on like a lotion… sometimes the medicine is just finding someone to talk to."

His ears pinned fully, and he looked downward at his feet… He… didn't understand. His mom was already talking to him. What did she mean by that?

Tender paws went to move under his chin, and slowly lifted his lowered head,

"I know this move doesn't feel fair, Nicky…n-none of what happened was…"

He closed his eyes at her cracking voice, he certainly didn't want to think about that.

His mother picked up on that immediately, and quickly the matronly fox shook her head at what she'd just said and bit back her emotions. The doctor had warned her very much about that. This was why they needed professional help. The last thing she wanted was to lose it in front of him or say something that would only make it worse.

She tried again, her voice ever so small and soft, "Do you remember how nasty that grape medicine was when you had the flu?"

Nick had been little then, but he very much remembered how achy his arms were and how his legs felt like spaghetti and how much he'd coughed, and certainly how scared his mom had been.

"I had to pull the covers off your head so you would take it, remember that?"

He nodded his head ever so slightly, though he kept his eyes closed. He was still nervous.

Evidently, so was the vixen, The smile she wore was one of forgotten nostalgia, a wistful look of a time she could only hope to recapture. It went unseen by the kit she adored in front of her.

"But when I finally made you take it, do you remember how much better you felt?"

Nick's muzzle crinkled a bit in thought. He remembered the chicken soup his mom brought him when he was sitting up in bed after that. They rarely got to eat meat normally, and because he felt better his mom had specially bought him some from the store, even though it was expensive.

Lightly, he squeezed her arm, it was a small gesture, but it wasn't the first time he'd used it to answer her. For Nick, it had been miserable then, but looking back now he remembered how much better he felt after the sickness passed.

The motherly vixen gave a warm look to him, "Well, that's why we're here if you can believe it."

It was a quiet statement, despite how much meaning was supposed to be contained within. It was a lot to unpack, but before the younger fox could dwell on it his mother spoke up again,

"And done." Her voice was a little closer than it was a moment ago, and before he could reopen his eyes Nick felt a small, gentle press on his forehead.

A small kiss.

"You'll be better before you know it."

And at least right then, things didn't have to make sense.

Many challenges were waiting for them on the other side of the window (and both of them knew it), and yet his tail wagged ever so slightly.

The crackling intercom sparked off once again, "...Last call. Last call to deboard for Bunnyburrow. A surcharge fee will be added to all tickets at the next stop, Podunk. Deerbrook County. ETA…"

His mother looked at him ignoring the rest of the train's broadcast. The locomotive had been stopped a little longer than she had realized.

"Now," She gave a weak smile, "Let's go."

And with few words, save for a beckoning from the vixen to hold her paw as they scooted off their seats, the two foxes stepped out into the empty station.

AN: Well, this took a while. I'll try not to do that again. But I think I figured out what was going on in my life, and should be better now. Anyways, let me know what you think of this chapter, and have a great day to anyone still reading this story.