Chapter Seventeen

So It Goes

Rain fell on the roofs of the just and the unjust, the saints and the sinners, those who once knew peace and those who know peace no longer. The great black clouds, which once hung so heavily above the city, had finally befell and shrouded all light from the sun with their vastness and their blacktitude. Now, the world was but shadow, encased in the early darkness of a long cold night, enwrapped in the gloom of dusk, though it was barely past two o'clock.

So it goes in life — all memmle have their exits and their entrances, and one mammle in his time plays many parts — and when it is one's time to leave it, who's right is it to judge? As one thing goes, so another thing comes. History likes circles. In addition, the end of one tragedy is merely a marker to signal the start of another, the ceasing of one storm but a moment of calm before another breaks upon the world, to turn all to ruin once more.

Fate is not without a sense of justice, however, and for all trespasses it enacts, so it shall make good that which it has done. No storm — no matter how long, no matter how bitter, no matter how endless it may appear — must, sooner or later come to a close, and so justice be done in time with respite and with a blessing of good fortune — so shall Fate make amends for its sins.

The storm that hung above Zootopia was no different. It started to show signs of waning, as the winds of chance were high and gusting, and the clouds which had blackened the sky started to part and clear. But this storm... was not, over, yet.

...

Upon a blue sofa, in a shabby apartment in the bad side of the wrong side of Zootopia, in the seventh room of the ground floor, in the twenty-second block of flats on Richter Street: A small paw reached deftly out from a crumpled pile of something once resembling Judy Hopps — which lay in a disheartened heap upon the coarse padding of the torn and burnt sofa.

The paw clutched weakly at the corner of a dull blue cushion — it was moldy, damp, probably teaming with spores best not breathed in — and yet, for the rabbit who clutched onto it, all it was a means to stifle the bitter whimpers that tremulated up from the very depths of her lost spirit, something to catch and wipe away the tears, which slowly ebbed down the — once soft and silken, now roughed and matted — fur on her cheek and more so something to cling to, hold to, for lack of anyone or anything else left to cling to.

She had a fox she could hold onto once — she knew, she had a clear memory of him in the shredded wreckage of a mind she now possessed — red, kind, gentle. Charming and passionate, clever and cheeky, strong and handsome, tender, thoughtful, brave, caring, romantic and in every way — loving.

But, that was all gone now, all lost, and the rabbit was paralyzed by a comatose of emotion, her mind and body unable to function from the prospect that she had lost him, that she had lost him and would never get him back. Judy — no longer aware if this was her own home or the home of somebody else — could do nothing but clutch to her pillow, and the simple memory of the fox she loved, grinding herself deeper into the black places of her mind in par the knowledge that it was all lost... and it was all her fault.

When Nick had left her — banishing himself from her life — she had ambled back to the inner confines of room seven, as bitter a reminder to what had just passed between them, despite the failing hope for her wanting to not have, and had started, again to search the premises.

First, she went back to the kitchen — but the memories in there were painful beyond the ability to linger within there — and she had slunk back into the living room. She opened the airing cupboard, gazed for quite a time at the many boxes of junk within, and closed it with a sigh. She had no enthusiasm for rooting through boxes for clues... come to think of it, she didn't have enthusiasm for anything anymore.

So... she shuffled her way back into the living room and plopped herself down upon the firm sofa against the far wall. She sat there, motionless, as her mind started playing it all back to her in a cruel montage, a tragedy, of all that had passed since entering that room.

As the memory of how venomously she had shouted came back, tears started to well in her eyes. As she remembered storming away from him and into the living room, they started trickling freely down her face. It was with the memory of the harsh slap she had put so heartlessly across his face, thus those silent tears had turned to sobs... and it was the memory of Nick taking those last steps away from her, her last words to him 'I love you', and how slight and subtle the click had been after the door had shut behind him... which finally made the truth of the matter sink in — that she might never see the fox again — and she had collapsed into the fetal position, curling up within herself and crying in unrest.

It was all gone to damnation — and so she lay there, weeping, comatose, upon the sofa of a murdered fennec fox, unaware of the passing of time, where she was and, to some extent, who she was.

"Nick..." was the only word the rabbit was able to huff, weekly, between tears as her clutch on the cushion deepened and her brain continued to shrivel in on itself, "please, come back."

...

"Hopps, this is Bogo: Come in." Judy's crying ceased as the sound of Bogo's voice startled her from her coma.

Was that actually real? Or was that just—

"Repeat, this is Bogo. Come in, Hopps." She sat up, pulling the two-way-radio out of its place from her utility belt and adjusted it to her mouth. She did not press to respond however, taking in several deep and long breaths, as she forced herself to recover from the trauma she was suffering inside. Bogo's call could not have come at a better time.

Maybe if I ignore him and wait he'll just—

"Hopps? Hopps! Hopps, do you read me?" Who was she kidding — Bogo never gave up on calling an officer — he would keep calling until he became angry, then he would start shouting, then he would grow concerned and the shouting would get louder, then he'd report her and Wilde missing in action and order every ZPD officer to abandon their posts and start an emergency search of the city to find them... whereupon she would have to call Bogo to belay the search — revealing she had been there all along — and would probably be 'rewarded' for her insubordination with several weeks suspension to boot.

Groaning, she pressed the respond button... but the moment she opened her mouth to talk her voice cracked and her throat became dry, and she had to release the respond button, so Bogo didn't hear her wailing on the other end.

"Hopps— I control your wages remember. Answer me!"

She pressed the respond button. This time, she held it. "T-th— Th— This is Hopps."

"And about bloody time to," he said, apparently missing the strain to her voice as he continued, "Leopolde and Jefferson have finished their report on the murder at 'Ladders'; I want you and Wilde back at HQ, pronto."

"N— Nick...?"

"Yes, Hopps… Officer Wilde, the fox?" came his sour reply, sarcastically followed by, "is that a problem?"

"Nick's, erm... Nick's not here, Sir…"

A brooding silence was her only reply for a moment, then, "What do you mean 'Nick's not here'?"

"He… he's not here, Sir."

"I know!" he bellowed, "you just said that! Now answer the bloody question! Whhyyy is Nick not there?" No, she couldn't tell Bogo what just had happened between them! He'd probably suspend both of them, or fire Nick, or try to find him or... What could she say?

Think like Nick, what would Nick do?

He'd lie. But, he would lie... clearly, bending the lie around the truth so it'd be almost true anyway. "He's attending to a family emergency, Sir." Which was, in a way, true... sure, for all Judy knew they were all dead and he was the only living 'Wilde' left, but it was still closely related to them.

"Why wasn't I informed?" Bogo replied, his voice growing softer.

"It was urgent, and, he didn't have time to tell you before he left."

"And why didn't you inform me?"

"It… erm, I've been busy investigating a strong lead. Actually, that's something we need to tell you about, or rather," she trailed off, adding, "I need to tell you about..." she released the 'respond' button to stop Bogo hearing her as a fresh wave of emotion took her, and she rubbed her eyes carefully to try and clear the tears which started forming there again.

"I see... I wish to speak with him later. There have been... developments, in the murder case, and Leopolde and myself have some questions we would like to ask him."

She took in a slow, long breath, reasserted her self-control, and spoke. "Yes, Sir, I am currently searching the apartment of the murder victim, but there doesn't appear to be much here, so I'll head back to base now."

"Roger that, Hopps. Out." The radio crackled into silence. Judy stared blankly at the device, shut her eyes, lay back against the cushions, groaned, and set about re-constructing her psyche.

...

With a click, the door to Nick's apartment was unlocked and the door swung slowly open. The red fox gazed at the interior of the room, though he wasn't really looking at anything. His emotional palate blank, he pulled his key out of the door, stepped in and shut the door behind him before pacing his way, automatically, towards the kitchen.

Nick's apartment was nicer than Judy's, but in the three years he had lived there, it had never felt like home — heck, he had felt more at home at Judy's after one night's sleep on the floor — but, in hindsight, that was probably more to do with the company than the location. He failed in his effort to make himself a drink from the kettle as thoughts of her filled his mind, overwhelming him with sorrow beyond the point of sadness; leaving him like a soulless void, without emotion, as he paced into his bedroom and fell blankly onto his bed.

The lights were off and the room was dark, unlit by the lowering sun outside with the thick black clouds which still hung so very heavily in the air, the light rain pattering against his window. Usually, Nick found this sound soothing and could quickly fall into restful sleep listening to it — now, however — he found it irritating... just like everything else. Nick was tired — tired of it all. His eyes fell slowly closed, as he lay atop the rumpled sheets of the unmade bed. He felt cold, uncomfortable, smelly and dirty, hungry and thirsty... and he couldn't care less, because above all of the mundane pains of daily life, overshadowing all the usual emotions of the drudgery of life, above all of that — Nick felt...

Broken.

...

Later, Judy Hopps rounded the corridor in the main building of the ZPD, coming to a stand before a door. It was a very large door — the brass door handles almost out of reach — and, upon its front, on a likewise brass plaque, was a name: Chief Bogo. Judy steeled herself, pushed all remnants of her emotional stresses away, checked her appearance in the half-reflection of herself in the glass panel of the door and decided she looked, apart from a little redness around the eye, much like her normal self.

Stretching up, she knocked on the door. "Enter," called a voice, Chief Bogo, from within. Judy reached up a little higher and pulled down the handle of the door, which swung open a second later. "Hopps, good of you to join us," said Bogo with a professional, but polite, nod. "These are Officers Henry Leopolde and George Jefferson — you've met before."

"Officers," said Judy. Officer Leopolde was a lion, older than Jefferson by many years, and his — once golden, now gray — mane hung around his head like the clouds that'd hang around the tallest mountain peaks'. He stood as straight as a broom handle, his expression stoic and surly.

"Good to see you again, Officer Hopps," Leopolde said. Officer Jefferson, in comparison, was a different story entirely. He leaned upon the edge of a desk, his arms folded across his chest in an informal manner, while his tail swished slowly back and forth behind him.

"How are you? Alright, Hopps?"

"I'm... fine, thank you, Officer Jefferson."

"Jeffers, please."

"Okay," said Bogo, sat behind his large desk, "enough with the pleasantries, let's get this done, shall we?" With that, Leopolde crossed to the center of the room, back straight, paws by his sides, while Jefferson moved aside and propped against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him. Bogo motioned for Judy to come forth, and she moved towards Bogo's desk, sitting on her chair, facing away from her chief who was sat impassively behind his desk, with both of them facing Leopolde. Judy beat down all outwards appearances of distress... but her apparent good-mood only resembled being at ease. Leopolde cleared his throat and then started his report.

"In the following verbal report I shall cover the basic principles found in conjuncture of the murder of an unidentified fennec fox, found on the premises of Ladders and Ladders and Co at ten twenty-seven, by Officers Judith L. Hopps and Nicholas P. Wilde."

"Yeah," Leopolde interjected, "and by that he means hello."

"A-hem... thank you for that input, Officer Jefferson. Now, shall I continue? Good," he said before the tiger could reply. "By close examination of the entry wound of the remains of the corpse — that being little more than a skeleton — we managed to determine that the fennec fox was unquestionably shot in the back of the head through the upper right temple by a taller person."

"Or the fox could have been kneeling at the time," added Jefferson.

"Indeed. Now, the entry wound clearly denoted that the weapon was some form of small-arms, but without the bullet it was impossible to ascertain anything further. It was first assumed that the bullet entered the skull and became lodged within the brain — to fall out during the fulmination of the body and, subsequently, lost among the rubble — but, after close examination of the walls, Officer Jefferson identified the bullet implanted within the wall."

Leopolde stopped talking, reached into a pocket and produced a photograph of the wall where the bullet hole was. He pawed it to Judy who looked at it politely — though couldn't see the point of him showing her — as he returned to the exact same stance as before, continuing.

"Our guess now is that the bullet entered the skull through the upper right temple, but then made egress through either the right or left eye. We finally managed to extract this bullet." Stopping a second time, Leopolde produced another photograph, which Judy again took and looked at politely, despite the fact it didn't really mean a lot to her. "This confirmed our assumption the weapon used was a pawgun. It is a point-four caliber round, ACP, from a single-action weapon of short recoil, and I gave the task of identifying this bullet to Officer Jefferson — while I continued my search of the warehouse, which was to little or no avail, I might add."

The lion nodded his head and backed away to the wall, swapping places with the much younger and more jovial Jefferson, whose expression was far less surly, speaking with gesticulations and pacing from side to side a little also; quite a contrast to the stony demeanour of the lion.

"So," he said, "I ran up to a couple'a gun experts, but no one seemed to know much about it. They said whatever it was, it must have been pretty rare, but eventually I found this rich collector of rare arms… Thomas I think his name was, and he told me it looked a lot like something the gun manufactures, Sturm and Ruger and Co. would make. Well, he put me onto this old guy up in Tundratown, who was retired but used to work for Sturm and Ruger, an' he told me it was a round from the old Ruger SR1911 he used to make at back at the factory. He said it was a quite outdated gun, inven'ed by John Moses Browning nearly a hundred years ago. But that the design has lasted very well and the gun's still widely used today."

The tiger patted down his pockets as he finished, searching for a photograph which he took out a moment later. He flattened the photo — which was very creased — against his raised knee, standing on one leg to do so, and pawed it to Judy who looked at the photograph of the Ruger SR1911 upon it.

"Now this old guy," he continued, "he didn't know the ident number or anything, but he gave me the number of an old colleague of his who still works up at Sturm and Ruger. Well, I gave him a call, an' he said he remembered the gun and could access the files for the weapon, and to come on over to Ruger and see him. So, I did." He then proceeded to take out of photo of himself stood in the car park of Sturm and Ruger, turning to Leopolde as he rooted it out, "Seriously, gramps, what's the deal with all this frigging photographing everything you had me do? We have all the info, y' can hardly see anything on them anyway and it takes frigging ages too."

"Photographic evidence of the procedures of an investigation," Leopolde replied sternly to his junior, "can be invaluable if it goes to the courts. It's far better to have the evidence on paw and ready when it's needed than to rush around looking for proof after the investigation is over... and don't call me 'gramps'," he bellowed, the fact he had been called such only now sinking into his older, slower mind. "I may be old enough to be your grandfather, but I am your Superior also!"

"Right," smirked Jefferson, "so, booper de boo, I found myself at Ruger with this cute leopardess chick called Sally. At least, I think it was Sally, something' like that… and, well, what can I say? She was hot for me and I thought she was pretty, so when she started hittin' on me I asked her out and we got a dinner-date this evening... round her place if ya' catch my meaning..." Leopolde cleared his throat meaningfully. "But anyway, before that she took me round the back and shot me a look at a bunch'a old files, we found a match between this bullet and the gun it was shot from eventually and-err, Leo?— Here's a photocopy of the paperwork."

As Jefferson reached out to the lion, Leopolde leaned over towards him, holding a single page, formal, A4 document in his paw. Jefferson took the page and then passed that to the rabbit who, by this point, was running out of paws.

"This gun," the tiger said, "is a custom-made, heavily modified, updated and modernized version of the original Ruger SR1911, semi-automatic. Its stainless steel barrel bushing has been replaced with a medium-weight, titanium alloy. Its caliber has actually been reduced from point four five to just point four. And its magazine slot has been extended, increasing its capacity from eight plus one to twelve plus one. To counterbalance the weight of this larger magazine, the barrel has been extended an extra inch, giving it a barrel length of six inches and pushing the muzzle velocity up, as well as increasing its effective-range too. And the extra weight of the longer barrel and magazine has already been compensated for by the titanium alloy, making it just the right weight so it's maneuverable without it getting too much recoil when shot."

He pawed the A4 sheet over, winking to Judy as she took it. "This is one mean gun," he said, "from what cutesy the leopardess told me, the Ruger SR was already a pretty perfect gun. But this thing's got twice the stopping power, and something like three times the lethality of the original. So, it's powerful, it's effective, it's expensive and it's incredibly rare. They called it, the 'Ruger SR, Master Edition."

Judy looked up from the page, blinking at the amount of information she was trying to take in. "Expensive?" was all she could think to say.

"To buy one of the original would cost you about seven, eight hundred. To have one made new would cost you at least a grand, but God only knows how much this baby cost. The scrap metal alone would be more than I get in a month."

"You said this was custom made."

"That's right, yes."

"How many were made and who commissioned it?"

"Actually, just the one. So, you'd think it should be easy enough to find. Unfortunately, the files were inconclusive as to who actually had it built."

"Oh."

"Yeah... you see, for information on the actual gun ownership, I had to see some other guy. He was a rabbit actually like you, except he had these odd black stripes all over him. His name was Jock or Jake… or, something like— and when I asked him for the relevant information, he couldn't find it! They're still looking, but unless they can find it, we've hit a dead end."

"Thank you, Officer Leopolde," said Bogo, "and thank you as well, Jefferson."

"Not a problem, Sir." The Officers of the Murder Investigation Bureau finished their report, and Judy smiled as she thought about their relationship, while Bogo chatted to them about some of the finer points. Leopolde the Lion and Jefferson the Tiger had a good partnership — Judy realized — for, while Jefferson, young and brash, provided the energy for the two of them, dashing around the city, getting into fights with criminals and following every lead like a hound. It was Leopolde who provided the intelligence, studying and studiously checking every fact, and not chasing after every lead, but cross-referencing every possible lead with every fact, and following only one lead... but with the knowledge it was genuinely the right one.

But, moreover, Leopold's advanced years meant he was no longer able to chase after every lead as Jefferson could, which was entirely necessary sometimes, and could get results when no amount of slow, studious pondering could, and Jefferson didn't quite have the patience or experience to work out every case in his head, so he had to rely on his brawn and his quick wits instead. The weaknesses of one were the strengths of the other... and that was what made them such a good team, and this level of great teamwork, the proper 'by-the-book' style of Leopolde, and the inability to respect the rules and regulations he was working to sustain by Jefferson. They could only remind Judy of Nick and herself.

And it was that revelation which made the tears return... oh, Nick!

Judy bit down on the well of emotion that followed, but it came all too late and — by the way Bogo and the two other officers peeled from their conversation to turn to Judy with a kind of intrigued concern on their faces — this was the first time they had seen a fellow ZPD officer break into tears. Bogo recovered, pointing to the door and looking towards Leopolde and Jefferson. "Out." It was the only instruction he gave, yet it was followed instantly and silently by both... the door to his office opening, and then shutting softly behind them.

...

Bogo had dealt with many things in his time: he had single-hoofedly wrestled an elephant to the floor; he had been in gunfights numbering over twenty people aside; he had spent two months deep undercover in a high-operating organized-crime mob, and he had once spent three hours held as a hostage by a mass murderer, who had kept the officers outside at bay by threatening to kill the Chief... Bogo got out unscathed from the encounter, while the murderer wounded up in incentive care — followed eventually by — prison... and yet from all this he could never remember having had to deal with anything quite like 'this'...

Another sob escaped Judy's lips, and the rabbit wiped away yet another tear, staring dejectedly down at the floor in shame for letting her emotions affect her so.

... Yes, he had dealt with the grieving mothers of murdered children — which was never nice — but at least then he knew what the matter was... not like now. Bogo walked pass the little dejected officer and towards the door. Checking up the length of the corridor outside, Bogo assured himself that it was clear. With a click, he locked the door, using the built-in lock which only worked from the inside, and lowered the blind.

In the privacy of his office — now completely detached from the rest of the building — Bogo turned. The massive person walked back to stand in front of the smallest, bravest little officer of the ZPD, who appeared to be quite unaware of his presence. He stood before her and lowered himself to the floor, speaking with a voice laden with concern from her diminutive height, while crossing his legs on the ground before her.

"Judy..." That alone was enough to stop the tears, making the small rabbit look up from her observation of the floor by her feet, to realize with a start how the Chief had lowered himself so. Being called Judy by Bogo was even rarer than being called so by Nick — Bogo never spoke to an officer by their first name. She looked slowly up to him. The rabbit was surprised yet-further at seeing Bogo, Chief Bogo, sat, hunched down, on the floor before her, his head near-enough level with hers, and his voice softer and lower than ever before heard.

"Is this...? This is about Nick, isn't it?" A nod. A sniff. "What exactly... happened?" Silence. No reaction. Bogo looked off to the side apprehensively at his next words. "Has something happened between Officer Wilde and yourself? Something that's made the two of you fall out?"

Judy's reply was instant, "I..." but faulted after the first syllable. Her face fell back to the floor as she teased her paws pathetically before her. "Yes. I guess. Kinda."

Bogo chuckled. "Hopps, you and Wilde are always falling out; you'll be friends again by tomorrow, you'll see."

"It, it's not like that… this time. It's, I-I..." Raising her paw to her mouth, Judy bit down upon her finger so she can hold back the tears, triggered by the all-too-vivid memory of her slap across Nick's face. "I hurt him. I hurt Nick and now I don't know how to make him better."

"Judy," Bogo said, honestly, "Nick Wilde is incredibly fond of you. I think, with all certainty, that if you just go right now and see him, and apologize for whatever it is you have done, if you treat him with respect and speak truly. That will be more than enough for him to forgive you."

Judy sniffed up another tear, but there was a smile on her face now. "Thanks, Bogo, but... it's not all from me, the hurt, I mean. Nick's past, just from what little I know, is just riddled with horrible, horrible things."

"Well," he said, distantly, "I had figured as much. It explains why Wilde doesn't talk about his past much. Come to think of it, I've never even heard him mention so much as his own mother."

"Well," Judy said, a hint of pride at the trust the red fox had in her, "he has told me a little of his past. I hardly know anything, but what little I know is more than anyone else does. And I know that, even though all I have's a fuzzy outline, his hurt is born from the pain of Nick's past."

"Is this something you can help him with?"

"I— I don't know. That's why I'm in this state I'm in now. I can't help him if he doesn't open himself up to me, and opening himself up is what brought back all this pain in the first place, I..." Bogo watched as the rabbit started breaking down further into tears — what little aid he had provided by making her smile quickly eroding beneath the trouble which had clearly passed between Wilde and herself.

"I just feel like if I hadn't pushed him so hard… if I didn't stick my neck in where it didn't belong… that he'd still be— you know— Nick."

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Bogo after a long pause, at a complete loss for the first time since being made chief. "I can't help you socially, but I am well connected among my own circles, and—"

"Sir, that's… that's really sweet of you, but, Nick—"

"I know, Hopps. I know Wilde can be hard to reach, emotionally, but one thing I do know for sure is, he needs you." Judy's eyes slowly rose to meet Bogo's, a questioning expression on her face.

"Officer Hopps, I am the chief of police, in Precinct One, working in the center of the largest city on the continent. I rose up the ranks much like I suspect yourself and Wilde will do, and I spent a great many years as a detective. I am more than a little proficient at reading people, and I know that you have made more of an impact on Officer Wilde's life than anything or anyone else before. Remember that Hopps, if there's anyone who can motivate him, push him to go further, run faster, jump higher: it's you. And you can help him get through this to."

"Thanks, Chief," she smiled warmly, "but—"

"And remember... the two of you alone make fair coppers, but I can't say either of you are the best officers I've ever had because, bluntly, you're not. But what I can say, and with all truth, is that You and Wilde make the best damn team I have ever seen." Judy's smile was different now. It was full of resolve and hope, beaming with life and joy towards her chief. Bogo smiled too, the smile was wrong somehow, though Judy couldn't tell as he spoke, "Hopps, if you know where Nick is, go to him. Take as much time off as you need, just, please, find Nick."

"Thank you, Sir! I will, and thank you!" The room full with the brightness of her smile, the rabbit rushed for the door, leaving all pains and troubles behind her as she turned and flicked the lock off, opened the door and flashed with a smile to Bogo. "Thank you, Bogo, for being so understanding. There aren't many bosses who would let a worker leave work just to find their friend."

Bogo looked at Judy, his somehow 'wrong' smile still on his face as she shut the door behind her and rushed off down the corridor.

...

Bogo stood motionless for some time. The 'false' smile he had been wearing fell. He grunted and stood to his full height, a stern expression on his face as he crossed the room to the large window, hoofs behind his back, gazing out at the city beneath him.

He stood there for some time, looking down at the city with his brow furrowed in thought, his lips raised in a slight grimace. His voice was low and troubled, unsure, lacking all warmth as he spoke to the empty room without turning. "You can come out now, Jack." Behind him, the door to the cupboard opened. Bogo spoke again as he heard the figure approach, "You hear all that?"

"Yes, Sir."

The male's reply was soft, smooth, untroubled and unhurried. Which was more than could be said for Bogo's voice which was edged with concern as he asked, "Did you believe her?"

"It's... her to tell, Sir. The emotion was genuine, if that's what you're asking, but it could be she doesn't know herself."

Bogo released a long, low grumble. "Could well be. That fox is a tricky one…"

"Did you believe her, Sir?"

Bogo glanced to the side, though did not turn. "I... want to, but we can't know how much of an influence that fox has over her."

"The two are incredibly close," Jack said matter-of-factly, "his emotional control over her must be astounding."

"No," Bogo muttered to himself, "no, this is all wrong. You're making Wilde sound like some kind of manipulative psychopath."

"We can't know for certain that he isn't, Sir." The smaller mammal joined Bogo by the window, gazing down at the streets below in a similar fashion, with his paws shoved into his black trouser pockets. "You're not telling her about Scarlett?" Jack asked, carefully.

"No. If things are as I hope, and Wilde is innocent, it's better for Hopps to not know a thing."

"But if Wilde isn't innocent," the smaller mammal said, "shouldn't we make sure Hopps has her guard up? Surely we should have her keep an eye on him for any signs of sudden aggregation or mood swings, or the likes."

Bogo's head shot around, shouting his response down at the smaller mammal, "I will not plant the seeds of mistrust in, quite truthfully, the finest team I have ever seen, in or out of the ZPD. We do notknow of Nick's standing in these murders, and I will notrisk affecting their relationship when Wilde may only be an innocent victim in all of this."

"May, Sir. Only may."

Bogo stared down at the smaller mammal who was still staring up at him with a face, which hadn't so much as flinched at the outburst. Bogo turned back to the window, stress written across his face as he raised a hoof and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I still say this is all wrong," Bogo muttered, "none of this feels right. I don't see Nick as a murderer, and I despise the fact I have to count him as a suspect."

"Which is why you called for me, Sir," Jack sighed airily. "You asked for me because this is a delicate matter. If this was easy to prove or disprove, if it didn't have massive implications not only to the ZPD and Officer Hopps, but to the reputation of all foxes in Zootopia. And if this didn't concern one of your most promising officers, two murders and a vast shipment of illegal substance entering this city, then you would have put one of your simple-minded lackeys on the case, and not me."

Bogo lowered his hoof slightly, grimacing down at the smaller mammal. "Are you calling my officers simple-minded?"

The smaller mammal realized his mistake. Everyone made them sometimes. It was never a good idea to insult the capabilities of Bogo's own memmle in front of him. "I—" was all he could manage before…

"My officers are not simple-minded! Just because you infiltrated Ruger before Officer Jefferson did, broke into their paperwork, impersonated one of their workers and withheld the fact that two such weapons were made, and that Nichols Wilde is the owner of one of them... that does not make you a more intelligent individual!"

The gray and black-striped rabbit stared blankly up at him, his arms folded against his chest. "You were the one who wanted that kept quiet, Sir," he replied, only a hint of respect left in his voice. "You were the one who suggested tricking Judy into finding Wilde, while I followed and kept an eye on both of them."

"Yes, okay!" Bogo grunted heavily, turning away from the rabbit and pressing a hoof against his head in an attempt to sooth the building stress-headache. "Look, Jack, I'm sorry. You're right. I am in need of your help and I shouldn't chastise you like that, it's just this, this, is getting on my damn nerves." Bogo took in a sharp breath of air and became 'Chief' Bogo once again, turning on his heels to face the rabbit beside him. "Agent Savage?"

"Yes, Chief?"

"You know your target; follow her."

A lazy smirk grew on the stripped rabbit's face. "Sir, it would be my pleasure." Jack Savage turned, walking back to the door which Judy had unlocked. He had a car waiting in the drive with the key in the ignition — ready and waiting to follow Judy when she'd drive away. He opened the door and was about to step out when Bogo's voice stopped him.

"And Savage... good luck."

The rabbit froze, his voice slow and colluding as he spoke without turning. "Luck, is the enemy of chance. Chance, is the enemy of fate and Fate, is the enemy of destiny. And I rely, Sir, on none of these things — they are all of them far too irregular for a mammal of my profession. I rely on something, far more dependable. I rely on one thing only..."

"And what's that," asked Bogo after a moment's pause.

Agent Savage turned, his mouth parted in a wry, self-assured smile. "Myself, Sir." He threw a casual salute to the Chief as he backed out of the room, winking to the smirking buffalo as the door swung shut behind him. He turned, half-striding and half-swaggering down the corridor and towards his anticipating destination.

…

Author's notes:

Hesitance jumps around your mind,

Grooms decision thus chosen blind.

Your thoughts most succulent of snack,

All delivered by luscious feedback.

So don't hide like a tiny shrew,

Thus share that belovable review!

- "Ohhhhhh my goodness where has this story been all of my life! I need this story to continue on! What will happen!? What will become of Nick and Judy!? Who was that mystery wolf and who will his next rabbit victim be? And what of the case? Will Wilde and Hopps be able to solve it? I NEED THE ANSWERS! Please continue on with this story! You have cast out the line and gotten me hook, line, and sinker!

- You have really built something here and I love what you are doing, not only with the plot line here but with the characters as well as Nick and Judy's relationship, you are creating such layers there especially with Nick, I mean WOW! I am interested to see more of his past and your take on it, there really seems to be a darkness and heaviness there that a lot have not done, so I would enjoy your take. So please come back and continue on this story! Because you are sitting on a gold mine." batbinmyheart91.

- Now that's a review and I thank you for it more than I can say.

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