"The emotion that can break your heart, is sometimes the very one that can heal it." - Nicholas Sparks.
Hurt...
Yet Hopeful.
Those were the only feelings that drove the bunny forward, one step at a time, towards the unknown which lay ahead of her.
Hurt...
Because deep down, she knew that her own choices had played a part in Nick's injuries.
Yet Hopeful...
Because she refused to let go of the prospect of Nick's recovery.
Judy clutched her hands to her forehead and pressed against it so hard that it blurred her vision. While doing so, she accidentally collided into the back of the nurse, who had stopped in front of her. The badger turned around and gave Judy a distasteful look before wiping it away, replacing it with a look of forced cheerfulness.
"Here we are, Mrs. Hopps. Your husband is inside this room, and the surgeon is making some final post-surgery notifications. You can ask her of your husband's condition."
Judy turned her head to the large oaken door that sprouted beside the two mammals as they stood in the hallway. Plastered onto the front of the door was a small peeping hole, and a plaque bearing the room's number: 115. She took in a deep breath before thanking the nurse, whom promptly turned tail and left Judy standing alone in the hallway, the only obstacle between her and Nick looming directly in front of the bunny like a guillotine, locked and raised, ready for the kill. She hated the similarities of it.
She sighed once more before raising her hand to knock on the the door.
And with that in mind, she practically kicked down the door as she threw her weight against it, unlocking the door simultaneously as she charged into the open room.
Judy's eyes had grown accustomed to the bright lights of the hospital hallway that she had ventured through minutes earlier, but when the bunny entered the new room, she couldn't help but squint.
For starters, the window was open: Bright morning sunlight streaming through every inch of glass that it could. That, on top of the already beaming (more like burning) over-head lights made Judy's eyes scream out in pain.
After a few painfully obnoxious seconds, she tried once more to open her eyes, yet this time she actually managed to get a good look at the room she was now standing in.
Obviously, the room was bright: The sunlight glistened through every corner it could reach, anything shiny and metallic (which happened to be a lot of things) reflected the luster with ease. When her eyes had adjusted as best that they could, Judy took the chance to scan her new environment. The surrounding walls were white of course, painted completely spotless so as to burn her eyes even more. Retracting her gaze from the walls, she brought her attention to the horned doctor whom stood just a few feet in front of her. At the foot of the bed was a tall antelope, her glossy curled horns were so long that they nearly scraped the ceiling. She glanced over at Judy with a warm smile, which thankfully, didn't appear forced or faked.
"Hello! You must be Judy Hopps! Pleasure to meet you ma'am." She stuck out her hoof in front of the flustered bunny, who hesitantly shook it before turning her attention to the bed's occupant.
"Nick!" Judy quietly stifled.
There, he lay peacefully atop the mattress, the thin blue blanket pulled up to his sternum. He was clothed in the standard-issue hospital gown, of course. The majority of his upper body rested on a mound of thick, fluffy white pillows. His fur was clean looking, but his form seemed to radiate a sense of pain. Around his chest wrapped a grey-ish cloth, and his right arm was propped up with a shiny metal brace. The aforementioned limb was wrapped in a cast.
Broken.
The Bunny shook her head lightly and trained her gaze once more upon her mate, who seemed to be asleep at the moment; His eyes were closed shut and his body made no sudden movements. Like his torso, the top of his cranium was wrapped in a dense white cloth. Then Judy took notice of his other arm, which was half covered by the blanket. Snaking from under the sheets was a long and narrow tube, which stretched itself along the length of his arm until it was cut short in connection with a wrinkled sack of water, which in turn was suspended above the bed on a lanky metal rod.
Judy shuddered. She'd always hated hospitals; The smell, the sights, the sounds... All of it... Horrible.
She hated seeing Nick latched onto all these appliances.
She hated the seething bright lights that refused to show mercy. She hated the disgusting scent of cheap air-freshener and gauze. She hated the unending sounds of dreary electronic hums. And perhaps worst of all, she hated the feeling of helplessness as these latex-clad doctors and nurses poked and prodded you, mending broken things and repairing your misfortune. Judy hated surgery worst of all. She'd seen many officers wounded on the beat have to be carted off to a hospital for surgery. Some never made it back. It gave her a distasteful outlook on it all, even though she recognized the benefits of modern medicine and technology, of course. Hospitals took as much as they gave.
The doctor's soothing voice penetrated her thoughts, directing her attention back towards its source.
"Mrs. Hopps, are you alright?" She questioned gently.
Judy glanced over towards the antelope. Given her hatred and disgust toward hospitals, the bunny tried to single out anything untrustworthy or deceiving in the doctor's face. She found nothing of malice. The doctor truly did look concerned. Caring, and nothing less.
She relaxed.
"I... I'm fine." She lied.
Whatever got this doctor out of her face. She most certainly was not fine! Nick just went through surgery after nearly dying from being hit by a car, yet here she was mentally whining about her own problems. That fact made her sad. She felt the tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked hard in an attempt to drive them away. She didn't want the doctor seeing her in this sorry state. The doctor cleared her throat audibly before placing her hoof on Judy's shoulder. An almost tender gesture, but the look on the doctor's face told the saddened bunny that this was, in fact, a very serious matter.
"Mrs. Hopps, would you like for me to tell you of Nick's injuries?" She asked slowly and reassuringly.
The bunny thought for a moment. She didn't want to hear any of Nick's problems right now: That would only make her feel worse. As if she was the one that caused them all.
"N-no. Not now, please." She admitted.
The doctor didn't seem very surprised. Getting the message, she walked over to bedside, where a tiny nightstand perched adjacent to the crown of the bed. After a few moments of shuffling through the folds of her clipboard, she selected a single paper and placed it atop the nightstand. She glanced momentarily at Nick before turning her attention back towards the Bunny, who now slumped against the far corner of the room.
"I'll leave the medical records here." She began. "That way, if you wish to look over his condition, you'll have free reign to do so."
Judy just continued staring at the doctor as she trotted to the doorway, ducking underneath it to avoid hitting her glossy antlers on the ceiling.
Before closing the door, she leaned in one last time and spoke;
"I'll leave you two alone for now, but do keep in mind, Mr. Wilde is in a pre-conditioned state of trauma. He was lucky that he didn't go into a coma! So please, refrain from making any physical contact with him until he wakes, at least. I'll send Nurse Honey to check up on you in a while. If you need anything, press that red button over there."
Judy nodded and spoke out, "Thank you. Thank you so much." The doctor nodded at her comment before closing the door, a finalizing 'click' reverberating through the silence of the room as the door's lock slid shut at last.
Judy breathed in the lemon-scented air slowly. Her fur stood on end as a chill seeped its way across her body. With a twitch of her ears, she opened her eyes.
Nick still lay sleeping, the room was still bright, and she was still miserable.
Groaning, she flopped down into visitor chair that was stashed away in the corner of the room. She stole a glance at the fox who still reclined silently in the folds of the hospital bed. After a brief moment of staring at his dozing body, she looked away in shame. Those same vile thoughts that pestered her earlier returned once again.
The bunny shook her head quickly from side to side. The putrid stench of manufactured lemon filled her nose, which scrunched up in a distasteful response. Alongside this, a consistent beeping sound emanated from the cluster of hospital machinery aside Nick every couple of seconds. It was dreadfully annoying.
All of the detectable senses in the room drove her insane.
The horrible smell of the 'Fur-Breeze' canisters, the fitful beeping sound that refused to go away, the rancid taste of sweat in the air which clung stubbornly to her tongue...
And worst of all, the sight of Nick, who even in peaceful and painless sleep across the room, made Judy seethe with regret.
She didn't take another glance of the blood-stained clothes in the plastic box, nor did she pay any attention to all the intimidating medical equipment that clung to Nick like leeches.
The only thing she focused on was his face, which still rested in deep sleep. Soon enough, Judy found herself asleep as well: Curled up in the cushion of her chair. She dozed off to the sound of the machines beeping, which for once, didn't sound so annoying. But accompanying that noise, was the steady sound of Nick as he breathed in and out.
Alive.
Judy wouldn't have had it any other way.