A/N: Happy New Year! I know it's been a while but this story ain't over yet. With that in mind it is almost over. This is the last chapter and I'll write an epilogue later probably from Judy's perspective as this chapter is Nick heavy. Hope you enjoy!
Nick woke to bright light and comfort. The bed was soft and the room did its best to look like it wasn't part of a clinic. Still the knowledge of where he was dulled his newfound exuberance at his partially regained memories. His memories of Chief Bogo were clear as day but if he tried to focus on anything in those memories beyond the buffalo everything dissipated into smoke. Thinking too hard on it gave him a headache. By the time he went for his morning therapy appointment his head was pounding like a drum.
His therapist was a lioness called Harriet. She dressed in summer dresses and sensible heels. He liked her but progress had been slow. She was kind and encouraged Nick to talk which was often like pulling teeth. Her patience was probably the only reason he wasn't bouncing off the walls. She was an anchor which was exactly what Nick needed right about now.
"Any progress Nick?" she asked, her brown-gold eyes compassionate.
Nick shook his head and pawed at the floor. The office was subtly lit by a single lamp. A candle provided the scent of a fragrant savannah and a window offered a breath-taking view of the coastal town of Minkville. Harriet's eyes never left him and her ears were perked up ready to catch anything he was willing to mutter. He had been here three days out of his month long stay and progress had been glacial.
"No," he said at last. "I'm really struggling. The memories aren't the worst part."
"What is the worst part Nick?"
"I know they're good memories. The ones that are locked away. I can count the number of good memories I have before that time on one paw. There's two years of my life, probably the best years of my life, locked away just because some zebra got the better of me."
"Nick what have you been told of your time in Jackson Crossing's captivity?" asked Harriet, her voice starting to radiate concern.
"Not much," he replied. "I know he kicked me black and blue before the cops busted in."
"He kicked you black and blue yes but I'm not sure it wasn't just the hits you took that crippled your memory. There's more to this story than you know. I think we should look at where your memory loss occurred. How does that sound?"
"Horrible," he answered, truthfully.
"I know Nick but I think we could be on to something here," said Harriet with a sympathetic smile. "Try, please? We can stop if you feel uncomfortable."
Nick felt the digits on his paws judder with nerves. Usually it took a shit load of alcohol to break any of his more traumatic memories out of their hidey holes. No time like the present, he thought.
"Close your eyes Nick," Harriet encouraged. "And listen to my voice. We're going to go back in your memories. To the night before the ZPD's raid on Jackson Crossing's compound in the Rusty Tower in Foxton. What do you remember?"
"The feeling of being restrained," Nick began, the memory building slowly. "At the wrists and ankles. The chair's uncomfortable and the room is cold and bare."
"What's the floor like? The walls, the ceiling? Was there a bathroom? Really visualise it Nick."
"The floor was filthy and wooden. The walls and ceilings were mostly grey plaster. There was a toilet but they fed and watered me so little I barely needed to use it. It wasn't even a room it was a series of apartments knocked into one big space."
"Good Nick. Now, is there anyone in the room with you? Any other hostages or a guard?"
"No the other hostages were a floor above me. A guard, a weasel, brought me food and water but the only other visitor I had was him."
"Who Nick? Be specific, this is the key to the lock."
"Jackson Crossing."
Suddenly he was back there fully and completely. The zebra was taking to him, slowly and methodically, as if trying to induce hypnosis. He was saying horrible things. Things only the most depraved kind of mammal would dream up. Nick caught only snatches but they were enough to test the limits of his barely controlled rage.
"…by tomorrow I'll have two new lucky rabbit's feet for my collection… Hell I might even keep her alive. Never had a pet before. Feed the rest of your cop friends to my buddies upstairs…"
The zebra went on and on while Nick strained at the cuffs rubbing at his ankles and wrists. He tried to block it all out, to fight against what Crossing was saying. He was succeeding until he felt the cold prick of a needle in his neck.
"Everyone blames Bellwether for the Night Howler serum," stated Crossing. "And they should. It was her idea after all. A stroke of genius in the wrong way. She was thinking too small. She wanted to make Zootopia safe for prey but what about Animalia? She never thought outside the box, never improved on the formula."
A syringe swam in front of Nick's eyes as Crossing's voice began to deepen and slow.
"The ZPD are coming tomorrow," Crossing seemed to slur. "By the time they find you, the delayed Howler reaction will be fully active. No more Nick Wilde instead you'll just be Nick, wild. I'll be long gone and you and your hero cop partner will both be dead."
Nick surged up out of the memory, gasping. Harriet looked at him, concern in her deep gold eyes and dark lips downturned. Nick caught his breath and knuckled at the wetness at the corner of his eyes.
"Crossing injected me with Night Howler serum," Nick said in a rush. "It was a delayed variant intended to activate when the ZPD rescued me but either it didn't work or Crossing didn't count on the raid being so early so-"
"So the first person you attacked was Crossing," finished Harriet. "And the beating he gave you rendered you unconscious long enough for the serum to wear off or be purged from your system."
"Great minds think alike Doc," said Nick, barely managing a smirk.
"How do you feel Nick?"
"Shaken," answered Nick truthfully. "My mind keeps asking 'What if?' you know? What if Crossing and all his gang had gotten away and I'd gone savage? But this is progress right?"
"Yes Nick this is progress," replied Harriet kindly. "Amazing progress in fact. We still have about a half an hour left do you think you could dive into another memory?"
Nick was rattled but the rediscovery of such a profound, meaningful though not necessarily good memory had given him a surge of confidence. He looked at Harriet and nodded. The lioness smiled, crossed her legs and met his eyes.
"So we're going to do the same as before Nick. But this time we're going to try something harder – both emotionally and mentally. I want you to try and remember when you woke up after Crossing injected you. It's not the fight with Crossing I'm interested in though it's what happened afterward. So let's build the memory from the fight up to where you lost consciousness. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Start with the room, where are you?"
"It's the same room as before. Same walls, same filthy fucking floor and the same ceiling. I wake up in the chair but the cuffs are off. I can't remember if I got them off with an improvised lockpick or if Crossing unlocked them when he knocked me out. The building's louder. I hear gunshots, running paws, shouting, in the distance I can hear sirens. Crossing's outside and he's coming back in here with the ZPD hot on his tail."
"He only sees me when I run at him with the toilet cistern lid," Nick continued. "I hear bone crack when I break the hoof holding the gun. It goes off grazing my leg but I barely feel it. I shatter the lid against his neck and some of the shards stick there. He draws a knife and we fight then. He backs me into a corner near the bed, my chest's been cut but no deeply. I turn and then I see her."
Nick swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. The memory took far greater effort than the one before. Harriet leaned forward, sensing a breakthrough, but not wanting to force it. She could see him building that memory from the scraps that remained free from whatever mental block was in his head. She watched a single tear squeeze out from the corner of his eye.
"My instincts really take over then. Protect the rabbit. Protect Judy is blazing in my mind like an overpowered neon sign. Then Crossing kicks me and I hit the wall. They shoot him then. Not once but many times. The zebra's not getting up but neither am I; my head hurts and my vision is fading in and out. I see the rabbit run to me and I feel my head lifted by her. She's screaming but it's like I'm hearing her underwater. She shouts: 'Stay with me!' once or twice and I think I can hear an 'I love you' as well. Consciousness is slipping away and so are my memories but I want to hold on to them. I will hold on to them."
"I am holding on to them!" he snapped as he left the memory but Harriet could see the memory didn't leave him.
"Nick?" asked Harriet, carefully and kindly. "What do you remember?"
"I remember her."
TWO DAYS LATER. ZPD CAFETERIA.
"…and so I says to the bull I says: 'That sir is bullshit!' I tell you Hopps he was seeing red then!"
"Are you sure that isn't some kind of cultural sensitivity violation Fangmeyer?" asked Judy, smiling despite herself.
"Yeah you might wanna check with Lieutenant Higgins just in case," agreed Wolford."
"Yeah you don't want to mess with horned mammals," stated Buckton. "First day on patrol and some little punk calls me Bambi. Bambi?! I almost gave him the horns."
Judy laughed along with the rest of them only to stop when her phone rang. She excused herself and walked outside to the quiet corridor between the cafeteria and reception. She didn't recognise the number but she accepted anyway.
"Detective Judy Hopps speaking," she answered.
"Oh Detective Hopps hello," said a measured female voice. "My name is Harriet Roarson. I'm a therapist in the Wellness Savannah clinic in Minkville. I've been working with Detective Wilde on his memory loss."
"Oh Doctor thank you so much," said Judy, her voice on the edge of breaking. "Chief Bogo didn't say anything only that he was in safe hands. How is Nick?"
"He's doing better Detective Hopps. In fact better than better. You should really come down at your earliest convenience to see for yourself."
"I'd love to Doctor Roarson," began Judy sadly. "But he said he didn't want to see me again at least until he remembered anyway."
"That's the thing Detective," replied Harriet, it sounded like she was smiling. "He asked me to call you. He remembers."
Judy could only manage a muted "Oh…" before the sobs broke through. The little rabbit felt weeks of pain and heartache pour out of her at that statement. She clapped a paw across her mouth as tears darkened tracks in her face fur. Her chest shook and she slid gracelessly down the wall she had been leaning against.
He remembered her. He wanted to see her. Those sentences raced through her brain quickly and repeatedly. Soon the tears were drying up and she was smiling. She felt warm but with that warmth came a certain nervousness.
"Hello Doctor are you still there?"
"I'm here Detective."
"Would Friday be OK? I'm off the weekend."
"I'll meet you at the doors Detective Hopps."
They said goodbye and Judy felt the tears start again but the smile remained and her foot was thumping joyously.