The Hopps Family was known for multiplying. Like every other rabbit family, the Hopps Family brought hundreds of children, then grandchildren, then great-grandchildren, then great-great-grandchildren into the world. The Hopps Family was also known for keeping its many children safe; despite the hundreds of children in the Hopps Family, none of the rabbits had ever lost a child. Family members passed away, as all animals did eventually – as was the circle of life – but not once did the Hopps Family lose a child. Call it luck, call it a miracle – call is whatever you like, but not once did the Hopps Family lose a child to some strange accident or horrible disease… or due to a miscarriage.
Until now, that is.
Judy hadn't needed a doctor to tell her what had happened as she lay on that demolished floor.
For the first time in what was sure to be generations, the Hopps Family had officially lost a child, or children, if you prefer to be precise.
In that moment, she had remained quiet, her entire body numb all at once. She had suddenly felt incredibly small, and the room had suddenly felt incredibly large. Waves of numbness had crashed over her, nearly drowning her.
But no matter how great a loss, or how deep the grief, the world does not stop. The sun continues to rise and set, the moon continues to journey through its phases each month, the grass continues to grow taller each day, the rain continues to fall from above. Though the loss is great, though the grief is deep, though the world seems to truly stop, it does not. This is what Judy told herself as she sat in her hospital bed, hours after the explosion, watching the rain patter gently against a window just a few feet to her left.
This type of weather – a dark, overcast sky with the rain peacefully washing the streets – had always been Judy's favorite. When she was a child, the smell of rain and mud seemed to make Bunnyburrow feel more like home, a feeling that she reflected on each time it rained, no matter where she was. Rainy days had been a comfort to her when she had first moved into the heart of Zootopia, as they provided a sense of familiarity in a strange new place.
Then, a year or so prior, it was on one late afternoon, much like this one, that Judy had discovered Alan seated on the floor in their living room in front of the glass back door, his little eyes watching the rain as it drenched their backyard. Judy had smiled at her son before joining him on the carpeted floor, where the two sat and enjoyed each other's company as well as enjoyed the rain's company. From that day forward, Judy attempted to spend as many rainy days as she could on the floor of their living room in front of the glass back door, the small grey fox seated quietly in her lap. For Judy, rainy days provided a feeling of home, provided a feeling of cozy security, provided a feeling of peaceful love.
Now, as she watched the rain splatter the clear glass of the window, Judy felt nothing; felt no home, felt no coziness, felt no security, felt no peace, and certainly felt no love. The bunny could practically smell the wet grass and hear the sound of tires driving down soaked streets, but she still felt nothing. She merely sat in her bed with her paws crossed in her lap, her heart heavy, thinking about how the world does not stop for the grieving.
Thoughts of Valerie invaded Judy's mind, and she shivered at the memory of the threat Valerie had made just before she had left Nick and Judy to face the trauma of her destructive rampage once again.
"If you think this is bad," Valerie had hissed smugly. "You're really in for a ride."
Here, Judy shook herself from her thoughts and took a moment to rationalize.
Time would not be able to heal this wound or fix this type of loss, but healing is not on a timetable; she had the time she needed to heal the way she needed to heal. She couldn't let this loss paralyze her, though. She had to survive this. She had to refrain from falling to pieces, had to remain whole. She had four beautiful children who needed a whole mother. She had an amazing husband who needed a whole wife.
Judy sighed, feeling slight comfort in exhaling, as if she were emptying her lungs of all the bad in her life. She couldn't tell what she needed right now, and her mind felt like one massive contradiction. She was hungry, but didn't feel like eating; she was sad, but didn't feel like crying; she was tired, but didn't feel like sleeping.
She thought of the facts the Chief had told her when he had sat in the ambulance holding her paw on the way to the hospital: Valerie and Culpeo had escaped prison the first night Judy and Nick had been in the Canal District. Miraculously, their escape had gone unnoticed until just fourteen hours prior to the explosion at the beach house on Kapok Street. As soon as the Chief had learned of Valerie and Culpeo's escape, he had attempted to get ahold of both Nick and Judy, and when his efforts bore no result, he boarded a flight to the Canal District as quickly as possible. Several officers had also been dispatched to Mrs. Wilde's home, and would remain there at all hours until the escapees were back in custody.
Judy had listened to the cape buffalo, but never replied, choosing to only stare at the metallic ceiling of the ambulance during the ride. In that moment in the ambulance, she had been incredibly grateful for the Chief, as he had been the one to carefully wrap her in a blanket and carry her from the house into one of two ambulances after he had arrived on the scene.
Once again shaking herself from thoughts that pertained to the events of the day, Judy instead thought of Alan, wondering if it was raining in Downtown Zootopia and if he was seated at a window in Mrs. Wilde's cozy living room, watching the rain fall. She smiled a little at the thought. Oh, how ready she was to be home.
A small knock came at the door, startling Judy.
"Come in," she called in a small voice.
"Hey, Fluff," Nick stated from the doorway with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
The fox's head and left arm had both been bandaged. He also had a few scrapes here and there, but he looked well otherwise. Judy smiled at him as he sat on the edge of her hospital bed.
"Tired," she chuckled. "How are you?"
"Not bad," Nick shrugged. "Few stitches – nothing horrible. I've been through worse. I've already been released, and they're filling out your paperwork now."
Judy nodded, and then turned her attention back to the rain pattering against the window. Nick watched her thoughtfully. He inhaled sharply at the recent memory of her lying on a destroyed floor, dust all around her, his paw in hers after he had managed to stumble his way over to her.
"Nick, I… I think I… I think I just had a miscarriage," she had said quietly, her eyes only focused on the sinking ceiling above.
He hadn't known what to say.
The two were silent for a few moments, before Nick cleared his throat.
"The Chief said you can take a few weeks off, if you'd like."
"That's very nice of him, but I won't be needing it."
"I figured you'd say that," Nick smirked.
Once again, the two were silent. Nick thought over what he wanted to say next carefully, trying to tread lightly.
"Judy," Nick began, placing a paw on Judy's right leg, bringing her attention from the window and back to him. "Nobody knew."
"I know," Judy sighed.
"And we… we don't have to say anything. It can stay between us. Chief Bogo won't say anything either."
Judy nodded, then looked down at her paws.
"Valerie knew," she stated bitterly.
"They're going to get her, Carrots."
"No, we're going to get her. This doesn't change anything."
"I think this changes everything," Nick argued. "She wants you dead, Carrots."
"A lot of animals want us dead. That comes with the job."
"None of them have ever gone this far," Nick said with a shake of his head. "She's obsessed with you!"
"The feeling's mutual," Judy muttered. "I can't just walk away from this, Nick. This isn't just another case, okay? This isn't Night Howlers making the predators go savage, this isn't polar bears in a warehouse, this isn't Weaselton and his Black Market sales! This is personal."
"Maybe it's getting too personal. Maybe you should step away from this."
"I'll step away from it when the Chief agrees with you."
"He does agree with me," Nick argued. "But arguing with you never works. What about knowing when to quit, Judy?"
"That was years ago," Judy scoffed, remembering her and Nick's earliest cases.
"It still applies! You think you can just throw yourself at any problem, but there are so many animals who care about you and who you care about. You have to think of them. It isn't just you anymore! We have kids, Judy!"
"I'm well aware of that, Nick," Judy defended, her voice rising. "We knew the risks of this job, I knew the risks of this job. It's just this one case and then we don't have to worry anymore."
"But there will always be other cases–"
"But not like this!
"Judy!" Nick stated firmly, his paws grabbing Judy's. "I will not watch you die. We have had too many close calls. We've spent too many nights in hospital beds, broken too many bones. We've gotten lucky so many times, but that luck is going to run out, and I will not raise our children alone."
The two sat in silence for a brief moment, their eyes locked on each other, amethyst staring into green before Nick exhaled slowly.
"I still remember all of those nights we spent in my crummy apartment, eating take-out, and talking over the latest case. If you asked me back then to take a guess at my future, it would be nothing close to this," Nick said as he gestured around him. "I never would have guessed that I'd end up with a rabbit as a wife and have four kids that call me 'dad.' I never would have predicted all of the bad situations we've been in. I never would have predicted all of the awful things Valerie has done to you." Nick paused and swallowed hard. "I… I never would have predicted that we would lose any children."
Judy felt a lump form in her throat at his words. Nick squeezed her paws reassuringly.
"I know you won't walk away from this, Judy. You have to finish this, I know. All I'm asking is that we do it together, that you don't think you have to finish this alone, okay? Promise me you won't finish this alone."
Judy nodded slowly.
"I promise."
"Good," Nick said with half of a smile. "Let's go home."