Night Plague

Written by Omnitrix12

"Watch this," said Nick. "Of all his options, he's going to pick the dumbest one."

Judy rolled her eyes. "Will you cut that out?" she asked.

"No, watch. He's home alone, he hears a noise in the garage, annndd..."

A terrified yell emanated from the TV in front of them as the protagonist, true to Nick's forecast, was swiftly and brutally dispatched.

"Called it," Nick announced.

Judy sighed. With the kits out of the house for a night at their grandmother's, she had wanted to watch a movie. Unwisely, she had let Nick choose, and he opted for a horror movie. That would have been just fine if he hadn't apparently made that choice just to play Monday Morning Quarterback for all the characters' decisions.

"Nick," she protested, putting her ears back, "I know this is hard for you to understand, but not everyone makes smart choices – especially in a crisis when there's some witch-demon or whatever stalking around."

He huffed at this. "Aw, come on Carrots. You of all mammals? Always ready for a crisis?"

"It's my job to handle a crisis," she argued. "Besides, when I hear a noise in the middle of the night, I don't automatically think it's a zombie apocalypse and reach for a chainsaw."

He smirked. "Okay, fine. I will gladly concede that you would probably be the first one to die in a horror movie."

She answered this by punching him on the bicep, drawing an 'ow.'

"I'll bet you'd be dead first," she quipped.

"Ha! As if. I'd be the one to figure out what was going on."

"You would not," she pressed, shoving him playfully. "You wouldn't even figure it out first if you had a head start."

Nick got his trademark smirk on his face. "Well, I'll tell you what," he suggested confidently. "What say tomorrow after work we go try it out in the P.I.X.A.R. machine? I'm sure there's a horror/mystery story in there somewhere."

Judy readily accepted the challenge. "Deal. But if I figure it out first, you have to do all the house cleaning for a week – including toilet detail."

"Oh, you're on," he laughed. "And if I figure it out first, you have to do the same thing – dressed as a maid."

She thought about it. The last time she had made a bet like this with him, he had technically won. Cracking a mystery, though, was a whole different matter from not falling in love.

"You've got a deal," she agreed, sticking out a paw and then yanking it away before he could clasp it. She whipped an index finger toward the screen. "If you keep quiet for the rest of the movie."

He hesitated, then reached out his own paw. "It's a deal, Officer Spoilsport."

"Well, yes, it so happens I do have a horror/mystery adventure in here," Fitwick admitted the next day after work. "But I should warn you, it's pretty different from your usual rides – and I'll have to start you out partway in if you want to make a contest of it."

"That's fine," Judy agreed. "It's not like we went through law school when we went in as lawyers. Heck, Nick didn't even bother with that in his imagination."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Cute, Carrots. Real cute."

Fitwick tinkered around with the machine a little, then nodded his satisfaction. "There, that should do the trick. Just get in, and we'll get you going."

As they climbed in, Nick coolly asked, "So what are you sending us after anyway? Vengeful ghosts? Polymorphs? Vampires?"

Fitwick smiled just a little. "Oh, that would be spoiling the fun."

"Why?" asked Judy. She was a little nonplussed that Nick would try to get any spoilers on the matter, but she did see a problem with the panther's logic. "Our memories of this conversation will be blocked anyway."

"True," admitted Fitwick, looking thoughtful. "But it's more fun to leave you wondering anyway. Have fun!"

Carriage wheels rattled like a Gatling gun as the cab horse raced forward, breath heaving in and out on his errand. Inside, Judy clung to the seat with anxious determination.

The summons which brought her had been quick and to the point. Nick had showed up at Saint Ninian's, delirious and half-dead with fatigue. No one knew why, and Nick had barely been lucid enough to tell them his name and show his papers. It was nothing short of a miracle that the nuns had been able to get word to her all the way in London.

With a jolt and a swerve, the carriage fairly banged to a halt as though the horse had crashed. Judy hung on for her life, then scrambled to stick her head out. The horse, spurred by the money Judy had promised, panted and leaned on one of the pull bars as he drew out his pocket watch.

"Saint Ninian's Convent, miss," he reported, making his way to the door.

Judy didn't wait. Bursting out of the coach, she threw the money to her driver, shouted her hasty thanks, and with lifted skirts bolted into the red stone building. Nuns of many species, all dressed in black robes and white head cloths, turned to look at her in surprise.

"Judy Hopps," she introduced herself, spurning all formality as she fumbled in her purse for the letter. "A fox was brought here; Nicholas Wilde? He's my-!"

"Calm down; calm down, child," urged a badger, striding up and clasping her firmly by the upper arms. "Yes, we have a fox here. He mentioned you."

Judy nearly collapsed. "He's here? Where?!"

"I'll take you to him," the nun promised, "but for Heaven's sake, calm yourself."

It took several deep breaths for the bunny to settle her nerves, and it was still torture to follow the badger's shuffling gait as Sister Aria – for so the nun introduced herself – led her through the halls of the convent.

"Tell me what happened," Judy pleaded, hoping for something to take her mind off how long it was taking her to reach her fiance. She'd rushed from Zootopia as fast as she could, and was hardly sure if she had slept the whole way – though a good piece of it had been by train. The words 'nearly dead' and 'nerves broken' had so contrasted with the calm, confident fox who left England some months before that she hardly believed them.

"You know already what Sister Agatha wrote," Aria began, "so there is little else to explain. He came by rails from Clawsenburg, as you have read, where he ran into the station yelling his head off for a ticket home. When they learned he was English, they ticketed him for the furthest train in your direction. By the time he reached Boarda-pesth, he was nearly half dead with some kind of brain fever, so they sent him here to recover at our sanatorium."

"But why?" wondered Judy. Nick was the last mammal she would have imagined coming down with any kind of mental illness.

"I don't know. We took him in and gave him the best care we could manage, but it seems it's not his health that's so much damaged as his spirit. Something shook the poor fox to his very core, and not a nun or monk or abbot who's been to see him can understand it. We're hoping that seeing you will help, or at least that you might know him well enough to help us find out what happened."

Judy bit her lip. Nick wasn't the toughest mammal around, but he was strong. If he was even half as badly off as the letter described, she was sure she didn't know what could have done it. Still, if there was a way to pull him through it, she'd do it if she had to sell her soul. "I'll do everything I can," she promised.

Sister Aria came to a stop outside a plain wooden door, turned, and put a paw on Judy's shoulder. "You have a good heart. I pray it will be enough, or that God will supply whatever it may lack. Now, let's get you in to see him."

She opened the door, and Judy stepped into the room silently. There on the bed, sleeping in a strange position, lay Nick. The bunny's heart felt jabbed at the sight of him there, his limbs twisted around while his chest rose and fell.

"Why are his arms and legs like that?" she asked.

"None of us knows," Aria confessed. "He also has terrible nightmares, but when he wakes up he can never remember them. He only has some sense of impending terror like King Nebuchadnezzar. We can't make sense of those, but the strange contortions… well, I don't want to get you anxious, but it seems like spiritual torment; worst I ever saw."

Judy didn't know how much stock she placed in the nunnery's religious ideas. She thought, at any rate, that the crosses scattered around were a little idolatrous. Still, if the nuns were helping Nick she supposed she should forgive them that and pray that God, if He objected, would overlook too. For her own part, she went up to Nick and stood beside him. As she watched, he rolled to the side away from her and his legs kicked rapidly as if he were running. An inarticulate sound came from his mouth, as if he were trying to form words but kept getting the syllables wrong.

Sensing that he was having a nightmare, she put both her paws on his shoulder and shook him. "Nick! Nick, wake up!"

"Dwah!" he yelped, jolting awake and throwing himself away from her. The caused him to tumble onto the floor, where Sister Aria rushed to his aid.

"Here, here, it's alright," she soothed, catching his flailing paws and pulling him up. "Judith is here to see you."

"Judith?" he asked, fumbling with the name. He clearly wasn't fully awake. Then, as if drawn by some magnetism, he turned and caught sight of her. "Judy!"

He rushed towards her, falling across the bed in the process. She caught him as he wrapped his arms around her, gasping as if he'd been underwater.

Judy wanted to cry, relieved as she was that she'd finally reached him after such sickening dread for his health. "I'm here, Nick," she said.

Sister Aria stood by, paws clasped with relief. "I don't suppose you remember what the nightmare was," she ventured.

He looked at her for a moment. "No," he said, and then returned his attention to his fiance. "Judy, what in the world are you doing here?"

She laughed a little in spite of herself. "That's what I wanted to ask you," she pointed out, rubbing between his ears.

"Ooh, yeah, right there," he sighed. "No, little bit left, aaand..."

The badger cleared her throat. "If you'll pardon my saying so," she ventured pointedly, "I think perhaps Mr. Wilde would like a few minutes to wash himself and dress, and then you two can have something to eat out in the orchard."

It occurred to Judy then that Nick was still in his nightshirt, and while it was hardly improper for her to be there, it was a little out of the ordinary. "Oh, yes," she agreed rather haltingly.

About twenty minutes found them where the badger had suggested. Judy was having a plate of eggplant heavily anointed with thick mushroom gravy, and Nick was snacking on a stew of boiled grubs.

"So you don't remember what happened?" asked Judy.

He shook his head, passing a paw over his brow. "Like someone wiped it right off the slate, Carrots," he admitted. "At least… well, nothing but snatches after I got to my client, and that's all like something out of a dream."

She bit her lip. "You mean like the dreams you've been having since you got here?"

He nodded. "Exactly. I still can't figure out if I caught some kind of sickness or what." His paw strayed up to his neck, rubbing uneasily. Then he leaned in toward her and whispered, "And to be honest, I don't know if this place is helping much. It feels too… something."

"Something?" asked Judy, scrunching her face and looking around. The orchard was bright and cheery; the air just cool enough to be pleasant; the nuns going this way and that all smiling to see their patient up and around. "Seems like a pretty nice place to me."

"It's nice, don't get me wrong. I just feel… out of place somehow."

Judy considered that for a while. Nick was a member of the Reform Church, and though he wasn't exactly the most devout mammal he'd never felt out of place around churchgoers. At the very least, he'd never complained of it, and she would hope that he'd say something to her if that was bothering him. Neither, she suspected, would it bother him being around a bunch of Cat-olic nuns. They certainly didn't seem to think any less of their visitors for belonging to a different denomination.

He must have read her, as he often did. "I don't know what it is," he admitted.

"Could it have something to do with your business trip?" she asked.

The answer came with another helpless shrug. "I have no idea. I barely remember the business trip." Then he sighed. "To be honest, I just want to get home and put whatever it was behind me."

This didn't satisfy Judy at all, but if it was what he wanted, she was fine with that. "No problem," she assured him. "I brought enough money to get us both back to London."

He let out a sound that was half cough, half laugh. "Uh, Carrots, I don't know if you remember this, but we're not exactly supposed to be traveling together – at least not yet."

That took the wind out of her sails. It was true that they were given to spurning convention, but taking a long trip together as an unmarried couple would be a bit much even for them – her especially. Whereas Nick was more of the, 'I know what I've done and no one can change that' point of view, Judy put a great deal of stock in her reputation.

What Nick didn't realize was that Judy had another reason for being reluctant.

Over the next several days, Judy stayed at the convent, sleeping in one of the extra rooms provided for visitors and newcomers. She was satisfied to see that Nick was tended to at all hours. He had his privacy, but there was always someone awake and in earshot if he should so much as cry out in his sleep.

Sister Aria observed, with evident pleasure, that Judy's presence seemed to be of help to their patient's recovery. Their picnics in the orchard became a regular occurrence as often as the weather would permit it, and during them he began to recall odd snatches. One of these was triggered, he would later say, by the sight of nuns crossing themselves in prayer.

"Early in my trip," he said, "I remember… getting into a carriage with a lot of mammals watching."

"You?" she asked. "In the middle of a staring crowd?"

He nodded. "Yeah, there was something weird about the whole thing. Everyone kept crossing themselves and then pointing two fingers at me."

That made no sense to Judy, so she asked a nun about it later without mentioning that it had been in Nick's memories.

"Ah, that's a sign," said the nun. "A protection, you might say, against the Evil Eye. Who did you see doing that, and where was it?"

Judy fudged an answer, wondering why someone would do that towards Nick.

Over the course of a week, other memories came back. Blue flames by a roadside, running up and down halls to escape from something or someplace, and a woman pressing something into his paws with great earnest. All of these confused him, and the hall one absolutely unnerved him, but the one that seemed to bother him most was something about a tiger.

"He's built like a tiger," he explained one afternoon when they were quite buy themselves, "but he's black all over."

"That's crazy," said Judy. "Tigers don't come in that color."

"I know, but that's who I'm remembering – or dreaming, maybe. I don't know." Nick's ears were back, his tail was bunched out, and his eyes had a strangely hollow look to them. "Seems like the last thing I can remember – the only thing I can remember – after these nightmares is that black tiger looking me in the eyes."

Judy didn't know what to make of the whole thing, but the way he told it set her fur on end.

Nick shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this," he said shakily. "I'd rather not even think about it. What's been going on back in Zootopia?"

It was hard to think of anything that would interest him. For Judy, a lot of the time had been spent simply worrying about whether he was alright and why she hadn't heard from him. "Well, there was the shipwreck," she recalled.

"Shipwreck?" Nick's ears pricked up. "That sounds interesting."

She nodded. "It wasn't long before I came out here to get you. This crazy storm just popped up with hardly any warning, and then boom! This ship came out of nowhere and ran itself up on the beach. There was a bear tied to…" Suddenly she stopped, thinking that maybe it wouldn't be best to talk about that part.

Alas, she held her peace in vain. "Bear tied to what?" asked Nick.

Judy bit her lip. "The bear was the captain; the only mammal left aboard. He tied himself to the wheel, and then… he died." Nick sighed. "Wow, that's… that's awful." He was strangely afraid to ask the next question that came to mind. "Any idea what happened to him?"

With drooping ears, she admitted she wasn't sure. "The newspapers said that the last few days of the logbook talked all about missing sailors and something on board. Apparently the captain was finally the only one left, so he tied himself to the wheel. Guess he thought he had to go down with the ship."

A strange shudder passed through Nick when Judy talked about there being something on the ship. "Did they ever find out what was going on?" he asked.

Judy could do nothing but shrug. "I don't know," she admitted, "and I was kind of busy with Lucy. I'm guessing it was some kind of disease on board that made everyone crazy."

"Hmm, that would keep you tied up," he admitted. Orphaned at an early age, Judy had been taken in and raised by a kindly pair of red deer with the name Westenrut. Though she had diligently held onto her original surname through the adoption, she had none the less become very fond of the family that thus chose her. In particular, she had become the bosom companion of their sole progeny, a sweet doe named Lucy. It had been a fortunate friendship for them both, since Lucy had unfortunately inherited her father's sickly constitution. Mr. Westenrut had some time back returned to the clay from whence he came, and hardy little Judy had stuck around to keep an eye on Lucy and her aging mother. She even shared a room with Lucy, since neither of them felt like parting company until marriage should draw them away. Indeed, Judy might not have agreed to leave even for Nick's sake if a young doctor – and oryx named Doctor Seward – had not become a close friend of the family and agreed to watch over them.

Of course, Nick's knowledge of this fact raised a significant question. "How is Lucy?" he asked.

Her answer came with a sigh. "She's been…" She hesitated to explain the whole thing. One or two of Lucy's escapades had a terrible prospect of humiliation if they got around, and it wasn't as if the doe could help it. On the other paw, Nick was soon to be her husband, and she knew he would never tell anyone. "She's been sleepwalking."

"Sleepwalking?" asked Nick, blinking a little. "I didn't know she did that."

"It comes and goes. She used to do it when she was younger, and for the past couple of months she's been lapsing back into it. One night she went all the way out to the old churchyard, to the seat overlooking the sea cliff."

Nick winced. A young woman in her nightdress that far from home would risk humiliation. "No one saw, did they?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Just her and me, but it got to the point where I had to sleep with the key to the room tied on my wrist. She seems to be doing better, though. She slept just fine for about a week before I got the letter about you. Oh, and she's engaged too."

"Really?" Nick's ears pricked up. The pleasant news piqued his interest. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Arthur Honewood. Get this: he was the third man to propose to her, all in one day!" Judy's face crinkled with mirth.

He laughed. "I'm not surprised. She's a pretty one."

"Hey!" She scowled playfully, crinkling her nose and putting back her ears.

Nick smiled and put an arm around her. "Aw, come on. You know I've only got eyes for you."

She smiled and kissed him. "Just make sure it stays that way." Then she remembered something. "Oh, I got a letter from Mother today, actually. I wanted to read it with you around in case it mentioned you."

"Uh-huh. In other words, in case she mentions my rugged good looks?" he asked with smug vanity.

She elbowed him and drew the letter from her purse, proceeding to read aloud.

"Dearest Judy,

"I pray that all is well with you and dear Nicholas. I was glad to learn that you arrived safe and well at the abbey. I hope you two are conducting yourselves so as not to bring shame on the worthy sisters there." At this note, Judy cast a glance at Nick, who only smirked. The fox had been playfully dubbed a bad seed by the old doe, and more than once his romantic fancies had raised warnings of scandal if he should go too far. Come to think of it, so had Judy's now and then.

The next words, however, subdued their mild flirtation. When Judy trailed off and her ears drooped, Nick craned his neck to see the letter. It took him a moment to find what had so unsettled the bunny.

Lucy is elated over her marriage, but I worry for her. She's grown weaker since you left, and that fine gentleman Doctor Seward cannot find what's wrong with her. He has sent word to his old mentor, a professor from Germany, who I am told is a man without equal. I must stay calm about all this, for if anything should become of me who knows what it might do to her? You know that you and she are all I have left now that's worth anything.

"What's she mean about something becoming of her?" asked Nick.

She bit her lip before answering. "Mother didn't want Lucy to know, but… her heart's weak, and she's gotten her last notice. She's got maybe two months to live, and any bad shock will… will kill her instantly."

Nick cringed. "Ouch. No wonder she's keeping it hush-hush."

Judy read the rest of the letter in silence and at last folded it up and tucked it into the purse again. "I was really hoping to avoid this," she said softly. "It's not exactly the way I wanted things."

"Wanted what things?" asked Nick.

She looked him in the face. "Nick, you know we hadn't set an exact date for the wedding because we didn't know if you would make it back that soon, so do you think… we could send for a priest?"

He blinked in surprise. "What? Here? Now?"

Judy nodded. "You know I don't always play by the rules," she admitted, "but I'm not one to travel alone with a male who's not my husband."

That was true. What self-respecting woman would do that? "So just so I'm clear, you're saying we should get married here and now." She nodded, and he rolled his eyes over to one side. "I suppose we'll have to delay the honeymoon so we don't upset the nuns."

"I can deal with that," she admitted, drawing a letter from her purse and holding it up. "Mr. Clawkins actually brought it up, but I was hoping to avoid it."

Nicholas took the letter, not bothering to crack the wax seal. It was the kind of thing Mr. Clawkins, his cheetah employer, would say.

He took a deep breath, staring into the distance before he met her eyes again. "Well, to be honest I would love to."

Glancing down at himself and spreading his arms a little in a rough impression of a scarecrow, he added, "As long as you don't mind me being under-dressed. I left all my best getups back in Zootopia."

She smiled, then caught him by the shirt collar and drew him down for a light kiss. "I can live with it."