A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all that good stuff! I have just enough time today to post this next drabble entry.

For this entry, I'm doing something a little different. While this is set after the events in Chapter 5: Part I of "Run", you're actually getting a sneak peek of the upcoming "Run" section! There's a little scene in "Run" that will make sense even if you don't read this but will have a more special meaning if you do. This one was fun to write (I hesitated going back to Bunnyburrow so soon, but I really liked this idea), so I hope you enjoy it!

Thanks to Berserker88, HawkTooth, and Cimar of Turalis WildeHopps for your reviews! I love getting your feedback on these little drabbles.

And thank you to all of you who read, fave, and follow!

Happy reading,

Euphonemes

Off the Trail

Nothing That Can't Be Fixed (A Companion to Chapter 5: Part I)

"How do you turn this thing on? Blasted remote control…."

Not many of Bunnyburrow's residents would willingly spend a whole morning in a pie shop, especially as the town neared harvesting season. Fretful farmers would rather be pacing their tilled patches of earth than slicing into a sweet rhubarb dessert with a dollop of vanilla ice cream on top. Fortunately for Gideon Grey and the future prospects for his little storefront shop, retirees who had seen year after year of carrots and whatnot were plenty tired of the fields and were happy to occupy the four wrought-iron tables in his café-style dining area.

Of course, the elderly guests presented their own challenges. "Here, let me," Gideon said as he stifled his laugh and swiped the remote from the rabbit who had to be the oldest in all of Bunnyburrow. The television set was brand new (Gideon's apple-blueberry combination was outselling his wildest expectations), and even he had trouble getting it started. Basic cable was spotty at best out here, and satellite signals got lost in the tall meadow grasses between farmers' fields, so Gideon stuck with the old-fashioned (and much cheaper) airwaves. His patrons didn't seem to mind; maybe having only five channels reminded them of rosier days.

The rabbit was quick to give Gideon a gravelly shout once the set came alive. "Put on the news, Grey! I wanna see what's goin' on with Stu and Bonnie's kid."

When it came to bunnies, Gideon would usually need to ask which child a rabbit was referring to. But, as he got to know Stu and Bonnie through the pie shop and heard all about their many children, Gideon had a pretty strong feeling that he knew which one the retiree was talking about. Three clicks of the channel button, and, sure enough, there was her face splashed on the screen. It seemed surreal sometimes. Gideon had grown accustomed to seeing Judy Hopps on television now, as she continued doing all sorts of newsworthy things. He had watched her wrap up that Night Howler business and then go on a kind of celebratory tour, hitting up a late-night show here and a news interview there. That had all been impressive in its own right but, of course, with where she was now as a candidate for mayor, Gideon knew she had really come a long way.

"Ah, good, leave it here! She's startin' to look jus' like her mom…hey, Grey, didn't ya used to pick on that little girl?"

Gideon's paw tightened around the remote control. His memories from his youth were still as crystal clear as the picture on the television, even after all those years. Time had calmed an angry kit, but it had also delivered pain to an older (and supposedly wiser) fox. He could almost feel what Judy had felt as his actions had left their scars. Invariably, he winced at those thoughts, just as Judy first winced at him when she briefly returned home to try and fail to be a normal bunny. Gideon had to hide the look that scrunched his face from the prying eye of the retired rabbit.

"That was a long time ago."

The old bunny cackled. "Hmm, yeah, bet yer kickin' yer own bee-hind now, ain't ya?"

His free paw brushed out the wrinkles of his favorite apron with the smiling pie. Now, Gideon wasn't ashamed or regretful of his chosen profession, as he loved making pies and always felt fulfilled when he closed up shop every evening. But, Judy had accomplished so many amazing things already. She had brought something special to what it meant to be a resident of Bunnyburrow that all the apple-blueberry pies in the world could not manage. Gideon was not sour about anything; yet, on quiet nights when he was sweeping away loose grains of flour, he wondered how he would fare should he brave the concrete jungle of Zootopia as Judy had done before him.

Though, if he wanted to take the chance, perhaps Judy would be on his side. After their paths crossed again — and they patched up a lot of broken history — she had smiled at him, and it had been kind. That brought a smile to Gideon's face in his shop as he remembered, and he relaxed his paw that was still wrapped around the remote control. He finally waved away the old rabbit's comment and started back toward his counter. "It's fine, it's all fine."

That made the bunny laugh louder. "Sure, sonny, whatever you say. Aw, turn it up now! Can't hear nothin'."

Over his shoulder, Gideon boosted the set's volume to almost-full blast. The first time he did that, Gideon had to give up making pies for a day because the noise from the television was too distracting. These days, he had gained a very valuable ability to tune out the warbling from whatever show or news program the guests desired to watch (as well as the peculiar commentary that his guests would banter back and forth with).

But today, the old's rabbit's muttered comment caught Gideon's ear. "Well, I'll be…looks like she's gone and had herself a bad day."

Gideon had just about taken position behind the register when he let his eyes float up to the television. It looked like some news bulletin or another, though the text scrawling along the bottom of the image was pretty small from where he stood. "What do you mean?"

"Take a look for yerself."

He thought about arguing with the old rabbit and convincing him to read it. But, his guest was liable to make a mistake (or grumble about it the whole time), and Gideon, who was suddenly growing more anxious by the second, did not want to start that battle. After swinging back around the counter and dodging the old doe who ordered strawberry meringue every day, he was within range of the screen. The words felt familiar as he read them, and he tried to place one particular name.

"Kyle Mansoa…rings a bell. Wait, wasn't that the guy Judy was investigating? He had gone missing or something?"

"Mhm. Guess someone else found 'im first. She made some speech about it, but they ain't showin' it."

What they did show was the face of an utterly devastated Judy Hopps. Her smile was gone, and the frown in its place was horrendous. Gideon winced at her look, very nearly the same one she had given him many years ago as he put her in the dirt. He hadn't been sure what to make of the look then, but now…he turned away from the television. "That doesn't seem like the right thing to do."

The old rabbit never looked away from the screen while he scoffed. "Welcome to politics, sonny. Real shame there. I figured she was made for that mayor job."

Gideon's elderly guest sounded so defeated; the shopkeeper couldn't let that stand. As Gideon processed the news bulletin, something was warming his belly — more than a fresh slice of pie could do. "She's still got a shot."

The rabbit did not seem moved. "Well, she better get goin' on it then. This ain't gonna be lookin' too good for her."

The news channel was lingering on that particular image of Judy frowning, which to Gideon was something alien. He had seen Judy frown — he had caused that frown before — but it was usually laced with grit. It had been the frown of a bunny who was so ready to get back up and into the fight again. But now, on the television, she simply looked…sad. "It must be so tough, dealing with all of that when you're so far away from home."

The old rabbit nodded and ran his paw along the table, nearing knocking off his fork (this had been happening with alarming frequency, and Gideon was starting to wonder if he should mention it to the bunny). "Yessir, I think yer right — mmm, but right now, I can smell those apple-blueberry pies from all the way over here, Grey. You oughta go pull'em outta the oven…and cut me a slice while yer at it, heh."

"Oh, sure, I'll grab a fresh one for you." Gideon slipped the remote control into the front pouch of his apron and tightened the apron's strings that ran behind his back. Slicing into a freshly baked pie was perhaps the most wonderful feeling in the world, and he was ready to take out some of this rapidly rising…what? Anger? His eyes had trapped Judy's frown, and the picture of her sad face inflamed something in Gideon with every step he took toward the counter and the door to the kitchen behind it.

He could smell the pies, too (he really thought they were heavenly, even after he had baked the same thing several thousand times). Those pies always drew out a memory of Gideon sitting by himself near the pond that bordered his family's land, where he would snack on two dozen blueberries at a time and watch the sunset paint the water in glorious golds. For him, the pies were home.

And like that, Gideon Grey knew exactly what to do. "Hey, I know what she needs!" he shouted to himself as anger turned to action, and he hopped over the counter and bounded into the kitchen.

When he emerged a minute later, Gideon had in one paw the slice for his guest and in the other a neatly wrapped box, warmed by the freshly baked pie within. Inside the box, he had placed a short note for this package's recipient. That frown did not suit her; with this little gift, Gideon would help her smile again. There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little pie.

He dropped off the slice of pie at the eager rabbit's table and paused just long enough to mention he was leaving. "I'm going to go run this over to the post office. Watch the store for a few minutes, okay?"

As Gideon tucked the box snugly under his forelimb and trotted out the door, he heard the gravelly voice of the old bunny. "Awful nice gesture, Grey. You're not so bad after all. But when you get back, be ready to cut me another slice of that pie. Gotta get ready for my afternoon shows…and make sure this dagnabbin' television is workin', too!"

Gideon couldn't help but smile.

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