A/N: I just wanted to give a quick, BIG thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, or alerted this story. I'm so glad y'all are enjoying it. Your kind words and theories really do make my day. We're barreling towards the finish line now, but there's still plenty to come, so without further ado...
12
Nick's mood was as black as the sky by the time he reached Robin's block of the woods. He couldn't stop imagining all the ways in which Cottonbutt might try something nefarious on Judy while he was too far away to stop it. Maybe the flashy bunny had his own tranquilizer gun. The best money could buy, of course. Or worse—he might have armed himself with more of that awful clover. What would Nick do then?
Nothing. There was nothing he could do about the worst case scenario. That's what made it the worst case.
Nick got out of the cruiser. If he had been in the Rainforest District he would have worried he had parked under a waterfall, the rain was coming down so hard. Luckily, he had found a rain slicker in the back seat that actually fit after a few rolls and tucks here and there. Nick yanked up his hood and eyed the small patch of woods grimly.
If the place had looked like a fantasy realm during clear weather and sunny skies, the storm had turned it into a haunted nightmarescape. Darkness filled the empty spaces like miasma, testing even Nick's exceptional night vision. The trees shook their sharpened limbs at him. The butterflies had long ago flittered off to find shelter, and the flower buds had either folded up in self-defense or had been stripped of their petals by the high winds.
There was no sign of Vixie.
Considering her panic on the phone, Nick had half-thought—hoped—that she would be here to meet him at the roadside.
He debated calling her back and telling her to come to him—save him the two-way trek—but then he would still have to wait out in this storm while she made her way over, and maybe she was scared of thunder?
Nick sighed and made a run for the trees. The moment he ducked under the forest's canopy, the pounding rain turned into a steady dripping that reminded him of several leaky roofs he had taken shelter under on more than one occasion.
The journey to the Swift's house was even less fun the second time around. There was no Judy there to keep his spirits up this time, and he kept stepping on sharp little twigs that the wind had shaken down from the upper branches of the trees. In some places he was up to his ankles in sopping, muddy grass. It made him think of the other night, and finding Judy, hurt and unconscious. The memory did not improve his mood.
It was a mistake letting Vixie have his card, Nick decided. If she thought she could call him now every time something scared her, or whenever her brother decided to be a thoughtless jerk and leave his little sister alone while he stayed out carousing or drinking or whatever it was that he did all night. Philanthrophizing.
Nick snorted. If Judy got hurt because Nick had been away fulfilling Robin's part of "big brother" like the worst king of understudy, they would have words.
He reached the pond. Water was creeping in rippling sloshes up the bank. It was starting to look more like the swamp in the Rainforest District.
And still Vixie did not appear. Not even to take another a shot at him.
Somehow that only made Nick more nervous.
When he reached the house, the rain was coming down in sheets. Thunder rumbled, loud enough and close enough for Nick to feel the vibration of it through his chest.
He knocked on the door. "Vixie, it's Officer Wilde. Open up."
He waited. The door didn't open.
"Vixie, are you in there?"
No answer. Or if there was one, he couldn't hear it over the battering of rain against the vinyl of his hood.
He pulled out his phone. Trying to keep it out of the rain as much as possible, he dialed. After a few rings, a robotic and faintly female-sounding voice asked him to leave a message.
"This isn't funny, kit. You called me over here. Now let me in."
He tried the doorknob. Locked.
He waited a few seconds more, and when no little snout peeked itself outside the door he circled the house, checking the windows. But it was just as dark inside as it was outside and he saw no one.
He stopped at the tree Vixie liked to climb. He followed the gnarled branches up. The second floor window was cracked open. Just an inch.
Nick tugged his hood lower over his eyes and debated. There could be a lot of reasonable explanations for why the window was open. The house was ancient; the wooden frames might be warped. Or Vixie might've been careless the last time she'd gone through that way. Or maybe she'd done it on purpose. It was dark inside. Maybe the power was out and the place had started to get stuffy. Maybe she had cracked the window to get some fresh air.
But at this point Nick wasn't feeling very reasonable. He had left his partner in a potentially dangerous situation to come out here, and now the kit who had been crying so desperately to him on the phone wasn't answering her door.
It wasn't like he was responding to a 911 call. For all he knew, Robin had come home and gotten Vixie while Nick had been driving over here like a crazy fox, and now the Swift siblings were out somewhere enjoying a nice dinner at some restaurant that still had power, oblivious to the soggy officer waiting on their doorstep or the water damage that the open window had to be causing.
But if he left, and Vixie was still in there… Maybe too scared to come out and answer…
It might not technically be probable cause, but he was confident he could justify it on paperwork if need be. He wasn't a successful former hustler for nothing.
He squinted up through the rain at the open window. He could pick the front door lock or break another window, but why do that when he had a perfect entrance already? Just several feet off the ground.
He sized up the tree. If a kit could do it…
He snagged the lowest tree limb and hauled himself up. The branches were slick with water and whatever woody oil trees naturally produced, and every time Nick looked up to check his progress he got a faceful of rain—or wet leaves.
It was with relief that he finally reached the second floor. The window swung inward with a creak. Nick grabbed the sill and pulled himself over, landing in a crouch. Water pooled on the floorboards.
He looked around. It was obviously Vixie's room. There was kit sized bed, a chest of drawers, lots of homemade stuffed animals and a pair of short swords made of wood. A set of shelves held a few books—The Three Mousketeers, the Hairy Otter series, Nimh's Fairy Tales—but had even more bric-a-brac she must have picked up from outside: a wilted flower, an oddly shaped stick, a rock with a fossil in it.
But no Vixie.
He crept to door and peeked out.
"Vixie?" he whispered. "Vixie, are you here?"
Someone streaked across the hall and into another room.
Someone with a bushy red tail.
Nick had a moment of relief that the kit was okay before anger set in. He had a case to go solve and a partner to back up. This wasn't the time to be playing games.
Straightening, he pulled open the door and stomped down the hall after her. Raising his voice, he said, "I don't have time for this, Miss Swift. Now come out here so we can ta-aahh!"
Someone smashed into him from behind. An animal of relative size but with thick arms and claws that dug into Nick's sides and tried to drag him down. Nick gasped and attempted to break away, but his assailant was strong. They held on even as Nick hit the doorframe and sent them both into a stumbling spin into the room.
Nick twisted around. He couldn't break the animal's hold, but his rain slicker was wet and slippery and oversized. He tucked his arms and dropped his head, neatly squirming free of both his attacker and his coat.
He whirled around, grabbed a fistful of the plasticky cloth, and flipped it up over his assailant's head. And because Nick was just in that kind of mood, he followed it up with a punch to the snout.
His attacker screeched and windmilled backwards into the wall. They yanked off the raincoat. Masked eyes glittered back at him in the dark. "You again."
"Raqune?" said Nick, feeling his throbbing sides for puncture wounds. "What are you doing here?"
"My job. And I'm getting tired of you getting in my way while I'm trying to do it."
"Well, unfortunately for you," said Nick, "that's my job."
Ray hissed and lunged for him. Nick managed to block the attack and even landed a kick to the raccoon's stomach. But no sooner did he have the thought that this might be an easy fight after all than Ray was coming back, a furious ball of hard muscle and coarse fur. He wasn't particularly skilled, but his actions were so frenzied it was impossible for Nick to guess what his next move would be in order to prepare and turn the tables. All Nick could do was throw up his arms and take the blow, then toss out a kick or punch and dodge away. Each time bought him only a second or two. Not nearly enough time to do anything but retreat. And retreat. And retreat.
He was really missing his tranq gun right about now.
Nick fell back again and bumped up against a desk.
Shelter, space, defense.
He dodged around it.
And stopped.
The desk was one of those connected office sets, wrapping around until it met an attached bookcase, which rose all the way to the ceiling.
A dead end.
Ray leapt on top of the desk, scattering pens and paper. It shook the entire frame and made the books in the bookcase thump together.
There was startled yip.
Nick looked up, passed Ray, to the very top of the bookcase. There, wedged between the top shelf and the ceiling, half-hidden in the shadows, was Vixie.
Her ears were back, her tail wrapped tight around her, the fur fluffed in an attempt to intimidate. She wasn't looking at Nick. Vixie's entire focus was on the raccoon, who had also heard her and had turned to gaze up at her with a delighted smile.
"There you are," he said. "Making me chase you all over this dump. Playtime's over now, kit. Get down."
Vixie shrunk further back and bared her teeth.
Nick felt a snarl work it's way up his throat. He grabbed one of the fallen pens and chucked it at the raccoon. It bounced harmlessly off the side of his head, but it succeeded in redirecting his attention back down to him.
Ray cocked one bushy white brow. "What? Got something to say, fox?"
"Only that I'd leave her alone if I were you."
"Why? Because you'll get me if I don't? You don't exactly have the upper paw here, do you?" He laughed at his own joke. How tacky.
"No," said Nick. "I'd leave her alone because she's got a bow."
Ray scoffed. "What's she going to do, tie my fur back with it?"
Nick smiled. "Wrong kind of bow."
Ray frowned and looked up. And Vixie, who had silently taken aim while they had been talking, let her arrow fly.
It struck the raccoon in the shoulder and sent him toppling backwards off the desk with a screech.
Nick scrambled around to find Ray curled up on his side, moaning in pain.
"Ha! How do you like them raspberries?" crowed Nick.
"What raspberries? I've been shot!" Ray cried.
Nick rolled his eyes and yanked him upright, cuffing him and reciting his Miranda rights.
"Oh, come on," he said when the raccoon continued to carry on. "It doesn't hurt that bad."
Ray whimpered and lowered his paw, checking the damage, and Nick felt his stomach swoop. An arrow—an actual arrow—entered just below the raccoon's collarbone and stuck out several inches from his shoulder.
Nick looked up at Vixie. "You used real arrows?"
"He was coming to kill me!" she defended.
Point. But Nick didn't think he was ever going to be able to look at Judy's vegetable kabobs in the same way ever again.
Vixie had nocked another arrow. Nick cursed and waved her off. "Put that away! You got him. We're good. You can come down now."
She eyed the moaning raccoon suspiciously, but climbed down from the bookcase.
She stopped a safe distance away, bow in hand.
"Robin let's you play with real arrows?" asked Nick.
Her gaze turned skittish. "Not exactly."
"Vixie…"
She made a face. "They're his arrows. He keeps 'em locked up in the study cabinet. S'why I came in here. I thought if I could just get to them…" She scowled at him. "You almost blew my cover. Who shouts during a home invasion?"
"I didn't know it was—" Nick caught himself. "Hey! Who's the officer here?"
She mumbled something and started brushing out the frizz in her tail.
"Why didn't you tell me someone was in the house when you called?"
"Because I didn't know then." The duh at the end of that sentence was implied. "I called because Robin… he hasn't come back yet and I… got scared." She clutched her tail. "And then while I was waiting for you, I heard him come in." She shot an angry look at Ray. "Through my window. And I'd left the phone in my room, so I couldn't get to it to call anyone."
"So you decided to have a showdown all by yourself?" said Nick. "You didn't think to, say, run out the front door? Or hide in the woods?"
She wrinkled her nose. "Someone had to defend the house. This is our home. It's always been our home. What if he did something to it? If Robin found out, he would be so upset…"
All these tiny animals with more bravery than should fit in their bodies. They were going to be the death of him.
Nick knelt down so that they were eye-to-eye, taking her paws in his own so she would stop wringing her tail.
"Robin would be more upset if he came home and found out that something had happened to you," he told her. "Now, we both know your brother can be a bit of a pain. But you don't want to make him sad, do you?"
Vixie's eyes went wide. She shook her head.
"So next time, you abandon ship, understand? Leave the criminal catching to the professionals."
She nodded.
Nick ruffled her head and stood.
"I did good, though, right? I mean…" She glanced slyly up at him. "You have to admit—that was a great shot."
And Judy said he was incorrigible.
He went back over to Ray. The raccoon was no longer groaning but lay still on his side, breathing through the pain.
"You're not going into shock, are you?" asked Nick, nudging him with his foot. "I'd hate to have you keel over before a judge can get to you."
Ray's response to that made Vixie gasp and then giggle.
"Vixie, could you grab me a blanket and some duct tape?" asked Nick.
"Should I leave you my bow?"
Nick wasn't about to admit that he couldn't shoot an arrow accurately if he's life depended on it. Instead he waved her off, saying, "I think I'll be safe enough without it."
Once she had left, Nick closed the door over and turned to Ray. "First the Corsacs. Now the Swifts. Is there a connection or is the animal who hired you just taking out foxes one family at a time?"
"Who knows?" said Ray. "But I'll tell you what—if your name comes up, I'll do yours in for free."
"I'm terrified," said Nick. "Are you the reason Robin never came home?"
Ray said nothing.
"Where are the foxes you took? Are they still alive? What did you do to them?"
"What I was paid to do," said Ray.
"Is money all it takes? Even your friend Mo seemed to have a line, but you. Going after kits? Really?"
The raccoon sneered. "A fox. Hardly a tragedy in Zootopia. Most citizens would thank me."
Nick's paws fisted. But before he could say or do something that probably would have gotten him suspended, Vixie returned.
"You got a room in this house with no windows that might hold a raccoon?" asked Nick.
"Robin's closet is huge. He'll fit in there," said Vixie.
Nick hauled the raccoon to his feet. "Let's go."
Robin's closet was big only by kit standards. But Ray did fit with a little shoving. Nick taped the raccoon's injured arm so he wouldn't jostle it any more than necessary, then threw the blanket around him.
"Such a caring fox," mocked Ray.
Nick shut the door on the raccoon's tail. The screech he let out was particularly satisfying.
Then he turned around and saw that Vixie was watching him.
Right. He was supposed to be a role model.
"Accident," he said.
She pursed her lips but said nothing.
He contacted headquarters to let them know what had happened, along with a request for an ambulance. "Take your time, though." Then he and Vixie headed downstairs.
"You told me the study cabinet was locked," he said, as they trudged down to the ground floor. "How did you get into it?"
Vixie lifted her muzzle proudly in the air. "I've been able to pick locks since I was six."
"Philanthropists skills you picked up from your brother?"
"Filly-what skills?"
"Never mind."
He made her take a seat on the couch, collecting a throw from off one of the nearby chairs and tucking into around her until only her furry head poked out. Then he went and got her a drink from the fridge.
"But I'm not cold," she said in bemusement. "Or thirsty."
"Humor me."
She looked skeptical but snuggled into the blanket, sipping her glass of sweet tea and watching him.
Nick watched her back.
"So. While we wait for the calvary to arrive. Can you tell me why you called earlier?"
"I told you. Robin hasn't come back yet."
"And you don't know where he went?"
She shook her head. "He saw the news about Marian and Todd and Reynard being taken, and he got really upset. He started making calls…"
"Do you know to whom?"
"I'm sure he called Uncle John. Oh and probably Uncle Will, too. Maybe Aunt Scarlet…"
"Did you overhear anything?"
"No. He made me leave the room. The next thing I knew, he was telling me he had to go somewhere, and that he'd be back soon." She looked down at her tea. "Only he wasn't."
"And you have no clue at all where he might've gone?"
She huffed. "He didn't want me following him. But he said it might be dangerous, so just in case he wrote down the address and put it in the safe. He told me that if he didn't come back, I was supposed to call you. He said knowing you, you would be able to crack it."
"The safe?"
She nodded. Nick did some inventive cursing. Silently, in his head, of course. Because he was a role model now. But that annoying fox wasn't even here and he was getting digs in.
"What, you can pick a lock but you can't crack a safe?" said Nick.
"Robin made Aunt Scarlet promise not to teach me until I'm older."
Despite his irritation, the pout in her voice made Nick smile. "It's tough being a kit, huh?"
"You have no idea."
Nick debated. He could wait and let back-up come. Have them do it all officially and on the record, with heaps of paperwork and approvals that could take hours to get, and hope that in the meantime whatever had happened to the Corsacs wasn't happening to Vixie's brother, too.
Or he could do it his way.
He looked at the young kit's face. Hopeful and anxious and waiting.
Well, he always did like doing things his way.
Nick stood. Vixie bounded up immediately. He held out a paw to stop her.
"I don't think so," he said. "I'm not going to be responsible for teaching you any more bad habits. Just tell me where the safe is and I'll do it myself. By myself."
"Can't I just watch?"
"No. I'm putting you on look out duty. Call me if anyone arrives before I get back."
She wasn't happy with that, he could tell. But all she said was, "I will."
"And for the record, I only know how to crack safes because a friend of a friend taught me. I've never played the thief once in my life."
Vixie blinked. "Of course not. Stealing is wrong." She said it without a hint of guile.
Nick looked at her for a second more, and when no judgment seemed forthcoming, he gestured to the stairs. "Your brother's room?"
"The attic."
Right.
He headed up, stopping by the kitchen and bathroom to pick up a few necessary tools. Just some innocuous household items that, when used together, could crack a safe in minutes. Robin carried the best of everything, Nick couldn't help noticing. He tried very hard not to be suspicious about it, for Vixie's sake. He didn't want to save her brother only to be forced to arrest him.
Philanthropist, my furry behind. And I'm an entrepreneur.
Ten minutes later, he returned to the living room with the address in hand. It really was just an address—no note or anything—written in annoyingly florid cursive. It directed him to some bar in a sketchy corner of the Rainforest District, one that Nick had heard of but never been to.
And it was in a flood zone. Great.
He met Vixie on the stairs.
"I see lights in the trees," she told him. "I think the medics are here." Her gaze fell on the small piece of paper. "Is that the address?" She clapped her paws together. "I knew you were the best!"
Her open admiration made Nick twitchy. He pocketed the paper.
"If anyone asks, we found Robin's note on the fridge, got it?"
"Got it."
Nick went to fetch the medics, a couple of sturdy beavers with stoic expressions that didn't seem bothered by the trek or the weather. They were accompanied by both Officer Howle and Officer Selene.
The two officers had to duck to fit through the front door, and after taking in the old and creaky staircase, decided to wait downstairs while Nick directed the medics to raccoon in Robin's closet.
Once the beavers had pried Ray from his makeshift cell and gotten down to the business of getting him onto the stretcher without doing further damage to his injury, Nick returned to the living room where Howle and Selene waited with the kit.
"Vixie, this is Officer Howle and Officer Selene," he told her. "They're going to stay here until someone can come and fetch you. Any of those aunts and uncles of yours live in this district, by any chance?"
Vixie looked between him and the other officers. "They do, but… can't I just wait for Robin here? You're going to go get him now, aren't you?"
"I am. But the thing is…" Nick made a show of looking out the front window. "The storm is really bad right now. We might have to hole up for a while until it's over."
She perked. "Then I'll come with you! We can wait together."
"Robin wouldn't thank me for bringing you into a dangerous situation. Remember how we talked about not worrying him?"
Nick might not've had any kids or younger siblings, but even he recognized brewing rebellion when he saw it.
He crouched and put a paw on her shoulder. "Hey. You called because you trusted me to get your brother back, right?"
"I called because I can't crack a safe," Vixie grumped. "Yet."
Someone behind him abruptly coughed. Nick shot a glare over his shoulder.
"Still." He tucked the blanket back around her shoulders. "You saved my tail back there, Swifty."
"I did?"
Nick nodded. "You bet you did. If not for your quick thinking and bravery, I don't know what I would've done. So let me return the favor. Let me bring you back your brother."
Nick wasn't one to squirm under scrutiny, but even he had trouble holding that solemn gaze. It was a strange sensation to be sized up so seriously by such a young pair of eyes.
"You promise you'll bring him back?"
"Cross my heart," said Nick.
Someone hissed in warning. Nick ignored them.
Not until Vixie said, "Okay," with a tiny bob of her head did he rise and turn to his fellow officers. Selene was scowling, her tail flicking back and forth in a way that said she wanted nothing more than to swat him. Howle just looked worried.
"A word, Wilde?" said Selene.
Nick followed the tiger and the wolf to the stairway, continuing up it several steps until he was eye level with them. He flashed them his most confident grin. "Guys, relax. I got this."
"Save your bluffing for the kit," hissed Selene. "There's a reason we don't make promises like that. You should know better."
"You want to be the one to tell that little kit that we might not be able to save her precious big brother?" asked Nick. "The only family member she has left? Who is also like a father to her? Then go ahead, be my guest. You're a stronger cop than I."
"Do you even know where her brother is? What he's doing? Who he might be with?"
"I have an address and a theory. That's all that I need right now."
Selene made a noise of disgust.
The paramedics made their way down the stairs and Nick stepped aside to let them pass. Ray was strapped to the stretcher, his eyes already glazing over from painkillers.
Once they were out the door, Nick retreated to the kitchen and called Judy. She answered on the first ring. "Nick?"
"The one and only."
She huffed into the speaker. "I was starting to get worried. What's going on over there?"
Nick gave her the condensed version, pausing to let her rant when he reached the part about Ray going after Vixie.
"Do you think Robin's disappearance is related?" she asked him once he had finished.
"It's a good bet. Swift only went out after hearing about the Corsacs."
Across the room, Selene and Howle had returned to Vixie's side and were helping her call her aunt or uncle of choice. Whatever Selene's issues with him, she was nothing but gentle with the kit, her voice soft as a purr. Vixie was already standing straighter, her grip less tight on her blanket.
Nick turned away from them and lowered his voice. "Listen, Carrots. I know I said I would deal with this and come right back, but…"
"You need to find Robin." It was both statement and consent.
"Wherever he is, the Corsacs may be also."
"And Vixie needs her brother back."
Nick blew out a breath. Even on the phone, he couldn't hustle her. "And Vixie needs her brother back."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Carrots?"
"I'm here, Nick."
Are you mad?
What if I can't save him?
Am I making the right choice?
"How are things going over there? Any luck?"
A thoughtful hum. "Not yet. Ben is giving me a tour."
Nick ground his teeth at her use of the rabbit's first name. "Sounds like fun."
"It's been fascinating." By the falsely chirpy pitch of her voice, Nick knew Cottonbutt was within earshot.
"Well try not to get distracted by all the frozen vegetables, all right? You're not just there for the free herb'oeuvres."
Judy snorted. "I'll try."
Nick picked at a crack in his phone's plastic casing. The conversation was over, but he was loathe to end the call. He tried to think of something else to say, to tell her, but there was nothing and time was ticking. The storm and their odds weren't going to get any better by waiting.
"I should get getting then," said Nick. "Places to go, foxes to find. You understand."
"Right," said Judy. "But... Nick?"
"Yeah?"
A pause. When she spoke, her voice was low and there was an odd echo to it, as if she'd cupped her paw around the speaker.
"Vixie's not the only one who needs her fox back. You hear me?"
This bunny.
Nick made sure his face was averted from the other animals in the room, lest they see the big stupid grin that crept out across his face. "Little possessive, don't you think, Fluff?"
Judy's response was matter of fact. "I walk around smelling like you now. I think I've earned it."
