Hello everyone! I bring to you the next chapter of Saving Wilde!

I know its a day late, but my editor insisted I do some rewriting before I posted and I wasn't able to finish it until this morning. Doing that meant that this is late, but I think I was worth it since it resulted in some significant improvements to the story.

The next update should be, more or less, on time, but I can tell you for certain that the next after that will not be. As I explained before I am being temporarily relocated by my company and I am moving mid month!

Thanks to everyone who had read, commented, left feedback, tolerated my being late lately, and everything else. I appreciate all of you.

I don't own any Disney Characters

"You ready?"

The response came slow, hesitant. She didn't want to ruin the post finals high by viewing her results. Not that they would be bad, certainly not. She had done well on just about everything, she knew it. But "just about" wasn't everything. Driving still gave her trouble, the big steering wheels in the cruisers made it difficult for her to react quickly, even with their excellent power steering they were still designed for mammals far larger than her, just like everything else in the ZPD. But like with all other things, there too she had managed. It was not whether or not she had failed that caused her such anxiety, it was whether or not she had finally toppled Opher from his place atop the class.

He had sat at the top of the classes weekly rankings, ever since it had first been released at the end of their first month in the Academy. He had never mentioned it, or, at least, he had never been the one to bring it up. He almost seemed embarrassed by the ranking, and he shied from any sort of conversation that brought it up. It was as if he felt bad for beating everyone. It was a sentiment that Judy simply didn't understand. She had always been competitive ever since she was a kit, especially when it came to her older siblings – driven to be the best at everything she tried. She was never the strongest, nor perhaps even the smartest. But while there were times she might fail, it was never from a lack of resolve or motivation to try. While she was never one to gloat, she was certainly proud of everything she had done. And indeed, she had much to be proud of.

But Opher was different. That was another reason why she liked him so much. Ever since she had first met the leopard, she had liked him. He didn't judge her, look down on her or scoff at what she wanted. Tell her how unusual it was for a rabbit to leave their burrow. All the things she had heard throughout her life, time and time again.

She had asked about it once. About why it was that he had never even mentioned how unusual she was, why he had always simply accepted her. He had smiled, shrugged, and then told her the reason was simple. He had once been small and vulnerable, when he was young, the target of many a schoolyard bully. Judy, in some ways, reminded him of that time. There was an important distinction however: she remained unbowed by all the doubt, he hadn't been that strong.

It had been hard to believe, was still hard to believe, that Opher had ever been anything but as he was. Strong, confident, and frustratingly good at everything he put his mind to.

She had spent much of her time at the academy judging her performance on his own. Struggling mightily to keep just a pace behind him. She had bested him at times, she knew this. In most of their classes, even in some of their physical training, but on the whole Opher seemed untouchable.

"C'mon Hopps, open it, it's like tearing off a bandaid."

"That's easy for you to say. You already know that you are at the top of the list."

"Hah, maybe, maybe not, you did damn good in our finals. You won't know until you open it."

Judy looked back down at the large orange envelope that lay before her on the common room table, her name printed in large black letters across the front. She was nervous, her placement in the class rankings had wide ramifications on her career. Do well, and she might even have the chance at selecting which precinct she was placed, do poorly and the course of her life would no longer be grasped so tightly in her paws.

She sighed, recognizing that she couldn't sit there staring at the envelope forever. What was done was done. She would have to live with the results, whatever they were. She picked up the envelope, undid the clasp and eased the contents from their container. There wasn't much inside – a dossier, her visage staring up at her from the past, smiling and happy, and a transcript of all she had done at the Academy, every class and exercise, and the grades she had received for each. She had done well, overall, though early on her physical scores had been abysmal. She read each grade, slowly moving through the transcript, her anxiety replaced by the warm glow of satisfaction. Before her was a record of how far she had come in the six short months at the Academy, and that record pleased her.

She came to the end of the transcript, where the class ranking was listed and saw, in large letters, her place amongst her peers. "Second" it read. She felt a slight pang of disappointment. She had worked so hard to beat Opher, but she hadn't quite done it. She knew she couldn't always be the best, but she had hoped.

"So how'd you do?" Opher asked, looking at her from over the top of his own transcript.

"Good... very good." She said, almost reluctant to share with him her results.

"See? I told you you would be fine. What's your rank?"

"You first."

"First," he said, with a look that said that the result was exactly what he expected.

"Second," she forced out, her disappointment felt more keenly now that she was vocalizing its catalyst

"Wow, Hopps! Damn, you did good! I told you, you would be fine. You were second in the rankings the last time they were published. You had nothing to worry about." He smiled at her, and it almost made her feel better, normal again. But she was annoyed, and decided she wanted to make him work just a little harder.

"I wanted to beat you." She gave him a resentful look, peering at him over her own transcript.

"Yeah, I know. Honestly I think I just barely held you off. You still did good though."

"You think so?" She asked, perking up, a sudden desire to compare results overcoming her. "You don't even know what I scored. Can I see your results? I wanna know how close I was."

"No!" he replied, almost playfully. "We aren't supposed to share them anyways."

"Oh, c'mon Opher, we have been sharing our grades since we met each other. I just wanna know, just want to see where you did better. Here, you can look at mine." She gave her most disarming smile and, neatening the small stack, she offered it to him, a hopeful look in her eyes.

He looked at the offered papers skeptically, placing his own upon the table between, them and took took the offered papers without a word, scanning the pages.

"Well, can I look at yours now?"

"I never agreed to that," he replied with a slight shake of his head.

"Opher!" she groused, "That's not fair. That was the deal!"

"Sorry, Hopps, I have to keep some secrets."

She pouted at him, searching his face, quite taken back that he would trick her like this. "Give me my stuff back then."

"I haven't finished looking yet," he said, returning to her transcript.

She looked at him, scandalized. Amazed at the way he was acting. She looked at his transcript now lying by his side on the table, apparently forgotten, and an idea formulated in her mind.

She threw herself at the manuscript, snatching the papers and flew across the common area to her own personal room. Throwing the bolt on the door, she had to restrain herself from scattering the stolen documents across the floor as she searched for the top page. The one that displayed his final score. And then came Opher, pounding upon her door.

"Hopps!" His voice sounded different, unfamiliar, angry. "I am serious, give them back!."

"No!" she called back through the door,but her resolve was faltering, she had never seen him angry before. Frustrated certainly, but not angry, and not with her.

She turned her attention to his packet, the dossier, his picture, smiling up at her just like her own, and she paused. She wasn't going to read it, she wasn't interested in violating his trust like that, even if he was being a jerk. With a sigh Judy turned to open the door, ready to face whatever Opher had in store for her. She wasn't so sure she deserved it, but she would take whatever came.

"I'm sorry, Opher." Standing in her door entry way, Judy looked her friend in the eyes. "I didn't read it."

After a few, agonizing moments, his frown slowly melted into a smile. "It's fine Judy, I was just giving you a hard time. I went a little too far. You can read it. I barely squeaked out a victory you know. The early scores dragged you down, but overall you did very well."

She looked up at him, trying to read his face, see if he was toying with her. There seemed to be no game in his eyes however, so she turned her attention to his transcript. There was silence between them as she read, but at each moment her eyes grew wider and wider until she exclaimed, "Darnit Opher! I was so close! Lookit this." She pointed to a spot on the page. "You are so lucky all of this only lasted six months. I've had better grades than you for ages!"

"Yes, Hopps," he said, smiling benignly down upon her. "I think that I am."

It was a beautiful day in Zootopia, though cold. The enormously expensive and extensive weather modification maintained around the city allowed the city center to experience the four seasons, though in a muted and cursory form. That suited Nick fine, he was still in his winter coat, warm and comfortable, and the very idea of having to spend any sort of time in the heat maintained in other parts of the city caused him to pant. There was no snow, what little the city received would not arrive for perhaps another month, but it was cold, and while there was green grass still in abundance, it, along with everything else, was just a little greyer.

Nick was dressed in a black, slim fitting suit, along with black Ray Burns in the modern style. Rare attire in his line of work, it made him look a bit too much like a 'G Mammal'. Yet he enjoyed the outfit regardless, felt he looked good in it, and while he may not have realized it, he carried himself with just a little more distinction. His back straighter, shoulders back, head held high.

On this day, though, he did not stand out. In fact he fit in quite well with the various other dignitaries attending the graduation of the most recent class of ZPD cadets. Various city leaders were in attendance: Allen Hendershot, head of the city zoning board, Victoria Sheehan, the commissioner of the Department of Transportation, and even Rabnawaz Akbar, chairmammal of the city council. Truly, some of the real movers and shakers in the City.

Normally, the graduation of a cadet class was not such a momentous event. Indeed it was rather mundane, cadets graduated all the time, usually about two or three classes a year, though sometimes more depending on need. The department had more than 37,000 officers, and more than 15,000 other employees. Usually graduations were attended by the family of the cadets and other members of the Department, but rarely more than that.

This one was different however. Mayor Lionheart's much touted Mammal Inclusion Initiative had a major impact upon the city. All sorts of positions around the city had been opened up to species who might not have ever considered them. Not immediately, it was a slow process, small steps all along the way to minimize the disruption and keep the criticism to a minimum. But there had been many victories some easy, like opening the DMV to mammals other than sloths, and some hard, like passing laws that prevented lending institutions from discriminating based upon species. Though that last had been a hard fight. For instance: banks run by elephants had long refused to deal with mice, but it was more than time for that sort of thing to be over. Lionhart had, for his whole career, made it a point to fight to make Zootopian society as inclusive as he could. He was, after all, the first predator to gain a seat on the City Council, and had even been the chairmammal for three years before running for mayor.

He took his position as the de facto representative of the predator community seriously, though it was not an easy balance to maintain. He and other predators had to be perfect to be accepted into the greater prey community. It was all about respectability politics. Predators all had to work extra hard to maintain the same sort of respectability that prey were afforded as a matter of course, and one slip up could ruin it for everyone. A prey species robs a bank or assaults someone? Well, they are a criminal, but not representative of the rest of their species or the wider prey community. A predator did the same thing? Well…

It was a difficult balance, but Lionheart was a master.

Still, despite his long focus on improving conditions for predators, when Lionhart said that "Zootopia was a city where anyone could be anything," he meant it. Predator and prey were to be as equal as he could make them.

That was why this cadet class was so important. That was why it had turned into such a big event, with press, various city dignitaries, politicians, and a large public attendance. It would even be televised, though that was mostly because Lionhart planned to give a speech. This class was the very first trial run of the next phase of Lionheart's policies. Opening up the ZPD to non-traditional species. The ZPD had long been the domain of the larger species, both predator and prey, and as a result, there had long been complaints that it was poorly equipped to deal with many of the challenges it faced in such a large and diverse city. For instance, there were no small rodent officers, and so Little Rodentia was poorly served, and had, more than a century ago when the ZPD was stood up, created its own extra-judicial policing force, which had often worked closely with the ZPD in small mammal matters, but was not controlled by the city, and thus had very little oversight. Nor were large large swaths of the animal kingdom represented in its ranks, which meant that officers were often met with significant and palpable distrust from some of the more insular communities that existed within the city, like that of the rabbits.

Judy Hopps would be the first of many new mammals brought on the force to make it more representative of the community it served, to help the existing ZPD better deal with and interact with the innumerable communities that existed all around the city, each often carrying with them their own unique understandings of what it meant to live in the city, and their place in it.

From Lionheart's perspective, Nick knew, Judy's admittance into the academy had been a wild success. And whether she was aware of it or not, she had done much to silence the critics, both within and without the ZPD, and there had been considerable critics.

But that also meant that, knowingly or not, Judy would be, for now and in the future, just as much of a representative of her respective community as Lionhart was of predators. Her career would be followed closely, whether she liked it or not.

Part of Nick felt bad for her in that regard. She had become an unwitting pawn in Lionheart's efforts to improve species relations in the City. A noble goal certainly, but it meant that Judy would live under intense scrutiny, and be subject to the same double standards that predators were. She would live with a target on her back at all times. It was exhausting to even consider. For someone like Nick, who had spent his whole life doing his best not to be noticed by society at large, it was a horrifying prospect. He found himself immensely curious how she would handle it. There was no question that she could be a capable officer, both his personal experience with her and her final placement in class was evidence of that. But she would be judged far harsher than any normal officer, by superiors who, as far as Nick understood it, were not happy to have her on, and she would have to deal with that right from the get-go.

"Welcome to the real world, Judy," Nick said under his breath as he handed his pass to the mammal in the booth. She would experience the same sort of thing he and so many others like him had throughout their lives. A society that was judgemental and unforgiving. He could only imagine how shocking it would be for her. He at least had the advantage that he had grown up in that environment, had learned to survive and even thrive in it. But she hadn't, she had grown up amongst a loving family that was just like her, and she was in for a rude awakening.

Making his way through the entranceway, a simple awning really, he passed numerous mammals, some handing out programs, ushers directing attendees to their seating, numerous attendees all all conversing in groups around the entrance, and came back out into the sun casting his gaze around the gathering.

There were a lot of seats, far more than he had expected, perhaps hundreds, though far less than half were yet filled. He was quite early. He wanted to get good seating, though not too good. He was still conflicted on whether or not he wanted to be seen by Judy. She was a part of his life that he desperately wanted to put behind him, and he was afraid that any actual contact might only bring up things in him he had worked hard to put to rest.

He made his way down one of the aisles, glancing around at the empty seats, looking for the perfect compromise between being able to see the goings on up front while remaining as inconspicuous as possible. Then he saw the perfect one, about halfway back on the right, next to a horse with red fur. He didn't want to stand out afterall, and he made his his way towards the seat.

"Sir!" Nick looked back towards the voice of a rapidly approaching kangaroo. "Sir do you know where your seat is?"

"Uh, I was just gonna grab one over there," he replied, pointing towards his desired seat.

"I'm sorry sir, but its designated seating today, there are just so many guests. Let me see your ticket." Offering out her paw expectantly as Nick fumbled in his pockets for the ticket, annoyed that he had now potentially lost the ability to control the terms of his meeting Judy again. He handed the kangaroo the ticket. "Oh, you are over here sir, follow me!" And off she went, hopping down the aisles, Nick following at a safe distance, careful to avoid her tree trunk of a tail.

Nick was directed to his seat, in the middle, on the left, about halfway back, nearly the direct mirror of the seat he had picked for himself. He let out a relieved sigh as he took his place. He was still in control, so he was happy. He sat, and waited, watching the lawn around him fill up with mammals.

Then, with about a half hour until things began, there was a commotion back at the entrance, a din that seemed to grown in fits and starts at each moment.

The rabbits had arrived. A tremendous number, they entered the lawn as if a great grey, brown, and white tide, cacophonous and inexorable. They flowed around him, on all side, the ushers frantically trying to direct them all to their seats. Nick found himself sitting amongst them, a lone fox in a sea of rabbits. He had heard their would be rabbit, delegation of some sort, and certainly at least a portion of Judy's family would be in attendance, but he hadn't expected this. Hundreds of the tiny mammals were everywhere. Though, as he considered it further, he realized it shouldn't have surprised him at all, the Hopp's burrow alone had been packed full them, and this event, whatever the larger implications for Zootopian society, was an important one for their community.

Their presence didn't please him however. Not because he had anything against their being there, he fully recognized the important ramifications of Judy's graduation, well, at least the ones that presented themselves to him, but rather because he now stood out like a sore thumb. It would be hard for him to avoid notice, and as he looked around further his alarm only deepened as he realized that he was literally the only mammal in the whole section that wasn't a rabbit. "Shit, shit, shit, this just isn't good," he thought to himself as he did his best to become lost amongst the sea of ears, slouching down so he was just peaking over the rows ahead of him. The cadets had not arrived yet, but there was the tiny risk that he might be recognized by one of her family.

He glanced at the rabbits beside him, on his right, a brown and white rabbit he didn't recognized, who shrunk back upon noticing his gaze. He shook his head in annoyance and redirected his gaze to the rabbit on his left, and then, he froze. Sitting beside him was Martha, Judy's younger sister. She wasn't paying any attention to him, instead focused on her phone, but now the risk of being recognized had risen exponentially. He had reached a decision point, but he knew that there was really only one he could make. He stood and made his way down the row of seats, stepping gingerly so as not to panic any of the rabbits who sat all around him. He would would stand in back. It was much safer, he could see everything, and he wouldn't have to sit near a bunch of rabbits. He had been on the periphery of their grouping and it was probably for the best that he wasn't going to stick around.

He found a spot in the back, sitting atop a temporary railing. It was unfortunate that he couldn't have stayed seated next to Martha, he liked her quite a bit. But it wouldn't do to be discovered, not now. Why did that matter to him? After all, it was just Martha, a 16 year old rabbit. Why did the thought of her recognizing him make the fur on his tail bristle so?

It was the lie, the lie that everything else he had with them was based upon. He had always known that it was that single lie that could bring everything else tumbling down. It had been expedient at the time because it helped to build trust between he and the Hopps'. If he was a cop then he certainly couldn't be all bad. But he was, and he certainly wasn't a cop. Judy would have found him out by now. There was just no way she couldn't have.

Nevertheless, despite always knowing it was just a matter of time before he was discovered, it pained him to know that Judy probably didn't want to see him again. She had always made it clear just how important thing like trust were to her. They were everything, and he knew, from the get go that he was violating that trust every time they spoke. The very foundation of their mutual understanding had been built upon his being a cop, and what did they have now that that had proven to be a lie? It had been stupid, he realized, to believe he could simply traipse back into her life and expect things to be just as they had been when he had left all those months ago.

He was such a fool. Why had he lied like that? Why had he let it go so far? He asked these things and more, but he wasn't willing to articulate the answers. He knew how painful they would be. They, nevertheless, flooded his mind entirely unbidden. He had a very different mindset back then. He had been injured, scared, doing everything he could to survive and continue his mission. None of them had mattered at the time. Every rabbit at the burrow was a tool to be used, a risk to be mitigated, and lying like he had was simply a matter of course. It was his life in a microcosm. Use those around him to get what he wanted, regardless of the cost.

But this time it had turned out quite differently, and he had ended up with quite a bit more than he had bargained for. He had never expected to find a connection with one of the rabbits, especially not one that he seemed so unable to shake. At the time of their parting they had shared a deep affection for one another. He found himself wishing he had picked something else. It could have been any other lie and things would still be just fine between them. But, he knew, the damage was already long done, there was nothing that could fix it now. Things were beyond his control and he hated it. He had thought he had a choice, but it was clear that that had never been the case.

He wouldn't speak to Judy. He would stay, keep his promise, the one thing he hadn't lied about, but she wouldn't see him.

"Sir, you need to return to your seat, things will be starting soon." An usher interrupted his thoughts.

He looked at the usher, a gopher, sized him up, and then disregarded him, annoyed that his train of thought had been so interrupted.

"Sir!"

"I am fine just where I am, I will not sit with a bunch of fucking rabbits." The usher recoiled at his words, and indeed, so did Nick. Everything had gone wrong that day, everything, but treating a random mammal in such a way, especially when they were just trying to do their job, simply would not do. "Ah, I apologize," he said as he hopped off the railing, bowing down just slightly so he was nearly at eye level with the gopher, "I am having a bad day, I didn't mean to snap at you. Please let me stay here. I was sat with the rabbits and I couldn't take their staring any longer." It took a little more convincing, but soon the usher was off to police other attendees, still looking a little disheveled from Nick's outburst. He kicked himself as the gopher left. Only Judy Hopps could make him act this way. That damn bunny was going to be the death of him.

There was applause then, and Nick looked up just in time to see as Mayor Lionheart strode onto the stage.

"Hopps, Judy" The call rang out. Judy rushed to take her place in the procession. She and the other cadets were lined in the rotunda of the City Hall. As each of their name was called, they would take their place according to their class rank, and then marched out too the lawn and up onto the stage.

She was nervous, very much so. The whole week had been nothing but an intense emotional rollercoaster. She was getting attention that was neither wanted nor expected. She had done three separate interviews with different news organizations, met the governor of Bunnyborough, and there were rumors that the Mayor would personally congratulate her on her graduation and her placement in the class. It was all so exciting, and yet so unexpected. She had never before considered that what she did had any impact beyond herself and her immediate family, but oh how wrong she was. She had visited her family for a week after finishing up at the Academy; a short vacation of sorts, before she would go off once again into the city. She had been unable to go anywhere without rabbits she had never met approaching her and congratulating her on her success.

It was embarrassing, really, her sudden popularity. She hadn't really done anything, not yet, she hadn't even officially been inducted into the ZPD as an officer, even if in that short week she had been called Officer Hopps hundreds, if not thousands of times by both her family and complete strangers. It was partly her own fault, of course, she had been the one to accept the request from the local Bunnyborough paper, the Daily Burrow, after which she found herself to be a local celebrity. The others were probably her fault too, though the pushy reporters had done all they could to guilt her into accepting. "Oh, but you gave the Daily Burrow a chance to ask you questions, how is this fair? The world wants to get to know you Ms. Hopps!" Still, it was a mistake, and she dreaded the idea of watching the ZNN interview scheduled for that very night.

To make things worse, her involuntary notoriety hadn't gone unnoticed by her classmates. Most of the ribbing was good natured, but not all, the silent glares from a few were painful and only served to heighten her embarrassment.

She had decided after doing the ZNN spot that she would do no more however, it all felt very much like everyone was betting upon a seed before it had even sprouted, and she knew more than enough about farming to know that seeds, now matter how promising, were never something to take for granted.

"You ok, Hopps? You look a little troubled."

"I'm fine, Opher, just… nervous."

"Oh come on, Hopps, you should be used to the attention by now." He grinned down at her.

She took it all back. All those things that had come as a result of those interviews, all the attention from rabbits and other mammals everywhere she went, it was all nothing in comparison to this. The thing that made what she had done so terrible was that Opher seemed to be happy taking shots at her at every opening. It didn't seem malicious, no, not quite, it was apparent though that he just couldn't tell when he was going too far, and he had been doing just that for at least the last two days. She knew what she had done was silly and naive, and understood if she got some flak for it from Opher. It was only fair, doing the interviews was really dumb, and there was no doubt she would be hearing about them for a long time. But, she didn't want to hear it from him anymore, the one other cadet that she really, truly looked up too. It just made it all so much worse. She had thoroughly disappointed herself as it was, and that disappointment only deepened the more time she spent with him.

So she scoffed at him, and looked away, determined not to give him the pleasure of seeing how much it bothered her.

"Oh c'mon. Hopps, I was just joking."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but declined to respond any further. She was content to let him feel guilty, maybe then he would get the hint.

"Attention cadets!" The call rang out, and all conversation died away immediately. "It's time to go out there, you best look sharp, the Mayor is here to see you." The officer speaking looked directly at Judy as he said the last, and smirked. But she didn't notice the look, too focused was she on what was about to come to pay heed to the barbs of an officer she didn't know, and would likely never see again. Then, barely a moment after the echo's of the call ceased their dancing about the massive rotunda, the doors opened, and the cold midwinter daylight flooded in.

They marched out in double file, down the capitol steps, and towards the back of the stage.

It was cold, though not painfully so. Nevertheless Judy had never been one to enjoy a brisk chill, and she was more than tired of it by the time they reached the small set of stairs that led up onto the stage.

From where she stood, she could hear Lionheart speechifying. Judy had always liked him, though she had to admit that she was not one to closely follow politics. Still, his message, even if not directed specifically a her, a lowly bunny living far from the City, had resonated deeply. "Zootopia, where anyone can be anything!" That was the slogan he had coined during his first campaign, and while that had only been three years ago, the message had stuck in her mind.

It had not been enough, to get her to where she was, no that could be attributed to the efforts of-

His face exploded into her mind, fiery red and grinning, his green eyes flashing in pleasure.

"Nick." The name slipped from her lips unbidden, and she glance around in embarrassment hoping no one had heard.

He had not crossed her mind in months, and now, suddenly, he filled it pushing out all else. Waves of excitement and frustration washed over her and many, many questions too. Where was he at that moment? Did he keep his promise? Was he really so false from tip to tail? A charlatan through and through?

The last two questions seemed to hang in her mind and she briefly felt her mood dip. But she refused to let him have such control over her. Maybe, at one point her life, perhaps one that wasn't so long ago, she might have let the uncertainty surrounding him to affect her so. Throw off her equilibrium entirely. But she wasn't that Judy anymore. Hadn't been for a long time, and wasn't about to let his presence, or lack there of, ruin the most important event in her entire life. The one thing she had spent years striving for.

But, then, if he was there, smiling up at her from the crowd, that would be great too. If he were there, the day would just be… perfect.

She shook her head, annoyed at how easily the thought of him seemed to send her off kilter. It had been months since she had even considered him. She simply hadn't had time for it at the Academy, and when she dwelt upon it it only seemed to drag her down.

She had long given up hope that he would show himself. That much was clear. He wasn't an officer, he wasn't an anything, he was just a fox that had taken advantage of her kindness. But then she reminded herself that this wasn't entirely true. Whatever else he was, he had been the one to give her that final push needed to follow through on all she had done. Without him, it may not have turned out as well as it all had. While she wasn't really interested in seeing him again, she would hold some parts of her memories for him close to her heart. He might have been a sneaky conniving fox, but even foxes like that have their good sides. Perhaps she was lucky that he had shown her his.

Applause flooded over her. All the cadets were urged forward and up onto the stage, where hundreds of mammals cheered and yelled. While Judy had no way of telling if it were true, she certainly felt like they were all cheering just for her. In that moment, there was no doubt.

She had made it.

"See ya, Judy. Things will be better tomorrow!"

"Yeah, Clawhauser, I'll see you tomorrow," Judy replied as she left the station, feeling as though she never wished to return. It had been a tough day. Harder than she could ever have imagined.

She was aware that being a cop often meant that she saw little but the worst in her fellow mammals. The only time she was truly needed was when someone was in trouble, so even in just her first two months on the job Judy had been through the ringer. She, along with her partner, a veteran officer named Pete, had responded to domestic violence, bar fights, a shooting – though luckily no one died – and she had even been berated more than once while giving out speeding tickets. But all the training, all the videos and lectures simply hadn't prepared her for what she had seen that day.

The duo had responded to a car accident, a nasty one too, the vehicle had slammed into a bridge abutment. It had been horrific, and even as she thought about the scene as her feet carried her towards the subway station she had to hold back waves a nausea. She hadn't been so strong then, at the scene of the accident. She had voided her guts then, all the while Pete patted her back back, whispering, "There, there, Hopps, it'll pass, you'll be alright." She hadn't cried, was too strong for that these days, but she had never imagined that a mammal could be torn into such a shape, and that had just been too much.

The sickness had passed, though not before the paramedics arrived and began extricating the poor creature from the mangled wreck. She had forced herself to watch, hoping it would make her stronger, desensitize her to such horrors, and she supposed that it would, but even so, just the memory of it sent her reeling. She had been amazed at the time, listening to the paramedics work, they seemed so unphased, simply went about their jobs, though with no particular sense of urgency. And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, one of them said, "Oh, shit, there's kit in here."

Judy felt tears well up in her eyes as she sat in the rumbling subway car. No one had made it out of that crash, neither the lion, nor his daughter. Dead instantly, Pete assured her, felt no pain. But knowing that didn't make things any better. Both were still dead, and she could only imagine what they had left behind.

Judy was strong, immensely so, she had prepared herself for so much, but as she closed the door of her tiny efficiency apartment, she couldn't help but cry. So she did, letting everything she had held back throughout the day well up inside her and flow forth in large wet tears and pitiful sobs.

She didn't want to do that again, not ever, the whole day too horrifying for her to ever wish for a repeat. She considered many things as she lay there on her bed. Life, family, and her career. It was a dangerous one, no doubt. But she had known that going in, though perhaps only on a sort of distant, intellectual level. It just wasn't real to her, not in the way it had been driven home to her as she watched an utterly destroyed mammal and their kit being zipped up into black body bags and carted off. That could be her one day. She had seen all the statistics, officers were far more likely to be injured on the road than the average mammal. That that was true was simply a virtue of the fact that they tended to spend far more time on the road than the average mammal, but still, that wasn't the only statistic where police officers ended up worse off than the citizens they were protecting.

She began to scroll through the pictures on her phone, hoping to find some sort of solace in the images of happier times. She had taken a lot over the past few months, wanting to keep a record of all the new things she experienced. She passed by a selfie taken with Clawhauser, another of her and Pete sitting in their cruiser, both beaming at the camera, and then one of both her and Opher standing in front of the steps of Precinct One. She settled upon a selfie she had taken with Martha two months ago at her graduation – her favorite one from that day.

She had been so happy then, riding the high of all she had accomplished back at the academy. She had been happy, but so naive, and she wondered if the Judy of two months ago, or even the one from before the Academy would still do all of this if she knew what she was in for. The pain, stress, and the exhaustion.

Yes, she probably would, Judy knew. Despite everything she couldn't help but chuckle, the sound barely penetrating the silence of her room. She was hard headed, always had been. It was both a blessing and a curse. But she knew that the Judy of the past wouldn't have quit for the simple reason that the Judy of the present wasn't about to quit either. It had been a painful day, but she would get up the next and go to work all the stronger. She suddenly realized just how exhausted she was. It was barely 7:30 and yet she found herself hardly able to keep her eyes open. She decided it was for the best, to sleep, she would need it if she wanted to feel even halfway normal the next day.

She took one last look at the photo, thanking Martha for being there for her even when she wasn't, and then nearly dropped the phone. There was no movement, no sound aside from her rapidly beating heart. She brought the phone to her face as close as she could and still keep it in focus and stared at the photo, stupefied, unbelieving. For there, standing just a little way beyond she and her sister, wearing a dark suit with dark glasses perched atop his head, looking directly into the camera, was a deeply happy fox.

The only fox she knew.

Nicholas Wilde.

Well, that's all for now! As I said, the next chapter will be out more or less on time, so keep an eye out!

And to preempt the question I know people will ask, the answer is: very soon.

As always, questions and feedback, of any sort, are welcome. Love it or hate it, please don't hold back, I won't improve otherwise.

That's all I have for now, live well!

Also, I like how the email notification for this story reads:

Saving Wilde

Chapter 17: Chapter 16

I really gotta fix that lol