Hello everyone! I made it on time somehow! I am honestly surprised myself. Between working on packing up for my move and doing my taxes, I have been very busy.

And the FM of the MiG-21 in DCS has received a much needed update, so... yes, I have been busy.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

I don't own any Disney charactrers! Or characters either!

Judy had one hour to find what she was looking for. It was just barely enough time, but it was all she had been given, after months and months of effort. It was all she needed. Or so she hoped.

It had taken her three months to be granted access to this place – a large, seemlingly forgotten archive in one of the annexes attached the main precinct house in downtown Zootopia. The annex had been, long ago, part of the main station, though it had nothing of the spacious modern design that she was so used to. The hallways here were tall and narrow, making them seem only taller still. They were painted a dull, off-white which left them feeling sterile, and they clashed with the worn, sea-green linoleum floors.

It was a step back in time in many ways. The design reminding her of the old movies her father used to love. At time when police work was much different, and society too. It was a strange sort of realization, that hundred and thousands of officers had walked these halls in the 103 years since its construction, had lived and worked here for the greater good of the City, and done much to mold Zootopia into the place she knew. That wonderful city. That, along with the unrelenting silence combined to give the place a sanctified, hallowed air. And as she walked through the deserted halls she consciously made herself as inconspicuous as she possibly could so as not to disturb the shades of officers long past that not doubt still inhabited these halls. She almost regret disturbing the place, and indeed she would have never done so if she were not following an important lead.

It had been three months since she had noticed Nick Wilde in the picture on her phone. Three months of intense searching for him anywhere she could. She had found nothing at first. He was in no city database she could access. Not a single adult fox named Nicholas Wilde anywhere in the City or its suburbs and burrows, nor anyone else with the name Wilde, or Wild, or any other variation she could think of. He was nowhere to be found, a ghost or as good as, much the same as the ones that were said to roam the halls of this very annex. But he wasn't a ghost, he was real, she had seen him, heard him, felt him. He was just as real as she was, but he was hiding, and was somehow far better at it than she could ever have imagined.

She had tried many things to locate him. Had begged and borrowed and nearly stolen. She had spent weeks searching through Driver ID photos for his picture, reasoning that he had perhaps given her another false name. She had found nothing however, despite searching nearly 85% the foxes in the database. She had found a John Gibbon though, a journalist who wrote pieces for a magazine called the Zacobin. But he wasn't Nick.

Opher had been a big help throughout it all, had sat with her going through pictures, giving up some of his nights and a few of his weekends just to help his friend. He had even gotten his hands on the list of attendees for their graduation, but Nick had not been on it, and neither had any other fox. But he existed, she had proof, and it kept her going.

It was her partner Pete who provided the breakthrough she needed.

She had been frustrated, discouraged by her two months of fruitless searching when she had finally asked for his help. She had not wanted to ask at first, afraid he might disapprove of her unusual and likely improper search. Private citizens were just that, private, and without the proper approvals and warrants she was not allowed to snoop into their lives. But he answered her questions without hesitation.

"Pete," she said to him one day while they were on highway duty, "is it possible for someone's city records to have been expunged from the database? Like, just gone completely without a trace?"

"Everything gone? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, there is no one even by the name I have in the database at all."

"Who you lookin' for."

"Ah, a, uh, fox I knew, a long time ago. A friend of mine. I wanted to look him up when I made it to the city, but I have looked everywhere and I can't find him."

"Well I doubt that your fox isn't in there somewhere. If he was ever a resident of this city he would be in the database. You sure you have the right name? Foxes ain't always known for their truthfulness you know. Like to play things close to their chest."

Yes, he had, though she had never really considered that the rest of the species might be the same way. "Yes, I mean, I think I do. He promised me that it was his real name."

"See what I am saying? He had to promise you. That's what you get with foxes. Tricky bastards. Damn good at what they do, but never take your eye off 'em or they'll disappear right from under your nose."

"What do foxes do exactly?"

"Anything, more or less. For the right price." And he smiled down upon her, his grin toothy and demeaning. She liked Pete, but she didn't like this about him. They way he talked down to her when he perceived she was being naive. She probably deserved it at times, still had much to learn, but she didn't deserve it then. She knew foxes, or this one fox at least. Knew that he wasn't all that bad, despite his tendency to lie. But the one time it really mattered, the one time she really cared about more than any other, he hadn't lied, he had been there. Even if the jerk had made her figure it out by looking at one of her pictures months after the fact.

"So if I have his real name, what then?"

"Well," he sighed, eyeing the radar speed meter that sat atop the dashboard, "well, I can only think of one other thing, I am sorry to say." Judy looked at him, unsettled by his tone, her apprehension rising with every moment he continued to pause. "He could be dead. Records of the deceased are removed from the database after five years unless they are related to any pending cases. They stay on there for 10 if they were related to any closed ones."

Judy's mouth hung open in disbelief. She had forgotten about that, hadn't even considered it. How the heck could she have forgotten that?! But then her wits caught up with her, and she knew why. Her graduation was only four months ago, even if he had died in the interim, Frith forbid, he would still be in the database. "No, no, Pete, I saw him a lot less than five years ago. He would still be in there." She found the thought of his death an unpleasant one, and she was eager to move on from the topic.

"Hmmm… then I don't know. But you said there was no one in there with his name at all, not even his last?"

"No, nothing."

"You sure, Hopps?" She nodded vehemently, and he looked up at the ceiling of the cruiser scratching his chin in thought. "Well, maybe his parents records have been moved to the archives then. Maybe you can find them, if you have the right name."

And for the second time in barely a minute, Judy Hopps felt like an idiot.

"Hello, excuse me… Hello!" Judy blinked. Torn from her reverie, she looked about, searching for the source of the interruption. "No, no, down here!" A tiny voice squeaked from her feet. Judy looked down and saw perhaps the smallest mammal she had ever seen, some sort of shrew, sitting behind an equally tiny desk. "Can I help you?" The minute creature called up at her.

"Uh, yes," she almost yelled down at the poor thing behind the desk, "I have a request number for the records of someone who passed away and has been removed from the Citizen ID System." She handed the shrew the flimsy slip with the number she had been given, finally understanding why it seemed to have been printed upon a wafer, and the shrew examined it. Hmming and hawing while Judy squinted down at the tiny creature's desk, searching for a name. She always hated not knowing someone's name, felt it put her at a disadvantage. Her own was emblazoned across her breast for the whole world to see. But she found nothing, and resigned herself to standing in silence while the shrew typed away at her tiny computer.

"Ok, it looks like you have the proper approvals. What shelf and box number?"

Judy blinked. She had nothing of the sort, hadn't even realized she would need such a thing. She wracked her brain for anything that she had come across in her search that might give her a clue. But she came up with nothing, and realized that even if she had run across that information at some point it would have been meaningless to her at the time. "I… I don't know." She finally admitted, ears reddening in embarrassment.

She shrew looked up at her for a brief moment, exasperation clear on her face, and then said, "How did you get the approvals if you didn't know that?"

"I don't know, I just asked I guess."

The shrew scoffed, and began to grumble loudly about the degradation of the department as she continued to type into her computer. Judy stood there before the diminutive archivist for a long moment, wondering if she was about the be turned away, frustrated that she had somehow not been informed that she needed that sort of information before she got to the archives.

Finally, after much grousing, the shrew looked back up at Judy and, letting out a tired sigh, asked, "Ok, is this for a criminal investigation?"

"Well, no, not really…" She trailed off, unsure as to why that would matter. She had all the proper approvals. The shrew stared up at her, her patience clearly waning, and Judy felt an urge to at least offer her something, anything that might move this along. "I am almost positive that they do not have criminal records." That seemed to satisfy the shrew who returned to tapping away at her computer.

"What's the name?"

"Wilde."

"That first or last?"

"Last!"

"First?"

Judy hesitated. She wasn't positive that this Wilde was who she was looking for. There were a lot of problems with the databases maintained by the ZPD. The first being of course that there had never been a centralized, ground up effort to create an easily accessible info bank that officers could access when they needed it. Instead databases had been created by different parts of the department based upon need and designed to meet different requirements, which meant that she had to, on any given day, access two or three different systems just to do basic things like file reports or book a perp. The second problem was that because of the hodge podge of systems, it was nearly impossible to determine just how complete and comprehensive they were.

The Deceased Archive was no different. She could, at any point in time, log into her computer, access the database, and get at least some basic information about whomever she wished. But, only if they had been moved into the database in the last ten years, give or take. Anything earlier and she was lucky if their name would at least show up in the database. If she wasn't, well, she would have to get approval to look in the archive for the citizen in question herself. And that was a process entirely divorced from the approval process required to actually access the record once found.

In this case, she had been lucky, she had found a couple of Wildes in one of the databases, but only the names and the date of death, nothing more. She had taken a guess, and had picked the name of the most recently deceased Wilde she could find. A one Catherine F. Wilde.

"You do know the first name right?" the shrew pressed.

"Yes, its Catherine." For the first time, Judy saw the little shrew smile as she continued to type into her computer.

"Alright," she pointed to the large printer that sat against the wall click clacking away, "get the printout, and take it to Frank in the next room. He'll take you downstairs."

Relief flooded over Judy, who had still been unsure that she would get any help at all from this tiny, ornery shrew. But as she grabbed the indicated printout, she thanked her all the same and stepped around the desk and into the next room.

"Excuse me," she said to the bear sitting behind a large desk, who hadn't looked up when she entered. He still didn't look up after she spoke, but instead pointed to a small machine sitting on the edge of his desk which had a slot apparently intended for the paper she held. She inserted the paper into the machine and it clicked and whirred as it slowly swallowed the printout. It made a small noise when it finished, a strange click that repeated three or four times before the device finally fell silent. A moment passed, Judy glancing between the bear and the device, unsure as to what was supposed to happen next.

"Well," the bear said in a deep resonating voice that made Judy jump, "it looks like everything is in order, follow me." He stood, gesturing as he did so, and lumbered to the back of the office without so much as giving her a second glance. Judy followed him out of the office into more featureless hallways, turns seeming to pass by in rapid succession until they found themselves at the top of a set of stairs that stretched off in either direction. The bear, for the first time, looked at her with tired eyes and said, "We must go down." She nodded and followed him down.

Judy counted the flights as they ticked by, six, seven, eight. A landing at the end of each pair with a small sign indicating what was contained on each floor. DMV records, old case files dating back for more than 40 years, and then another indicating that the case files contained therein were even more ancient. They piqued her interest, the signs, and the promised contents of each floor. What she wouldn't give to have the chance to take a look at a case file from 70 years ago. If only just to see how things were done so long ago. She lingered at each landing, eyeing the door into each floor. She could see the row upon row of shelves containing vast amounts of old paperwork through the windows. But she never paused too long, lest were she to annoy the bear. But he paid her no mind, never admonished her even when she found herself an entire two flights above him. He waited though, on the next landing, until she caught up. "Here we are," he said and he reached out and opened the door.

The archive smelled strange, of aged paper and dust. It was not an unpleasant smell, vaguely reminiscent of the City Library located only a few blocks away from the Precinct One station. But strange nonetheless, as if the records contained on this floor experienced a rather advanced stage of decay. The place smelling rotten and old. They proceeded down the central aisle, though she could see that there were others off to her left and right, the whole space illuminated in the cold, impersonal glow of hundreds of fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling. She noticed, as they made their way deep into the archive, that there was more than one group of lights out, blanketing whole sections of the vast space in permeable darkness.

The bear took a left, a right, went on for another while, and then another left. They stopped, near a large section of shelves all seemingly mashed together, each with a large steel wheel on the end. The bear took hold of the wheel on a self labeled E 301.C85 and began to turn it slowly. The whole group of selves split at the point at which she stood. The four to her right moving together. Suddenly, there was space enough to for both her and the bear to proceed down the newly created aisle. The bear, Frank she remembered, his name popping into her head unbidden, made his way down the aisle, Judy close in tow, and stopped about halfway down. He reached up, pulled a box from the upper most shelf, slung it under his arm, and motioned again for her to follow. He lead her back towards the entrance but instead of heading back to the stairwell he led her to a small space behind some of the shelves that contained a pair of desks. Far too large for her, but they would do. He placed the box on the closest desk and then turned and left. Judy watched him go, unsure if she was supposed to follow. She decided against it, and instead called out to him in thanks. The bear, just before he disappeared, raised a paw over his shoulder in acknowledgement and turned the corner.

Judy climbed up upon chair, and then the table, finding the chair too low for her to properly examine the box and its contents. She removed the lid, found dozens and dozens of manilla folders tightly packed inside, each with a name upon the tab. Wilch, Wilcheck, Wilcox, Wilcut, Wild… she paused, looking closely at the name tab. She knew the name wasn't spelled right, but she had seen enough clerical errors in her few months on the force to know that it would not do to ignore the possibility that Catherine's records were filed away there. She removed the folder from the box, placed it on the table and took a deep breath. She could feel herself shaking, her heart beating in her chest. She had spent months on this hunt, had put so much of herself into its every moment that she couldn't help but to be excited that she might finally have her first clue. She steadied herself, took a deep breath, and opened the flap.

A pictured started up at her, a muskrat. A one Theodor Wild. Dead 40 years or more. The black and white ID photo only serving to prove his age. He had been a old creature when the photo was taken, had clearly seen better days. But he was smiling, the grayscale of the picture serving to make the glint in his eyes shine out off the page. Everything was contained there, everything about him. Where he lived, who his family was, where he had come from and just how he did. He was a citizen of the City, the documents proudly exclaimed, an important part of Zootopian society. But now he was gone. Judy felt an immense sadness then. Sadness that someone who was so alive a mere forty years ago, the evidence of which sat before her, was now no longer. And one of the only remaining bits of evidence of that fact sat locked away beneath a tired old annex attached to the ZPD headquarters. She wished then too to find this Mr. Wild's family and give them this record.

It frightened her to think that one day she might die and be forgotten in this city, and then end up just like this muskrat. She had grown up in a place that was so different. Where they still had pictures of the family lining the burrow walls going on a hundred years back and more. And through those pictures, she had always felt that she could stay connected to the dearly departed. That they could be there even when they weren't. And she had grown up knowing that one day she too would be in one of those pictures. But would that still be the case now that she had left and gone so far away? Would her family remember her if she never went back?

It had been a long time since she had felt this way. Totally unconnected to where she had come from. As if they were all a million kilometers away, fading fast.

Her phone buzzed, a text from her aunt who lived in the city, a timely reminder that her family was not quite as far off as they seemed, and she looked back down at the late Mr. Theodore. An idea came to her then, and she snapped a picture of the photo. "At least know, Mr. Wild, that there is someone out there who remembers you." She knew that she had no idea if he was remembered or not by anyone, but that didn't matter. The way she saw it, the more the merrier. And she hoped that, someday, some mammal might stumble upon her own record, and choose to remember it too.

She composed herself then, knew she had more searching to do, and made to close the folder. But she stopped, looking back down at its contents. She realized that Mr. Wild wasn't the only one whose file was kept in that folder. She moved Theo's aside, found his wife, Isabella, staring up at her too, snapped another picture, just to complete the pair, and then search through the rest of the contents. There weren't many Wilds, perhaps only five or six more, and all part of this one Muskrat family. But she liked that they were all kept together, a small part of their memory all kept in one place.

Finally, she closed the folder, returned it to the box, and began searching through the names again. Wilda, Widdle, Wilder… Judy paused for the second time, though this time in consternation. She hadn't skipped any, and yet Wilde should have come before Wilder. It wasn't there! She dug frantically into the box, pushing the folders aside hoping that perhaps the one she was looking for might have simply been squished down into the bottom. It was not however and she sat back holding in a frustrated scream. All the things she had done in the past three months, all of it, had culminated in this moment. All the frustrations, the lost free time, the lost sleep, all the emotional capital that had poured into finding even just one record that might lead her to Nicholas Wilde, it was all nothing. It had meant nothing, because his records were nowhere to be found. There were paths that apparently lead to him, seemingly overgrown and unkempt, but there was nothing at the end of them. He was a ghost, a fiery red ghost, who existed only for her.

"Dammit, Nick." She let out, pitiful and sad. Her intense aversion to swearing momentarily forgotten. "Damnit." She wanted to lash out, scream and yell, throw the files all around. But she wouldn't do that, not any of it. It would be unprofessional, and perhaps more importantly, in that moment, tucked behind what should have been the last folder in the box, she saw what she had been looking for.

She reached out, afraid that she might be seeing things, and grasped the edge, pulling the folder carefully from its place. She laid it upon the desk, opened it, and there, before her, was the record of Catherine Wilde.

There was no picture, though she could see where it had once been, a little corner of it still attached to the staple that would have kept it affixed to the packet. And there there were pages missing, this one only had two pages instead of the usual four that seemed to be standard for these old records. But it had everything she wanted. Birth date, July 18th, 1978, and death date, February 5th, 2012. It had her marital status at the time of her death, single, and it even had her last address. Another place that might provide a valuable lead. But most importantly. In a row down near the bottom of the second page was a line called 'Survived By:' and upon the line next to it, typed up in black ink, it read 'Wilde, Nicholas Piberius (12)' and beneath the line was printed an ID number.

She stared at the number beside his name, knew exactly what it meant, and any elation she felt quickly drained from body. His mother died when he was 12, and as far as she could tell there were no other surviving relatives. She looked at the next record in the folder, hoping against hope that the terrible feeling rising within her was nothing. But she found Piberius Wilde next, died August 10th, 2007, Wilde, Catherine F. listed as his wife at the time of his death, and Nick his son.

Judy let out a ragged breath as the crushing reality hit her. Snippets of their time together came flooding back. The caginess when talking about his past, the vague answers when she insisted on hearing of his family. He was an orphan since he was twelve, and he had no family to tell her about. The horror of it all seemed to overwhelm her, and tears began to form in her eyes. She struggled living away from her family at times. To be away from the safety and stability that her huge family provided . But that safety net was only a few hours away by train and and she spoke with her family over the phone almost every day. They were not far off. Not far off at all. But Nick… had none of that. No one he could turn to when he was in trouble. There was only him, and it had been that way since he was twelve. She couldn't imagine it, living like that, disconnected, alone...

There was noise, far off behind her, deep inside the archive, and suddenly all of Judy's senses were screaming at her to leave. She took more pictures, of both Piberius and Catherine's records, and then she hurried back out into the stairwell and back up from where she came.

It was a boring afternoon for Nick Wilde, sitting alone in Finnick's Muskovian apartment reviewing reports and returns from his various cells scattered all over Arctica. They had turned an analyst who worked in the MSS just a few days before – money is a powerful motivator – and he was still trying to sort through the first record dump.

He would have normally parcelled the task out to the analysts he had nominally under his command, but Ambassador Stevens was apparently misusing them for Frith knows what and so they were all unavailable. Even Jackie, Finnick's girlfriend, was basically chained to her desk working through something. He had sicked Finnick on her at about noon time, but he hadn't heard back yet. And so he sat, doing the work of an analyst, instead of properly managing his operation.

That was alright though, every once in awhile it was nice to take a step back from the bigger picture and get lost in the details. And the details were certainly illuminating. They had suddenly found themselves with an eye into a small part of the MSS. It was often a frustrating job, trying to get someone working for the Arctician intelligence services to give them anything useful. Stark contrast to the often horribly porous nature of the ZIA and FIB. But this made it all worth it.

An email notification popped up in the bottom right paw of his computer screen and he opened it. There was no message, only the subject line that read, "I'm going to call you." His phone rang a moment later. An incoming call from a number he didn't recognize. He looked back at the email, noted the sender. It had come from a ZIA secured server. He answered the call.

"Nick?"

"Oh, fuck, Frank, you gotta be less cryptic with this shit. You nearly gave me a heart attack." Frank had, for the last 30 years, been under the employ of the ZIA in addition to his ZPD job as an archivist. His unique position allowed him ready access to nearly any record the city kept, and it meant that the ZIA, which legally had no ability to operate directly in Zootopia, could get access to information that they would otherwise have to get from the FIB, the Federal Investigation Bureau. And the Fibbers weren't always the most cooperative. Nick had, on more than one occasion, gone crawling on his hands and knees to some of the agents there with requests of one kind or another. And on more than one occasion he had been turned away.

"You told me to just call whenever I had something important to tell you."

"Yes, I did, but…" he paused, knowing that to argue further was silly. "Ok, what's up Frank?"

"Someone came into the archive today and wanted to see your parent's records"

"Who?"

"A cop, that rabbit cop, you heard of her?"

Judy? The name rang out in his mind. The hell was she snooping around in the archives for? "You sure she was looking for my parent's records?"

"Definitely. She put your mother's name on the form officers have to sign to request information," the bear said.

Shit, the hell did she want? He was annoyed, suddenly feeling as though he was being hunted. But what harm could she really do? She so far away, and he deep behind the protection of the ZIA?

"What the heck did you do, Wilde?"

"Nothing, and it doesn't matter anyway, I removed all the important stuff. You know why she was looking for them?"

"No idea. I hardly spoke to her."

"Ok, ok." He had already known the answer before he asked it, but his mind was racing, trying to formulate some sort of explanation. He hadn't broken any laws, so he certainly couldn't be under an investigation. At least he didn't think he had. But even if he was, he had used his usual cover when he had last been there for the graduation, they wouldn't wouldn't be searching for him, Nicholas Wilde, but instead a fox that might have looked similar to him named Logan Ahanu, and even that name hadn't appeared in the guest list.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, I think she is harmless," Nick replied.

"Well, she is on your trail. And I don't know that you removed everything from those records."

"What do you mean?"

"Well your citizen ID number is still on 'em."

"Shit," Nick groaned. He had been sure he had checked everything.

"In hindsight it probably would have been better to simply remove the whole thing, but–"

"Yeah, well you wouldn't fucking let me, Frank!" Nick snapped at the bear, who had a propensity to state the obvious at the worst times. Nick had met Frank about five years ago when he had first been assigned to the counterespionage division located in Zootopia. Frank had proven invaluable to Nick on more than one occasion, helping he and the others he worked with and for to skirt the laws surrounding access to public records. But he could be a stubborn, droll helper, and it was at times like these that he always managed to get under Nick's fur.

"Well, that would have been illegal."

"So was–" Nick caught himself, not willing to travel down such a well beaten path with the bear. "Frank, just tell me if she makes any further inquiries about me, ok?"

"Alright Nick, I'll keep an eye out."

"Oh and Frank…" he paused, considering how best to utilize this peculiar resource. "Could you tell me what other records are still out there on me? I think'd like to nip this one in the bud if I can."

"Will do, Nick. I'll have that for you in a day or two."

"Ok, Frank, I appreciate it. Say hi to Bethany for me."

"Opher! When is your shift done? I need your help!"

"Uh…" stammered out the surprised Leopard, "not for three more hours. Whats up?"

"Shoot, I really need your help, I have found something really important. You really can't get off?" she said, giving him her best pitiful pleading look.

"What kind of question is that, Judy?" he replied, laughing. "How am I going to get off of my shift? My partner'll kill me if I skip out on the post patrol paperwork." He looked around conspiratorially, checking to see that no one was nearby, before leaning in and saying in a voice just above a whisper, a massive grin upon his muzzle, "We haven't done it all week. Sergeant Frangmeyer is going to kill us if we don't finish it today."

"Opher! You can't be putting that stuff off! I can't believe you guys are so behind. Do you need any help?"

"Shhhh, shh, shh, shh, Judy, Judy, quiet! Don't yell," he admonished, looking around, "don't yell. Ok, I know, you don't have to tell me. But I have been helping you every night this week, I just haven't had time."

"Opher you shouldn't be helping me instead of getting your work done!"

"I know, I know, but it'll be all set in a little bit. And no! We don't need any help!" He preempted her attempt to interrupt again and flashed her another grin. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. I just, ya know, I can't help ya. Not now. After though? Sure, I'll text you when I am done."

"Ok, Opher…"

"Why you looking at me like that Hopps?"

"'Cause you're gonna get yourself in trouble. You can't just not file your reports."

"Judy, we got it, I promise you." He looked at his watch. "I gotta go Hopps, those reports are calling name!" He laughed again as he strolled away down the hall. Judy simply watched him go, shaking her head.

It was strange to her, that Opher's partner, Officer Mingen, had let the filing go so long. She usually so diligent, an officer Judy aspired after. But it wasn't her problem, she had a trail to follow.

She reached her desk, on the second floor, closest to the stairwell and farthest from the windows. It wasn't such a bad spot, her proximity to the central spine of the building meant that no part of it was too far away, but there was such a constant flow of traffic going up and down the stairs, and not to mention the incessant dinging of the elevator, that it was easy for her to become distracted. Normally, if she had paperwork, or had to complete some other task that required deep concentration, she would go elsewhere and find a quiet spot somewhere in the station where she wouldn't be disturbed. And this case was no different, though in addition to the hustle and bustle that constantly surrounded her desk, she didn't want the other officers to know she was doing so much searching for a fox. The search wasn't against the rules, she was breaking no law, but it might raise questions that she didn't have any interest in answering.

She disconnected her laptop from its dock, bundled it into its carrying bag, and set off to the lobby. "Clawhauser!" she called out as she reached the expansive atrium, "can you tell me what meeting rooms are unoccupied for the rest of the day?"

"Hey Judy, what are you doing here? I thought it was your day off? You know what Bogo said about overtime: 'Don't even think about it!' hah ha!" The paunchy cheetah let out a bubbly laugh as watched her approach. "Oh wait!" he suddenly exclaimed before she could come up with an excuse, "You are doing more research aren't you?" He winked, the grin he almost perpetually carried upon his muzzle growing just a little wider.

Judy groaned inwardly at the question. She liked Clawhauser, quite a bit actually, but she didn't like that he knew so much about her extracurricular activities. It had been unavoidable on some level, but she had to admit that she was more than just a little embarrassed by her obsession with the red phantom who had exploded into her life only to disappear as quickly as as he came. But Clawhauser was such a resource, an invaluable trove of information and goodwill. Without him she never would have such wide ranging access to city records, both past and present. And it was he who had guided her through approvals process to gain access to the archives. He had his paws in everything, and she supposed that everyone was simply lucky that Clawhauser didn't seem to have a single malicious bone in his entire body. "Yes, Clawhauser," she finally said through her teeth when she was barely a meter away from his desk at the center of the lobby, "I found something important today, so I gotta go follow up on it."

"Ooooh, what did you find?" He asked, suddenly leaning over his desk so he could come as close to her as possible, the think creaking under his weight. "He's real, right? I don't think you were clear on that last time." He tapped his chin in thought, not quite making eye contact. "The city has a lot of records, and I can get you a lot of them, but they have to be about a real mammal! Hah hah!"

"Yes, he is real," Judy replied, chuckling despite her mood, "very real. Oh! Do you know what portion of the juvenile records have been digitized?"

"Oh, no, I don't," he said, sounding disappointed, "probably anything within the last 40 years by this point though. There has been big push on those in the last few years."

She could hardly contain her excitement, it was exactly what she wanted to hear. "Oh my gods, I gotta go," the words spilled out in a torrent, "Which conference rooms are free?!"

"Ok, ok, just hold on," Clawhauser soothed, checking his computer. "You can do this too ya know, you just have to check the calendar on your email... looks like Kerik is open for the rest of the day, I can book it for you."

"You're the best Clawhauser! I'll let you know what I find!" She wasted no time in hurrying to the empty conference room, named after a distinguished police chief from the past, just like every conference room in the whole station. She found the room as empty as advertized, and quickly made herself at home, setting up her laptop atop the large table in the center of the room and jacking up the closest chair so it was a comfortable height.

She hesitated before entering his name into the search bar of the juvenile archives, suddenly afraid of what she might find, or perhaps even worse, might not. But the moment she typed the first letter her overwhelming curiosity reasserted itself and in barely a moment she was looking at a list of records all related to the object of her search, Wild, Nicholas P. She scanned through the list, eyes wide at the veritable trove of records before. The fact that they had been so easily discovered once she knew what she was looking for not lost amongst her excitement. She clicked on the first one that caught her eye.

It was an arrest record, mostly redacted, expunged upon his turning 18, even the booking picture missing, but the paw prints were still there, in black ink. She sat staring at them for several minutes, trying to imagine what his had looked like, so long ago. It was silly though, she eventually realized, she had never quite explored his paws, certainly not to the extent she had wished at the time... Her mind ground to a halt as feelings that had lain dormant for nearly a year began again to well up inside her. She had liked him, then, and in a way that was in more than just the normal "like" someone might feel towards an acquaintance, or coworker, or indeed even a friend. It has gone much deeper than that, much deeper.

She shook her head, trying in vain to free herself from the thoughts that seemed to be invading her head. She wasn't interested in him like that, not anymore. Hadn't been for a very long time. Not since she had come to a better understanding of who he really was. She looked back at the computer, suddenly wondering why she had even embarked upon this crusade. He was nothing to her, or… mostly nothing. Just a fox that had given her a leg up at her time in need, but once she got past that what was there really? She had had a crush on him, she was big enough to admit that, but it hadn't been reciprocated, not really. Rather it was more like she had been used, manipulated, though to what purpose she still wasn't sure. He had never really liked her, or at least not to the same extent that she had liked him, but instead he played along and profited from it, somehow.

It was strange, now that she had the object of her desire before her she suddenly realized that she didn't really want it. She didn't really want to pry into his life, or his history. And she had no doubt he wouldn't have wanted for her to do so either. She knew very well just how private he was. She had thought, at one point, that she had made it past his walls, discovered a least a part of who he really was. But her time at the Academy and the on the force had made it painfully clear that while she may have made it past one wall, she was, in truth, simply being presented with another. She was just too naive at the time to recognize it. And lately she had been too preoccupied with the tiny glimpse she had captured of him to even consider what she really wanted out of all of this.

She hadn't considered it and she realized that she had no idea.

She backed out of the arrest record, all interest in what it contained quickly evaporating. She sat, staring at the list of records, not truly comprehending any of it, lost in thought, deeply unhappy.

She took out her phone and pulled up the graduation picture again, just as she had done dozens of times over the last few months, and gazed into his eyes. Trying, hoping, that they would tell her something, anything. Anything about how he felt about her, what she was to him, who he really was, honest and true, no more lies.

But she saw nothing in those green eyes, just as she expected, and she reflexively hit the delete button. A little window appeared on the the screen with a question: 'Are you sure?' and the answer too.

No. She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure about anything.

She looked back up at the computer, at the list displayed upon the screen, wanted to close it, and forget about everything. But she couldn't, something else had caught her eye, and despite her every emotion demanding that she close the computer and forget all about Nick Wilde, she clicked on the link.

It was a set of records pertaining to his time at one of the the city orphanages, and then his trip around the foster care system. Every terrible detail laid down in the detached, clinical writing of some nameless case worker. And at the end of the file, a handwritten note, "Case # 12A-345278, ward of the state, Nicholas Wilde, to be removed from foster roles. Reason: Enlisting."

Judy wasn't sure about many things. About how good she was at being a cop, about how her family felt about her choice of career. About Nick Wilde, who he was, or what she meant to him. But she was sure of one thing, when it came to Nick at least, she was going to find out.

Thats all for now!

Now, I know some of you might be wondering about the hints I have been dropping about the reunion in this chapter. Well, I had never originally planned on actually describing much of Judy's search for him. But between all the comments last time about how excited people were to read about some of it, and my own attempt touch briefly upon it ballooning into what you have just read, well...

I think I can promise you though that it will be next time. Their orbits are rapidly intersecting.

Just some housekeeping:

I will be late with the next chapter, I have already started to write it, but I move in just a bit, and I will be busy getting things going at my new place for a while. It's just a temporary relocation for work, but I still do need to bring a number of essentials out with me. 4 months is quite a long time after all!

So the chapter will be late. How late I am not sure yet. Might be a week, maybe a little more. I seem to be most productive in writing when I travel though, so I am hoping to keep the delays to a minimum. And, at the very least, know that you have much to look forward to. I just hope I can make it all worthwhile. :)

By the way, I just wanted to thank all the people who commented last time with feedback on various aspects of this story. I have no illusions as to the quality of my writing, and so I always appreciate the opinions of those who have ideas on how I can improve.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

See you next time!