You Never Know

Fru Fru had her baby coincidentally the same day Judy had her leg sutures removed. Nick remembered it because he read the text announcement to her while she was waiting for the nurse to call her in. He also remembered it because of the uncomfortable knot of terror when a follow up text inviting them to the christening ceremony appeared. He didn't respond to it.

A more formal invitation, sealed envelope and gold trimmed and smelling faintly of lilacs and baby's breath, showed up in his mail the next day.

"Of course I'm going. Why wouldn't I be going?" Judy said when he asked her about it. She was scrolling through something on her phone, only half paying attention to her food.

"Because he tried to kill us," Nick stabbed at his plate of noodles for emphasis.

"We cleared that whole thing up. He's helping us now."

"Because you're a cop and he's a crime lord and one day soon you'll probably have to book him for something."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Because when a mob boss formally invites you to a party it usually means he's planning your funeral."

"You have no faith in people, do you?" Judy glanced up at him for a brief second.

"No, I have the right kind of faith in people," he explained. "That's the difference."

"What do you think he's gonna do? I'm their appointed godmother. Remember?"

"Yeah. He likes you," he turned his fork, pointing at her. "I'll always be the reason his grandmother's coffin smells of skunk butt."

Judy shook her head and sighed, as if to say now, whose fault is that? "Well, you'll just stick with me and everything will be fine," Judy said with a breezy, natural optimism. She looked down at her phone and her voice suddenly jumped an octave and her ears fell back. "Awww, look how tiny!" She cooed. The phone was turned around and shoved towards his nose. On the screen was a photo of shrew-sized baby booties. In actual size they were probably too small to hold a grain of rice.

"Just darling," Nick deadpanned. "Carrots, we really have to talk about your self preservation tactics."

She took her phone back. "What? I'm excited! I've never been a godmother before."

"Don't you have like a billion siblings?"

Judy dismissed that with a flap of her paw. "It's not the same. You don't really get to spoil your siblings. When you have the same parents it gets too complicated."

Nick shrugged, taking her word for it. He pushed around the remainder of his lunch with his fork. Among the noodles were several large chunks of cooked cabbage. Nick's snout wrinkled under his eyes and he tapped at Judy's plate to get her attention away from her online phone shopping.

"Rabbits like cabbage, right?" He asked.

She glanced up at him through her thick lashes. "Are you asking if rabbits like cabbage or if I like cabbage?"

In lieu of answering he rotated his plate so the pile of cabbage chunks were facing her and slid the whole thing several inches in her direction. Judy stared at him for a poignant moment and finally picked up her fork, eating off of his plate.

"So," she said, swallowing down a mouthful of the stuff. "Do you wanna keep being paranoid, or do you wanna go halfsies on these onesies?" She lifted her phone, which indeed sported a photo of extremely miniature baby pajamas, and waved it enticingly back and forth.

"My god, Hopps, you've stopped using words."

Judy took that in stride. She ate another bite from his plate and then said, "Honestly, Nick, if I were you, it would be a far riskier move to not go."

She was right, of course. Regardless if he was or was not back in Mr. Big's good graces, once he'd been invited there wasn't a thing in all creation that could excuse his absence without creating another personal insult. And Judy would be there, so it would probably be safe. Probably.

And so that Friday afternoon he dug out his suit, hung it on the rod with his shower curtain and ran the hot water in an attempt to steam the wrinkles out. He got takeout early, anticipating whatever food served at the event would be thumbnail sized and it would be too late to get anything on the way back. As the the clock approached four he went for his phone, sending Judy a text in case she wasn't off of work just yet.

Hey, can you talk?

After a minute his phone buzzed.

Call you in 5?

Ok

Always true to her word, in exactly five minutes his phone rang. "What's up?" She chirped when he answered.

"So, I know this is last minute, but I wanted to know if you're driving to the shindig tonight. And, follow up question, if you are, would you mind give me a ride?" He asked. He loosened his striped tie enough to pull it off his head without completely undoing the knot and hooked the loop onto the knob of the bathroom door, letting it hang there. "I'd rather not do the whole public transportation thing while dressed up like stockholder."

"Shindig? What shindig?"

"Y'know, the infant naming ceremony thing," he eased open the door and was met with a cloud of steam. He slid into the narrow space, batting away the fog so he could check on his clothes. "The presentation of little Judy shrew."

"That's on Saturday, isn't it?" Judy's voice sounded apprehensive.

Nick turned off the running water, hoping he'd misheard her. "Hopps, the thing is tonight."

The bout of sudden quiet was almost painful. "I was sure it's tomorrow," she said slowly, the cheeriness leaked out of her voice like a busted balloon.

"You've got to be kidding me, you actually forgot?"

"I did not forget," she protested, "it's on my calendar for tomorrow. I must've got the date wrong."

Nick slumped down, sitting on the lid of his toilet with a mixture of bafflement, dread, and, admittedly, a touch of smugness. "Well," he said finally. "LIttle miss organized got the day wrong."

"Nick, are you sure?" Her voiced raised, growing excited.

"Of course I'm sure," he replied, matching her. He got up and out of the bathroom, ranting as he went. "I've had this day memorized for weeks. I have five alarms on my phone for it. It's written on every scrap of paper I own. I got it tattooed on the back of my eyelids." He scanned his fridge, hastily tearing at the array of bills and notices that wallpapered its front until he found the one piece of cardstock trimmed in gold. He ripped it off, letting the Wild Times novelty magnet crash hard against the floor.

"I am holding the invite in my hand," he narrated for her benefit, "... request the honor of your presence yadda yadda, bluh bluh bluh, Friday the twenty-seventh at six pm. That's, what, hour and a half from now."

"Augh, cheese and crackers," Judy hissed. He was pretty sure he heard a thump in the background.

"Somebody really needs to teach you how to swear properly, farm girl."

"Shut up, Nick! I'm trying to figure out how to get to the precinct, get home and changed and then out to Tundratown and not be late," she was talking a mile a minute now, completely in impatient mode.

"Well, what's your 20?"

"I'm on the 405, just past Wallaby," she groaned.

"The Outback? Sweetheart, you'll be lucky to get back to the precinct by six."

"I'm turning on the sirens," she announced. The blare overtook the receiver, he could barely hear her over the noise. Good use of police resources, there. "Nick!" She shouted. "Can you get to the ZPD? Fast?"

"Yeah," he shouted back, wincing against all the extra background noise. "Why?"

"I'm heading for the surface streets. I think if I hurry, I can cut around traffic and make it to the station by five-thirty," she explained without pause.

"That just gives thirty minutes to get to Tundratown."

"I know, I know," she barked. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to get my spare key, go to my apartment, get my dress and the baby's present and meet me back at the police station. If I don't have to make the detour home we might actually make it in time."

"Alright, alright," Nick sped back into his bathroom, fueled by the rapid fire pace of her instructions. He pulled his suit off the hangar with one hand and held the phone to his ear with the other and began hastily switching out his clothes. One leg shoved into his black pants and the other kicked his old ones aside simultaneously. "Where's your key?" He slowed ever so slightly, "It's not under the welcome mat, is it?"

He could practically hear Judy's eyes roll, "Yes, Nick, I'm a complete idiot," she said in a voice absolutely dripping with her version of bright sarcasm. "Of course, it's not under the welcome mat. It's in my locker at the station."

Nick stopped, one arm stuck in his shirt sleeve. "How am I supposed to get it there?"

"I'll call Clawhauser and tell him I need you to have it. He'll let you in. He's in charge of everybody's locker combinations."

"Uh huh," Nick frowned.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Judy raised her voice even louder.

"I said I'll try," he answered. He stumbled at his closet, a little sliding panel that had gotten royally stuck halfway open two years ago and he hadn't managed to fix. He tucked inside and started digging around for a solid colored tie.

"Okay and Nick? It's the purple dress with the ruffles on it."

"Okay."

"And the present is on the table by the door. It's really, really tiny so don't lose it."

"Don't lose tiny present. Got it."

"And don't forget shoes, they're the only ones in there."

"You're wearing shoes?"

"Thank you so much, Nick! I'll see you soon." And with that she hung up.

Cops were usually very suspicious mammals. In Nick's experience most mammals tended to be of the suspicious sort, but cops especially so. Judy didn't exactly defy the type. Cheerful though she was, she was equally gung ho about her job and far from blindly trusting.

Clawhauser, on the other paw.

"You look spiffy, where you off to?" the cheetah had his face bunched in both paws, leaning forward over the counter.

Nick actually had to look down before he remembered what he was wearing. "I'm, uh, I'm Nick. I'm here for Judy-"

"Oh, Judy's key!" Clawhauser interrupted. "Yeah, I got it for you right here." The dispatch officer disappeared momentarily behind the counter, his spotted tail flicking up for just an instant before the rest of him reappeared. "Judy told me you were in a hurry so I took it out of her locker for ya." His fist reached out and then opened and a little silver key dropped into Nick's paws. Just like that.

"So where're you guys going? An opera? A wedding?" Clawhauser guessed.

"A christening, actually. Mutual- er, friend's baby, kind of a thing."

"Aww, that's so sweet," the cheetah squealed a little.

"Well, I'd better be, uh," Nick turned and was abruptly taken aback by a large elephant in blue standing directly in his path. On first glance Nick could tell just by her face that, one, the officer had heard the whole conversation, and, two, that she was currently memorizing what he looked like, filing it away in her mind for future use.

She nodded at him, trunk waving a little. "You're Judy's friend, right?" She asked.

"Yes, I'm Nick. Nick Wilde," he said quickly. He didn't really have the time to explain the situation if he was going to make the round trip to Judy's apartment and back. The side effect was the rush made him sound more nervous than he'd like.

"Did I see your name on the academy application list?" She asked.

"Could have, I put it there."

That seemed to satisfy the elephant and she stepped gingerly around him, making her way past the dispatch counter. "Well, good luck. Try not to die," she said amicably, or at least as amicably as one could say the phrase try not to die.

Clawhauser told him it would make sense later and shooed him out the door.

He'd been in Judy's apartment one other time, and even then very briefly. It wasn't exactly space enough for one person to hang around in comfortably, let alone two. He'd been gently ribbing her about finding a new one off and on.

The advantage was he didn't have to waste any time looking for her things. Her dress was literally the first thing hanging in her makeshift closet, a lone rod jutting out of one wall that held her wardrobe, shoulder to shoulder in a neat row. The shoes, back strappy things with stubby heels on the bottom, were the only things sitting on the floor. He grabbed the shoes in one paw and the dress, hanger and all, got draped over his arm.

The gift was indeed quite tiny. Just one of the marbles he'd had as a kid could've rolled over and crushed it with ease. He carefully pinched the bitty pink box in between his thumb and index finger and tucked it into his jacket pocket. It was then he noticed the cardstock with gold trim sitting face up on the table.

He only just glanced at it, but that was enough to stop his momentum entirely. He froze, hand on Judy's door, and read the whole thing over once. And then again. And again. He plucked it off the table and held it at the end of his nose, as if that would make the letters change. And when they didn't he sprung back into motion. He took the card with him, hastily locking Judy's door and running down the hall as fast as he could.

They arrived at the ZPD almost simultaneously. It was thirty-five minutes after five and Judy was frantic. She pulled up to the curb and parked the squad car, she'd already killed the siren a few blocks back. Nick spent a very awkward bus ride trying to avoid eye contact with all curious bystanders staring at the fox in a suit holding a woman's outfit. As soon as he got off, he made a break for the police station, running around the corner to see Judy get out of her car.

"Perfect timing," Judy shouted as she bounded toward him. "Just give me two seconds to-"

"Judy, wait a second," he started, a little out of breath. She made a grab for the dress hanging at his elbow and when he pulled back she shot him a very confused stare.

"Nick, we don't have time-" she made another lunge for the dress and he twisted away from her, holding out the gold trimmed card with his other paw.

"Look, I found your invitation," he explained. "You didn't get the date wrong. It says Saturday, look at it."

Judy's large eyes narrowed. She snatched the invitation out of his paw, reading it over again.

"He gave us separate days," Nick rambled, now fully agitated. "Either that's the most incompetent typo in history or Mr. Big's trying to split us up. He told me to come Friday and you to come Saturday. Which means there are two different events and I'm banking one of 'em isn't a baby shower."

Judy was glaring now, her ears fell back and her eyebrows pressed into a straight line. The perky young lady all star-eyed and excited about becoming a godmother was gone. She was Officer Hopps, and she was pissed.

"Get in the car," she ordered, shoving the invitation into her pocket.

"What?"

"We're getting to the bottom of this. Get in the car." She marched to her squad car, throwing the driver's side door open. Nick slid in on the other side, the purple dress lying forgotten over his knees as he took his seat.

"You have a plan?" He asked.

"Direct approach," she explained succinctly. She tapped at her phone, still plugged into the console on her dashboard, and had it dial. On the third ring it picked up.

"Hiya Judy!"

"Hey Fru!" Judy sang, switching into chipper mode. Her smile wasn't all there, and the disconnect between her face and her voice was a little disconcerting to look at. "Just wanted to let you know Nick and I are gonna be a little late tonight, but we are on our way."

There was a short pause on the other end and then Fru's voice emerged, bright and cheerful as ever. "Oh don't even worry about it, hun. These things always start late. Just get here when you can."

"Okay, we're on our way. Save us good seats." Judy frowned.

"Will do, dear. Drive safe!"

"Will do! Bye, Fru!"

"Byyeee!"

Judy switched off the call and slumped into her seat.

"Well, that cleared everything up," Nick said, facetious.

"What if the event is today? What if I got the fake day?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"You heard her, though." Judy looked at him, eyes wide and faintly worried. "She didn't try to correct me."

"What do you want to do?" Nick asked. "We could try calling one of the polars. I don't think Kev has changed his number in a couple years."

"No. We gotta get down there."

"But what if isn't- y'know?"

"It's your last chance to bail," she paused, paw hovering over the gear shift, waiting for him to decide. Their eyes met.

Nick waited one long, expectant moment, and then cracked the car door open, turning away from her.

"Nick!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he laughed. She was making that face he liked, wide eyed with a little crinkle over her nose. He sat back into the passenger seat and buckled in. The door slammed shut. "Hit the road, Carrots."

It was a quarter after six when they arrived. The church was in a very old, quiet part of Tundratown, many of the buildings had already closed for the night. The decorated facade included a short, snow covered flight of stairs and a large stained glass rose window over the double doors.

Judy hadn't bothered to change and just pulled the dress on over her uniform. The sleeves weren't as long as her uniform and the blue showed through on her forearms and her collar, which looked odd. The little heeled shoes were completely unsuited for their surroundings, but Judy insisted they kept her toes covered. Her belt had to go on top of the dress, it wouldn't lay right otherwise and Judy was reluctant to part with it.

"No one will say anything," Nick assured her. "Just act like it's normal and no one will even notice."

"We're walking into a mob party and I'm in cop gear," Judy said, as if she just realized how that would look.

Nick forgoed pointing out that he'd been worried about that exact conflict of interest since they got invited to this thing, deciding that it was a little too late to back out and the 'I told you so' would only make things worse. "It's not a mob party. It's your goddaughter's christening," he said.

Judy smiled a little. She paused at the front double doors. "You look very nice tonight," she said in a casual, by the by sort of way. Polite small talk before heading into the unknown.

He pulled at his tie. "It's not cop chic, but-" he shrugged. "Incidentally, you don't have an extra tranq gun in the back of the car or anything? So we match?"

"'Fraid not. Those are for cops anyways, mister."

"I'm almost a sort of a cop in training. That's gotta count for something."

"Uh huh. If things get ugly make sure you stay behind me, alright."

"Yeah, yeah." He stuck his paws in his pockets, contacting Judy's spare key. "Before I forget," he held it out to her, "here's your key back."

Judy started to take it, and then stopped halfway through the reach. "You keep it," she insisted. "Just in case."

His fingers closed around the little key. "In case of what?"

"You never know."