"Time can bring you down

Time can bend your knees

Time can break your heart

Have you begging please, begging please"

- Eric Clapton

Bunnyburrow wasn't the most progressive place at the best; reactionary even. For a homecoming rabbit who'd lost her fox...partner, it was doubly so. As she made her way across the platform, suitcase in paw, the doe struggled to hold in everything pent up inside her. Beside a bench stood two familiar figures: her parents, who gave a short, encouraging wave. All the memories, the nervous anticipation at finally leaving for Zootopia after so long: all gone. A firm hug pulled at her chest, physically and emotionally. Judy shrugged off her father's attempts to help with her luggage, roughly bundling the case into the back seat. The faithful old engine rumbled into life as Stu turned the keys in the ignition. The three Hopps family members settled into the seats (or, at least, as much as the old rust bucket would allow), the elder bunnies keen to welcome their most famous daughter.

Bonnie at once noticed the drooped ears of her kit, but this time it passed without comment. Nothing more needed to be said.

They made their way up the drive, gravel crunching under their feet. The wooden front door, paint flaking off, creaked open; a sea of fluff swarmed to to greet Judy, siblings offering words of comfort and sympathy. Whether they really meant it or not, she appreciated the effort. Unfortunately the situation was all too much for Stu: his nose twitched slightly before he burst into tears. "Oh sweet blueberry pie!" He wailed as he was escorted to the living room by two of the older kits. Judy and Bonnie remained standing, staring uncomfortably at the floor in a pained silence. Both at a loss for what to say.

I can't do this.

It was the younger doe who broke the silence. "I...think I need some time to myself." Bonnie nodded. With that, the doe set off down the hall. She needed to be alone, with herself and her mind. Bonnie watched her go before turning back to the living room, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

It had been a good few hours since Judy had retreated to her room, and Bonnie was under no apprehension that she could persuade her daughter to come out. She was too strong-willed for that: she always had been, she thought, remembering the idealistic young kit she'd once been. Still, as her mother she still felt responsibility. Still had to reach out to her daughter. She had to admit: when Judy had first come forwards and told them about her and Nick, she reacted badly. It hadn't taken her long to realise how wrong she was. He may have been a fox, but such preconceptions were irresponsible and almost always wrong; her own flesh and blood had taught her that much. All that mattered was that he made her happy. That was what she herself had tried to do for so long. She could never deny joy to her own flesh and blood. Many in the Hopps family ostracised the doe who broke the mould: Bonnie couldn't possibly be one of those.

That was why it was so important to be there now, when she needed her the most. She smiled sincerely at her husband, half fearing she'd set him off again. But he just smiled right back at her. This had to be done.

Judy lay on her bed, sealed in her room. A room she had known since childhood. Old frayed ZPD posters still clung to the walls, stuffed toys gathered at the end of the bed. So many things she'd known before, but nothing compared to her loss. It only reinforced the nagging doubts which kept forcing themselves to the surface of her mind.

Could have done things differently. Other choices, not made the same mistakes-

A gentle knock at the door dispersed her thoughts. "Judy, can I come in?" Bonnie. Her mother. Did she really want to talk. Could she talk. She struggled to even muster a reply, instead rolling onto her side and drawing her knees up to her chest.

The door creaked its way open, a pair of ears and concerned face edging their way around. "How you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," her mother replied, crossing towards the bed "I think we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." Her daughter replied curtly.

"I'd say there is." Bonnie countered, trying to sound as gentle as possible. "Seems like there are a few things you could do with getting off your chest."

Judy sat up reluctantly, knowing her mother would no doubt persist. With that her resistance tumbled, and so did the tears. "I...I miss him Mom! So much!"

"I know honey, I know." Bonnie's heart broke at the sight of her daughter so crushed before her. "I know it hurts."

"But I-I could have done things differently!" She sobbed, words cascading out, tears coming thick and fast "Y-you were right, all along! I never should've done it! Never have become a cop, stayed h-here with you and-"

"Judy, listen to me." Bonnie replied; she rubbed a paw over the shoulder of her sobbing daughter. "You can't blame yourself for it. It wasn't your fault."

"B-but it was mom," Judy whimpered "if I hadn't joined the ZPD then-"

"You'd never have met each other." Her mother interrupted, "And you'd both be sorrier for it." She leaned closer to Judy. "It may have seemed, well, unusual to an old fogey like me. But your father and I could see you made each other happy. That's enough for us." Judy went to speak, but her mother shushed her and continued. "We know you had something special. That's why it's so hard not to be able to see him."

"Yeah." That was all the younger doe could manage before she pressed herself to her mother, sobbing quietly. "I guess." In that moment, everything seemed as it was all those years ago, mother consoling her weeping kit. A more innocent time.

"But remember sweetheart," Bonnie said in well-worn motherly tones, "he's not totally gone. Just think, you can see his face and hear his voice whenever you want." She paused, unsure if it had made any difference, scratching behind Judy's ear affectionately. "I...I know it's not the same, but at least he's there."

The two rabbits simply sat there on the bed, gripping onto each other, seemingly frozen in time. Mother to daughter. Soul to soul.