Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the movie Zootopia are all owned by Disney the great and powerful. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.
Still a slave to my OCD as I thank Combat Engineer, Crouto, Gallowaychi, gerbilHunter, GhostWolf88, Invader Johnny, Matt Dyrdahl,and Thomas Linquist for reviews.
"There'll Be Some Changes Made" became a classic quickly after it appeared in 1921. There is more history associated with the song than I will include here. The Wikipedia article is a good start on the song's background. And I've heard so few of the over four hundred covers I'm afraid to recommend anything, since there may be even more interesting versions.
There'll Be Some Changes Made
"It feels so good to wake up with your arms around me," Judy purred in the morning.
"So, want first shower, or we'll just let Mom smell what we did last night?"
"Pretty sure your mom already knows. And now that we're married it's perfectly respectable."
"So, before we were married, was it disrespectable?"
"Disrespectable? Is that even a word? Making love with you was simply fun... it was past fun, it was wonderful."
"And now that we're married it isn't fun or wonderful any more, just respectable?"
"That's it, Mr. Wilde you have driven me from the comfort of bed and the pleasure of your arms around me. I shall go and take first shower just to be away from your teasing."
Nick's arms tightened slightly around her, "Do you promise to miss me when you're gone?"
"I do," she promised, and gave him a fast kiss. "And I can't wait to miss you."
"Yeah, I... Hey!" he protested as the bunny slipped from his grasp and hopped into the bathroom.
"Nick explained you're working while you're here," Eleanor commented to Judy at breakfast. "I'll be down at my shop. Is there anything you need?"
"Just a quiet place to work on the department lap top. I didn't even get it opened yesterday."
"The family room would be good, I think," suggested Eleanor. "Charles will be in his office if he's home and won't disturb you."
"I think he wants to show me the smiths today," Nick told his mother. He turned to Judy, "Or would you rather I stayed here and helped you?"
"While I'd love to have you here with me, I fear you would be a distraction. My heart beats so wildly in your presence I could not possibly work when my thoughts are on nothing but how wonderful you are."
Nick grinned, knowing Judy meant he would be more distraction than help.
Alone in the big house Judy had almost finished reading the report from Ron Rack when the phone in the kitchen rang. Judy wondered what to do, then decided to offer to take a message. "Hello. This is the Meadows' residence."
"Good morning, I'm hoping to speak with a Judy Hopps."
"That's me. And you are?"
"My name is Brooke Redpaw, and–"
"Coach Redpaw?"
"Yes."
"How are you feeling?"
"Weak. Pretty much exactly how the doctors told me to expect to feel at this point in my chemo. But they caught it early and think I'll lick it. But I didn't call to talk about me. I've had six calls from parents or players telling me how wonderful you were yesterday, and a call of complaint. So–"
"A complaint? What was the problem?"
"Oh, you don't speak teacher. Complaints are normal. If you give some animals a million creds tax free they'll complain they wanted two. Only one call of complaint is a compliment. Three is average. So–"
"Was the complaint from Streak?"
"Pride? No, actually I called her to get her opinion, and you'll never guess what... How well do you know Pride?"
"Not that well."
"Then you might not recognize a miracle. She apologized to me last evening. Said she should have listened to me better and promised to do better next year. Can you understand how amazing that is? She is wonderfully talented, but difficult to coach."
"I believe you. And you're a wonderful coach. You've really given the team some great skills."
"I was fortunate in having a great group of females to work with."
"The most talented players in the world still need a good coach to bring out their potential."
"Thank you. They haven't had me for a month. I suspect Coach Prowler hasn't done enough with them, and am sure Pride took too much on herself... She has the potential to be a great leader, but she can..."
"Be abrasive?"
"You said it, I didn't."
"But I don't hear you disagree."
There was a chuckle from the vixen. "But I called to talk about the team. If Fox Ridge is going to beat Beaverton on Friday the–"
"Beaverton?"
"Division one school we're playing for district championship. Mostly otters. They've been district champions six of the last ten years. Did anyone tell you yesterday about how Fox Ridge tends to play?"
"Streak... She introduced herself as Streak, so I call her that. She gave me some game film on DVD."
"Did you see the problem? I'm sure you did. That was why I got the apology. Fox Ridge can't win without some restructuring. I haven't been there in weeks for a good sense of how players are progressing. Would you consider working with the team to prepare them for Friday's game. Change the lineup any way you want."
"I don't know the players that well."
"Well I can't do it. I have a sense the players respect you."
"And if Fox Ridge loses it's my fault."
"I'll take responsibility. I'll insist I told you to revamp the line-up. You've seen how the Fox Ridge game is basically feeding the ball to Pride for an attack on goal. Beaverton watched us during the playoffs. Do you really think Fox Ridge can win the championship if they know they just need to shut Pride down and we have no other offense?"
Judy sighed, "I don't think I'm the best animal for the job."
"You probably are. At the very least you're the best animal available for the job. Will you do it?"
"I don't... Yes."
"Four-thirty at the school. I'll call and tell them... Do you want film of the Beaverton games?"
"You have that?"
"Absolutely! I had all the playoff games taped. I'll give you my address and you can come over and get them."
"Is that..."
"My immune system is compromised from the chemo, forgive me if I don't touch you, but you can pick up the tapes."
Judy took down the information, and had one more question. "The spice twins?"
"The squirrels? I'm not sure. They have a lot of talent. I wanted to watch them progress. I might have considered them for starting positions if I could have watched them longer."
"They seem a bit... silly."
Coach Redpaw sighed, "The Oak Grove high school closes at the end of this school year and consolidates with Fox Ridge High. So their parents enrolled them here this year, hoping they'd have more chance for football. They started late, after the school year had begun. It's hard for the two of them, the only squirrels at the school and not knowing anyone. I think the silly is an act. You worked a miracle with Pride already, if you have another one in your bag of tricks bring it out for the spice twins."
Judy made plans to pick up the DVDs at one, then returned to her laptop.
Nick watched the armadillos at the forge for almost an hour. He had to agree with his uncle, it looked fascinating. Charles Meadows left to look over the carpentry and furniture shops and Nick went to the drug store to examine the espresso machine behind the lunch counter.
"Must have been quite the machine in it's day," the fox thought as he looked it over. "Thirty years ago? This isn't a lunch counter machine, this is a... I wonder if they bought it used from some coffee shop?" Born and raised in Zootopia he had no idea if the town had once boasted a real coffee shop or not.
There was an older armadillo running the drug store. "Think you can fix it, Mr. Wilde?"
"Call me Nick. And I have no idea if I can get this working, but I'll give it a try. Right now I'm just trying to decide what tools I'm going to need to open it up and look inside."
A trip to his uncle's shop provided Nick with a tool box with the necessary equipment. And being sprayed with ancient rusty water provided Nick with the warning he needed to turn off the valve bringing water into the machine. Two pieces of exterior trim on the machine were broken. Nick suspected the forge might be able to replace them. But there was no point in even asking if the trim could be replaced unless the machine itself was in working order. The electronics appeared simple, less complex than some turntables he had repaired for his record collection. The pipes and metal reservoir seemed fairly simply to understand, but so corroded with rust or blocked with mineral deposits he knew he couldn't possibly fix the problems.
At the Mayor's office in Zootopia Mayor Lionheart noticed his personal assistant's mood. "You look happy."
"I am, Sir."
"May I inquire the reason."
"Bad news."
"Bad news makes you happy."
"Well, it's bad news for you. I consider it good news."
"Bad new for me is good news for you? Something sounds very, very wrong. What are you talking about?"
"You will need to scrap your plans for a surprise wedding for Detectives Wilde and Hopps. They were married this weekend."
"Are you certain? This seems awfully sudden. The last report I had was that they had nothing definite planned."
"I know, that was the last report I had to give you. The decision came up suddenly on their part. And they were not married in Zootopia."
"Not married here? Are you sure they're married?"
"Absolutely. They chose a small town to keep it quiet. As you remember the Police Policy Manual states that married officers are not to serve as–"
"Yes, yes. I'm trying to change that. Don't know why they made changing the Policy Manual so difficult."
"Probably to keep sudden shifts in public opinion becoming operating policy without sufficient review."
The lion looked thoughtful. "Hmmm... Perhaps you're right. Do you think the city could have a second ceremony for them after the change in department policy?"
"I think, Sir, they are probably happy with the marriage that they have."
"Well, the city needs to do something for them... Did you contact Gazelle's staff and find out if she would perform?"
"I always follow your instructions to the best of my ability."
"What did they say? Did you tell me? I forgot."
The rat sighed deeply, wondering how anyone could have forgotten the message. "Gazelle said she's be happy to perform at an event to honor the two."
"Good, good. Now you just need to find something we can do for Nick and Judy to suitably honor them."
"Me, Sir?" the rat squeaked.
"Certainly you. I can't do all the thinking around here. Take a couple hours off this morning and see what ideas you can come up with."
Judy and Nick's eloping was also news that morning in the office of Big. Chelsea wasn't sure how he would respond, and hope she would not be on the punishment end of the shrew's anger if he saw them turning down his offer to use the mansion for a wedding as an insult. Would Big perceive it as a failure on her part? Better to bring the issue up early in the meeting, delay might look like fear on her part. She was afraid, but preferred not to show it. "I'm afraid I have bad news."
Big frowned, "What's wrong?"
"Detectives Hopps and Wilde have eloped. I've been assured this was done to keep it low key. Current police policy does not allow married officers to serve as partners, and they wish to remain as partners on the force."
Myron scoffed, "Those two could have gotten the regulations changed for themselves."
"They were trying to change the policy," claimed Dagger, "but it takes time. What I have been able to find out is that Detective Hopps desired marriage as soon as possible, and they were married in an obscure location to keep it out of the papers and below the radar for the police department."
Big's claws tapped the arm of his chair. It might be sign of anger, as Myron hoped. It might be a sign of thought, as Chelsea hoped. "I've never understood Judy's interest in the fox," he sighed. "Who can understand the heart?" He looked over the lemming, "You have verified police policy? It is difficult to change?"
"I checked. It is. Perhaps her desire to be married as soon as possible reflects the values of where she grew up?"
"Perhaps," the shrew agreed.
Myron recognized that Big was not angry with the detectives, just disappointed he was unable to the couple the gift of using the mansion for their wedding. "Perhaps you could throw a reception for them on their return?"
Chelsea saw Myron trying to please Big. Myron was a potential danger, he had been in the organization a long time. She wasn't certain how much power he actually wielded, but she suspected he could be a threat to her ascendancy when Big retired. Having Myron killed would be the easy way to deal with him, but dangerous. He might have information she needed. Better to give him a well-paid job as CEO of one of the companies Big controlled, and hope he was happy there – where he would be available if she needed to call on his experience. "The problem," she reminded Big, "is that they wish to keep their marriage from being publicly known for the time being. A reception here would–"
"We won't call it a reception! We'll, uh, that raid that took down MacKenzie? He was a thorn in the side to some of our activities and–"
"And we invite the two of them for a party in honor of removing competition?" Chelsea asked in a mocking tone. "That would not play well with the police department."
"We could invite the other detectives, you know – for helping the city. And–"
Big held up a hand and the rivals fell silent. "I wish to bestow a gift on the rabbit who saved my daughter's life. A suitable gift. The two of you will find an appropriate way to show my gratitude. It can be a reception. It can be a gift. It can be a cruise around the world. But you must both agree, and it must be something which pleases the rabbit."
Chelsea recognized the importance of remaining silent and nodded agreement. Myron made the mistake of opening his mouth, "But–" He fell silent under Big's withering gaze.
"Good. Next week. You both agree." Big smiled inwardly. Competition could be a good thing between subordinates – it kept them from conspiring again you. But there were times when cooperation was needed. The shrew knew he could not live forever, and these two needed to learn how to get along to insure his businesses ran smoothly.
"Email from Carson?" Judy thought. "Wonder what..." She opened the email and groaned. Carson began by confessing he'd read the preliminary draft. Apparently someone on the Commission had sent a copy to Detective Martin, and Martin had seen fit to forward it to all the other detectives who had worked the investigation. Judy felt embarrassed they had seen such an early draft.
But as she read the email from the wolf she found him praising it as nicely done. He also offered to give her some tips on writing the final report and look over the drafts for possible problems if she wished.
Judy leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Was the offer for help sincere? Was it a subtle insult, suggesting she was incapable of writing a good report? Was it an attempt to sabotage her? He was the senior detective in his own precinct, and regarded Nick and Judy as too new to the police department to deserve their promotion to the rank of detectives. Nick's initial contact with detective Carson had been a rude shouting match of bruised egos. Carson had resented being placed under her authority in the recent investigation. On the other hand Carson and Parr had always been honest with her and Nick, and even if he resented her being in charge of the investigation he had always been helpful and given a hundred per cent. She read the email again, decided how she would interpret the offer, but decided talk with Nick and ask his opinion.
She glanced at the clock. Just time to get over and pick up the DVDs from Coach Redpaw, back for lunch, finish typing up the revised report with the new information on evidence still being uncovered, and then head to the high school for a practice session with the football team.
His uncle came into the drug store in the early afternoon to see what Nick had discovered during the exploratory surgery on the espresso machine. "How goes the war?" he asked cheerfully. "Think you'll be able to put it all back together?" he added as he looked over the various parts spread out on dish towels near the machine.
"Been using the phone to take pictures of everything as I took it apart," Nick assured him. "Question is whether it'll be worthwhile even trying to fix it. A bad switch or two... Well, not sure if it's really the switch or the age of the electrical cord. But the scale - the mineral deposits in the pipes and water reservoir – is awful. I checked on-line, and the model's so old they don't stock replacement parts. I might get the reservoir clean, but it'd take weeks to get the pipes clean."
"The crud is thicker in the pipes?"
"No, but less surface area for the scale remover to work, and harder to get a tool in to scrape out the mineral deposits. No way I'll get this working while I'm here."
"Before you give up, how about we see the hardware store has anything to help?"
"Fox Ridge has a hardware store? Or are you suggesting Plainview?"
"Neither. And I'm not sure if Planview even has a real hardware store. They've got those huge buildings where you can't find anything – including an employee. And if you find an employee dumb enough to get caught in the open he probably couldn't find his own tail using both hands. But it happens there is a real old-fashioned hardware store in Oak Grove. Something goes wrong on the farm you need a real hardware store to get things fixed. Throw what you need in a bag and let's go ask – can't be worse off that you are now."
"Wait, Charles Meadows is going to Oak Grove? I thought no Meadows would ever set foot in a squirrel town."
"That was then, this is now. Even if the hardware can't help I need to talk with the bank."
"Are you okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"The bank?"
"They have one. We don't. The bank is small, but I'm trying to convince them there'd be enough business in Fox Ridge to justify opening a branch."
It was a short drive to Oak Grove, but Nick had never been there. It had never been more than a small town, and it had suffered some of the same population flight to larger towns that had nearly killed Fox Ridge. But Oak Grove had its economic base in farming, and all animals need to eat. However, with mechanization making larger farms the order of the day, and fewer animals wanting to go into farming, the result was a smaller, aging farm population. The hardware store seemed to take half of the tiny main street.
"'Afternoon,' an old squirrel in a plaid shirt called as the foxes entered. "Need anything for that forge?" He was sitting in a lawn chair and looked like he'd prefer to remain sitting unless duty forced him to stand.
"No. Everything is working fine. I brought my nephew in to see this place. He's a detective in Zootopia. Doubt he's seen a real hardware store in his life."
Nick gazed around at rows of shelves, crowded close together and towering high overhead, crammed full of electrical, mechanical, and plumbing parts, and rows of tools. "Well, never seen anything like this," he conceded. He held up the bag he was carrying, "I'm trying to fix an old espresso machine, and found rust and lime deposits choking the pipes. My uncle claims you can do miracles here."
"Espresso machine? Not sure what you mean, but let's see what you have." The squirrel took out a couple of the pipes, and the switches Nick thought were faulty. "Yep, you got bad mineral deposits in these pipes. Switches are easy enough to replace, got 'em in stock."
"Doesn't do me any good to buy new switches with pipes in this condition. You got any super solution for cleaning them?"
"No super solution. Got some strong stuff... Soak the pipes for a week, ream 'em out... Might need to rechrome the pipes. Powerful stuff."
"I doubt I'll be in Fox Ridge long enough to... How much would that cost?"
"Chemicals... Reaming... New chrome... Labor... I'd estimate about thirty credits a pipe."
The estimate was several hundred credits total. It would be better to apply the money to a new machine. "Think I'll pass on getting these clean."
"Or, could get you some new ones."
"They don't stock these any more."
"Not talking about ordering them. We've got this size pipe on hand. I could cut to length, smooth the ends, and tap on threads."
"And the cost?"
The squirrel took out a tape measure and checked the length of the longest of the pipes. "I'm going to say three, maybe four, credits each."
"Four credits for a new part? Why didn't you say that first?"
"You didn't ask. Will take about an hour if you want to wait."
"That'd be perfect," Charles told him. "I've got business across the street."
The squirrel rose from the chair and prepared to work, "Oh, a minute of your time, Mister Meadows. I think Ed has a couple things that need doing at the forge. Could you take 'em back with you?"
"No problem," Charles answered with a level of civility towards a squirrel Nick didn't believe his uncle was capable of showing.
"ED!" bellowed the old squirrel. "Mister Meadows is out here. Did you have something that needs taking up to Fox Ridge?"
"Keep your pants on," an equally ancient squirrel answered, coming from the unknown depths in the back of the building. He pulled a couple small bags from beneath the sales counter. "Don't know how the darn fool cracked this. We ain't got a welder since Doug retired, should take four minutes. This one... They'll need to make a new piece."
"Should you make a note?"
"Nah, they'll know what needs doin'. No hurry, but end of the week would be nice. Have 'em give me a call and I'll come up and settle the bill."
The parking lot was almost empty when Judy arrived at the high school. Some males were coming out and getting into cars. The field was largely deserted, although Streak was on the field doing a passing drill with one of the spice twins. Someone who looked suspiciously like a school administrator stood to the side of the pitch and asked "Miss Hopps?"
"Yes?"
"Assistant principal, Steve Barkin. There's some paperwork for you to fill out."
"Paperwork?"
"Brooke Redpaw called. Said you ought to officially be listed as a substitute teacher, just in case Beaverton raises some sort of objection. I think that makes sense. I'm sorry it only pays a hundred and fifty credits for your–"
"I didn't agree to help Coach Redpaw for any payment."
"Well, then you won't mind there is so little."
"The team needs to start its practice soon. Can we make this fast?"
"Certainly, certainly. Just need your signature on three forms... The rest can be filled in later."
"And speaking of later, this seems late for practice."
"The male team gets the field first for their practice."
"Just on Mondays? And isn't their season over?"
"Coach Prowler still wants them running drills. And the males always practice first. It would be confusing to have females with first practice some days and males with first practice on other days."
Streak had been coming over to greet Judy and heard the last remark. "It wouldn't be confusing! And it sucks always having to wait around school! We're playing for the championship and those... We should be practicing first!"
"I'll just say that in Bunnyburrow it was done week by week," Judy said. "Male team had the field first one week, female team had it first the next week."
The assistant principal harrumphed and told Judy, "We'll fill in all that we can. If you could be here a few minutes early tomorrow you can fill in anything that's left," before heading back to the school building.
"Jerk," Streak muttered softly when she was sure he would not be able to hear. She turned to Judy, "The announcement was you're coaching us this week?"
"I don't want to say I'm coaching you... I talked with Coach Redpaw today and she asked me to do some things. She's your coach. But she asked me to be her eyes, paws, and feet this week to the best of my ability."
"I... thanks."
"She's very proud of how you kept the team running without her."
"Really?"
"Really. The females always get the field late?"
"Yeah. Most of us get our homework done while we wait, but it still sucks."
"Brooke gave me some game film of Beaverton's games. Think anyone would want to watch some tomorrow after school and before practice?"
The vixen's eyes gleamed, "I sure would!"
By now most of the players were out of the locker room and on the field. When the last straggler arrived Judy called them together. "Coach Redpaw wanted me to reevaluate the team's starting lineup. She thinks some of the substitutes might be ready to serve as starters. I don't know you that well, but she feels like some changes are necessary. I promised her I would do my best. And the game is Friday, this is way too much last minute, but I promised your coach to do it. We're running drills today. I'll be watching you. If the lineup needs to be changed you'll get your new position tomorrow. No one is guaranteed to have her current position."
"No one will have her current position?" Streak protested. "That's just stupid."
"I didn't say no one would have her current position. I said no one had a lock," Judy told her. "Let's take a position... Goalie. If one of you could do better as goalie than Connie who–"
"No one's better than Connie!" insisted Violet.
"I said if," Judy reminded them. She addressed the team, "If Violet was better at goalie than Connie, which of them should be goalie?"
"Violet," Connie answered quickly.
"That's what I'd say," agreed Judy. "But if you're the best goalie on the team, and I'm sure you are, you'll be goalie tomorrow. It won't be because you have it now, but because you're so good."
Judy heard some grumbling for a couple starters, and sensed some optimism from the second team who hoped they might be moved up. "Oh, Connie? Streak? The two of you know the team much better than I do. Could you stay a little while after practice and give me your opinion on some positions?"
"Sure!" "I'll need to call my mother."
Judy ordered Streak not to attempt any goals in practice. She needed to practice passing, discover who she worked well with, and give the others advice on attacking the goal. Connie served as a second set of eyes for Judy in evaluating defensive strengths.
After dinner Judy told Nick about the email from detective Carson. "What do you think I should do? I've kind of made up my mind, but I'd like your opinion."
"So you can blame it on me if things go south?"
"No, because I value your opinion. You may see something I didn't pick up when I read the letter."
"Okay, but let me read the email first."
"No problem."
The fox read the email three times, and thought a moment before speaking. "How come I'm the only one Martin didn't send a copy to?"
"You're off topic."
"No, seriously. They all–"
"I'll show the report to you if you really want to see it," snapped Judy. "What's your opinion?"
"Well, without seeing your report, did you really try and spread the credit around like he says rather than taking as much as you could for yourself?"
"I tried to give credit where it was due."
"Then I think Carson is sincere. Accept his help. We could all use someone else to read what we write and see errors we can't see ourselves. He's always been honest with us, even if we rub him the wrong way sometimes, and he has a lot of experience writing reports. There are two ways to look at this, what does he get from the offer, and what do you get from the offer. You can't answer what he gets, but–"
"I'm not sure I understand the 'what he gets'."
Nick made a 'who knows' gesture, "Maybe he wants to share good advice with a rookie he respects. Maybe he needs to feel useful. Maybe its a way to remind you that he's been on the job longer and knows more. He's too good a detective, and too proud of his work on the wilde case, to try and mess you up and make you look bad, but what exactly he's thinking I don't know. The question for you is, would his advice help you to write a better report in less time? Now, I don't know exactly what's going on in your head either. But I think he'd give you solid advice."
Judy pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket and opened it to show Nick what her opinion was. The paper read, 'Accept offer to help'.
"*Ding* *ding* *ding*, and the little rabbit wins the grand prize for having the right answer!"
"Oh, goodie," laughed Judy. "What is the grand prize?"
Nick attempted the solemn tone of a television announcer, "Tonight, you get a fox who loves you in your very own bed."
"I already have one of those."
"Were you hoping for another?"
"No. No, the one I have is perfectly adequate."
"Adequate? Only adequate?"
"That isn't what I meant. I meant he gets the... Darn, anything I say may just sound worse."
"A very wise fox once said, sometimes it's better to just shut up and kiss me."
Judy said nothing, but jumped into Nick's lap and gave him a kiss. When it ended she asked, "Is that from some old movie?"
"Is what from some old movie?"
"The line you just said, the wise fox saying just shut up and kiss him."
"Oh, that wasn't an old movie. I said that just now." Judy considered saying something, but decided to simply follow the advice again.