He resumed working the murders the very next day. Bogo assigned Fangmeyer as his new partner on the case, saying that if Nick did this alone, he would "end up just like Hopps." It made sense, but at the same time, he didn't really fit the killer's criteria for a victim. Because the last time he checked, he wasn't considered prey.
"It's not about you fitting in with the criteria, it's about you potentially risking your life by finding out too much," Bogo told him patiently. "I think that was the main reason why Hopps is now six feet under, not because our perp figured she would've made a good vic."
Oh. It was probably a good idea to keep the tigress around then.
Fangmeyer had a similar reaction to his own once he brandished all of Judy's extra notes. She whistled, "That entire stack is about half her height."
"Did you expect anything less from her?" Nick asked pointedly. Before she could answer, he continued, "Let's get started. We have to hurry, before this killer decides that they want to tear someone else away from their friends and family."
They were going to catch this perp. They were going to catch this asshole who thought they could get away with murdering Judy, and he was going to make the son of a bitch pay—
Fangmeyer had to tell him that the thirst for revenge was beginning to show on his face. Oops.
They started off with the basics. First was the profiling.
"There's no guarantee, but we're probably looking for a pred. A lot of murders that are committed against prey tend to happen because some predator out there yearns for that old instinct," Fangmeyer explained. "They're fascinated by the idea that our ancestors killed other animals, and they want to experience it for themselves. Psychologically, knowing that they're physically capable of snuffing out someone else's life makes them feel more powerful. Superior." After a brief pause, she added, "To be completely honest, it's super insulting towards all of us more normal-minded predators. We already have to deal with that lingering fear that Bellwether left imprinted, and these guys are just making it worse."
Nick nodded in agreement. Another reason to get this scum off the streets.
They soon moved on to every animal that had been interviewed up to that point, including the ones that Judy had sought out on her own time. Most of them had quickly been quickly eliminated as suspects, though there were a few that stood out - including one jackal by the name of Timothy Canineson.
(Why did Nick feel like he had seen him on the streets before?)
Having been spotted lurking in the area where Holly died shortly before her body turned up, he had been brought in for questioning, and his nervous demeanor had done little to shift the suspicion off of him. Judy and Nick had let him leave, but they both quickly agreed that he was someone that they needed to keep on their radar. Especially after they looked him up in the system and found an extensive history of drug dealing.
(Huh. So that was why.)
Canineson was definitely not pleased to see that Nick was now knocking at his door at 8 in the morning asking for him to repeat his alibi for the night of Holly's murder.
"I told you guys," Canineson grumbled, obviously having been sleeping before Nick showed up. "I was at home."
"Was anyone with you that night?"
Canineson rolled his eyes, now less apprehensive and a whole lot more irritable. Definitely was not a morning person. "Like I said before, no. What, you guys running out of suspects? Not sure what to do next?"
This guy was really beginning to get on Nick's nerves, but he masked his annoyance with one of his usual smirks. "Listen, Tim. I'm going to be completely honest with you, okay? Predator to predator, vulpine to canine." Seeing Canineson raise an eyebrow, he continued, "I'm not saying you're guilty, but I'm not saying you're innocent either. You know why? Because your alibi is, for lack of a better word, shit. And while I'm at it, so is your attitude. So if you want your name to be cleared more quickly, you might as well be more cooperative. That way, you and I will both be happier, got it?"
Canineson sneered in response. "Look, Officer, don't think that you can act all high-and-mighty just because you're a cop now. You think I don't know about your little stint as a con artist back then? Did the rabbit's bullshit actually get to you?"
Judy was now mentioned, and Nick's smarminess was gone. The smirk fell from his face, and his expression became stony.
Not noticing, Canineson went on tauntingly, "Too bad you're on your own now, huh? Speaking of which, shouldn't you be working on her murder instead of talking to me about the lamb's?"
Suddenly, the smirk was back. "You have a point."
Canineson wasn't expecting that. "...I do?"
"Sure," Nick said amicably, turning to leave. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Canineson."
That night, Timothy Canineson was kidnapped near the entrance of his apartment complex, taken to a certain Mr. Big's estate, and dangled directly above the shrew's icy torture chamber until he was reduced to a blubbering mess on the floor, tearfully insisting that he was innocent and knew nothing about the murder cases.
Word of this incident ended up tracing back to Bogo, and Nick found himself sitting in his office, on the receiving end of another one of the buffalo's angry tirades.
"—a complete disregard of all other interrogation techniques, and not to mention, you got a crime boss to assist you!" Bogo finally finished, ire laced in his voice.
Nick wondered how Bogo would react if he ever found out about that one time he and Judy got Weaselton to confess his part in the Night Howler case. "You know, sir, Mr. Big was actually very fond of Officer Hopps; I wouldn't say he's above threatening any of our suspects on his own if he found out who they were."
Bogo took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, and then exhaled. "One, Timothy Canineson is an animal of interest, not a suspect - and yes, there's a bigger difference than you think!" he quickly added when he saw Nick raising a finger and opening his mouth to argue. "Two, you interrogated him about Holly Sheepster's murder, not Hopps'. Three, that's not what you told Fangmeyer!"
Snitch. Well, Nick supposed that telling the tigress - whom he barely knew outside of work - about his connections and how he used them for Canineson wasn't his best moment.
"Okay, so maybe I suggested the icing thing," he grudgingly confessed. "But to be completely fair, he activated my bitch mode."
"Your bitch mode."
"He was being very rude, and I personally think that it should be illegal for someone like a drug dealer to give a cop that kind of attitude."
"You and I both know that wasn't why you did this, Wilde."
Nick didn't say anything.
Bogo interpreted his silence as an admission. "He said something about Hopps, didn't he?"
"He made fun of her death."
"What'd you expect from a guy like him, a list of all of his favorite things about cops like her?"
"Someone needed to teach him to never speak ill of the dead!"
"Wilde, criminals hating us is part of the job. It doesn't matter if we're alive or dead; they hate us either way."
"Well, it shouldn't be that way!"
Bogo sighed. "You sound just like her."
Nick knew he did. Maybe Judy's personality rubbed off on him a little too much. Or maybe, deep down, he just needed to sound like her - that way, it at least kind of felt like she was still with him.
"Anyway, now that we're on the subject, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Bogo finally said, after a few heavy moments of neither of them saying anything. "It's you. Ever since Hopps died, you've changed."
"This whole thing has changed you. You're not the same as you were 9 months ago."
"I know that already. I'm sorry. It's just that… You can understand why this case gets to me, can't you?"
Remembering his last conversation with Judy, Nick asked Bogo, "So what, are you saying that I should just go back to being the guy I was? Like she doesn't matter to me at all?"
"No, I'm saying that you shouldn't let what happened to her consume you."
"It's not."
"See, if you told me that before the situation with Canineson, I might've believed you."
"That's not relevant."
"Yes, it is!" Bogo's patience suddenly reached its end, and he slammed a fist down on his table. "You would never have been this brutal if she were still here!"
Nick stayed quiet, and Bogo uncalled his fist. "She was my partner," the fox suddenly said quietly, "and my friend."
"She was one of my officers."
"That's not the same."
"But it makes it personal for me, too," Bogo told him firmly. "It's personal for all of us. You don't kill a cop and then expect the rest of us to take it lying down."
"Then let me catch the murderer, sir. I'll give her the justice she deserves."
"I can assure you right now, Wilde, the 'justice' you're thinking of isn't justice. It's revenge." When Nick didn't retort, he continued, "All I'm asking of you is to not go after this perp because they're Hopps' killer. Go after them because they're a killer." He sighed. "Now get out of my office. I better not hear about any other animals getting threatened by you and your questionable connections, or I'm taking you off the case."
Damn it.
Nick found Fangmeyer sitting at her desk, reviewing Robert's case file. Sipping her coffee, she looked up. "How mad was he?" she asked him.
Nick ignored the question, instead shooting one of his own. "You told on me?"
Fangmeyer rolled her eyes, setting her coffee down. "What you did with Canineson was seriously worrying, so how could I not?"
"Bogo said he was going to remove me from the case if I did that again."
"That's to be expected."
"I didn't need him to start breathing down my neck about this, okay? The media's been doing enough of that ever since they found out about Amelia."
"What'd be worse is if the media ever finds out that you used a crime boss's intimidation tactics to try to force a confession out of a genuinely innocent individual."
"He's a drug dealer."
"And you're a former con artist, which only makes you slightly better than him." She ignored the way Nick narrowed his eyes at her.
"I'll have you know that con artists don't—"
"Look, are we going to review the cases today or not?" Fangmeyer cut him off before he could defend himself any further. "And if we need to re-interview anyone, I'll be the one doing it."
Nick behaved himself after that incident, if only because he didn't want Bogo to declare him unfit to work the murders. Instead, he distracted himself by overloading himself with the information and evidence that had been collected, so he wouldn't think about Judy's death too much and lose his composure.
(It'd be bad if he lost his composure. Man, what an un-Nick thing that would be.)
He didn't really know how deeply he was burying himself in his duties until several months later, when Finnick called his cell one night.
"What's up?" Nick put his friend on speaker, as he continued rereading Judy's notes.
"Do you wanna go out sometime soon?" the smaller fox's voice emitted from the other side, filling up Nick's small bedroom.
"Uh… We'll see." Nick glanced skeptically at Finnick's icon before going back to his file. "To be honest, I've been pretty busy with work and stuff, but maybe? I'll try to find a good time."
"You've been busy ever since the rabbit died, Nick."
Nick held back a groan. "You've been…ever since Judy…" It was almost like a mantra, repeated by everyone he knew, about how much he'd changed since her death. It was understandable why he'd be sick of it by now.
"I know your stuff's important, but come on," Finnick was saying. "I don't exactly stalk you and your work, so I might be wrong, but it's starting to sound super unhealthy. You need a break."
"Judy, I know this case is important and all, but I think you really do need a break."
Nick sighed. "Maybe I do…"
"Nick, please. Just let me work on this. I'm so close to figuring out the truth, I can feel it."
"...but as each day goes by, the killer is one day closer to striking again. And I can't let that happen."
He could almost feel the rolling of Finnick's eyes on the other end. "Has anyone ever told you that you're starting to turn into the rabbit?"
"More than you think."
"Look," Finnick finally replied after a moment of hesitation. "Your mom called me."
"What?" That made Nick sit up. "When?"
"A few days ago. I didn't want to tell you, since I'd feel like I was guilt-tripping you, but you need to hear it."
Nick waited.
"She was all depressed that you haven't contacted her recently. Apparently, it's been weeks, and you used to call her every few days. She tried calling you, but you never picked up, so she ended up venting to me about it. Do something about that, will ya?"
Come to think of it, Nick did notice that he had a couple of missed calls from his mother here and there, but he didn't bother to call back, because each time, he promised himself he'd call back the following morning (which he never did, in the end). Eventually, it just slipped from his mind, and before he knew it, so much time had passed.
"I guess I should call her then," Nick responded, feeling a little guilty about simply forgetting his own mother like that. "Thanks, Finn. I'll try to find a time to hang out."
"Whatever," Finnick grumbled before hanging up.
Nick called his mother the next morning, apologizing for not having any contact whatsoever lately, which was completely unintentional, and no, he wasn't trying to cut her out of his life like he tried to do back when he was nineteen and an idiot. He promised that he would make up for the lost time once he was done with the murder cases.
"How long is that going to take?" His mother didn't sound too pleased to know that he was putting work before her.
"A couple of weeks? A month, maybe? Or two?" Nick cringed at his reply.
Smooth, Wilde.
But a month came and went, and he still wasn't any closer to finding out who the killer was. By then, he was struggling to keep his normally cool head on his shoulders, knowing that each passing day meant that the perp was one day closer to taking their next vic.
And now here he is, exactly a year after Amelia's death, reviewing certain pieces of evidence for the billionth time, trying hopelessly to spot something that he somehow missed before. Suddenly losing patience, he pushes everything aside, slamming his head against his desk and sending a few papers flying.
"Why. Am. I. So. Useless. At. My. Job?!" He punctuates each word with an additional plop of the head. "I'm an absolute failure as a cop!"
"Just because you can't figure out who the killer is? If you follow that logic, we're all failures then," Fangmeyer chimes in from across him.
Nick raises his head momentarily to glare at her. "If we knew half of what Judy knew, this sicko would've been off the streets months ago."
"But we don't," Fangmeyer says simply. "Which is why we're working so hard now."
"Yeah, well, our supposed 'hard work' doesn't even seem to be paying off," Nick snaps at her irritably. "I'm here losing sleep over this whole thing, but all I'm doing is proving to myself and the public that I can't live up to my dead partner's name."
"That's debatable," Fangmeyer mumbles.
Nick picks up on that. "What?"
"You both share the same resolve," the tigress explains. "That's not exactly something that you see in every cop. You two uncovered the Bellwether scandal, and now there's this serial killer. Judy devoted her entire life to catching whoever they are, and now you're doing the same." She briefly pauses, then continues after a moment of hesitance, "Nobody else here at the ZPD is that determined, myself included. I honestly would've moved on from this case a long time ago if I weren't stuck with you."
Nick ponders over her words, before shaking his head. "No," he disagrees quietly. "My 'resolve' is different from hers. She wanted to catch this perp because of what they did to those three. I'm just…" He heaves a sigh. "I'm just going after them because of what they did to her."
"All I'm asking of you is to not go after this perp because they're Hopps' killer. Go after them because they're a killer."
It feels like ages since Bogo spoke those words to him, but no matter how hard he tries, he's unable to view this animal as anything other than Judy's murderer. Not Amelia's, not Robert's, not Holly's, but only Judy's. He conceals this poorly; every now and then he still catches the buffalo giving him pointed stares as if to remind him to not lose control of himself. Odd, since he's usually so good at masking his true feelings. Judy really did get to him.
Fangmeyer doesn't respond to his words. An awkward silence fills in between them, and Nick proceeds to weigh all of the possible ways he can change the subject. He's about to ask her about the baseball game on Sunday when Clawhauser suddenly bursts in.
"Guys," the cheetah pants, clearly trying to catch his breath from running all the way from the front desk. "We just got another call. You're not going to like this."
Once Nick gets back home, he immediately slumps to the floor, his back propped up against his front door. Burying his face into his paws, he tries hard to forget about the day's events.
"Aw, it's a kid," Fangmeyer commented sadly as the two of them gazed down at the fresh corpse found in an alley downtown. A ligature mark was evident around the little jackrabbit's neck. "What is wrong with this world?"
Nick had no words. Speechlessness seemed to happen to him a lot more often ever since this whole murder spree began; that's what happens when you deal with a situation with this many twists and turns. But this time, he truly was frozen with... what, exactly? Was it anger? No. Was it grief? Not exactly. Was it devastation? Close, but still no.
"Looks like our little killer's gotten another one," Fangmeyer was continuing grimly. "You think that they're monstrous enough already, but then they go ahead and do it to a poor, innocent child like this…"
Closer examination revealed that this young hare wasn't as young as Fangmeyer was making him out to be. ID showed that he was actually a 16-year-old by the name of Allen Cottontail - not exactly a "child," but definitely not an adult.
Yes, he was 8 years younger than Judy was. Yes, he was a completely different species from her. But there was something about him - some sort of uncanny, implicit resemblance - that reminded Nick of her so much. Maybe it was the way that they both lay there helplessly. Maybe it was the way that Allen obviously fought off his killer, judging from the amount of defensive wounds on his body - something that brought to mind Judy's own spunk and courage.
Nick couldn't bring himself to step closer to the body. Much like that night Judy was found, he clammed up, and despite his brain desperately trying to give orders to the rest of his body to move, he remained rigid. Even when he noticed Fangmeyer and some of the other ZPD officers continue to process the crime scene, he was stuck in that one spot, drowning in his own thoughts.
He had failed. He had promised Judy during her funeral that he'd catch the murderer before he struck again, but now young Allen lay a few feet in front of him, his life abruptly cut short by some psychopath who took pleasure in bringing tragedy. All because Nick was too slow, too incompetent. Was the killer mocking him? Today was the one-year anniversary of Amelia Nuttberg's murder. Was the killer, realizing that Nick was struggling with the case, taunting Nick for not being a good enough cop to catch them?
Nick lifts his head and hurriedly wipes his eyes, even though there's no one else that can see him right now. He can't cry, he just can't. He didn't cry when Judy died, he didn't cry when his stress was getting the better of him, and he certainly isn't going to cry now. He's Nick Wilde, and Nick Wilde doesn't cry.
But he is. He releases a sob that he's been holding back for who knows how long, and that just leads to more tears and sniffles than he's had in years but oh god he doesn't care about any of that right now and it's so weird because he never not cares about keeping it together but all he can do right now is just weep and weep and weep and maybe he'll just forget about this one moment of weakness once morning comes and he'll just go back to the way he was before and just bury himself in this stupid case again and deal with all of the new evidence but what if he just keeps on failing and this lunatic just takes more people because he just isn't as brilliant of a cop as Judy and all he'll do is disappoint everyone and never give them back their sense of security-
The next thing Nick knows, it's morning. He wakes, a little dazed from the episode he had last night, and discovers that he's still flopped against his door in his uniform, never having made it to his bed.
He lightly slaps his face, making some of the grogginess go away. He decides he may as well get himself cleaned up, as well as (after heavy consideration on whether he should even show up to work today because goddamn he sure isn't feeling up to it) don on his spare uniform.
Before he steps foot into the shower, he puts both paws on his bathroom counter and stares at himself hard in the mirror. His eyes are red and puffy, and he looks like he's somehow aged an extra 10 years overnight. He cringes. He can already see those unwanted glances of pity he's going to receive from the other officers because wow poor Wilde this case has been especially hard on him and why can't Bogo just reassign him or something and give him a break. That simply won't do.
Once he's done and ready to step out of the house, he hides his features behind his usual pair of sunglasses and takes a detour to the local Stagbucks on his way to work. Sipping his coffee, he enters the precinct, not that eager to begin another long day of chasing down useless leads and ridiculous theories.
"Morning, Nicky!" Clawhauser beams at him from his desk, looking more cheerful than he has in a while. "Ready for a new day?"
Nick can't help but raise his eyebrows at how uncharacteristically lighthearted Clawhauser is being. Because of the cheetah's loving nature, every crime that he hears about dampens his mood, especially if it's something as heinous as murder. He was affected deeply by Judy's death, and with the new dead body discovered yesterday, it just doesn't make sense that he appears so carefree this particular morning. Nick shrugs it off though. If Clawhauser's happy, then he isn't going to question it.
Clawhauser loses his smile once he gets a closer look at the fox. "Hey, you okay? You look like you had a rough night."
Shit. Even when he's hiding behind sunglasses, Nick still looks like crap. "Yeah, I just… I didn't sleep well. But I'll be fine."
"If you say so," Clawhauser shrugs. "By the way, the chief said that he has a new case for you. It sounds like it's something pretty big, just a little heads-up."
A new case? Nick can't have a new case; he obviously isn't done with his current one. If the buffalo thinks that he needs to take a break on finding the serial killer, then the fox sure as hell isn't going to stand for this. But still, there's something about Clawhauser's words that give him a sense of deja vu. He could've sworn that he's had this exchange with him on the day that he and Judy were assigned to investigate Amelia's murder...
Nick is lost in his thoughts as he makes his way past the lobby and to his cubicle. He takes a big sip of his coffee as he approaches his desk, getting ready to toss his cup into the trash bin.
As he enters the cubicle, he hears the familiar squeak that signifies the swiveling of a chair, and he turns to the source of the sound.
He expects it to be Fangmeyer.
"Hey, Nick!" an enthusiastic voice greets him.
It's a voice that he hasn't heard in months.
Judy's sitting there, and she looks just the way he remembers her.
As for him, he spits out his coffee, then promptly makes a dash for the restroom, slamming the door behind him.
Yup, Wilde. Smooth.
omg you guys so I updated this story on AO3 like 2 whole weeks ago but then I started having a whole lotta issues with FFN so I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner (apparently safari isn't so compatible with this site anymore fml)
hahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA you guys probably thought I abandoned this thing but nOPE I'm just really shit at updating regularly because I'm a huge procrastinator
but yes judy is officially back and you guys are probs confused like "wait what the fuck just happened" but don't worry things will (hopefully) begin to make more sense once the next chapter comes along
speaking of the next chapter I guess I'm not too sure when that'll be out? because now that the actual plot of this pic is kicking off, that means I need to start planning out what happens some more (I have bits and pieces of what I want to happen but not the full picture if you get what I mean)
also did you guys notice how I switched from past tense to present tense in the middle of the chapter? yeah that's because everything that's written in past tense is considered to be stuff that happened that led up to where nick is now, if that makes any sense. present tense just indicates that we're caught up in nick's little dilemma and we're with him as he tries to squirm his way out of it oh who the fuck am I kidding I'm not making any fucking sense.
(tl;dr time is a very important theme in this fanfic so I figured I could play around with the tenses haha fml)
see you guys in the next chapter