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Peter Bush remembered the night all to clearly.

He remembered what time he had come home from work, he remembered the sweet taste of his wife's kiss and the warmth of his children's hugs. He could even remember the supper his wife had prepared for him that night, and the stories his children told him from their day.

Oh, how he missed his lovely wife, Mel. She had been the light of his dark days. When they'd met as mere teenagers, he was smitten within a week of knowing her. Smooth talking, beautiful, huge luscious green eyes that saw every crack, every uncertainty, only for her smile to warm his soul and console him without a word ever being said. His missed her eyes, her smile, her quiet "I love you," before they went to sleep.

Oh, and his children, the nutty trio. Zach, Poppy and Roy, born a minute apart from one another. They had been his most precious creations, his reasoning for working as hard as he did. They had been so different yet so alike: Zach, with his devious grin, Poppy with her sweet, innocent eyes, and Roy with his sarcastic tongue. Together they were the terror trio, causing havoc among the other kids, yet loved for their humour and playfulness.

But all that was gone now, all because of that night. He had to protect them, and to do that he had to run away and never be found.

He remembered the usual routine, kissing his wife goodnight before he rolled over into a sound sleep. Nothing had felt wrong. The house had felt as safe as ever, positively secure. He remembered hearing the little breaths of his children in the other room, sleeping peacefully, the distinct snore of Roy making him smile before he himself drifted. Everything had felt so right, so normal.

"Papa! Mama, Papa!"

The terror of his children's cries had him bolting upright alongside his wife, eyes wide and disorientated.

"Mama!"

"Poppy?" Mel had screamed, leaping from the bed and dashing for the door.

"Help us, please help us!"

He remembered running but not seeing where he was going, letting his ears guide him. He caught a glimpse of his wife's bushy red tail turning a corner and disappearing into the other room, where his children screamed for their parents.

They found them out of their beds, hugging one another, all three of their hearts beating a thousand miles an hour in their chests. They looked like they had seen a monster beyond their imaginations. Roy, the smallest, was shaking violently and his fur was standing on end beneath his pyjamas, while his daughter hid her face in Zach's side, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Babies, what happened?" their mother cooed, running towards them to gather them in her arms. They said nothing, but he would never forget the look on Roy's face as he stared over Mel's shoulder and beyond Peter himself. Never would he forget that horror in his eyes, the quivering of his lower lip, and the slight rise of his paw to point out the danger.

Peter never had a second to react before something grabbed his right ankle, yanking him off his feet before dragging him ferociously from the room. He screamed, hitting his head hard on the ground forcefully enough to make him dizzy, the oak of the wooden floorboards strong in his nostrils. He reached for his wife, who shrieked as she lunged for him, but there was no catching him.

He remembered his stomach rising into his throat and choking him when he was no longer on the ground, for gravity was now rushing him to the earth below from his home in the tree.

The blow was a mind numbing one, momentarily knocking him unconscious while every bone in his body felt as if they had snapped. He came to after a few seconds, his face in the grass as he was dragged through the dirt, barely hearing the petrified screams of his family from above.

He didn't know how long her was dragged for, but it felt like an eternity. At last he was flipped onto his back, staring up into the night sky, crystal clear with the stars twinkling beautifully. He was oddly at peace for that brief moment before his vision blurred. He groaned, the pain suddenly everywhere, so much so that it hurt to even breathe.

A shadowed figure loomed above him, but he couldn't make out a face.

"There may be more prey in this world, but you will never be better than predators. I'd tell you to run, but…" the female voice paused, and the grin was evident. "Well, I think we both know you're not going anywhere."

"M-my family…"

"Will live." The attacker finished for him, and she then laughed. The next thing he knew, he felt an unbearable pain in his left eye, before he was consumed into darkness.

Peter looked at the officers in his current home, shaking from reliving the events. He was surprised to see that the fox appeared to be shaken, his paws wedged between his knees from where he sat in Peter's old armchair (which looked awfully uncomfortable, considering he barely fit in it). The rabbit, however, was furiously taking notes on the other end of the couch, biting her lip in concentration as she tried to get as much down as possible.

What a peculiar pair. He had heard of the infamous rabbit and fox who roamed the city of Zootopia, how could he not? The first rabbit officer, followed by some months later the first fox. But he never really thought it to be true, and yet here they were, in his safe house, Nicolas Wilde and Judy Hopps.

As he stared through his good eye, he sensed a tension between them. It was strange. It wasn't the tension like that he sometimes shared with Mel during an argument, nor the tension of not wanting to work together because of how different they were. It was an uncertainty, the unknown of the case they were facing sparking a void between them. He could see the anxious glances the fox shot at the rabbit across from him, as if trying to get her attention yet being rudely ignored. He couldn't fathom it. Never had he seen a fox, so cunning and sly, show signs of worry for the one animal he should have naturally seen as an enemy. It was curious, if not almost endearing.

"That's all I can remember. The next thing I knew I was waking up in a ditch to some paramedics." He finished his story, watching the pair carefully. Officer Hopps lifted her head from her pad, her violet eyes big and sympathetic.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you, Mr Bush." She murmured.

"Please, call me Peter." He said, looking down at his feet. He let the cold of the memory wash over him before shaking it off, finally able to lock it all away again.

"Peter," Hopps confirmed, mostly to herself. "Can I ask, do you know where your family is? Are they alright?"

Peter shrugged sadly.

"Maybe we could find them, tell them you're alright-"

"They can't know." Peter practically hissed at her, making her jump in surprise. Her ears flopped, her face somewhat hurt.

"Don't you want to see them again?" Wilde interrupted, frowning in confusion.

"They can't know I'm okay, I have to keep them safe." Peter rushed. "If I go back a-and whoever attacked me found out that I returned… I couldn't protect them the first time, I refuse to put them through that again."

Hopps nibbled the tip of her pen for a moment. "What about if we found them, but didn't speak to them?"

"What do you mean?"

"Check up on them to tell you how they're getting on." She clarified. "You must miss them so much; I know id miss my family if I hadn't seen them for over a year." She leaned forward, her arms folded loosely on her lap. "It might offer you a little bit of closure."

There was a long silence, and Peter felt that dreaded lump of emotion in his throat, choking him momentarily. He tried to force it down, but there was no escaping the tears that rose to his eyes, silencing him in an instant. Instead he simply dropping his head and nodded stiffly, succumbed by emotion that plagued him daily.

"Forgive me." He sobbed.

"There's nothing to forgive." Wilde murmured. They all sat in taciturnity, the officers letting Peter cry without interruption.

As the officers were about to leave some time later, Peter thanked them for their kindness and patience. He then proceeded to offer Hopps a paw as she lowered herself carefully onto the ladder, slowly working her way down. When she was on the ground, he waited for her to stride towards their cruiser before he drew his attention to Wilde, who was now in the process of awkwardly lowering himself onto the ladder.

"You keep an eye on that friend of yours, officer." Peter said before he could stop himself. Wilde looked up, confused by his statement.

"I'm sorry?"

"Like me, she is prey." Peter explained. "If whoever is behind these attacks gets whiff of her being on the case, I don't know if she'll end up any better than I did. She's a target, Wilde, and I worry for her safety."

There was a brief silence, Wilde frowning to himself. "You and me both, Peter, that I can assure you."

Wilde descended without another word, and Peter shrunk back into his safe house without a glance back.

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