Chapter 43: Phone Calls Too Little, Too Late

"I'm telling you, that giraffe-" Occupying a spare chair in Jame's office cubicle, Nick was busy retelling the events from earlier in the day to the wolf officer. "Of course Carrots had to be the one to tag him with the radar gun, but trying to actually give a ticket? We did call for someone large as backup, but you know how it goes? You need backup seconds in, and it shows up a mere minute later…"

James nodded, knowing that feeling all too well. "I seem to remember you arriving after I had to mag dump into a wolf who made a stupid decision because of grief," he complained. "Where where you a minute faster when I needed you? Don't need to explain that to me."

"That… wasn't where I wanted this to go, I promise," Nick found himself stumbling for words, caught off guard by the sudden hostility from James, even if it was at least a little deserved. "Where I was going was that the guy was clearly doing something wrong. Now, I don't do time on a narco team like you do, but I do have a canide nose, and I thought I smelled something strange. Carrots is, well… Carrots, so she had already jumped on the car's hood just to be able to talk to the guy, but as soon as I pulled that first bag of catnip out, he came out swingin'!" Nick grinned, wagging his eyebrows. "Did I mention he's a giraffe? Sure, he's got reach and strength. But compared to us two? Moves too telegraphed, acceleration too slow… Just the easiest to avoid. Not only did Carrots put a dart right in a very sensitive spot, she also made sure to lure him away from the road first!" He waved his arms about, mimicking the event. "I just got to stand there and watch, only occasionally dodging the odd limb, but she had it in the bag! Not even broke a sweat!"

"So was it just catnip, or was there more?" James finally asked.

Nick looked thoughtful. "I… Don't actually know. Backup arrived as well as the detectives who took over. Chief sent us right back here for the inevitable paperwork."

"I wasn't there, you're not dumping it on me!" James warned sternly. "Say, where is Judy, anyways? And why aren't you back at your desk working on that paperwork?"

Nick smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "She is out helping that ZIA Stripes. Bumped into him when we came back and he decided she was of more use with him rather than in her office.I got bored with the paperwork and hopped over to check up on you."

James stared at his fellow officer, disbelief clear as day on his muzzle. "You… Wanted to check up on me?" He was practically ready to swivel his chair back to his computer monitor, starting to get rather annoyed at the fox's antics. Sure, Nick Wilde was a great guy and a great officer, but other times, he was… Nick Wilde.

Nick placed a paw over his heart, looking hurt. "Can't a fellow canide stuck on paperwork duty check up on a fellow sufferer?" he clarified, clearly not believing his own sales pitch. Patting his chest area again, he felt around his uniform chest pocket, glancing down at confusion at whatever he found in there. "Say…" Reaching in, he pulled out a pack of gum that he had stored in there.

James raised an eyebrow at the sight, finding the storage location for the gum as rather unusual.

But Nick just flipped the pack end over end, and picked out a stick, unwrapping it before shoving the candy into his mouth, chowing slowly and deliberately, making a point to moan in pleasure at the flavor. As though realizing that someone was watching him, he held out the pack. "Gum?"

James reached for it. "Sure, why not?" Normally, he would have declined, but the scent of the gum's flavor was far too strong for his nose to just simply ignore, and Nick definitely knew how to pick the flavor, a combination of different fruits and berries carefully mixed into the usual mint base. Taking the pack, he inspected the unfamiliar label, but after taking a careful whiff with his nose, decided that he did want to go for it and pulled out a single stick of gum…

Letting out a growl of pain and surprise as a very unpleasant electric buzz shot through his other paw and arm, causing him clench his aching paw, letting go of the pack in the process and letting it drop to the floor.

"Wilde, you jerk!"

There was no mistaking the laughter coming from Nick, crossed arm clutching desperately against his side as he was doubled over, wheezing as he struggled to catch up with his laughing.

Groaning in disgust, James reached down and grabbed the pack again, this time pulling the stick of gum out without shocking himself a second time. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up you moron," he complained, tossing the remaining pack and letting it bounce off Nick's head.

"Got ya good, didn't I?" Nick asked in between laughs. "It's called a hustle, sweetheart!"

James let out a growl of warning to let Nick know that the joke wasn't appreciated, teeth showing through his clenched muzzle. "I know what it's called! Still a dick move." He pointed at the open wall of the cubicle, another growl of warning escaping his throat. "I've had enough. Get out of my office! Before I hurt you bad." The way he spoke made it hard to tell if he was actually serious or not.

Nick stopped, eyes widening ever so slightly in fear and regret over his actions. "Come on, Wolf! Just a harmless prank!" He picked up the fallen pack of gum, carefully inspecting it before putting it back in his pocket. "Just like the old times, right? You would've done the same." Expression returning to normal, he gave a slight nod to show that he wasn't effected by the sudden aggression. "Well, all right. You want me to go? I'll go. Got paperwork to get back to and everything. Happy typing!"

While James would have normally been quite glad to see Nick stand up to leave, he instead felt a sudden dread that it was the last thing he wanted, no matter his own growling mere moments ago. "No, wait -Nick!" Now it was his turn to hesitate. "Damn it, Nick, but I think you're right. Ever since… Brian, when I'm around, everyone's been much more, I don't know… delicate? Careful? I try to pretend not to notice. But between not having a partner to talk to right now and being inside the precinct all day and being able to watch? I know that they're as normal as can be around each other! But not with me. I show up, and everyone's very careful with what they say, and constantly worrying if they'll hurt me feelings... It's one of the many things that's been getting on my nerves since then, and has… not been helping. I want to think I'm still the same guy, but no one else is acting like it. So which is it?" He waved the single stick he still held in Nick's direction. "No, Nick, you pissed me off with that joke. But you know what? You also piss everyone off! I have to give it to you. You are the first one to try something like that on me, which I suppose was what I wanted now all along." Unwrapping the gum, he popped it into his mouth. "Sorry for the growling." Feeling the blueberry flavor invade his tongue, he quickly added, "and for what it's worth, you sure know how to pick the good stuff!"

Nick looked like he was about to sit back down, but decided against it. Nevertheless, he did break out into a genuine grin. "You're the first one who ever thanked me for hustling them," he pointed out, "not even Carrots ever did that. So in a way, no, you're not quite yet the same as before. But we're cool, right?" He reached out with a fist towards James.

The larger officer returned the grin and pumped his own fist against Nick's. "Yeah, we're cool."

Nick disappeared around the side of the cubicle, leaving James to return back to his work, which he begrudgingly did. Deciding that since he was no longer answering phones, he felt could use a bit more than the office ambiance for his work. And so James placed in a set of earbuds to his ears, turning onut on some relaxing music as he worked. His foot tapped in rhythm with short wags of his tail to the beats of the music as he allowed himself to actually not hate the normally tedious work.

Perhaps Nick's stopping by was the sort of distraction that he needed, but he was able to concentrate on his work for another good solid hour, silently typing away at the latest work on his computer monitor. While he was eager for the day to end, as he was planning on meeting with Dahlia, now that she was out of the hospital, they had agreed for it to be after work and when she would also have a bit of free time.

The fact that Nick and Judy were also going to tag along was further reason for him not to hurry with getting out of the office. Especially with James having promised to be their ride and all, neither of them having cars of their own that wasn't a ZPD vehicle. How they managed that after all this time, James didn't know, but that wasn't his problem to worry about.

Distracted by his work as he was, James' ears twitched as he thought he heard a strange noise behind him. Not sure if he was imagining it or not, he pulled out one of the earbuds out of his ear so that he can hear the outside world better. Another sound caused him to decide to at least turn around and look behind him.

And nearly jump at the sight of Trigger occupying the same seat Nick had been using, all curled up with his tail wrapped around all the way to his nose, eyes closed and breathing slowly. "Jeez, Trigger! You scared me! How did you get here without me noticing?" When the pilot didn't react, James frowned and stood up from his seat, walking over to the sleeping pilot. With the gum in his jaws having long lost its flavor, he went ahead and also used the time to go and toss it into a nearby bin before returning his attention to the pilot, reaching with a single claw to stat poking at him gently. "Trigger? Humphrey? Wake up."

Trigger started to squirm, groaning pawing at the prodding, trying to get it to stop. After another prod, his eyes opened up suddenly, followed by him scrambling up into a seating position, blinking in confusion.

"Humphrey? This chair's not for sleeping in," James reminded him. "Where where you today, pup? Didn't see you all day." He inspected the pilot, noticing how Trigger looked exceptionally tired and worn out. "Are... you all right?" Remembering how he hated being asked that, James quickly elaborated. "You don't… look all that fine, to be honest. How long have you been sleeping here?"

Trigger let out a long yawn, appearing quite ashamed at himself. "Don't know. Shouldn't have been more than a few minutes." He pulled out an archaic flip-phone phone, using it to check the time, frowning in confusion at the small screen. "Couldn't have been more than five." Putting the device away, he scratched his head nervously. "I… Didn't actually mean to fall asleep. Got here, but you were busy, so I just sorta sat down and… Must have passed out or something. Didn't mean to."

"So where did you come from?" While James didn't like the idea of Trigger just brushing off something that might be serious, he let it slide for now. The pilot could certainly be sounding a lot worse than he was now.

"Huh? Oh, that." He looked down at the ground with a heavy frown, clearly upset by something. "We were- Count and I, we were at the ZPD academy. Had to redo that physical evaluation they had us do a while back. We were driven back by Judy and… Jack."

There was a hint of venom in his voice when he said that second name, but James chose to ignore it. It didn't sound like Trigger was too angry at the ZIA agent, and if he was walking around unescorted, it also meant that he was able to tolerate the drive back without issues despite whatever animosity he had towards Savage.

"So how did that go?" James asked instead, "the physicals, I mean. You don't sound like they went well."

Trigger shrugged. "Passed. Barely. But passed. Which I suppose for now is good enough."

"So why the long muzzle? You don't sound so certain," James commented. "Are you worried they'll fail you when they tally up your performance?"

A shake of Trigger's head.

"Then what is it?"

"I barely passed the psychic evaluation the first time around," Trigger admitted after some noticeable hesitation. "Remember? Before we took that trip to the airbase. No confidence and all that? I don't think I'll be able to pass the evaluation this time. Not even close." He crossed his arms, glaring at the floor. "Can't even blame them. Honestly? If I were in charge of a fighter squadron, and a pilot of mine was having as many issues as I do now? I'd ground me too." Despite sounding like he was agreeing with a future decision that won't allow him to fly, he looked anything but pleased by it.

"Listen, Humphrey…" James didn't actually know what he wanted to say, but he also knew that silence was the wrong move. Taking a pause to think, he realized something. "I do recall telling you, remember when we went to the coast?"

Trigger let out a short, bitter grunt. "Which part?"

"The very end," James explained patiently. A part of him remembered how the pilot really enjoyed the trip – they all did, for that matter, if he ignored the part near the end when Trigger's collar had gone off. So to see him react so negatively at being reminded of their time at the coast gave him an odd sense of sadness. "After the hike, in fact. I told you that if you didn't feel safe, that we can protect you, remember? You don't have to go to war if you don't want to. And especially after what they did to you, it's the least we can do."

"That's… I do remember, but that's not the point," Trigger struggled to say. "It's not that I don't want to go back! It's that…" His voice quivered, ears folding flat in fear and uncertainty. He pulled his legs in, hugging them with his arms as he tried to shrink away into the chair. "I don't know."

Oddly enough, James found himself falling back on some of the same lessons he was now learning with Doctor Crenspaw. "Okay, let's try to figure it out then. Let us start with a scenario," he offered. "You pass all of your tests and evaluations. Now you have an option of two: Fight in the front lines, or occupy a desk in the rear. An important position, such as logistics or something, not just a time waster to find you a spot. Which of the two would you choose?"

Trigger didn't even hesitate. "Front lines, obviously," he scoffed.

"Why?" James urged on.

The pilot's jaw dropped in disbelief, arms uncurling as he spread them in a show of how off guard he was caught by the question for which the answer was obvious. James silently motioned for him to explain anyways. "B-because… They killed my family!" Regaining some ofhis composure, Trigger returned to hugging his knees again. "I can't just sit around while the people who killed my family are still around. Not when I can be in a position to kill them for what they did…"

James slowly reached over and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Humphrey? As a cop, I really don't want you saying things like that. Especially since we know that you're being serious. But-" He put emphasis into the last word as Trigger shot him a particularly nasty glare. "But, I also know that I am not the person to judge you or this war. It's… Well, it's like what you said yesterday, isn't it? It's a fine line between being a killer and being a murderer, but there is a difference between the two. Just that, let's be realistic here: You're a fighter pilot. What are the odds that you'll be in a position, say those responsible are discovered, that you'll be able to take the shot?"

"It doesn't matter, that's not the point!" Trigger argued back, shaking his head. Or at least, as much as he could with it pressed between his knees. "Since you mentioned it… About that talk we had after the hike? I also remember telling you how it's not fair that I get to choose while others don't. It's not that I want to sound all selfless, but it's not right for me to go running with my tail between my legs just because… Because I can." He let out a depressed huff. "I know I'm not the only guy taking a brake from the war who' doesn't want to go back. But I also know I'm not the only one for whom it became very personal. If it wasn't before… It is now. So if I can make a difference? Then I should. Doesn't matter if I'm Three Strikes or not." He stared bitterly at the ground, falling into silence.

Cautiously, James tried to proceed without agitating the pilot even further. "What if you don't make it through the evaluations?"

"I don't know," Trigger answered, sounding like he was trying very hard not to think about that possibility. "I had enough being stuck here… And I don't have a home to go back to anymore." Suddenly, he lowered his legs so that he can reach underneath the chair where he slid out a printed sheet of paper from where he had stashed it away. "Which is why… I need Judy's help for this as well, but I found you first." He held out the paper so that James can grab it.

"How can I help with this?" James took the paper and scanned through it, eyes widening in shock as at the same time, he fought off a strong feeling of revulsion. "This-" he held the paper back out for Trigger to take back. "I can't fill this out. I'm not going to."

"No, James, please!" While Trigger did take the paper back, he held like it like was made out of molten lead.

James shook his head. "You're asking me to fill out…" He flipped the paper over so that he can scan through it again. "This isn't just an emergency contact, Trigger. This is going to give me authority to make decisions about you in the event of… Do you realize just how much you're asking me to do to you?" A part of him wanted to be angry at the pilot's audacity, but those feelings vanished as he watched Trigger return to hugging himself, shaking ever so slightly in his seat.

"Isn't there anyone else?" James finally darted to ask. "Other family? Friends from Ocelotia? Who did you use to have on this form?"

"Everyone else in my family are all still back in Yaktobania," Trigger spat out bitterly. "I used to talk to them, rarely. Online only. Until this happened. Haven't seen them in person in years."

"But they're still family," James offered hopefully. "You can trust them." He hesitated, hoping that he didn't inadvertently hurt Trigger's feelings. "You can, right? You didn't have a falling out with them or anything? What about other friends?"

"If I had seen them more than a few times in my life, then sure, I would trust them," Trigger complained. "But as it is… I know they're family, and I should think that they will want the best for me, but I… I barely even know how to get in contact with them! I – I struggle to even speak to them! Say what you want about when Bogo had me interrogate those Urusian mice, but Yaktobanian is a difficult language for me to speak! And as for other friends?" Trigger bitterly tugged at his shirt collar, revealing the healing fur underneath, still disfigured from wearing the TAME collars. "I thought I had friends. Then they showed me what they really think when I was shoved in front of a court-martial. Out of those who don't know? Maybe, I don't know. Look, you asked who I used to place as my emergency contacts? You wolves have your packs, but us coyotes don't. I had used my parents. Who are both now dead. I used to have someone else I would have placed here. She's dead too."

Placing the shirt collar back into place, he watched James closely, eyes filled with shame, but hopefulness at the same time. "I had a while to think about this. You and Judy both believed in me even when you really shouldn't have. I lied to you all for how long, trying to hide my past? All of the evidence pointed to me being guilty. I- I was starting to believe it! But you didn't."

"Yes, I am still finding myself amazed how a bunch of regular ZPD patrol cops found out about that fiasco." The disgruntled voice of Colonel Silva behind them instantly lead to Trigger jumping out of his chair, scrambling to stand up. "I'm surprised to find you hiding out here. Would have thought that after we brought over your belongings, that you would have been catching up with your previous life as Lieutenant Velveton is doing. As you were, Lieutenant Reyevski." Hesitating, Trigger sat back down.

The colonel, flanked by Judy and David Bishopine, stood at the entrance to James' cubicle, slowly examining the pilot and officer, jaw slowly moving, but without him saying anything for a good several seconds. With the slightest of nods, he ended the silence.

"We spoke to Lieutenant Velveton about it already. You should be part of that conversation as well, but we had to walk around and find you first. The results from your physicals today are… They really should be better, especially from you, Reyevski. They're down from where they should be." The colonel let out a long sigh. "I can only imagine what you are going through right now, Lieutenant. Not even going to pretend to have an idea even close to what it's like to be you right now. If you had given a performance like that while on active duty in a fighter squadron, those results would have been unacceptable. As things lie now, just… Do the best you can."

Trigger nodded feebly, causing Colonel Silva to frown, features narrowing in concern.

"Lieutenant? As you might have guessed from our first meeting, I was ready to skin you alive for what I thought you were responsible for doing. Since you are... not responsible, and knowing how we shoved you into that penal unit, for now I am willing to overlook your…" Silva looked over Trigger with disapproval. "We have standards and protocol on behavior for a reason. But between your time in the penal unit and time here, your attitude to discipline has faltered, to say the least. And not just you, but Lieutenant Velveton too. But you sepecially. I can only speculate how the rest of your unit behaves. So while I will empathize with your current lack of discipline, The OADF does expect rapid improvement on that front from the both of you. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," Trigger mumbled bitterly.

Silva tried to suppress, but failed to hide an amused snort. "I guess that's better? Do work on it. And quickly." He turned to leave with the others, but stopped suddenly, noticing the paper still in Trigger's paw. "May I?" Before the pilot could even react, he grabbed it and scanned through it. "Chief Bogo mentioned this to me in passing, but I didn't think about it all that much. Wolford and Hopps? Not the worst people I can think of. That said, Do you really not have anyone back home you can rely on?"

The pilot stared at the floor. "They're all dead," he breathed out.

While Colonel Silva didn't look surprised, he did look quite ashamed at his question. Slowly, he gave Trigger back the form. "Whoever you do want to use, there's no legal requirements for them to be Ocelotian. But there are… other issues. Whoever you do decide to use, think carefully about it. But most pressing is that you need to remember that your psychological evaluation is tomorrow. You were able to pass your physical today, and tomorrow we'll see if your still mentally fit enough to be a pilot." He turned to leave, motioning for Bishopine to follow him, only stopping to look at Trigger for a final time. "Lieutenant Reyevski? The reason behind your moving to a penal unit might have been all built on lies, but what you did there was not. The OADF needs Three Strikes back. Ocelotia needs Three Strikes back. This war will finally start crawling to a bitter end, but it can come that much sooner if the Urusians still insisting on fighting us will see your three lines fling over their heads. So whatever grievances you might have with us, do try to remember tomorrow of all the soldiers who also want to survive to go home. That unit of yours, didn't they adopt a new slogan recently? 'Stick with Trigger and you'll make it through', wasn't it? That's your TAC name. If your own squadron, which had all reasons to hate you, chose to adopt that, imagine the effect you can have on everyone else. Carry on, Lieutenant." Motioning for David to finally follow him, the two Ocelotians left, leaving the cubicle alone with only James and Trigger, Judy slipping in rather than following the people she showed up with.

The corridor next to the cubical now empty, and Officer Johnson from his own adjacent cubicle popped his head around the wall. "What's this I heard about a penal unit?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious rather than teasing or malicious. Didn't stop him from earning hard stares from the two other officers, and a completely murderous one from Trigger. Suddenly nervous at the reaction his question got him, he started to slowly back away. "I uh… I guess I just misheard some things," he stammered.

"Bob?" Judy closed her eyes, letting out a hard sigh. "I'll tell you later. For now, I would appreciate it if you mind your own business?"

Correctly choosing against arguing further, the lion disappeared back into his cubicle, leaving James and Judy alone with Trigger, allowing them to return to the conversation that didn't quite end with the leaving of the Ocelotian officers.

"What's that paper got to do with us?" Judy asked, taking a seat on James' desk rather than looking around for another chair. Trigger bitterly shoved it in her direction in answer, letting her read through it for herself. Much like with James, her eyes widened when she saw what was on it. "H-Humphrey? Are you sure?"

"Didn't the last two conversations make it clear that I am?" Trigger grumbled, sounding close to snapping.

Reading through the paper again, Judy's eyes narrowed in concentration. Reaching into a uniform pocket, she pulled out a familiar style orange carrot novelty pen. Checking it over once more for good measure, she gave a slight nod and started to fill out the missing information. Not saying a word the entire time, it didn't take her too long to fill it out, sliding both pen and paper over to James as soon as she finished.

Wordlessly, he took the items and read it over for himself again, despite already knowing what was on it. With his earlier misgivings in mind, he took a look both at Judy, who was looking at him with a silent hope, and Trigger, who was again glaring at the floor, trying to avoid his gaze. If he had his reasons for not wanting to do this before talking with the pilot, among other things, he did trust Judy. And if she had enough confidence to fill this out? Clicking the pen, James took the paper and filled it out as well, ignoring the pit in his stomach as he wrote in the information and trying hard to ignore reading again the printed text. The cubicle remained silent as he worked, and with a final click of his pen, he looked up away from the paper. Judy was watching the pilot closely, and James' gaze followed hers, settling on Trigger.

He held out the paper to the pilot. "Here you are, Humphrey. It's not something that I necessarily agree with, but if you trust us two enough to ask us to fill it out? I just hope I never have to ever exercise the power you just gave me."

Trigger managed to give a small grin back. "I hope that's the case too," he answered back quietly, voice strained despite not having said much for a while now. "OADF gets the first calls, of course. But we use these forms to know who to contact as a fallback. In case the OADF is unable to decide on what to do, this allows other people to make the call."

"But… So Chief Bogo is okay with this?" James asked. "Sounds like he already knew you wanted to use us."

The pilot nodded numbly. "I asked him first. He said it's probably not a good idea and that he won't encourage me. But I already had my mind set by then."

James gave a slight nod, starting to understand what happened. "Since you got this during the tests today, I take it you saw him after them then? And then came here and… Passed out in that chair before I even noticed that you showed up." He ignored Judy's surprised look, but Trigger's nod of confirmation was all the answer he needed. "So you're done then? I would think you would want to go to your room and, uh, didn't they say you have your stuff back?"

Trigger reached into a pocket and pulled out the flip-phone again. "I… I didn't go through my things yet. Charged up my phone, and that's… about it." He flipped it open, staring gloomily at the screen. "Got a bunch of voice mail that I need to go through. Don't even want to look at my emails." Still staring at the phone, he started pressing a few buttons, scrolling though the list. "Most of these are… from my family."

"And you don't want to listen to them? Judy asked, already knowing the answer.

Trigger nodded numbly. "I'm too scared to," he admitted with the slightest of whimpers. "I don't think I'm ready…"

Looking over at Judy for a moment, James exchanged looks with her, silently communicating. "Hey, pup, what if you put them on now?" he asked, already mentally wincing at using that term at a time like this. Recovering from the blunder, he hurried to explain himself. "Judy and I are both here. You don't have to do this by yourself."

The pilot glanced nervously between the two officers. "I-I don't know-" he stammered. "Might not be a good idea. Are- are you sure?" His gaze fell down to the phone he was holding.

Judy smiled at him, glad that he didn't dismiss the idea straight away. "We won't force you. But if you're scared of what you might hear in those, then it might not be the best of ideas to listen to them alone."

"I supposed after asking you to fill out that form, might be weird if I suddenly don't trust you two, right?" Trigger asked with a frown. One that James returned.

"I wasn't going to phrase it that way, but since you brought it up, sure." While it wasn't his intention to, he couldn't stop himself from feeling like he cornered Trigger with that comment, especially with how distraught the pilot looked. "You don't have to listen to your voice mail here," he quickly added, "but we won't mind if you do. But listen to Judy. It might not be the best if you're like this to wait until you're on your own."

Trigger shook his head. "No, I want to do this," he said firmly. Visibly biting his lip despite the statement, he pressed a few more buttons on the phone, ears jerking in its direction as soon as a robotized voice announced that it was about to run through his voice mails.

You have forty seven new voice messages. Press one to play the oldest message.

With a shaky paw, and with James and Judy both silently watching him, Trigger pressed the button to start with the list.

Hey Humphrey, we just wanted to check up on you. As soon as he heard the older, male voice, thick with what must have been Yaktobanian accent, Trigger tensed hard, completely locking up with his eyes glued to the phone screen. I know you're probably busy, but with what happened with Kate? We wanted to check up on you. To make sure that you're doing all right. Call us when you get the chance, okay? Don't worry about what time it'll be when you can. We just want to hear you and, well… make sure that everything's okay. So call us back? All right, bye!

"That's your father, isn't it?" Judy asked quietly when the message ended, but Trigger only stiffly nodded in reply, letting his phone automatically move onto the next message. James shook his head at her, hoping that she would get the hint not to speak up while the messages weren't complete yet.

This is a message for Humphrey Reyevski from Doctor Aneh- With a beep, annoyed huff, and an angry scowl at the phone, Trigger skipped the voice mail, not even bothering to let it finish.

The next one was from his father again, Trigger's expression instantly softening at hearing the voice. But there was no denying that there was an underlying urgency and fear in the message as it played.

Humphrey? It's us again. It's been three weeks now since we last heard from you, and we're… we're really starting to get worried. You used to be able to call us once a week, or at least let us know if you couldn't, and now we haven't heard from you in a while. Your mother's starting to look to find out what she can, but if you do get this message, give us a call, okay? News are saying all sorts of bad things are happening, do you know anything about it? While it's probably difficult for you, we would really like to be able to hear your voice again. Otherwise? I don't have anything else. Just call us back when you can. Bye.

The messages continued to play, all begging him to call back. As they played along, Trigger sat the phone down on the ground in front of him, leaning his muzzle over his crossed arms as he didn't even try to hide the fresh grief that was washing over him with the sound of his family's voice. With his eyes glossing over with moisture, it was almost hard to tell how he was able to see whenever he would reach down to skip the occasional mundane message that had long lost its relevance in order to skip back to his family, and the updates they would give to him with the repeated calls.

Listening to the voice mails in order as they were, and without the passage of time between them, it was easy to track the increasing frustration and despair at calling on a regular basis, but not hearing anything back, as well as the surreal feeling when a message would touch upon something that those listening to the phone were already aware of.

- Even though you're not able to call us back, it does sort of help us to call you, even it's just to leave a message. So until you can call us back, you can at least expect a weekly call from us, Humphrey. I just hope you're able to hear us-

- We're still doing fine on our end, trying to pretend that life is normal. Work is… Work. But this silence of yours? We're hoping still, but… It's hard. It really is. I hope we're not making you feel too guilty about not calling back- ow! Yes, your mom's right here too. So, correction: if we can get you to feel guilty enough to call back, that would be a lot better-

- been starting to hear some strange rumors about a pilot of ours that the Urusians seem to be afraid of. Some kind of 'pilot with three lines'? Internet is going crazy with even if the rumors are true at all or not. There's a picture floating around online showing a MiG-21, just like the ones that Yuktobania used back when we were growing up. It'll be interesting to hear what you have to say about that when… when you do get back to us. While I don't want to sound routine, I also don't know what else to say, with not being able to hear from you. It's been a month, and we still haven't heard back-

- I know it sounds crazy, but we don't even know if you're alive or not. Your mom… She's really starting to worry that you're not. We went to talk and... we're told that you're… You're neither missing nor dead. But since they won't say anything else, it's… I know we're being paranoid here, but we really need you to call us back as soon as you can, if you can even hear us. We both really miss you-

- I don't know what the OADF is hiding, but their silence about you is really starting to get to us. They still refuse to say what's going on with you, but still insist that you're alive. Won't even tell us if you're even getting these messages or not-

Around this time, Nick came by the cubicle, stopping and observing the phone on the ground, with the pilot and two officers all staring at it in silence as it continued to obliviously play along the voice mails. Without saying a word, he gave Trigger a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he walked over and slid up onto James' desk, perching himself next to Judy and wrapping her with his tail. Like the others, he also settled into watching the phone and just listening to it.

- Saw online that one of our transports had an accident near Zootopia. Mom wanted to make sure that, if you are able to even hear this- she wanted to make sure that I told you that if you are able to, perhaps you might think of ejecting over a neutral city. Find a phone and call us. We don't even care about the international fees. Just… Call us. If you're afraid of what the OADF might do to you… We'll find a way to protect you. But at this point? We're family. Whatever's going on with the war, family's more important. I know you won't want us to say this, but forget about flying. Just come home.-

The messages continued, with the only sign of life in the cubicle being Trigger needing to reach down to skip the occasional useless message, skipping right back to the ones left by his family. Until suddenly, one started in a significantly brighter tone than before.

- I don't know how your mom was able to find him, but she was able to get in touch with someone in the government. OIA, I think. What was his name? Some squirrel. I wrote it down here somewhere… Here it is! A 'David Bishopine'. Heard of him? He does at least seem to know you, so who knows? Important thing is… w- we know you're still alive. He even showed us proof, so we know it's not just bureaucratic talk here. You can't… You can't imagine just how glad we are to learn that. We were also told that while you are in fact getting our messages. That you're also on some special assignment, and that's why you never called us back, and that… That you also miss us. But, whatever that assignment is, we hope that you'll be able to get to a phone soon. But in the meantime, I've been calling you so often now, might as well continue, right? It's a relief to know that these calls haven't been going to waste. So we'll continue to update you with what's going on with us. We're both doing fine, but, we also really miss you… We miss you a lot. But since we know that you're still alive, remember how you used to visit us on most weekends? It's… been far too long, Humphrey.

- I don't want you to take it the wrong way for when you do get back to us, but while we were still worried that you weren't with us anymore, your mom made a little memorial of you. Since we know that you'll eventually get back to us, we decided to, now I know it sounds crazy, but we took that memorial and found a shooting range that allowed us to use it as a target. It's not that we want to shoot you, Humphrey, even if we're more than a little frustrated at you not being able to even call us. But mom was right. It did feel unusually good to turn that memorial into shredded paper and rocks.

- Happy birthday, Humphrey! We know it's been several months since we last heard from you, but we're not giving up hope. So while we hoped that you would at least be able to speak with us… We still have a reason to celebrate today. So happy twenty nine years, Humhprey! And for all our sakes, I hope you'll be around to celebrate your thirtieth with us in person. Mom sends her love. Bye!

- We checked again with David. I don't know how we're able to tolerate that guy. We know you're still alive, but still not being able to call back..? With the war stalled out, can they at least give you a brake and let you come home for a little? Even in the world wars, soldiers were able to do that. When will it be your turn?

Suddenly, a new, tired voice broke up the series of updates.

Humphrey Reyevski? This is Sheriff Hooferston from the Bana City station. I've been told that you're active in the OADF, so you might not know yet, meaning that… I don't know how to say this, and I've been doing this all day, but… There's been an attack, on Bana City. Some kind of chemical weapon. We're suspecting nighthowler, like what drove Zootopia crazy several years back. Most of the city recovered, but a lot of us are... gone. And… I'm sorry, Humphrey. Your parents… They've been recovered from their home earlier today, and I- They've passed away. Medical examiner says it was the antitoxin gas we sprayed over the city to calm down the population of savage mammals. So for what it's worth… They just went to sleep and never woke up again. Didn't feel a thing, no pain. I'm sorry, I really am. But between the recovery efforts and trying to locate survivors and relatives, it's really hard down here. We're all strained beyond what we can handle… I really shouldn't be bothering you with my problems here. You're OADF, right? Forgetting about being professional for a moment, but when you do get this call, you give those Urusian bastards hell, okay? Make them pay! For all of us. But as for your parents… You can call me back at-

The last voice mail was also from a new voice, and also lacking any strength in its emotions.

Humphrey? This is Jeb, from your dad's work. Remember? We've met a couple of times. I uh… I have news about your family, I don't know if you know already or not. It's not good, I'm afraid. Whenever you find yourself back in Bana, just know that my door's always open. If you don't know already, it'll sound weird, but, you're not alone, Humphrey. Remember that.

End of new messages

James' cubicle filled with silence as the phone screen dimmed after concluding its run through the voice mails, only occasionally broken by Trigger's quiet sniffling. Even with the phone no longer playing back any messages, he didn't look away from it, any action except to continue to watch it requiring too much effort.

Coming to her senses, Judy was the first to speak up, and it wasn't even to anyone in the cubical. "For how long did you know that he wasn't getting any phone calls?" Her attention was completely focused on the squirrel, standing awkwardly just outside the cubical, and looking like he had much better places to be in.

Deciding that he was just standing there anyways, David nodded in answer to her question. "Long enough," he admitted. "I only had the capability to send the messages over to Colonel McKinsey, which is where I assume they all stopped, as that's where the phone was recovered from. I made sure to let him know that it's important to let Reyevski listen to them, but, Colonel McKinsey only knew him as Trigger, the murderer, didn't he? That's what practically everyone thought."

Suddenly, the chair Trigger was on swiveled as the pilot jumped to his feet, breathing heavily, pointing angrily at the OIA agent. "And how much of that could you have solved if you had just let people know that… That I'm not a fucking murderer!" His arm fell slowly. "Let me guess… Someone higher up ordered you to? That I can't even listen to my own family even though I didn't do anything wrong?"

"We've already been through this why we thought it was necessary," David answered nervously.

Trigger shuffled in place, extremely unsure with himself. "But you… Let them know that I was still alive. I couldn't… But you did…" David nodded again, uncertain where Trigger was heading with this. "… They were really worried, and you… You were able to at least help them." Slowly, Trigger knelt down and reached out with a single paw, offering it for David to shake.

Visibly relaxing as soon as he recognized that he wasn't about to be attacked, David accepted the shake with his own paw, only to let out a startled yelp when Trigger swiftly pulled him into a tight embrace. The agent tried to squirm away, not helped as the trembling pilot hugged him even tighter, overwhelmed with the emotions going through him, and easily overpowering the much smaller mammal.

"Hey, pup," James slid off his own chair and grasped Trigger over the shoulder. "You're choking him." He increased the strength of his grip. "Like, actually choking him. Let go."

Startled, Trigger relented and let go of the embrace, letting David step back, gasping for air. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking extremely ashamed.

David, to his credit, chuckled and gave the slightest of grins. "Look at it this way, when I left to fly here, others in the office were certain that I won't come back. Staged a mock funeral and everything. Now I get to go back and tell them that I got a hug from non other than Three Strikes himself." His grin faded, noticing how the joke earned the opposite effect out of Trigger. "Or I guess I'll keep it to myself. Colonel Silva is still with Bogo, and I don't need to tell him, that's for sure. Which... I really should get going." As much as he hated to say what he was about to, he decided to go for it. "And Humphrey? What he said about Ocelotia needing Three Strikes back? He's correct. We need you. Please find it within yourself to forgive us for what we did to you. And tomorrow, pass that assessment. I'm afraid a lot of lives are counting on it. Officers? Help him out while you still can, as much as you can. I'm begging all of you."

He left, not waiting to see what sort of reaction he got out of either the pilot or the officers for the request.

Still trembling, Trigger curled up right on the ground where he was left, burying his head as deep between his legs.

Letting go of his shoulder, James tried something that he himself found himself on the receiving end far too recently. Taking the same paw that he held Trigger's shoulder with, he brushed away the fur from one of his claws, and used it to start scratching away between the pilot's ears. "Here, does that help? I found it really helped me after… Brian." He heard a low rumble emerge from the pilot's muzzle, allowing him to sport a bittersweet grin. "Hey, it's okay, you know that, right?"

Despite clearly demonstrating that the scratching was indeed helping, Trigger fumbled to try and brush James' paw away. "I'm still Three Strikes!" he pointed out. "I can't be… like this! I need to get better, and fast." His expression fell. "And I don't know how. All I can think of right now is… Is how I want to go home. But not home… Home as it was… years ago." He settled down, staring at the ground miserably.

Motioning Nick to follow her, Judy hopped off the desk and made her way over. "We'll help," she said firmly. "We certainly had our disagreements, but we'll help."

Trigger glanced at her, clearly not believing it. "H-how?"

It was Nick who broke into a knowing smirk. "Not gonna lie, Strikes, it's going to be a very hard battle. But as a good start…" He reaching into his uniform pocket, pulling out a pack of gum. "Gum? Blueberry."

Raising an eyebrow, if Trigger didn't believe Judy, he sure looked like Nick had just sprouted a second head. Nevertheless, with a huff, he relented and reached for the pack. "Okay, I'll bite. Thanks, Nick." Taking the pack, he didn't notice the frantic look James was shooting at him not to fall for the hustle.

And sure enough, as he started to pull out a stick, the low buzz of the electric shock caused him to freeze, strands of fur sticking up. Flipping the pack around a few times and inspecting it, he then reached up and pulled down the collar of his shirt, again revealing the healing fur it was hiding. "Nick..? Nice try, but… No. Either I got used to it, or I just don't care enough, but… Can't say I felt much." He finished pulling out the gum, unwrapping it and shoving it between his teeth, chewing it bitterly. But despite the forced motions, he did slow down, glancing at Nick again. "Does taste good," he said. "So… What's next?"