Nick stared at the door in front of him, hardly able to believe the words printed on the window.

"'Dr. Chuck Wood'," he read out loud. "'BUILD A Better You'." He rolled his eyes and sighed. Even I think that's corny.

He didn't want to do this. He really didn't want to do this. The last thing he wanted right now was to talk with a psychologist about his true feelings about…well, anything, but especially about this stupid shock collar he was now forced to wear.

He had put it off as much as possible. All the other predators had gone in, one by one, and had their hour-long session with Dr. Wood throughout the rest of the day. There had been so much time to kill until his turn, Nick had gone back home and changed into his favorite khakis, green Pawaii shirt and striped purple tie.

But now there was nobody left but him. He, Nicholas Piberius Wilde, was about to see a therapist. And he was not looking forward to it one bit.

He took a deep breath, put on the fakest smile he could manage, and pushed open the door. He took a moment to examine the room, taking note of the oversized black-leather couch in one corner and Dr. Wood sitting in a small chair in the exact opposite corner, writing down some notes. Two of the walls were lined with shelves and shelves of books—most of them, of course, dealing with psychology—and the last one was cluttered with various awards and degrees Dr. Wood had earned.

Graduated from Hoofard. Impressive. Nick waved a paw and widened his grin. "Hey, Dr. Wood! Nice to see you again, sir!"

Dr. Wood looked up from his clipboard and smiled warmly. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Wilde." He motioned to the couch. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Don't mind if I do," Nick murmured, half-jumping onto the couch and plopping down, facing the opposite direction of Dr. Wood. "And please, call me Nick," he added as soon as he was comfortable, more as a formality than an insistence; if it were up to him, Dr. Wood wouldn't be talking to him at all.

"Very well, Nick," Dr. Wood obliged, flipping to a new piece of paper and taking new notes. "So, I believe you know why you are here?"

Nick lay flat on his back, stuffing a pillow underneath his neck and flicking his tail back and forth. "I assume it's because of this?" he asked, scratching at the collar around his neck. For most of the day, he had actually forgotten it was there, but every once in a while he developed an itch and found it hard to scratch past the hard material of the collar.

"Indeed," Dr. Wood acknowledged. "Now, before we start our session, I have to let you know your rights as my patient—"

Nick cut him off, not in any mood to prolong this session any further than necessary. "My rights are that you don't tell anyone I'm seeing a therapist, and anything I say is completely confidential unless I intend to harm someone or do something otherwise illegal." He shot a grin in Dr. Wood's direction. "That about sum it up?"

Dr. Wood blinked, caught off-guard by Nick's abruptness. After a second, he nodded his head and smiled again. "Pretty much. Also, under law, you have the right to refuse talking about this session with anyone, including law enforcement."

"Ah, yes, how could I forget that one?" Nick muttered.

"You've been to therapy before, then?"

"Pfft." Nick swatted at the air, offended that the notion was even brought up. "I only know all that stuff because I'm a cop. I've never needed therapy. I've been pretty happy my whole life, as a matter of fact."

"That's a good start." Dr. Wood pressed the back of his mechanical pencil and readied it on the paper. "Tell me about your life, Nick. Start from the beginning."

For a second, Nick was tempted to make up a bogus backstory and make himself the biggest John Doe in all Zootopia—the most average fox, with the happiest life in existence. It would be easy to do; after all, he had lied for a living most of his life, and that backstory was certainly one he had told before.

However, something in the back of his mind told him that this time, it would be better if he told the truth. Sure, his life wasn't the best growing up, and he had only recently begun living an honest one, but it was certainly his story, and it certainly was quite the tale of how he got to where he was now.

Besides, Chief Bogo had a file on him, and Dr. Wood undoubtedly had access to it.

With a sigh, he began. "I was born thirty-three years ago; I just celebrated my birthday last month. I had a single mom, who loved me more than any mother's ever loved a son." On that particular fact, he had never lied about. "I grew up thinking Zootopia was the best city in the world, where predators and prey live together and sing Kumbaya." He sighed. "I went through a… Well, let's just call it an incident, when I was young that taught me otherwise."

"You can tell me about it," Dr. Wood suggested.

"I'd rather not," Nick muttered. He rarely told the story, and when he did, it was only to mammals he trusted—which was certainly not this beaver therapist.

"Okay, we can leave that for now." Dr. Wood started a new page. "But this incident, as you call it, obviously had a big impact on you. Chief Bogo has been gracious enough divulge your entire background to me."

I knew it.

"And it seems you were a hustler most of your adult life." Dr. Wood took a second to review a precious sheet of paper. "Actually, even longer than that from the looks of it."

Nick shrugged. "Penalty of being a predator." He stared up at the ceiling, grateful that the lighting in the room was at a low level. "The world expects foxes to be shifty and deceitful, so why bother being anything else? So I spent a good twenty years doing just that—and it made me a small fortune as well, so I figured life was good."

Dr. Wood took a few minutes to write down more notes, then asked the question Nick knew was next. "But you're not a hustler anymore. Now you're a police officer—the first fox on the entire ZPD force. What changed? What made you decide to do it?"

"I made a friend who helped me realize I could be more than just a hustler." The less Nick said about Judy, the better. Even worse than talking about his past, and about his protests with this finagled shock collar, would be to open up about his feelings toward his bunny partner. "So I decided it was worth a shot to try and become a cop. And I guess it worked, because here I am."

"And are you happy with where you are now, Nick?"

"Laying on a couch, talking to a beaver, wondering why I'm even here?" Nick craned his neck. "Oh yeah, I'm really happy right where I am."

He expected Dr. Wood to be taken aback by his sarcastic remark. He expected the beaver to at least react in some way. Instead, Dr. Wood put down his pencil, folded his paws, and leaned back in his chair. "Please, continue," he encouraged.

Nick blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Dr. Wood calmly brushed his shirt. "You are here, in my office, talking about how happy you are. But you don't sound happy—although I sense you really are." He folded his paws again. "At least, you really are when you're not in a therapy session you don't want to attend."

Nick gritted his teeth, fought back another sarcastic remark, and let out a long sigh. "Well," he said after a pause, "overall, yes, I'd say I'm very happy. I mean, I like my job. I really feel like I'm making a difference in the world, and that I'm making myself a better person as well. I have a great partner on the force—actually, she's the one who convinced me to join—and I—"

"She?" Dr. Wood interrupted.

Nick froze. "I didn't say 'she'."

Dr. Wood tapped his pencil, indicating he had written down a note as soon as Nick had spoken the word out loud. "We could sit here and argue for the rest of our hour, but I don't think either of us really wants that, do we?" He glanced at his watch. "Besides, this is being paid for by tax dollars."

"Don't mention tax dollars," Nick quickly murmured, the two words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "And I prefer to keep her out of this. I'm not here to talk about her."

"Of course." Dr. Wood took another note, then set his pencil back down. This time, he stood up and walked over to one of his many bookshelves. "Listen, Nick. I would love to talk about your life story. I'd love to get to know you, in a personal level—but I also realize that is not what you want to talk about. That's not why you're here, anyway. You're here because of the shock collar. Undoubtedly, it is causing a great deal of discomfort to you."

"Not really," Nick replied, quite honestly. "It's just stupid I have to wear it." He flicked his tail in disgust. "I mean, this doesn't even work like they usually do. I'm wearing it just because the new assistant mayor required it of us predator cops. I guess to set an example to other predators in Zootopia." His fingers curled in a fist around the collar. "Labeling all of us like we're some kind of threat to society."

"He'll be wearing one himself," Dr. Wood replied. "And so will Mayor Lionheart. The cops are not the only ones who are going to set an example for Zootopia's predators."

None of that helped. "The last assistant mayor framed Lionheart and was this close to getting rid of predators altogether." Nick held two fingers a hair apart from each other, before curling his paw into a fist. "And even if we do stick around, what's next? Curfews? Perhaps mandatory caging after 9 PM every day?"

Dr. Wood nodded his head slowly as he thumbed through his books, picked one he liked, and took it off the shelf. "Assistant Mayor Rolfe is a big fan of philosophy, as am I. Are you familiar with Hopps, Nick?"

Nick felt his heart stop for a split-second. "Hopps?" he asked, as calmly as he could.

"Yes, Thomas Hopps," Dr. Wood replied, to Nick's immense relief. "He was a bunny who lived four hundred years ago. But his ideals helped build the world that we live in today." He opened the book to a particular page and read it out loud. "'For all mammals, whether predator or prey, are solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.'" He closed the book and reshelved it. "You see, Nick, we may be evolved, but we are still animals." He sat back down in his chair. "I'm an animal. You're an animal. All of us are animals—and animals are not inherently good creatures. Our instincts are to survive, by any means necessary." He picked back up his clipboard. "Predators' instincts are to kill and eat prey. Prey's instincts are to fear predators. The shock collars are a way of helping to alleviate that fear."

Nick understood—he understood before he had even entered Dr. Wood's room—but he still didn't like it. "I guess I just thought better of this city. After what happened last year with Bellwether, I thought we had moved past our differences." He turned to look Dr. Wood in the eye. "Predators were targeted for things they didn't do. That's exactly what's happening now." He pointed at his collar, the green light reflecting off his paw. "With these."

"And that is why you are here," Dr. Wood replied. "I view it this way, Nick: Your shock collar doesn't even work, so what's there to be afraid of? Perhaps you are taking all of this just a little too seriously?"

Nick scratched his neck. The more he talked about the shock collar, the more the fur underneath it itched. "It's the principle of the thing. This is for appearances' sake, right? So that other predators in Zootopia will look at me and say, 'Hey, look, that cop is wearing a shock collar. That means it's okay to fall victim to discrimination'!" His voiced was raised by now. "You know, after a few thousand years of evolution—of predators and prey striving to live together in harmony, of them working together, and even loving each other…" The sound of writing stopped as Dr. Wood raised an eyebrow. However, he remained silent, and let Nick finish. After a deep sigh, the fox did so, in as calm a voice as he could manage. "I guess, being a member of the prey family, you just wouldn't understand."

Dr. Wood set down his clipboard and pencil, indicating that their session was almost wrapped up. "You're right. I don't. And I probably never will." He leaned back in his seat. "But there are others who do understand. I've talked with every predator in the ZPD today, and they all have expressed the exact same issues with the shock collars as you. They all view it as a brand, which labels you as dangerous to everyone else—even other predators."

Yes, he knew he wasn't alone. All those other predators in the ZPD were going through exactly the same thing he was right now. However, even though all of them had made the decision to put on their collars, they were all now accepting the discrimination that the collars begged from the rest of the world. And not only that, but with the assistant mayor's plan in place, the rest of the predator population in the city would soon suffer the same—except their shock collars would actually work.

"So are we just supposed to accept that this is our future? That this is our fate?" Nick crossed his arms. "How long will this last? Just a few months? A few years? Or is this going to be the way it is for as long as predators exist?"

Dr. Wood thought for a second, paw stroking his chin. "Does your partner know how you feel about this?"

The question caught Nick off-guard. There he goes again, bringing her up. No matter what the subject, Judy seemed to keep popping up. "I didn't exactly get an opportunity to tell her before coming over," he groaned.

"Then I suggest talking with her about it. I've seen that in the ZPD, the mammals cops trust the most are their partners on the force. She might be a bigger help to you than I am." He wrote down another note. "When do you see her again? Tomorrow morning?"

Finally, something he could lie about. "Yes, as a matter of fact." He flashed a smile in Dr. Wood's direction. "Not until then."

"Great, so you have dinner tonight," Dr. Wood replied. Nick's smile disappeared. "I am very good at realizing when people are lying, Nick. You've been good until now, though, which I commend. It's a tribute to your species."

Nick snorted. "Fine, we have dinner tonight." He sat up quickly and added, "But it's not a date."

"I never said it was."

"Good, we're all clear." He relaxed a little. "Not a date. Just two friends, casually eating dinner together."

"If you say so."

"I do! Absolutely platonic," Nick insisted.

"I get it."

"It will just be two friends, who happen to be one male and one female, eating dinner together in a casual setting, with no hints of—"

"Nick," Dr. Wood snapped, "I don't think I'm the one you're trying to convince here."

The statement finally made Nick stop. After a second, he realized Dr. Wood had never said it was a date; he hadn't even implied it. It was something that Nick had come up with in his own head.

He blinked hard. What's wrong with you, Wilde? What's gotten into you? You're better than this. You're Slick Nick, the hustler, the smooth talker, the sly fox. What is it about that dumb bunny that has you losing your touch all of a sudden?

Judy definitely had an impact on Nick. Ever since he had first met his purple-eyed rabbit, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get the image of her out of his mind. With her beautiful amethyst eyes, and warm, honest smile, and…

"We're not dating," he clarified.

"Uh-huh," Dr. Wood responded, unconvinced. He reached for his paper once again. "Do you want to talk about it more? You obviously have feelings for your partner. If it's something you need to talk through, I can do it." He smiled and winked. "After all, I won't tell her. Legally, I can't."

For the first time today, Nick seriously considered the offer. He had been fighting off the growing feelings in his heart for a long time now, and he had no one to talk to about it. He couldn't discuss it with anyone in the ZPD, because obviously they would tell Judy about it. And he could talk with Judy about it, either, because…

Well, because she'll think I'm crazy. She's a bunny. I'm a fox. We have nothing in common. I'm a predator, and if her dream from the other night is anything to go off of, she's still scared of me. What makes me think I even have a chance with her? She doesn't love me. She can't love me. It's impossible, even if I love her…

The last thought made Nick's heart skip a beat. Do I love her? Do I love Judy Hopps? Perhaps, by talking about this with Dr. Wood, he could find out for sure if it was really love he felt, or just some other fleeting feeling he had never felt before?

After thinking about it, he finally shook his head. "No." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I think I'm done talking for today."

Dr. Wood nodded understandingly. He glanced at his watch. "Our time is up anyway." He stood up and stretched out a paw. "It's been a real slice of heaven, Nick."

Nick dragged himself off the couch, shook the beaver's hand, and silently walked out the door, letting it close behind him.

A second later, it opened back up. "And Nick?" Dr. Wood called.

Nick turned around, barely giving the beaver any more attention than necessary. "Yes, Doc?"

Dr. Wood smiled. "I met Judy yesterday. Remember? The two of you were together." He didn't wait for Nick to reply before softly shutting the door.

Not that Nick had a reply anyway. His dropped jaw wouldn't allow one.