Boilerplate Disclaimer: The various characters from the movie Zootopia are owned by Disney the great and powerful. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

A/N: Canon v. Fanon. I received a polite PM pointing out I'd left canon: Nick's middle name was Priberius, not Meadows. Yes, and no. Canon is what was in the movie. Period. We saw Nick's middle initial, P. The writer said it was a Star Trek joke in his own head that it stood for Piberius. A common idea from fanfiction, an early idea which Disney rejected as unworkable, a joke in the writer's mind about a character, or the writer's head canon (how the writer sees the character to understand his/her motivations) is not canon. It is fanon. It is all interesting. It may serve as a source for ideas. It is not canon so choosing to ignore it does not betray canon... ) Not that it matters, fanfiction isn't canon. Yep, I ignored the canon middle initial. And I'll ignore things that were great sight gags, but wouldn't work in a real world of mixed intelligent species, and I don't feel bound by Star Trek gags in the writer's mind. I like canon – calling a medieval ostrich Judy Hopps and the alien cephalopod whose spaceship lands on her planet Nick Wilde won't produce a story I consider Zootopia fanfiction – but I'm not enslaved by it.

The Everyly Brothers, Problems, 1957

Problems, problems, problems all day long
Will my problems work out right or wrong

Problems, Problems, Problems All Day Long

Judy lay in bed, her phone beside her. She would not get out of bed for any reason for fear she might miss Nick's call. Or a call reporting he had been injured. She wondered what the best way of returning to Zootopia would be. She would not trust herself to drive if Nick was hurt. She'd take the overnight train if he didn't call.

To try and stay calm she reviewed yesterday's experience with Duke and Teresa.

Judy suspected the language arts teacher had never been drunk before. Perhaps she would not remember what happened. Duke had not been drunk as often as Judy imagined, but he had been drunk before. The weasel, like Nick, tried to keep his wits about him in case he suddenly found himself in a position where he needed his wits to escape a disgruntled 'customer'. But Duke had definitely had too much.

Both animals had been celebrating the good news that publishers were interested in the story of Duke's grandmother. Judy even felt some personal satisfaction at the news, knowing that she had suggested to Duke that he try to do something constructive while in Bunnyburrow, and finding Teresa to help him put it in a form that could be read.

After much debate internal Judy decided it probably didn't matter. Duke had been drunk and happy when he kissed Teresa. While Duke was male, and males tended to be in a perpetual state of being interested in sex, he could not be interested in the straight-laced language teacher. Yesterday's kiss was a moment of temporary insanity for the weasel and he didn't dare risk offending Teresa if he wanted the book published – and the figures given by the publisher insured he wanted the book finished.

With any luck Teresa Feressi might not even remember the kiss, or would at least claim to not remember it. She wanted her name on a best-seller and wouldn't let Duke's drunken kiss interfere with her goals.

"Can I call her and ask for more details on the two publication offers?" Judy asked herself. The question seemed relatively harmless and to be expected. If Teresa wanted to bring up the kiss from Duke, let her bring it up. "Don't ask her if she remembers that. If she doesn't – great! If she wants to forget it I should just pretend I didn't see anything." He second option appeared to be calling Duke and asking if the weasel had lost his mind. Of course she had never been certain if Duke had a mind in the first place. "There is no way I can have a serious conversation with Duke. Neither of us would trust what the other one said."

Patience had never been Judy's greatest virtue. It wasn't in her top ten. Judy had many sterling qualities, but patience was not among them, nevertheless even she recognized a need to give the two animals time to think. "I'll call Teresa tomorrow," Judy told herself.

At 8:11 a.m. the phone rang. "You didn't call last night," she answered, a little ashamed of herself for sounding accusatory – hoping the real level of fear and anger didn't show. Maybe he had a legitimate reason for not calling.

"Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry for snapping at you. Are you safe? You promised to call every... I worry if I don't hear from you–"

"And I'm a beast for not calling. No, I shouldn't be flip. I should have tried harder. Long day and I was beat."

"Nick... I really need your call. I couldn't sleep last night. So, any news – like the husband I love so much coming back soon?"

"Well," Nick hesitated, "I, uh, had an idea–"

"Nick," Judy reminded him sharply. "You promised me not to think! You're just there to get a ground level perspective."

"It's a little difficult to stop thinking."

"You've had plenty of practice."

The fox chuckled, "Look, this is very, very vague. Pretty sure nothing will come of it – but I want to spend a couple days checking things out. It'll probably fall apart."

"If it's not going to work you should just... You're worried, aren't you?"

"You aren't?"

"Of course I am! And I'm worried my husband will try something stupid."

"You should have thought of that before you married the bum."

"Yeah, good advice in retrospect. Unfortunately I've fallen deeply in love with him. I want you to come back and... Doesn't matter what I want, does it?"

"Of course it matters what you want. But you know when I have an idea, which might help, I'm going to try and check it out. I did talk with Lylah and George about it."

"You did? Honestly?"

"They're in charge."

"I'm glad you recognize that. And she okayed this?"

"Define okayed. They both know how bad things are. George gave me his blessings."

"And Lylah?"

"She didn't rip out my liver and make me eat it. George says I should interpret that as a very good sign."

"Can I ask you to try and stay safe?"

"I think I'll be safe, but it may put another animal in danger."

"Who?"

"Look, I'm not saying anything over the phone. Odds are it won't work – I just feel like I have to try something. I'm going to spend a couple days trying to close the massive holes in my tiny little idea."

"Know the feeling. Wish I was there with you."

"Part of me wishes you were. But I'm glad you're safe in Bunnyburrow."

"Well, I won't be if you don't call faithfully. I was going to be on the evening train if you didn't call. And, since this looks like a good time to change the subject, before I start to scold–"

"Your husband is worm. He doesn't deserve you."

"My husband is not a worm, but he wants to force me to flatter him. It should be enough that I love him madly."

"But–"

"And if he doesn't shut up for a minute I can't tell him some wonderful news!"

"Jade's engaged? Judy, I told you she has to be at least five years old before we let her date. I know Bunnyburrow–"

"You know an author!"

"I've met several."

"No, seriously. Two publishers are interested in Teresa's book!"

"Whoa! Seriously?"

"Would I kid about a thing like that?"

"No. Wow. They must both be ecstatic."

"Pretty much. Celebration got a little out of hand."

"What happened?"

"A little too much champagne. I probably exaggerated the out-of-hand. One of the offers has more up front, and the other offers higher royalties."

"Duke, of course, wants money in paw. I hope you hit him with a stick and told him think long term."

"No, I was too busy feeling happy to think. If Teresa had a stick I think she'd have hit him."

"Did the rabbit I love have a little too much also?"

"Half a glass. Someone had to chaperone."

"Those two don't need a chaperone," Nick assured her. "They mix like oil and water."

"Anyway, Teresa bought the bottle to celebrate."

"Save any for me?"

"I'll buy a bottle just for us to share when you get back. That was the news. There's a story connected with the champagne–"

"I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I can't imagine Bunnyburrow having any champagne even remotely worth drinking."

"Not sure it does, but Teresa bought a bottle, and has never purchased champagne before in her life."

"Which strikes me as a recipe for disaster."

"And they both got a little tipsy and he kissed her!"

"The disaster was worse than I imagined."

"And then he was like, 'What have I done' and ran, and her feet stopped talking to her brain so I helped her back to her place."

"She didn't rip out his liver and make him eat it?"

"Nope."

"Kidney? Spleen? Lung?"

"None of them."

"Maybe when she sobers up."

"She needs him alive until they finish the bio, remember?"

"And he needs her to finish the bio. So murder seems out of the question."

"Perhaps, with a little luck, neither will remember it. They might each have been just drunk enough."

As the rabbit went to her parent's home later than morning to work in the garden and see her daughter she wondered briefly if she should move back home until Nick returned from Zootopia. "No," she assured herself. "He'll be back in a day or two." Although a voice in the back of her head warned her, "He's crazy enough he might try and do something while he's there." She wondered if she should go to Zootopia herself, to save Nick from himself. Even after years of marriage trust remained something of an issue with the couple. Judy didn't always trust Nick to play by the rules or stick with his promises. Nick felt that playing by the rules didn't always work, and felt he sometimes needed to break them – and if he was going to color outside the lines he tried to keep it hidden from Judy. The fox had never managed to keep his transgressions hidden from his wife. But, despite his general cynicism Nick optimistically hoped that he could keep his ideas secret. "He'd better not be trying something stupid," Judy thought. But she knew Nick's fear for her safety, and the safety of their daughter, would have Nick seeking any possible way to end Bellwether's threat.

"Mommy? Are you okay?" the little panther asked Lylah.

She tried to smile, "Mommy's thinking, I was talking to Jay's daddy yesterday and he got me thinking."

George carried his own plate of eggs and toast to the breakfast table, "Nick got you thinking? What have you done with my real wife?"

"Not funny, Dear. We need to think more about the future on this assignment."

"What do you mean?"

"We will discuss that after dropping Sam off at day-care and reading any reports waiting for us."

There were seven reports waiting for them. All of which found different ways to say nothing. The best ones said it quickly. The worst were those that detailed how much work had gone into discovering nada. Lylah trusted everyone was working hard and didn't need an accounting of time management if there were no results.

"We going to talk about Nick now?" George asked as he finished data entry. Lylah had returned from a coffee run and handed him a cup. "You're going to encourage him?"

"No. The fox is a self-starter on this. And if he can't come up with an idea we may be in trouble. But he made me realize we aren't doing all we need to do."

"I can't think of anything you missed," George told her and pointed to file boxes of reports stacked in his wife's office.

"We missed. We're partners in this. But what are we trying to do?"

George looked puzzled. "Find Bellwether?"

"Exactly."

George looked more puzzled. "What else is there?"

"And when we find her?"

"We arrest her."

"And who is this 'we' of whom you speak? The two of us? The ZPD in general? What members of the ZPD do we call on – if members of the ZPD are on her side? Is she huddled in a garret in some flop house all by herself, or is she surrounded by a crowd of disciples – possibly with bodyguards on staff? If we should discover she's supposed to be somewhere in an hour, and start calling backup – will the news reach her before we can move? We can't just work on finding her, we've got to think ahead to bringing her into custody."

"I missed Nick saying any of that."

"Nick talked about thinking outside the box. There's nothing in the regulations for this situation. Regulations are written in response to known situations. We're boldly going into the unknown. We are going to find her. And I want a plan in place for what to do when we do – and regardless of her situation we're prepared to arrest her so quickly and quietly there's no way for a traitor in the department to tip her off."

"So, she's got officers on her side?"

"We have to assume so, and plan accordingly."

Nick met with Vaughn Wheeler and Doug Ramsey in a room at the forensics lab after official hours had ended. There was staff at the lab 24/7, but only a skeleton crew in the late hours or an animal or two working overtime on a task that required immediate attention. The fox had come in a side entrance, unlocked by the hamster, and spent twenty minutes sharing his ideas.

"No," Doc Wheeler said at the end of the fox's presentation. "Your even being here is a danger to you. Go back to the farm where it's safe. And you're asking Doug to risk his life."

"C'mon, you know something has to be done."

"And something will be done! Do you think the police are helpless without you and Judy? Bellwether will be recaptured."

"She hasn't been caught yet!"

The hamster shrugged. "There's no time table. Some cases take minutes, some take hours, some take years."

"Damn it, Vaughn! I don't want to wait years. Bunnyburrow is an okay place to visit – I don't want to spend my life there."

"A little more patience, Nick. She'll screw up. All criminals do."

"All criminals we catch screw up. Then there are the embezzlers and murderers and thieves we never catch. Heck, the really good ones we never even know are crooks die in bed at a ripe old age surrounded by loving family."

"But everyone in the city knows Bellwether is a criminal!"

"Yeah, and some of them are still supporting her 'cause they think she's right." The fox looked over at the sheep. "What do you think?"

Doug Ramsey sighed, "Detective Wilde, I–"

"Call me Nick. Any animal I ask to risk his life can call me Nick."

"Detective Wilde, shall I enumerate the problems with your half-baked lack of a plan? You are, as Vaughn pointed out, asking me to do something dangerous. Are you hoping to guilt me into agreeing with you? I don't respond well to guilt as a motivational tool. But there is a far greater problem than your lack of details and my reluctance to be motivated by guilt. Let's imagine you had a solid plan – despite the fact our lack of knowledge of her plot makes such planning impossible. Let's forget about pressuring me into putting my head on the chopping block for the city and imagine I would be eager to help the city feel secure again. You seem to be forgetting the factor which make it completely impossible for me to help you." Ramsey noticed the other two looking slightly puzzled and extended a leg, pulling his trouser up to expose and remind them of the GPS monitor around his ankle.

"Damn," muttered Nick. "You're right."

The hamster looked puzzled.

"We couldn't let the police know where Ramsey is," Nick explained. "If Bellwether's cult thought he was pinpointing their location he'd be killed before he could find out anything... And everyone knows he's monitored. And even if there are animals not paying attention – and they're always animals not paying attention – anyone she's got in the ZPD will remind the others of that fact." Nick sighed, and looked at the ram. "You're right."

"Wait a minute," the hamster requested. "I'm thinking... I'm not thinking that Doug should agree to the plan. I'm curious, from a scientific and forensic point of view. How good are the ZPD ankle bracelets? Are they really secure? Can they be by-passed?"

Professor Ramsey frowned, "An interesting question. And one that neither a pathologist, nor a toxicologist, and certainly not an ex-hustler is qualified to answer."

"Hey, I resemble that remark," muttered Nick.

"Let me be clear," Vaughn clarified. "I'm not supporting Nick's idea in any way, shape, or form. But I'd like to have an animal do an analysis of the monitor. If it has a weakness of some sort I'd like the ZPD to know what it is."

Nick shrugged, "Professor Ramsey?"

"Vaughn's right. An interesting question. I feel some debt to the ZPD for hiring me." The ram sighed, "I owe a debt to the city for the chaos I caused. Perhaps, if there is way to do it – and a definite plan... And I can stay safe... But first, the GPS shackle. What do you say, Vaughn, have one of the techies look at this?"

"I'm not thinking any of our lab rats. I am still opposed to Nick's plan, but if you and I lose our minds and agree with him this will need to be done without the ZPD knowing about our trying this."

"You keep saying you disagree with him, but keeping it secret is supporting him – or at least it sounds like it."

The hamster sighed, "I won't lie to you. On an intellectual level I don't think Nick has a real plan. But somewhere inside me I want this over. I don't want Zootopia in a state of fear and paranoia. And, yet again, I don't want you hurt – or any other animal. I'm in a bit of a bind, aren't I? I'd like this to end – but I don't want you hurt and it would be unfair to even ask you to put your life on the line. But there is no point in even discussing options with the GPS on your leg."

The ram nodded, "I think I have the same desire, and perhaps it might even atone for what I did earlier. We should see if the monitor can be by-passed. It doesn't mean I will agree to try anything." He glanced over at the fox, "And, Detective Wilde, I repeat, no guilt to motivate me. If I should chose to work with you – assuming it is even possible to bypass the monitor – it will be entirely of my own volition. Is that clear?"

"It would be clearer if I knew exactly what volition meant, Professor, but everything you've said is right. I'm asking you to put your life on the line, and I've got no right to do so. And, at the moment, I don't have any definite plan."

Nick felt depressed. Doug Ramsey hadn't said 'No' to his idea, but he certainly hadn't said 'Yes'. Instead the professor had pointed out another gaping hole in his almost plan. Still, the fox felt like he'd tried something. It was better than sitting on his paws and doing nothing.

And he made sure he called Judy. He suspected she might have been happy about his lack of success – it would keep him out of trouble. But Nick didn't want to talk about his failures.

"Tell me about your day. I know about mine. Did you talk with Duke or Ms Feressi?"

"No. I'm waiting until tomorrow."

"How's Jay?"

"She misses her daddy. She has a new favorite flavor of pie."

"Until she tries the next flavor?"

"That's right."

"So, what did you do? Harvest potatoes from a potato tree?"

Judy sighed, "Nick, sweetie, I hope you never let 'Ehud Gray' talk with anyone about life in the country."

"I'm letting ol' Ehud talk as little as possible. Why, don't potatoes grow on trees? Bushes?"

"Nick, do you remember how many years Detective Kane was in deep cover?"

"No... Is it important?"

"Not really. I'm just warning you, you don't have any cover deeper than your overalls."

"I'm wearing underwear."

"It's not the same."