"I don't know what to do." She whispered. "You know I'm really not great with relationships."
He sighed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "And you actually want my advice?"
"I want my best friend's advice, Nick." She replied, looking up at the fox. "Not my ex-husband's."
First, they loved each other - though neither one of them had made it easy. Even summoning the courage to ask the bunny out had been an unparalleled emotional struggle for Nick.
Then they'd been in love, albeit discretely. Wrapped in the warmth of their newly shared romance, for a while they were able to forget about the world and its prejudices. But all too soon, the giddy thrill of a new relationship gave way to practicality, and they were forced to acknowledge the seriousness of what they were getting themselves into. Although interspecies relationships weren't illegal, strictly speaking, they weren't without consequences. They'd both worked hard to get to where they were. It wasn't a decision to be taken lightly.
Finally, when they were ready, they were lovers – and from that moment there was no turning back. Any mammal with a half-decent nose knew exactly what they were up to, and more than a few of them weren't very happy about it.
Through all the shouted slurs and muttered remarks, disgusted looks and hateful sneers, they kept telling each other that the opinions of small-minded mammals didn't matter. They believed that their love was strong enough to endure whatever the world threw at them, and after a few months the jeers and public insults they'd been forced to put up with petered out. Eventually mammals seemed to realize that yelling and name-calling wasn't going to change anything.
However, although tacit acceptance from the public was a relief, it wasn't nearly as precious as acceptance from the mammals closest to them.
Their fellow officers were, for the most part, supportive. There were a few frowns and a couple of snide comments, but Chief Bogo put a stop to those almost immediately. The only unsettling moment had been when the Chief had called the pair into his office and asked, surprisingly gently, if they were certain about the path they had chosen. Although he could prevent the outward signs of discrimination against them, and intended to do so without hesitation, even he couldn't control what mammals thought. He'd warned them, in no uncertain terms, that their relationship would come at a cost. They'd assured him that it was a price they were willing to pay.
Finnick had surprised them both, accepting their relationship without hesitation. Although he hadn't been very polite about it ("Ain't my business where another mammal sticks it."), Nick and Judy had both appreciated the support.
Despite her conservative upbringing, Fru Fru had stood by her close friend. Her father, on the other hand, refused to see either of them, saying outright that Judy should not be his granddaughter's godmother when the bunny herself stood as an affront to God.
Nick's mother and father were long-dead, but the fox held no illusion about how they would have regarded his mate. They had been good foxes, but very traditional ones, as well. The idea of their son being with a member of another species, let alone a prey species, would not have gone over well. Judy's parents, however, were alive and well. So, when she and Nick began talking seriously about getting married, Judy made the decision to tell them.
Nick was understandably hesitant to do so, but she'd assured him that his fears were unfounded. He had been a welcome visitor in the Hopps household many times. Her father had called him a friend, her mother called him sweetheart, and her dozens upon dozens of younger siblings loved him like a favorite uncle. She'd been so certain that they'd grown beyond their former prejudices that she'd arranged for them to spend the entire weekend in Bunnyburrow.
One of her multitude of brothers had picked them up at the train station, and they'd arrived at the Hopps Burrow just in time for Friday night dinner. Despite his initial uncertainty, Nick actually began to relax as they were met at the door with smiles and ushered into the dining hall to be seated at the head table, right across from Bonnie and Stu.
The non-smell of the scent-blocker they wore had earned them a few puzzled looks, but although they'd come to reveal their relationship, they wanted to do it on their terms. They had just begun the main course when Judy had proudly informed her parents that she and Nick were together and everything fell to pieces.
Her father's expression shifted so rapidly that it had been like changing the channel on a television. She'd never seen him so angry, standing across the table and hurling a torrent of speciest hatred the likes of which she wouldn't have thought him capable of. He'd accused the fox of twisting his daughter's morals, ruining her for any other decent mammal, soiling her inside and out.
Judy had taken hold of her boyfriend's paw under the table as he suffered the abuse with uncharacteristic silence, staring blankly at the enraged buck. His only outward sign of anxiety was the gentle squeeze he gave her paw in return, and the tail that curled around Judy's leg.
Bonnie had fled to the kitchen the moment they'd revealed their relationship, and Judy could hear her weeping even over her father's shouts. Torn between the need to stay with Nick and the desire to go and comfort her crying mother, she'd been completely unprepared when her father turned on her, branding her as a pervert and swearing that he was ashamed for having raised her. Nearly paralyzed with shock, her mind had begun to spin in denial. 'This isn't my dad. My dad loves me, he loves my boyfriend, and any second now he'll say so and everything will be okay.'
Eyes clenched shut, it took her a second to notice that her father's tirade had come to an abrupt halt. Opening her eyes anxiously, she saw that he'd gone pale as a sheet. Her fox had stood, looming over the suddenly terrified buck even as his tail had curled protectively around her. Following her father's stare, she'd been shocked to discover three deep furrows carved into the wooden tabletop, each one ending at one of Nick's claws.
"No."
Nick had growled the word – really growled it. Judy had heard her boyfriend growl before, in anger or irritation. Nick's growl was a faint sound in the back of his throat that she could usually quell with a quick scratch behind the ears. This had been a low rumble that poured from the centre of his chest, a deep vibration that made her nose twitch involuntarily and seemed to remind every rabbit in the dining hall why they'd once feared this predator above all others.
Wrenching his claws from the table's surface, he'd turned toward her and made a questioning gesture toward the exit. She'd racked her mind for any way the situation could possibly be salvaged, but the way things had gone was so far from what she'd expected that she couldn't begin to come up with an answer. Instead she let Nick take her paw in his own as they made their way out. Their visit was so short that their bags still sat next to the door, easily picked up as they left. Her father, obviously feeling bolder now that the predator was outside, made his final stance clear by standing in the burrow door and commanding them never to return.
There had been no ride back into town; the pair were forced to walk to the train station. Twice along the way, Judy had tried to turn back, insisting that it must have been a misguided prank that had simply gone too far, or that perhaps her parents had misunderstood somehow. Both times, Nick had wrapped his arms around her and held her until her denial crumbled away. They'd just barely caught the eleven o'clock train back to the city, and Judy had cried the whole way home.
It would be seven months before either of her parents would speak to her again, and almost two years before they would acknowledge Nick as her mate.
Nick had proposed to her a month after their disastrous visit to the Hopps farm, and it had been simple and beautiful and so very him. They'd been walking through the park and had stopped by a pond to watch some kits playing with their toy boats. He'd turned to face her, taking her paw as he produced a small box from his pocket. Her breath had caught in her throat when he'd opened it, revealing a single diamond on a slim silver band.
Looking up, she found him smiling softly. "I'm still in if you are, Carrots."
Unable to trust her voice, she'd nodded heartily and thrown her arms around him, silently promising to never let go.
Finding a government official who was willing to issue them a marriage license had been challenging, to say the least. Some refused on moral grounds, looking down on the pair as deviants. Others cited more practical reasons, such as their honest fear of losing their jobs.
Finally, they found an elderly koala in a small Rainforest District government office. He'd looked over their paperwork, eyed the pair for a moment, then stamped the license and signed his name. He reminded them they still needed to go before a Justice of the Peace, but provided them with a few sympathetic names. The actual wedding, if it could be called as much, was a very small affair – almost insignificant by bunny standards. Just the two of them, a few very close friends, and the Justice who performed the abridged ceremony.
It was strange that being married actually seemed to change things a little. It wasn't total acceptance by any means, but on the surface the world seemed to uncomfortably acknowledge their relationship as a legitimate one. It took them quite a while to realize that the prejudice hadn't vanished – it had just changed shape. Like when someone would shake Nick's paw, then subtly wipe their own on their pant leg when they thought his back was turned. Or when some male would start hitting on Judy, refusing to take no for an answer because they assumed she liked being 'dominated'.
What's more, they didn't even have the luxury of dealing with these issues privately. As soon as word of their marriage had gotten out, the Public Relations office at City Hall had gone into overdrive.
It had been a hundred times worse than the period after Bellwether's arrest. Suddenly their faces were on billboards and in television commercials, the new symbol of interspecies cooperation. Reporters hounded them for weeks, their faces routinely appeared in the tabloids, and their sudden notoriety made them next to useless as patrol officers.
Despite their fame, their outstanding performance and their spotless records, both of them were passed over for advancement time and again. The only time Judy had complained to Chief Bogo, the buffalo had pinned her to her seat with a glare. "No, Hopps, it isn't fair. It's petty bigotry and in a better world it wouldn't even exist, but you and Wilde were warned from the beginning that everything has a price. Even love."
Nurtured by their growing frustration, petty annoyances began to stand out more and more.
She kicked in her sleep.
He played music too loudly for her sensitive ears.
She chewed up all their pencils.
He shed his fur on the furniture.
She woke up too early.
He stayed up too late.
They never really talked about the things that bothered them. They were 'Nick and Judy', after all – City Hall's shining beacon for a new tomorrow. Deep down, they felt guilty for being bothered at all, struggling with the unspoken belief that if one of them felt unhappy it was a failure for both.
As things between them grew more and more strained, each of them tried to work through it in their own unique way. Judy approached each problem with the same aggressive tenacity that had gotten her into the ZPD. She closely analyzed each challenge, determined the best solution, and committed herself to seeing that solution through. Nick would respond to problems more passively, resolving not to get too wrapped up in the little things. He knew how difficult life could be and found that going with the flow made it easier to focus on the things that mattered most.
He saw her as nagging and overbearing, she saw him as apathetic and uncommitted, and very slowly that indefinable spark that had made them such an amazing team began to go out.
As time went on, they talked about things less and argued about them more. Affectionate teasing had degraded into sharp criticism, secrets told in confidence were now wielded as weapons. They could barely work together, and no one else could stand working with them either. Some days they couldn't even bear to be in the same room. At least once a week, a shift would end with either Judy crying in the female lockers or Nick brutalizing one of the gym's punching bags.
To make matters worse, any attempt Chief Bogo made at assigning them to new partners or transferring one of them to a different precinct was blocked by City Hall. The Mayor's office, either oblivious or unconcerned toward their failing marriage, was still trying to parade the pair around as the poster-mammals for interspecies unity.
Finally, the Chief hauled them both into his office and informed them – very loudly and in no uncertain terms – that they had reached their last chance. He ordered them to take two weeks of unpaid leave and explicitly told them to have no contact with one another for the first five days. Upon their return, if they hadn't learned to leave their emotional baggage at the door then they'd be leaving their badges on his desk.
Judy returned to Bunnyburrow to be with her more accepting family members, and for the first two days both of them stubbornly refused to acknowledge how much better they felt with the other one absent.
When Judy came home, she and her husband sat down for a very difficult and long-overdue conversation. Neither of them smiled and both cried at one point or another. When it was over, Nick packed a bag to go stay with Finnick and Judy slept in an empty home for the first time in years.
The cruelest part was that they didn't love each other any less; they'd just lost their way trying to be together. The divorce had been quick and relatively amicable. They had pledged to spend their lives together, but the Friday before they had to return to work they were sitting in a lawyer's office arranging to have their individual lives back. They'd split up their assets, found new apartments, and prepared to move on with their lives.
It took a while for them to begin working as a team again, and their new partnership evolved very differently than it had before. For the first half-year they were almost coldly professional to one another, effective on the job but rarely engaging in any conversation not work related. The next few months could be called polite, followed by another few months of being hesitantly agreeable. It was nearly a year and a half before they were back to being friendly.
Their carefully rebuilt friendship had nearly come apart again when Nick started dating Kira. The pretty vixen worked at KZOO radio and had been at Precinct One for a press conference. She'd approached Nick with a smile, been charming and sweet, and immediately accepted his invitation to dinner.
As much as she loathed the idea of being that ex-wife, Judy had wanted to hate Kira so much. She watched the vixen's every move, analyzed every word she said, and had even gone so far as to violate regulations by looking her up in the ZPD database. To her disappointment, though, Kira was by all accounts a good mammal; one who was surprisingly accepting that her boyfriend still spent so much time with his ex.
So, although she couldn't bring herself to like the other female, Judy managed so settle into a stable sense of benevolent apathy. Whenever that mean little voice in the back of her mind reared its ugly head, she'd reminded herself that she had chosen to get a divorce; no one had put a gun to her head and forced her to sign the paperwork. Those reminders became a mantra a year later, when Nick asked Kira to marry him.
Judy had to be particularly creative in order to support Nick while he planned for his upcoming wedding, while simultaneously pretending none of it was happening. Hearing him compare caterers made her recall that their wedding, such as it was, had basically been catered by the pizza place across the street from their apartment. His complaints about the ever-growing guest list only reminded her that she could have counted their guest list on both paws and still had fingers left over.
Eventually, she had put her foot down and told Nick how he was making her feel, and the utterly stricken look on the fox's face had almost made her wish she hadn't said anything. He'd begun furiously apologizing, insisting that he hadn't realized how insensitive he'd been, and naturally she'd forgiven him. Then it had been filed away with all the other things they just didn't talk about anymore.
After she'd functionally side-lined herself, Nick had approached Finnick about being his best mammal. Once again, the fennec's response came as a surprise when he categorically refused to have any part in Nick and Kira's wedding. When Nick had pressed the issue & demanded to know why, he'd found himself on the receiving end of his friend's infamous temper.
"Foxes mate for life, Wilde, and you took an oath. You stood in front of the gods and swore 'till death do us part'." The small fox had growled. "You broke that oath, so now you can keep me outta your bullshit do-over."
Nick and Finnick didn't talk much after that, and Nick ended up getting married without a best mammal.
After their unpleasant conversation about Nick's constant wedding chatter, he'd been torn about inviting Judy at all. Kira had insisted that he at least ask her, insisting that there was no point in mending the bridges between them if he was never going to test them. When Nick told her about that, Judy tried very hard not to be annoyed at the vixen.
For her part, Judy had been equally torn about actually going. As much as she wanted to move on, a piece of her still desperately clung to the past. Each step she took forward stretched that piece a little thinner, somehow made it a little smaller and a little more painful at the same time. In the end, though, she agreed to attend - if for no other reason than to prove to herself that she was moving forward.
Ironically, it was at their wedding that Judy met Michael. The dark-furred bunny hosted KZOO's morning show, and was every bit as engaging in person as he was on the air. The pair had struck a rapport instantly, talking and laughing for practically the entire reception.
Michael had assured her that he didn't expect her to instantly settle down and start popping out kits. Though he did want to be a father one day, he had no desire to move out of the city. She'd appreciated his honesty, and confessed that she'd begun thinking about motherhood. Not on the same scale as her own mother, of course; three-hundred-plus kits was a terrifying concept. But two or three was an idea she could get behind. He'd agreed, emphasizing his support for her career as a police officer and noting that his own much-more-flexible schedule was far more conducive to parenthood.
In hindsight, Judy could understand why other mammals generally considered bunny first-date conversations to be a little...intense.
Life seemed to brighten after that. Judy didn't feel so lonely going home at night, Nick seemed to smile more than he smirked, and the faint but ever-present tension between them gradually eased away. Michael was the very definition of a gentlemammal; sweet and kind and probably more patient than she deserved. But although she liked him, her failed marriage left her more than a little skittish about investing in a new relationship. Soon enough, she found herself side-stepping any conversation that might lead to a long-term commitment and despite his easygoing nature she could tell that the buck was getting a little frustrated.
She tried to figure things out for herself, but kept hitting the same old walls.
And all of that had brought her to this moment, sitting in a quiet coffee shop across from the only mammal she could think of who'd really understand.
"I don't know what to do." She whispered. "You know I'm really not great with relationships."
Nick winced, silently reminding himself that Judy wasn't just referring to them. After all these years, their failed marriage still pained him - like the dull ache of an injury that never healed right. Sighing, he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "And you actually want my advice?"
"I want my best friend's advice, Nick." She replied, looking up at the fox. "Not my ex-husband's."
"Uh...okay." Nick's left ear twitched as he considered her situation. "It's hard to move on, but standing still is worse. You have to leave your pain in the past if you're going to have a future."
"Nick, are you just quoting fortune cookies?"
"No."
"Are you quoting Kira quoting fortune cookies?"
"Um...maybe."
"You know what? Forget it. I'll find someone else to talk to." She snapped as she got up to walk away. "Serves me right for thinking you'd take this seriously."
"No, wait! Carrots, wait up!" Running after her, he caught up just before she reached the door. "Okay, I know you said you didn't want it, but you're going to have to settle for your ex-husband's advice anyway."
"Nick, I..."
"Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?"
Allowing him to lead her back to their table, she dropped into her seat, crossed her arms, and glared at the fox expectantly.
"Look, our marriage fell apart because we took it for granted and didn't do the work it took to maintain it. Maybe in another life things could have gone differently, but just because we couldn't make it work doesn't mean it never will. I'll always love you, and any mammal that doesn't love you is a damn fool. But we had our shot and we screwed it up. It took me a long time to stop punishing myself for that, and I think it's time you did the same." He sighed. "What it comes down to is this; you are allowed to try again, and you are allowed to be happy. If you love Michael, you're allowed to be happy with him."
Simple as it was, Nick's declaration had been a missing puzzle piece for her; the brief snippet of conversation that finally allowed her to try and move on. Michael had proposed four months later, and Judy had been so happy to say yes.
Naturally, not long after that, the universe decided it was time to knock their world on its side once again.
"Carrots!" Nick was practically bouncing with joyful energy as he ran up to their shared desk. "CarrotsCarrotsCarrotsCarrots!"
Putting aside the case file she'd been reviewing, she eyed her partner curiously. "What's up?"
"Carrots, you're never gonna believe it!"
"Not if you don't tell me, Slick."
"I'm gonna be a dad!"
"You're what?"
"Kira's pregnant! We're having kits!"
"Nick, I..." She blinked dumbly as her brain sprinted to catch up with this latest development. "What?"
"Kira and I are having kits!" He shouted. "Someone other than Kira is gonna be calling me daddy!"
Ignoring his last comment and giving her head a brief shake, Judy gave him the biggest smile she could manage. "That's amazing, Nick. I'm really happy for you. And admittedly a little scared for your kits."
"Hey!"
Laughing at his indignation helped her pretend the tiny pang in her stomach was hunger. "So, how far along is she?"
"Two weeks, so there's still another six to go." He looked suddenly apprehensive. "Oh, god. Only six weeks. I've got so much to do! I have to kit-proof things! I have to kit-proof everything! What am I gonna do?!"
"Calm down, Nick. Just breathe."
"You calm down! Do you know how many dangerous things there are in our apartment? Because I don't! What if I miss something and one of the kits gets hurt! I'm the worst father in the world!"
Rolling her eyes, she grabbed hold of his snout and pulled him down to eye level. "Calm. Down."
Glaring at him, she realized that she hadn't seen his eyes this closely since...well, since he'd still been her husband. She almost forgotten about the tiny hints of gold hidden amongst the emerald green. As his breathing began to slow, each outgoing breath tickled her whiskers and she was suddenly aware of other things that were much closer than they'd been in a long time.
Deep in her belly, she felt another pang of...something. It was probably whatever she had for breakfast.
Releasing him, she took a step back and tried to compose herself. "I...er...sorry. You were kinda..."
"Freaking out?" He supplied. "Yeah...I guess it all sorta hit me at once."
"It's okay. Even with almost three hundred kits, my dad still went mental over every litter." Judy couldn't tell if he was unaffected by the awkwardness she felt, or if he was just better at hiding it. Either way, it wasn't the first time something had reminded her of their ill-fated marriage. It probably wouldn't be the last, either. "Just remember you're not in it alone. I'll be there whenever you need help."
The anxiety vanished from his face, replaced by a dangerously familiar smirk. "Actually, it's funny you should say that, because I had a question for you."
"You do?" She asked, suspicious of his sudden change in demeanor.
"Yup." He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "You feel like being a godmother again?"
"Godmother? Me?"
"Who else? I mean, I could ask Bogo, but I'm not sure the title would suit him."
"Wait, are you trying to hustle me into being godmother to your kits?"
"Sorta." He shrugged. "You're going to say yes anyway, so I just wanted to have some fun asking."
"Ugh...I am going to say yes, too." She crossed her arms and glowered at him. "Fine."
"Thanks, Carrots! You're the best!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"No, seriously." He knelt down, placing his paws on her shoulders and giving her a warm, genuine smile. "You're my best friend, Judy. I know we've been through a lot over the last few years, but I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."
Then he pulled her into a tight hug and Judy's stomach pinched once more. Deep down, she begrudgingly admitted that maybe it felt a little like jealousy.
For the next month, Nick was the very definition of the expectant father. He'd bought the best crib he could find, and while Judy was assembling it (after he gave up in frustration) he'd rushed around the apartment as he tried to kit-proof everything in sight. When he wasn't at home, he was either shopping for baby supplies or researching them online. He shared so many little facts and how-to's while they were patrolling that Judy almost forgot what it was like to talk about anything else. Between that and a hundred other preparations, the pregnancy seemed to pass in the blink of an eye...for everyone but Kira, at least.
All too soon – much too soon for Judy's liking, to be honest – the due date was nearly upon them and it was time for Nick to begin his parental leave. Watching her partner pack up his desk in preparation for his long absence, she quietly contemplated how she was going to keep herself occupied for the next eight weeks.
"So," Judy leaned back in her chair, idly toying with her pen. "By my count, Kira's due in a week?"
"Yeah." A warm smile crept across the fox's face. "Yeah, she is."
"How's she holding up?"
"She says she feels fine, but our doctor has some concerns." He waved off her worried expression. "Nothing too bad, but he's put her on mandatory bed rest from tomorrow up until the kits come, just in case."
"Heh...she must love that idea."
"She's not a fan, but she knows it's for the best. And since this may very well be our last opportunity for quite a while, I'm taking her out for dinner and dancing tonight. Well, dinner at least."
"Sounds very romantic." She pretended to frown. "Not really fair, though. I put in all that effort, and it's your second wife that reaps the benefits?"
Their shared laughter lasted a few seconds before they both realized what Judy had just said. Up till that moment, there had been an unspoken agreement between them; they could talk about their former marriage, but they weren't allowed to joke about it.
"I..." She began. "I just meant..."
Taking a risk, Nick interrupted her. "C'mon, Carrots. It wouldn't be the first time you did all the work and I'm the one who comes out looking awesome."
Another short silence followed as they both tried to get a grasp on what they were feeling.
"Well..." Judy smiled hesitantly. "You're on your own now, Slick. I'm Godmother to your kits, not you."
"Poor little things."
They shared another laugh, and finally it felt like the last weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Thinking back on their marriage, she was amazed to discover that the memories didn't hurt anymore.
"Hey Carrots, you busy tomorrow?"
Coming back to the present, she shook her head. "Nope. What's up?"
"Well, Kira's obviously not going anywhere, and she told me that if she catches me doing anymore kit-proofing around the house she'll kit-proof my head." He winced a little. "I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it sounds really unpleasant."
"You're probably right." She agreed with a laugh.
"Anyway, you want to hang out or something? It's feels like forever since we went to see a movie or rode the gondolas."
Judy couldn't help the grin that lit up her face. "I'd love to."
"Cool. I'll give you a call tomorrow then." He gave her a playfully stern look. "And don't stay here working all night."
"I won't."
"I'm serious. Michael would probably like to see you sometime this month."
"Get out of here!" She laughed, tossing a pencil at him. "Isn't there some helpless knocked-up vixen you should be bothering?"
"I'm going! I'm going!" Paws held up in surrender, he gave her a wink as he pushed the door open and backed out of the room. "G'night, Carrots."
"Good night, Nick."
Watching him leave, Judy felt a warm glow return to her heart. The last three years had been a long and painful road, but she and Nick were finally – finally – returning to the friendship they'd had so long ago. Their natural banter had returned, as had their knack for knowing what the other was thinking. In the last four months, their case closure rate had tripled. Unfortunately, that meant that their paperwork had tripled as well. That was why, three hours later, Judy was still hard at work when Chief Bogo approached her desk.
"Hopps." He said, surprising her. Although it wasn't uncommon to see him here late into the evening, he rarely left his office and routinely discouraged his officers from following his example.
"I know, sir. I just need to finish off a few things, then I promise I'll go home." Smiling sheepishly, she gestured to the stacks of paper that threatened to swallow her desk whole.
"Judy, stop."
It wasn't just that he'd used her first name. There was something in his voice, something she couldn't quite identify, that made her blood run cold. "Sir?"
"There's..." Bogo hesitated, lowering himself onto one knee. "There's been an accident."
The trip from the precinct to the hospital had been a featureless blur and Judy didn't remember all of it; a few facts just spun lazily through her numbed consciousness. An accident, Bogo had called it. Accident...such a bland, stupid word for what had happened.
A rhino who'd had a few too many drinks got behind the wheel, lost control of the vehicle, and had swerved into the patio of a Savanna Central Bistro. The restaurant, which catered to mid-sized mammals, had been fully booked that evening.
Over a dozen mammals had been killed in the crash. Over a dozen mammals – including two foxes.
Though the EMTs had tried their best, Nick had been declared dead as soon as he reached the hospital. Later, a doctor would gently tell her that he'd thrown himself over his wife in a desperate bid to protect her. The only comfort he could offer her was that the fox probably hadn't felt any pain.
Kira had been rushed into surgery, and the on-call surgical team had done everything in their power to save the kits - even after Kira herself had died. Although two of the kits had been killed instantly and the surgeons had been unsuccessful in resuscitating the third, the fourth and smallest of the litter had survived.
On the outside, she'd been the picture of calm. She'd nodded at all the right moments, asked the right questions, coolly made sure she had all the facts. Inside, she howled with rage and grief. Nicholas Wilde had been - and would always be - the love of her life, and he'd been so suddenly and cruelly ripped from the world that it felt like a piece of her heart had been carved out.
She pushed the anger and pain away, though; drove it down into a far-away part of her mind. Standing in the hospital's nursery, she gazed down at the bundle in her arms. She knew there would be plenty of tears to come, but that wasn't what this poor little fox needed right now.
"Hey there, little guy. I'm Judy. I'm... I'm your godmother." She fought to control her trembling voice. "I-I'm going to be taking care of you. I thought there'd be someone else, too...I mean, I didn't think it'd just be the two of us."
She fought back a wave of anger at the memory of her last conversation with Michael. Sweet as he'd been to her, the prospect of raising a fox kit had left a bad taste in her fiancée's mouth. He'd blithely suggested they turn the kit over to the city and wash their paws of the whole affair, and she'd slapped him hard enough to send him sprawling on the floor. All in all, it pretty effectively signaled the end of their relationship.
"Nick...your dad...he saved you." She gently brushed her paw over the newborn's cheek. "He was going to name you Christopher, and he gave his life to protect you."
She paused, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
"I've...uh...I've never taken care of a baby fox before, but I've got almost two hundred younger siblings so I'm pretty much an expert at taking care of baby bunnies. How different could it be?" For the kit's sake, Judy tried to smile. "I won't be the same as your mom and dad, but I promise I'll do the best I can."
The tiny fox let out a soft whine and began to sniffle.
"Shush now, it's okay." Judy murmured, finally losing the struggle with her own tears as she gently rocked the tiny mammal in her arms. "I promise, we're gonna be okay."