AN: I've had this written for...about eighteen months. I thought about continuing it, but could never figure out how. However, I felt the itch to publish something, so I thought this would do. It's barely beta'd, in that my friends read it, pointed out typos and gave feedback, but not much else. So, it's a bit rough. Kudos if you can guess the musical number that inspired this one-shot.

SUSPECTED ARSON IN DOWNTOWN ZOOTOPIA

At approximately 3:30am on Saturday night, Zootopia's records building caught fire in what firemammals have announced is a case of suspected arson.

No injuries or casualties were reported, but sources indicate that the building, which holds the records of all Zootopia's citizens from birth to death for the last one hundred years, is likely to be declared unsalvageable.

Mayor Swinton made a statement this morning. "The loss of such a historical building, and the historical value it held deeply saddens us. My administration will do all it can to bring these criminals to justice."

Since historians and record keepers have only recently tried to update their outdated system, it is still unknown whether past or present records will be discovered elsewhere.

While sources are reluctant to name mammals of interest, they admit several predator terrorists and activists are at the top of their suspect list.

Zootopia investigators will have a press update this afternoon at 4pm.

Officer Judy Hopps thought for sure she had been to every decent restaurant inside Zootopia's city limits, usually for some forced party or social occasion. Hal's Restaurant and Bar proved to be the rare exception.

It didn't take long to figure out why. Although in the middle of Sahara Square, it held a faintly tropical aesthetic, with palm trees shadowing the doorway at the entrance, dark wooden furniture, and a mist that sprayed from the ceiling. It was the kind of place middle-class couples went when they needed a break from their young, or lower management singletons could afford more than one drink. Not trendy enough for the wealthy circles she floated with to consider worthy of a visit, but too out of reach for most poor couples. Not to mention its limited space, with only enough room for fifty smaller mammals and probably half of those who were larger, kept the place quiet.

As Zootopia's first rabbit cop nursed her untouched hard cider at the bar, she uncomfortably acknowledged the other reason she had never been here before: most of the patrons were predators.

In fact, as far as she could see, she was the only mammal without a thick collar flashing bright green under the dim light. Though the other clientele gave her a wide berth, they stared at her with a mixture of resentment and curiosity that made Judy's nose twitch slightly into her tall glass.

Entirely to give herself something to do, Judy opened her purse. She then pulled out the note found under the mail slot of her apartment door during the weekend.

I have a proposition. Let's meet if you can slip away from your handlers.

Tuesday

9pm

Hal's Restaurant and Bar

I promise you'll be home before midnight.

N.W.

Judy unconsciously clenched her paw as she reread the phrase 'handlers'. It was true, had been true since she had arrived in Zootopia three years ago, the first of her class and her eyes wide with ideals.

Her eyes were less wide now.

The sender of the note had never asked to meet with her, and it wasn't like he had ever given her cause for alarm.

So, giving into curiosity, Judy crept out of her window, scurried down the fire escape ladder in her nice-but-not-too-nice blue dress, and called a Zuber to drive her here.

Merely escaping under her minders filled her with an excitement higher than it had any right to be. She could do it more often in the future, now that she realized how easy it was.

Judy traced the initials of the note with her finger. She knew who they stood for, and the memory of him filled her with exasperation, interest, and…something warm she wasn't willing to name.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, Judy heard his voice low in her ear. "Well, as I live and breathe…the First Bunny Cop not surrounded by her entourage? I'm shocked."

She turned as a red fox in an inexpensive suit climbed into the empty stool beside her. Like all predators, he wore a collar flashing bright green, but the green of his eyes grabbed her attention more readily, so that she hardly noticed it.

"Mr. Wilde," she said, smiling. Not the automatic, forced smile that had become second nature when someone recognized her, but a true one that needed no prompting.

"Carrots, I told you, it's Nick." The fox tapped the bar, and the jackal bartender slid a glass towards him so quickly it must've been waiting for him. Judy recognized the amber color and the sweet, woody smell as whisky.

"And I'm Judy," she said, rolling her eyes. "Not Carrots. Or did you get amnesia?"

He smirked before sipping his drink. "Well, if you're gonna be all formal, I could call you Officer Hopps?"

"Formality? From you? That would be a shock." Judy smiled into her glass as she drank as well.

"Admit it, you like my informality," Nick teased. "And I like seeing you undone."

Judy forced down a blush. "You haven't seen me undone yet, Wilde."

"Not for lack of trying."

"And here I thought you were a gentlemammal."

"Well, not gentle enough, usually."

"Hmm. My mother warned me about the 'Big Bad Fox'. I just didn't know he'd be drinking scotch and wearing a lapel."

"Tempted, Officer Hopps?"

Judy raised an eyebrow but took another drink without answering, the heat finally escaping to her ears. Nick smirked at her silence, and she didn't resent his smugness at winning this round.

"Does this place remind you where we first met, Carrots?" he asked.

"Jumbeax's Ice Cream opening?" she said with a laugh. "Not really."

"That's where we first saw each other." It had been her first Grand Opening invitation, and their eyes had met, just for a few moments before he disappeared among the crowd. "I'm talking about that bar in Downtown, before you needed a babysitter."

She swallowed quietly as he moved his arm and touched the side of it to hers. "The Velvet Antler," said Judy quietly. "Yes, I remember." She tried not to recall how she had been unwilling to drink in his presence. "You called me a naïve hick."

Since that night, their encounters were usually unexpected, and while usually too brief, Nick always left an impression.

"And you were," he said without remorse. His arm kept in contact with hers, but she didn't move it, and she almost missed his mocking smile. "But look where you are now!"

She ignored this last statement as she gazed around the room. "Hal's is smaller than that place," she said. "How long ago was that?"

"Almost...three years?"

"That long already?"

"Time flies, doesn't it, Carrots?" To her disappointment, he removed his arm.

Instead of replying, she took another gulp of her drink to cool the heat that slid like melted caramel through her body.

"So…are you still trying to make the world a better place?" he asked. Judy detected a note of irony in Nick's voice.

"I'm trying," she said automatically, like a robot with a programmed answer.

"It's funny how you seem to be everywhere. Ribbon-cutting ceremonies, concerts, film openings, baseball playoffs…" He smirked again. "But never doing cop stuff."

Judy tried to force down the hurt his words gave her as she shrugged noncommittally.

"Seems to me your skills are being wasted."

Judy sighed. "You wrote to me about some kind of proposal. So what did you want?"

"Just making small talk, Carrots."

"Well, I prefer you get to the point, Nick." She turned to him, her expression arch. "Or should I say Piberius?"

The fox she knew as Nick paused his glass on the way to his muzzle for a fraction of a second, but otherwise hid his surprise. "Well," he said with a chuckle, "I always knew you were smarter than the ZPD gave you credit for."

"You won't deny it?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, mammals being accused of being a criminal usually do."

"I was going to tell you, eventually. You merely stole my thunder." He finished the rest of his glass. "And criminal is a strong word."

"Some would call you a terrorist. That's even stronger."

"Why? Because some building caught on fire?" He rolled his eyes as he tapped for more scotch, which the jackal bartender promptly obliged. "No one died."

"They were official records."

"So they could keep track of the number of predators and prey within the city." Nick snorted. "Regardless, that wasn't me or mine, actually."

"No?" Judy tried to keep the hopefulness out of her voice.

"No." He took another swig of his drink. "That was probably Predators For Action. The faction I'm in is more subtle, prefer the shadows."

"Like notes under doors?"

"Speaking of which—" He pulled the note out from under Judy's purse. "I'll take that."

"Hey!"

The fox leaned back out of reach and stuck the note inside his jacket. "Relax. Once I burn this, there's no evidence I sent you anything. No one will be the wiser."

Judy stopped struggling for the paper. "Oh," she said dumbly.

"Oh." Nick rolled his eyes. "Most mammals say 'thank you', when someone tries to keep them out of trouble."

"Why?"

"It's good manners."

"No, I mean, why are you trying to help me?"

He looked at his glass, then ignored her question. "To be honest, Carrots," he said instead, "there was some doubt you'd come."

"I needed to know if you were Piberius."

"And now you do." His smile was half-calculating, half-curious. "So what're you gonna do now? Cry out for help?"

Judy didn't answer.

"I didn't think so." The fox raised an eyebrow. "And if you did, who would answer? I know the owner, so that leaves you alone."

Judy glanced around and realized to her surprise that the restaurant was completely empty except for the two of them and the jackal barmammal. Everyone else seemed to shuffle out without her realizing it. She tried to hide the slight tension that clutched her innards as she told herself that Nick had never given her cause to fear him.

"Hal's is usually closed on Tuesday," said Nick, "but as I said, I know the barman. And I've got a crew outside ready for any surprises."

"Crew?"

"Eh, my Merry Mammals of sorts."

"You don't look like a Robin Hood."

"Oh, I'm not." Nick snapped his fingers, and the Jackal slid an ashtray down the bar that he caught deftly. He pulled out a package of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. "Smoke?" he asked politely.

Judy shook her head, and he lit up. The smell was tangy, but not as acrid as she expected. "So, you're going to kidnap me for ransom or something?" she asked dryly.

"There's a thought," the fox laughed, nearly choking on his drag. "What d'you think we'd get for you, Carrots?"

Judy said nothing as she finished her cider. The truth was, she wasn't sure. She was 'the face of the ZPD', but she knew Chief Bogo was just as hopeful to get her out of his horns most days. "What do you want?" she demanded again, her tone snappish.

"As my note said, I have a proposition for you." He tapped his claws on the bar, and the bartender filled Judy's glass.

She frowned, holding off taking a drink. "What kind of proposition?"

"A chance to do more." The fox took a drag of his cigarette. "To be a real cop."

"I am a real cop."

"You're a pet," said Nick bluntly, tapping ash into the tray. "A fluff-covered songbird they can bring out to have everyone stare at and coo—before sticking her back in her cage and out of the way."

The words were a gut punch, though not untrue. Despite what some thought, she wasn't stupid.

No matter. She'd string herself up before she let it show.

"But I could help you escape out of that cage," Nick said, leaning in closer.

Judy straightened determinedly, pretending his proximity held no effect. "How?"

"You know who I am, so you know my work."

She shrugged. "You're trying to get rid of the predator collars."

"Oh, more than that, Carrots." There was a hard glint in his eye. "PFA might blow up buildings, but my weapon of choice is information."

"What kind of information?"

"The blackmailable kind." When she didn't reply, he leaned forward eagerly. "The politicians, the bureaucrats, the police—we find out what the dirty ones are up to and get them to do what we want. Or grease the right palms for them to go to bat for us. Or fund the right predators. You think the three predators on the council are an accident? We chose them especially."

"I'm prey. Why do you want me to help?"

"I saw you at Morris Koslov's birthday party, remember?"

Judy said nothing. Boris Koslov was, on the surface, a respected business mammal. And it was an open secret that he was one of the most powerful beings in Zootopia. His son, Morris, was turning seven, a milestone year for predators. As a celebrity, they invited her to his taming party, her first ever. Nick had been there too, and they even spoke briefly before Koslov put the collar on the poor cub's neck.

"I watched your face when little Morris got too excited at his own party." His muzzle was in her ear now. "You didn't like it."

She swallowed, remembering Morris's look of confusion and fear at his father as he felt the jolt for the first time. "No," she admitted quietly, finally drinking her cider.

Nick pulled back. "I know you've been visiting records down at the precinct and snooping in the archives." His smile was a smirk, but there was almost a gleam of something like approval in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

"I thought I was being careful," she muttered.

"I know everyone, everywhere." He snuffed out the cigarette. "You know from your little research project that collars were a product of bupkis. But we need your help to do something about it."

Judy took another sip, chortling. "That's crazy. You're crazy."

"You were crazy once, too. Crazy enough to become a cop."

"And look at me now." Her smile was the most forced yet. "A celebrity for the ZPD. I'm even compensated enough to be wealthy even."

"But not a real cop."

Judy stared at her glass. "No," she admitted quietly. Had she ever admitted it out loud before?

"Don't you want to do more?"

"Through you?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't that rile everyone up? 'First Bunny Cop Joins Vigilante!'" Her laugh was mirthless. "I'd definitely lose my Key to the City award."

"And that's how you'd rather stay? Schmoozing with the upper crust and reading off a teleprompter?"

"It's not like I didn't try, you know." She wasn't sure if it was the cider or reality that was making emotions well within her. "I tried so many times to jump on a case or save someone or…anything. But they…the handlers always stopped me." She sighed. "In the end, it was this or being a meter maid. I thought I could at least put a friendly face on the ZPD."

"You're so much more than a spokesmammal, Judy." He put a paw on hers and leaned in close again.

"Am I?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

"I know you are."

She wanted to believe him, to believe the way he was looking at her, heartfelt and open, was genuine.

"What would I need to do?" she found herself murmuring.

His smile was warm and sincere and made her insides melt. Then he reached up to his collar and, to her utter shock, wrenched it off, before placing it on the bar as he rubbed and stretched his neck luxuriously. "That's better," he groaned.

Judy blinked. "How—?"

"We found a way." He leaned forward, and for an exciting moment, she thought he might give her a kiss.

"Come with me," he went on, his voice deep and earnest. "You know mammals we don't. Can get to places we can't. Better still, you know the system. And you could use it to make a difference."

Her ideals warred for dominance over her dissatisfaction and anger. Whatever Nick had planned was surely wrong, right? Despite how its leaders treated her, she was still honor bound to protect and serve the city.

But what if she could do all that, only through his way? Mammals that forced electric collars on others were surely a detriment to the city as any criminal?

She found herself smiling. "If I do this, me and my information won't come cheap."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Why, Carrots—I didn't think you had it in you."

"Just 'cause you serve a good pitch doesn't mean I'll simply roll over."

His grin was approving. "Fair enough. What do you want?"

"A piece of the proceeds I know you help yourself to." At his oddly blank look, she rolled her eyes. "You scrape a little off the top of almost every semi-legit business in this city. Something else I noticed in my 'research'. It's how you fund your entire operation." She touched the ruff of fur on his chest sticking out of his suit, though her face was steel. "I want ten percent."

"You gotta be joking," said Nick with a snort, though his nose was flaring with interest. "I'd give you two. Maybe."

"Eight, then." Her paw reached to pet the fur on his neck where the collar had been.

"Three."

"Six."

"F-Four." He stumbled as her paw drifted up to his muzzle.

"Five."

He paused, clearing his throat as Judy's other paw drifted to the other side of his face. Then he nodded. "Five." He leaned forward—

Judy grinned, and dropped her paws to grab her cider, then motioned Nick to pick up his scotch. He blinked, then after a moment he gave her a wry smile and did so.

Before they could clink them, Judy suddenly drew hers back. "Oh, and two more things."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You want more?"

"I won't trade one cage for another," she stated firmly. "I wanna be out there working with you. "

Nick stared at her for a moment, then nodded. "And the second?"

"If the government discovers my involvement, my family will be in danger," she said. "I want protection for them if things go to scat."

He blinked. "You're joking."

"Nope."

"All...how many did you say? That night at the Oasis Hotel?"

"Two hundred and eighty-seven siblings."

Nick laughed. "Rutting hell. You think I can do that?"

"You'll manage it if you want me in." Her foot gently tapped his, her face heating at the unintended word choice.

He smirked. "Ohhh, I do."

"Then we have an agreement?"

After a long moment, he nodded. "Alright. Agreed."

Judy smiled as they clinked glasses and drank, sealing the deal.

"And you have yourself an ally," she said smugly. She felt unburdened for the first time in three years, and it filled her with an exhilaration she had never quite known.

"An expensive one," Nick said with a slight roll of his eyes. "What do you need five percent for, anyway?"

"That's my business," she said firmly. She had plans of what to do with her share, but he didn't need to know them now. "But I can guarantee I'll be worth it."

Nick smiled. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile. "You don't need to tell me that, Carrots."

That warm feeling filled her from tip to tail. She could've kissed him at that moment, but she held back. Instead, she lifted her glass again. "To making a difference," she said.

He clicked his glass against hers. "And then some."

A/N: If your answer for the inspiration was "The Other Side" by The Greatest Showman, congrats! I admittedly haven't seen the original movie, but this song popped in my YouTube suggestions one day and this scene came to me. Like I said, I know this feels like an opening chapter, and one day I may come back to it if something inspires me, but as of right now, I don't have any plans to continue. As always, thanks to Noc, she_dies_at_the_end, and paintkettle for their feedback and encouragement.