Unconfident Hugs.

Sleep was a fitful, fickle thing for the rest of the night.

Unlike when Nick had first gone to bed, the covers were no longer tucked around him. Nor was the presence of the matronly vixen he loved more than anything at his side. The little fox had chosen to go back to his own room despite how much he wanted to sleep in his mom's room; his fear of waking her up and distressing her was simply too great.

The only consolation was how he had awoken that morning. Even partly asleep he could feel himself being moved. Lifted up and held and relocated to somewhere more comfortable to both his mind and instincts.

It was reminiscent of when he was younger and smaller. A time when he would wake unexpectedly in the middle of the night and seek out his mom for comfort. His mother would always pick him up without complaint after he woke her, and would quietly carry him to their apartment's den. And then, in his father's old rocking chair, and with a low, placating hum, she would rock him back to sleep.

And that was what he thought he was feeling now.

After being carried from his bed, Nick was slowly waking to the gentle back-and-forth of that old chair and the sound of soft, peaceful humming.

Tired green eyes opened to their nearly empty den, soft, familiar red fur in their peripherals.

…Momma?

Nick cleared his throat with a quiet cough, as he mentally gathered his bearings. Little fingers dug into the soft, long fur around him, and his snout, as if by second nature, scented for the lilac perfume it was used to.

When his nose found purchase in the crook of her neck, there was no doubt now that he was being held by his mother.

Before he had even awoken, his arms had already been clinging around her neck and the underside of his maw had already found purchase on her shoulder.

Nick put together that at some point and for some reason that his mom had sought him out and had carried him into their den this early morning. He was unsure why, though. A little piece of him worried that perhaps she had found his soiled pajamas in the laundry shute, or that she heard him shower. Those ideas bothered him a little bit.

But they were worries that were quickly forgotten. Indeed, right now they couldn't bother Nick for very long at a moment like this. He was in the same consoling position she had always held him when he was little, and after everything else that night this was what he needed more than anything.

It was… soothing. Like a balm that took away a wasp's sting. His eyes shut in something akin to contentment as the chair rocked back and forth and his mother hummed the same tune she had hummed since he could remember.

There was a second, a very brief second of his hazy consciousness, where Nick believed that this moment was back then when he was younger. A second of deja vu; a time where he woke up and was four or five years old again. When his life and emotions didn't feel so warped and confusing.

Forgotten in that second were the Ranger Scouts and the nightmares and his fear and hurt. As if all of that had been a dream and right now was the age of hugs from his mom and stories from his dad.

But it had been just that. A second of time.

Nick's ears pinned back. There was a sniffle they picked up from above him, and ever so quietly as they honed in, a choked sob from the vixen holding him could be heard. It was then that he felt her paws settle on a particularly sore spot behind his right ear where she undoubtedly felt one of his more stubborn bruises.

"...Two weeks and it's still this bad…" It had been nothing more than the smallest of hoarse whispers… And yet… he heard it.

And as quickly as that second of reminiscent tranquility had come, it was over.

In its place, that whirlwind of uncertainty, though nill in Nick's outward appearance, was already beginning to brew on the inside once more.

Though he remained utterly still, his heart beat like a drum at his mom's distress. His grogginess, though still present, was giving way to anxiety at record speed.

There were many ways Nick wanted to react to hearing his mom's hurt. The brave part of the little fox, though ever so reclusive these last weeks, wanted to speak up:

Don't cry Momma! It's not your fault. None of it is-

But, Nick was quick to stop his lips from their silent wording…

It wasn't that he didn't believe those words, or that he didn't desire to be brave in speech for his mom. Both things he very much wanted. But… for the same reason he hadn't spoken since the attack, he couldn't speak now.

He simply had no power. Not in his throat or in the words that would come out of it. When it came from his mouth, from around his sharp teeth…

-Your words can't help. His brain spoke over his bravery. It's just not possible.

He could only agree with the cynical thought.

But… there was another part of him that had an idea,

His timid love spoke up next,

Maybe if we just- if- if we can hold her like sh- she does for us…

His arms were already moving ever so carefully in their sleepy haze to squeeze tighter around her, his whole body agreed that a hug might help…

But his mind had other thoughts on it.

It was true that hugs always used to cheer her up on rough days, and when she hugged him it would always make him feel better too…

The problem was that since the attack, although her hugs still made him feel better… he wasn't so sure they worked the same anymore with her.

She cried so bad that night… Nick remembered.

He stifled a sniff as he thought about when she found him in that back alley behind Troop 914. The way he had clung to her- had hugged her- for dear life had made her cry more than he had ever seen her cry before.

And since that night, he couldn't say he felt good enough to be the one to initiate a hug again.

It was enough for his brain to confirm those concerns, You might hurt her if you try to hug her like that. Just like then.

He swallowed an instinctual whine. More than anything, he wanted to hug her to make her feel better, but that scared part of him had a really good point. His arms loosened and settled back before she would notice what he was trying to do.

He wouldn't hug her right now, either.

The only other idea that he had to make her feel better was to pretend to still be asleep.

To not cry or react or do anything that might make her feel sadder. Just to remain quiet and good. It wasn't a perfect plan since she was clearly already sad, but he didn't know what else to do. And at the very least, he could use this time to think of a way to make her happy again.

So that's what Nick went with.

For the next several minutes he kept his eyes and mouth shut, and his body still.

As he did so, he felt and listened to everything his mother did. The way she would move her paw through the fur on his head and neck, every small mutter of concern or worry, every sob and inspection of a bruise, and even the way her heartbeat would jump in pace when she touched the scabbing flesh around his snout.

He stayed still for all of it, but he hadn't thought of anything to make her feel better.

And then, he heard the telephone ring.

It had been unexpected for him, but clearly not his mother. She was quick and careful to answer the telephone on the first ring to prevent disturbing him, still unaware that he was pretending to sleep.

He could feel her voice shake a bit as she started to talk, careful to clear out her sobs, yet remain soft in tone as to not wake him,

"Hello? Y-yes- this is her. Yes we'll be moving in by the end of the week-"

She's talking about the move… Nick realized, anxiety quietly spiking, as well as his ears.

There was a hesitancy in his mom's voice after his small motion, and for a second Nick thought she must've seen his ears perk up in awareness, but before that thought could be confirmed, she spoke again.

"No…" There was a sniffle from his mom, "No, he's still not speaking."

The sobs he heard from her earlier paled to the brokenness in her voice in that one sentence. It was enough for him to bite his lip in sorrow, and ever so slightly dig his face into her shoulder. He was especially sorry for that.

It was clearer now that she wasn't just talking about the move. He hoped she didn't notice that he was awake and listening.

But it seemed he worried for nothing. The telephone conversation continued unaware of the extra listener,

"Y-yes. We would like your first available appointments." Another small gap in the conversation occurred. "Then is fine."

Numbers were exchanged next, followed by an apology from his mom as she explained that their number would soon change as they moved, but would be quick to call with a new number and reconfirm an appointment.

A Doctor's appointment. Nick put together. For me…

Nick's tummy began to hurt knowing this. Fear of the unknown was settling, and the prospects of meeting someone about what happened frightened him greatly. I don't want to do that…

But before that could be dwelled on, the phone conversation took an unexpected turn. Nick's ears perked again, this time in slight fear as he heard a near-hostile tone enter his mom's voice,

"One last thing, since I have you on the line and not your staff, doctor." There was a small delay in her speech, presumably from an equally worried mammal on the other end of the line before she spoke again, "I need to know right now that my son won't have any trouble in your care just because of what we are."

Nick felt as if he could hear a pin drop right then. The air felt thick in the silence. His mother's arms, though just as kind to him as always, oozed a tension and a minor shaking similar to prepared anger, as if they were ready to be harbingers of wrath and reach through the phone at what the other mammal might say next.

Even a little part of Nick was concerned for whoever was on the other end of the line.

And then, his mother's words came to a head, "Because…" She bit through her words in a held back, yet almost teary desperation, "I think we've dealt with that enough, already, doctor."

There was another long gap, a breath could be heard through the other end of the line and a feminine voice, though Nick couldn't make out the words, softly but surely spoke back to his mom.

And then that was it. Almost instantly, the tension deflated.

"Thank you, that's good to hear." His mother said, a deep, relieved breath following her words.

And as if she hadn't almost growled at the other mammal just a moment before, she continued with the call, even so much as balancing the phone between the side of her head and her shoulder.

The rest of the conversation was mundane, not a trace indicating the intensity of her tone the moment before. A date was discussed again and reconfirmed, names of family members (some he hadn't even heard of) were listed, as well as other bits of information were exchanged.

Most of that was lost on Nick, however.

What he was focused on was how his mom gripped his body just a little firmer with her free paws at that moment. She had begun hugging him tightly in the final stretch of her call, much how he wanted to hug her when she had touched his injuries.

This sparked a short debate within the fox:

Maybe she won't be upset if I let her know I'm awake now… And maybe… maybe it's okay if I hug her too… right?

The brave and loving parts of Nick were pleading for those things, but his ears pinned in uncertainty at those ideas. His brain was in a moot about how to proceed. Would it hurt her? Would it make her happy? What if-

But all mental debate came to a halt at the feeling of her left paw going back to hold the phone.

There was disappointment right then. She wasn't gripping him in the same way now. He had missed his chance to hug her back.

Or at least he had thought so, until his mom's one arm gripped him tighter, and then, lightly, Nick felt a ruffling on the top of his head as his mother scent marked him.

It was right then that he knew that she knew he was awake. Even if she hadn't right before then, his ears had perked involuntarily at the familial action, and his tail had wagged in a burst of unexpected happiness. They were actions she no doubt caught right then.

There wasn't much choice now.

His small muzzle dared to leave the comfort of the resting place at her collarbone, and green eyes, wavering but hopeful, were brave enough to look up to meet his mother's gaze.

It was as if a great weight had left Nick's shoulders at what met his sight. Though she was on the phone, her attention was on him. That sad worry still tinged her soft, tired blues, something that would always leave a small guilty feeling in his chest. But overshadowing that, his mother also wore a small, hopeful smile as she stared back at him.

Something had made her happy.

And that was enough for him, right then. The little fox tightened his grip around her before resting against her chest. He was hugging her back.

At least for that moment, the little fox's anxiety was gone. The early morning quickly seemed to fade back out, and for the little fox, it would stay that way until noon.

Slowly drifting to sleep, a real sleep this time, Nick listened to the lulling nature of his mother's voice. His eyes closed contentedly, the last thing filling his mind was the soothing sound of his mother's voice and the funny name he heard at the end of the call,

"Me and Nicky look forward to meeting you at the end of the week, Dr. Hopps."