EDUCATING AN IDIOT LESSON 3

[Sigh.]

So. I'm back. I know I said I wouldn't be, but the way I see it, this story ends two ways. Either decides to stop being smart and learn, in which case my being here is tactically advantageous, or everything I'm trying to teach goes down the drain, he ends up in the slammer and I walk away. In which case, this is all a massive waste of time. I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.

[Sigh.]

So, to recap, for the record, my name is Andrea. I'm trying to teach a colleague how to do his job properly. He's pretty good at it already to be honest, except for one thing. One big, glaring, flashing sign that reads 'ARREST ME NOW' kind of problem. His face.

I mean, it's not a bad face, as faces go. On a scale of 1 to 10. Not awful. Ugh, whatamidoing, start again.

His face would be fine, great even, if he could control the damn thing. It's like a puppy he refuses to leash. I need to teach him emotional control before he gets killed.

His name is Nicholas Wilde. We've had two sessions so far over a period of about a month, both followed by long periods of me swearing and trying not to break things. The guy just can't get it, his heart is glued to his sleeve. I mean he tries. He is very trying. And the puns. Oh God, the puns. If I ever kill myself, know it wasn't the noose that got me. It was the goddamn puns.

Anyway, what follows is a transcript I made of the latest meeting. I'm not sure why I'm doing this. I don't like not knowing. It makes me feel all raw and exposed.

I suppose I'll just have to stick with him until I find out.

Oh, joy.

…

[I chose Mazzeo Park this time. 9pm, the bench by the Pride Rock monument. Partly because the crowd offers decent cover, partly because I want to see how Nicky reacts to the 'shifty nocturnal' stereotypes. The old donkey, Eddie Duncan, who owns the paper stand across the square, is also the most-stuck-in-his-ways speciesist I've ever had he displeasure of meeting.

And the 'couple on a date' image is good cover too.

I arrive an hour early and take up the usual position behind mom's favorite the big oak in the corner. He arrives about half an hour later, textbook casual. Sits himself down on the bench and slings his backpack next to him to save me space. Even brought himself something to read - Oh, you're shitting me. Spider-Mammal comics. Just when I thought he couldn't sink any lower. The Reynard fancies himself a damn superhero. I've got my work cut out for me.

He does a masterful job of scanning the crowd, if that's what he's doing. He could end up teaching me a thing or two. Did he spot me behind the tree? No way to really tell.

I walk across and sit next to him, and suddenly that casual calm was never there. He lights up like a Christmas tree. We need to work on emotional repression.]

Conversation transcript:

ME: Don't look at me.

DUMBASS: Easier said than done, Rae [Really?!]

ME: Well, you're going to have to learn.

DUMBASS: Mmmhm. Saw you playing tree hugger over there, by the way.

[Jumped up little shit.]

ME: That's not the point. I know you have eyes. I know you can read people. I'm here to make sure people can't read you.

[Old Eddie Duncan is already giving us those 'I know what you really are' looks from his stand.]

DUMBASS: Yeah, I understand. But we've been through this like, twice already, so can we skip the spinning rims this time?

ME: [Indicating] What's in the bag?

DUMBASS: [Ears flattening] What? Nothing!

[He grabs at the backpack and stuffs it between his legs like I'll steal it. It makes a noise like a rain stick and I have my answer. Never figured him for a pill popper. That's a whole new level of stupid. Not wasting my time on this one if he's a junkie. Seen too many others waste away. Still, could I use the drug angle as leverage?]

ME: Alright, fine. You want to ride without stabilizers? Don't come complaining to me when you crash.

[I get up and cross the square to Eddie's paper stand. Nicky gets up and follows, doing a fair job of hiding the spring is his step. Think I might have scared him off being too openly enthusiastic about me after that beaver comment. Shame. Good. He's genuinely happy to be doing something instead of just practicing putting his mask on. Ignorance is bliss.

He falls into step beside me, and we take a wide, wandering path round the square to Eddie, who's already battening down the hatches in preparation for a fight.]

ME: [Leaning my elbow on Eddie's counter, just to rile him up, and facing Nicky.] You like Spider-Mammal comics, right? This'll have to do.

DUMBASS: [I can see the cogs turning; he knows I have an angle, but like I've been telling him, knowing something's there is pointless if you don't know what it is.] Yeah, OK. [He turns to Eddie, who's looking him up and down like he's something nasty stuck to the underside of his shoe.] You got any comic-books, pal?

[Big mistake. Implying he's friendly with preds is the best way to get on Eddie's bad side. He draws himself up indignantly.]

EDDIE: No I don't have any goddamn comic books, and if I did I wouldn't sell them to the likes of you.

DUMBASS: The likes of me. [His voice is dead calm, and his body's doing a decent impression of relaxed. It's almost perfect, except his ears. they're flat as paper. We'll need to work on that.]

EDDIE: Yeah. You and your kind. Filthy beasts. Y'know I've had this stall for twenty years? I was here when five of you bastards gang raped a jogger only thirty meters down the path there.

[He stabs a finger down the offending path. Nicky goes rigid as a board, but he doesn't crack. He takes a deep breath and freezes his mask in place. He's learning.

He glances my way, and I nod. He has to at least try to get through a full conversation, otherwise we're wasting time.

Honestly, I didn't expect Eddie to pull out the big guns so early, but the Mazzeo Park Five have always been a sore spot with him. When it happened, he refused to sell papers that questioned the Five's guilt. Has a personal vendetta against anyone protesting their innocence.]

EDDIE: You're all the same, you preds. You breed anarchy.

DUMBASS: Can I have my comic now? [He knows not to argue with someone this speciesist, trying to get out of it quickly. Good boy. His mask is proving pretty watertight.]

EDDIE: No! How dare you come here and press yourself on decent, hardworking folks.

DUMBASS: Like you. [Nice and even. Quite impressive, really.]

EDDIE: Exactly. I'm surprised you can recognized that, with a mother like yours.

DUMBASS: My mother? [Shit. His mom's obviously a soft spot; now he's clinging to that mask by the tips of his fingers.]

EDDIE: Yeah. She a whore? I'm assuming she's a whore because you're a fox.

[Nicky breaks and his claws scrape deep furrows in Eddie's counter. Eddie brays and moves to hit him but I get there first. My claws dig into the groove between his hoof and his skin and I watch as his insides ice over. I don't even fight the satisfaction that gives me. Bastard. Whores? What the fuck does he know?]

ME: Pleasure not doing business with you. C'mon, Nicky.

[We retreat to the bench and leave Eddie to nurse his hoof. I shouldn't have hurt him. I shouldn't have called Nicky by name. Control. It's just... Bastard. Whores? What the fuck does he know?

Nicky looks at me like a puppy that's just been kicked. He's really good at it, the sympathy thing. Those eyes, too; warm and just the right hint of inviting.]

DUMBASS: So, teach. How'd I do?

ME: Not awful. But you need to be prepared for when they kick it up to eleven like that. Always barricade your doors more than you have to.

DUMBASS: How?

ME: Start with your breathing. Take a second to center yourself, then take everything one step at a time. [Pause as he tries to steady himself. His claws slide back in with an audible chink.] You have a connection to the Park Five?

DUMBASS: My parents always used it as a cautionary tale. Even if you're innocent, never get involved in something that can make you look guilty. [He trails off. Neither of us point out what we're doing now is exactly what his parents warned against.] It always angered me, it always seemed so unfair. What about you? Any sob stories?

ME: I don't bother with that stuff. Emotions make you sloppy [Like just now.] Getting upset about something you can't change is illogical and inefficient. It can get you killed. [He stares and it's like I can see right through him into his head. Robot. Freak. Embarrassment uncurls itself and crawls round my stomach on unsteady, unsure legs. Back to work.] You do drama studies at school?

DUMBASS: [Surprised, but he rolls with it.] For a little bit. I kind of got kicked out for calling out thier speciesism.

[Jesus. He tries to hide it, but this kid would jump in front of a train for the cause. I could use that blind idealism.]

ME: Well, just imagine everything's a huge act. You're playing a part.

DUMBASS: Yeah, but that'll be for next lesson. [I consider pressing on anyway, but the guy's gone through a lot already, and I'm not at my best either. I don't want to push him away.] After all that stress I'm really tired. I need a lullaby

ME:A what?

DUMBASS: (Fluttering eyelashes) Sing me a lullaby?

ME: No.

DUMBASS: Oh come -

ME: No

DUMBASS: Plea-

ME: I will walk away.

DUMBASS: Didn't your mom ever sing you lullabies when you were with her? You said you stayed until you were four. That's perfect lullaby age.

[Damn. I slip once and he commits it to memory. Mental note to be more guarded in the future. This one's even wilier than he looks. It'd be sweet if it wasn't so dangerous.]

ME: My mom was a Vixen.

DUMBASS: I'd be worried if she wasn't.

ME: A professional Vixen.

[That's it. Compromised. Even after last time. How does this guy get to me?]

DUMBASS: Oh.

ME: [Rising to go] Class dismissed.

DUMBASS: [Looking down, at the paws clenched in his lap] The pills are for my mom. Doc says she needs psychiatric help, but we can't afford that. I'm barely scraping ends meat with my job at BugaBurga.

[When Finnley found out about Slick Nick working at BugaBurga, he nearly busted a gut. I had to stop him going down there and taking pictures of Red in that stupid uniform with the mosquito hat. I told Finn it was to keep Nicky's head in the game and stop any more shit between them. But honestly, sometimes the guy looks like he'd scatter to the wind if you blew on him too hard. And you now what wolves are like with their huffing and puffing. I don't like the idea of him breaking.

Also, what is it with this guy and bearing his soul to me? I give him a quarter and he cleans out the bank. Useful thing to keep in mind for getting leverage later.]

DUMBASS: [Looking up and smiling slightly - there must be a rebellious something on my face.] Watch it, Andrea. You're scarily close to having an illogical, inefficient emotional response.

ME: Shut it.

DUMBASS: Y'know, if you're having problems with controlling your emotions, there are few things I've learned that you could try...

ME: Seriously.

DUMBASS: [Grinning, but I don't think it's in a dickish way.] Seriously! I mean, take your breathing. If you take a second to center, and then take everything one step at a time. Tell me, did you do drama at high school?

ME: OK, enough. [I sit back down.] What was your take from our last job?

DUMBASS: A... satisfied conscience?

ME: [I don't even bother to cover up the eye-roll] Well, next time make sure you grab yourself something.

DUMBASS: I thought rule one was not to piss Pryde off.

ME: Pryde doesn't give shit what we do on the side so long as his job gets done.

DUMBASS: I thought the whole point of what we're doing is to fight predator prejudice, not encourage it.

ME: [Go straight for the heart. Hit him where he lives.] For your Mom. Class dismissed.

[I get up and walk away, not even trying to ditch him. It wouldn't work. He will, though. When he's motivated, that fox can work wonders. The key is getting at him. I might have to drop him a few more breadcrumbs if he's going to open up again. But I have to make sure I'm balanced first. At this rate he's doing more work on me than I am hm.]

...

One, two, three...

Three, six, nine...

The train jostled angrily on it's tracks, and Nick found himself marveling at how heavy a sleeper Judy was. The wheels squealed like a tortured pig, but she just snuffled slightly, adjusting her head on his shoulder. He supposed she'd learnt to grab what sleep she could, growing up on a farm where you rose earlier than the sun each morning.

He shuddered involuntarily at the thought. 4am mornings and hitting the hay before the sun had set. Hay. Oh God, what if he had to sleep in the barn? He was fairly sure good ol' Stuart wouldn't want him sleeping anywhere near his kits. Nick couldn't bring himself to blame him.

Seven, eight, nine...

Twenty-one, twenty-four, twenty-seven...

He glanced around the carriage for a distraction, and found himself caught in the crossfire of a dozen stares. Judy's parents and his own mother were giving him the same look; like he might accidently break the bunny slumped against his side.

In his head, the parade continued round and round. What was he really? What had he accomplished? Petty thievery. Swindling. Even his job, protecting the city and helping people, that had all come from her. He'd just been along for the ride, really. Stu and Bonnie had been going on at Judy for years to hunker down and start a warren, and in a single day Nick had blown their dreams to smithereens...

Eleven, twelve, thirteen...

thirty-three, thirty-six, thirty-nine...

New distraction. He needed something, anything. His paws acted on instinct and he lifted Judy into his lap. She mumbled drowsily and rubbed her cheek against his chest. Nick squeezed his eyes shut to hide himself from the redoubled intensity of the stares and tucked his snout under her ears, ignoring the little voice bemoaning the recklessness of it all in the corner of his mind.

You're a fox Nick. She's a rabbit. You'll never be able to give them grandkids, you might never even be able to marry her, for God's sake.

Something small and weak deep inside protested that this was Judy's choice, that it was her life and it was her wants that mattered. He squashed it firmly. She would want those things eventually, it was inevitable, and now their secrets had started slipping through their fingers, she might not want to stick around -

His paws tightened around her chest; he could feel the thrum of her heartbeat through her shirt. It was hard to believe that was it at rest. But that was Judy for you; always taking life at a million miles an hour. Three beats for every one of his, and now it felt like they were running away from him.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen...

Fifty-one, fifty-four, fifty-seven...

It was selfish. He should've known this was coming, but he'd let himself believe... Moving on wasn't an option for Nick. Judy was his do all and end all, he'd made that expressly clear; foxes mated for life. But he would let her go, if he had to. He wouldn't beg, he wouldn't beg, he wouldn't-

"You know you make a really crappy pillow when you're agitated." Judy mumbled. Nick's arms went slack in an instant. Not now, he couldn't have this conversation now...

For once he had no comeback, so he tried to smirk it off. She didn't even have to open her eyes to know it was fake.

"Stop being so nervous." She yawned, still feigning sleep. Nick scoffed.

"Me? Nervous? C'mon, Judes, be serious now."

Except it was serious. At first, hearing he was headed to the Judy's childhood home as her actual fiancé had him ecstatic. It was the moment he'd stepped onto the train and it had occurred to him BunnyBurrow probably had no wifi things had started to pile up. Because he'd never been out of the city in his life. Because he would be a fox in a house floor to wall with young rabbits. Because Judy's parents were just two of them, two out of literally hundreds, and he knew they hadn't fully convinced them yet, either.

And let's not forget the Ghost of Christmas Past sitting across from him. His mother was clutching a small box of personal effects CSI had salvaged from the wreckage of Finn's safe house. She still hadn't said a word to him since the station.

"You're going to be fine. Really." One eye cracked open and she smiled without moving her lips. He couldn't tell her how much it helps.

"And what if I'm not?"

"Then we leave. Together. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Too much. She always gave too much, but the primal, selfish part of his mind still purred in contentment.

"I really don't deserve you."

"Yes," she said firmly, "You do."

"It won't come to that." he whispered.

"No, it won't." she agreed, wriggling in his arms to get more comfortable, "it's not like anyone's going to scream and run."

...

The kits screamed and ran.

The drive to the farm, accompanied by one of Judy's older brothers, had been exquisitely awkward. The young buck had sized Nick up like a piece of meat, and insisted Judy sit up front with Mom and Dad, so he could better keep an eye on this devilish trespasser. Judy had been typically unaffected by the crushing tension, and chatted away happily about life on the farm, which was beginning to sound a lot like life in boot-camp.

Nick had tried to distract himself from the urge to run away by looking out of the window, and out of the window there was... nothing much. He hadn't seen 'nothing much' before. The land was so flat he could see for acres in either direction; rolling fields dotted with the shadows of scudding clouds, vast lakes of darkness in a desert of gold. The openness made his eyes itch for the cluttered vibrancy of the city, and again he regretted not taking one last look as the train departed.

By the time the truck ground to a halt, in a grassy yard about the size of a football pitch, and Nick emerged, blinking, in to the light, his injured tail felt stiff as a stale pretzel. The Hopps' family home sat long and low and sturdy up ahead, painted golden brown in the sunlight. It was every farmhouse from every movie Nick had ever seen - looking older than the hill it was built into.

Stu was rolling out the orders before their paws had touched the ground, eyes darting like a kit caught with his paw in the cookie jar.

"Bon, if you show our - guests - to their rooms, I want to go check up on Michael in the fields, see what I've missed while we've been gone. Judy, Nick, we need to talk in private as soon as... What the cheese?"

Nick followed Stu's gaze across the yard, and saw three of the smallest, fuzziest, cute- no, most adorable, rabbits he'd ever seen crouching in the underbrush. As they watched, the little rabbits scurried up onto and zigzagged across the wide porch, using combat rolls, and crawling along on their forearms, commando style. All three appeared to have pillows strapped to their heads.

"Is that Octavian?" Judy asked, at Nick's elbow. Stu shrugged and Bonnie marched forwards, paws on her hips.

"Octavian Hopps! Susan! Terrance! Just what do you think you're doing?"

The kits froze. As one, they turned to face their mother, noses twitching madly. They caught sight of Nick and fled, squealing in terror.

"Fox! Fox!"

Bonnie cast a sheepish glance back at her guests.

"They're probably just a scouting team." Judy's older brother said, materializing behind them. He tried to get between her and Nick, but she wasn't giving him an inch.

"Scouting team?" Nick asked. He'd been joking about the boot-camp thing.

"...Yeah." The buck found the courage to shoot him a dark look, like this was all his fault. "Things have gone a bit crazy these last couple of days."

He led them over a threshold worn down by the passage of a thousand paws, into the house and - holy shit. The entrance hall was big. Like, mansion-sized. Nick felt a stab, remembering the dingy shoebox Judy had been forced into in the city.

She'd always made out she'd had a modest upbringing, but maybe 'modest' had a different meaning here in bumpkin land. Not that there was any room to spare; rabbits were sprouting out of the walls. Nick tried to block out the jumps and stares and double takes, hunching down to make himself look like less of a threat.

Judy didn't seem to like things either, the way her ears were folding.

"What's up?"

"Nothing, it's just... there should be more of them. Where are all the little ones?"

Nick blinked a looked around. The floor was still two bunnies deep, but Judy was right. Aside from the three they'd seen outside, there was no-one under the age of sixteen in the house.

Word of their arrival proceeded them; they emerged into a gargantuan living area with bookcases and a ring of sagging couches, and were greeted by a middle-aged bunny, very much like Bonnie.

"Bon! Stuart! Thank the Lord, things are desperaaaaa-" she ground to a halt, staring at Nick and Viola with eyes the size of dinner plates. Nick moved to introduce himself, but Stu got there first.

"Prynthia, this is officer Nicholas Wilde. He's Judy's work colleague. He'll be staying with us for a while."

Judy made an affronted noise and opened her mouth to object, but Nick shot her a warning look. Because of course. Of course, this was the smart move. There was no way any of them would take the truth well, least of all this doe, wrapped in a dressing gown with her ears still in rollers.

It wasn't as bad as it could've been. Hugs were exchanged between the rabbits and the foxes were skirted around, but nobody else fled. Their eyes were still too wide, but no-one ran for the pitchforks. Eventually, normal conversation started up again and Stu left to inspect his precious crops.

Prynthia led the rest down to the bedrooms, deep underground. She made idle chit-chat with Bonnie (her older sister, it turned out), and Nick managed to convince himself the careful undercurrent to her words wasn't that noticeable.

"You remember that pillow fight between dorms six and three?" she asked.

"Yes." said Bonnie, "An argument about pillow forts versus blanket forts, or some such nonsense. I put a stop to it."

They descended a tight spiral staircase and set off through a maze of twisting tunnels. Right, left, right again. The floor sloped up and then dived down, before another flight of stairs, then the third door on the left... Nick prided himself on his sense of direction, but he was lost before they were halfway there.

"The fight sprang back up while you were gone." Prynthia continued, "And... escalated, I'm afraid. That's why all the extended family is arriving, to compensate for all the little ones being... drafted."

They turned onto a long straight.

"Oh dear. How bad is it?"

"I've never seen anything worse."

Her tone was deadly serious, and Nick was struggling not to laugh. They were talking about a pillow fight like it was world war three. He supposed they had to make the most of what little excitement they got-

- here.

Nick blinked and rubbed his eyes. Check again, his brain told them. We are checking, his eyes insisted, it's really there. He turned to Judy, and the smug look she was giving him out of the corner of her eye.

"Welcome to my world." she grinned. Nick just gaped.

In the mouth of the tunnel ahead was another, smaller one, made of blankets and propped up with bamboo poles and broomsticks. Through its mouth, Nick could see it stretch away into the distance, all the way down the straight, maybe half a mile or more. And between here and there he could see brightly lit sleeping areas, storage sections and communal areas, and dozens of intersections opening up to places unknown.

'Blanket fort' didn't do the thing justice. Judy's little brothers and sisters had built a blanket city.

"And this is just one of them. Wait until you see what Octavian's done with the pillows. It's a good thing we're having a warm season; bedding has become a rare luxury."

Judy wolf whistled.

"Makes me wish I was six again."

Prynthia made a disapproving noise through pursed lips.

"Hmm. We'll have to go around to find rooms for our guests." To her credit, she only paused for the briefest second before leading them away.

They took a wide, looping path, occasionally having to stop and double back when they met new sections of fort, following Prynthia's mumbled curses about expansion. On the outskirts, stuffing and feathers coated the earthy floor like fresh snow. Empty pillow cases were scattered on top like spent shell casings.

They passed large dorm rooms, circular, with twelve bunk beds each, arranged like the dashes on a clockface, and here, at last, they found the young ones.

They peeked out of their doorways, watching the strange little group like the funeral procession of a stranger. It seemed that with each step, Nick caused a new ripple of nervousness, ears rustling like corn caught in the breeze. Judy waved, but only a few were brave enough to return the gesture. A torn pillow rolled across the floor, a tumbleweed through a silent ghost town.

Viola was packed off into a cozy looking room with a single bed, still clutching her box like it was her only child. Not him.

Then it was Nick's turn. His ears brushed the ceiling, and the bed looked more like a matchbox. He didn't know when, but at some point in their journey they must have come above ground again, because late afternoon sun was streaming in through a porthole window.

He turned to Bonnie.

"Thank you." it was genuine; any sane rabbit probably wouldn't have let him past the front door. It only took a moment for her to smile back, and that was genuine too.

Prynthia and Bonnie left to inspect the new civilization her kits had created, and discuss the best methods for stopping a war. Y'know, average mom stuff.

Judy closed the door and the rest of the world dropped off to nothing.

"You feeling good about yourself?" he smiled, "You almost looked tall compared to those munchkins."

But then she turned, and he saw no room for jokes on her face. She was fuming.

"They have the cheek - the audacity to... hide you? We just had a day long argument about why keeping secrets was a bad idea, and they just jump right back in!"

Nick shuffled forward, conscious of the low ceiling, and wrapped her in a hug as best he could. He could feel the indignation scrunched up in her face, pressed against his shirt, and knew she would submerge in it a little longer before she let him pull her free.

He tried anyway. He didn't like it when Judy was angry; it didn't feel like a natural place for her to be.

"You know dumping it all on them would cause a riot."

"But that still doesn't excuse, that's just, I don't even, ugh." she slumped against his chest. "Why can't the world just make sense sometimes?"

He gave her that special smile, the one she could only bring out when she was being especially Judy.

"And this is what makes you a good cop. You can see the world as it's meant to be, as it makes sense. And you know that, so you give everything and anything until everyone else knows it too."

"Is that a bad thing?"

She looked up at him as if expecting an answer, and Nick was reminded of just how young she was. Nine years his junior. It was weird to think of it like that, actually, because this was Judy Hopps. The most mature, sensible, well-adjusted person the Maiden had ever produced.

"Well." he considered, "it can get pretty annoying sometimes, when you refuse to just be normal." She tried to punch him in the gut and he caught her fist before it made contact. "but, that's what makes you such a force of nature. You just - need to wait for everyone else to catch up sometimes, that's all."

She sighed and rested her forehead against him again, allowing him to open her fingers like flower petals, and take her paw properly. So small. That too was strange; you'd think he would've noticed the size difference more when they were surrounded by officers as big as cars, but back in the city he'd learnt to accept her as roughly his height, because they were the only ones under five feet. Here though, surrounded by other rabbits...

He kissed her to quiet the noise. She huffed slightly against his muzzle, and it was as if she were sucking the tension from his body. But then she froze, an ear pricked and she pulled away. His ear quirked as she stalked over and tore the door open.

An entire crowd of Judy's siblings greeted them, their faces perfect masks of guilt.

"Beat it." Judy was better at snarling than him when she wanted to be, "You would not believe the day I've had, and this time I really can arrest you."

She slammed the door on the pile up to get away, turning to face him.

"Sorry about that. Should've warned you, but here the walls literally have ears."

"Noted." He said, and tried to pick his ears up for her sake. Their time together was already so limited, he didn't want to think what this would do to them. So instead he asked, "That pillow... thing. Fight, war, whatever. That normal around here?"

She huffed again, but this time the twinkle had returned to her eyes.

"It comes and goes. One time, when I was eleven, the stalemate lasted for months."

"And which side were you on?"

"Pillows." she grinned and sank onto the too-small bed, "blankets are for wimps."

Nick got a sudden mental image of an eleven-year-old Judy, leading a squad of her siblings on surprise raids and stealth missions like a little general. Somehow it seemed appropriate. He considered asking if she'd ever worn a pillow-hat too, but decided he liked his arm without any bruises.

He tried to sit next to her, but the bed wasn't big enough for the both of them, so she shifted and crawled up onto his lap. They sat like that for as long as they dared, anchoring themselves in th feel of each other's fur, while they still could. Then real life called again, and Nick allowed Judy to lead him out of their little bubble for the grand tour.

...

The Hopps' family farm was a rabbit-run operation, built on generations of sweat and good soil. And, say what she would about old rabbits and their stuck-in-their-ways attitudes, Judy had to admit, expansion was one thing they'd never skimped out on.

The fields stretched on for miles; there was too much to see on foot, so Judy commandeered one of the electric buggies they used for getting lunches out to the workers in the fields, and gave Nick the whistle-stop tour. He looked so uncomfortable, wedged in the tiny passenger seat, that she worried he'd develop a hunchback by the end of their stay. But the look of wonder he gave absolutely everything he saw - from the water tower to their rusty old lawnmower - drove everything else from her head. Eventually she stopped commentating on the sights and just watched as his face cycled through the emotions.

"So? What do you think?"

"I think our garden has a lot of catching up to do."

She snorted, thinking of the collection of planter boxes sitting on their windowsill back home.

"This is the gold standard. We grow everything from corn to -"

"Carrots?" he suggested innocently.

"Corn to radishes, all by paw."

His jaw dropped.

"All of it?" His eyes swept the land again with new appreciation; the fields were way less crowded than normal, but they still passed the odd cluster of older rabbits, heading back to the house now night had fallen.

"Yup."

"But... don't you have machines for this kind of thing?"

She gave him a pitying look, and had to remind herself that in his heart, wise, experienced police officer Nicholas Wilde was still just another city slicker allergic to manual labor.

"Machine run farms are barely more efficient, and you wouldn't believe the money dad saves using bodies instead." she brightened, "You should talk to him about it. His books, I mean. I bet you could shave a few dollars of his expenditure."

"Yeah. Because he'll really want a fox sniffing around his accounts." Nick smiled without humor.

"Maybe later, when we're settled." Judy suggested. The silence hung in the air for a few seconds, so she rushed on. "Anyway, if the kits didn't work on the fields they'd probably tear the house down. It's a good outlet for all that energy."

"Didn't seem to work too well, judging by downstairs."

"Oh, Dad likes to encourage that kind of thing. Stimulates our ability to build and work as a team. The only mammals better at fast building than rabbits are beavers, he says. Still drives Mom crazy though."

They'd reached the boundary line of the property and the potato fields. Aunt Prynthia wasn't kidding about the extended family helping out in this time of crisis: Even Great-Aunt Muriel was pitching in, brandishing a pair of sutures like a battle axe.

Unfortunately, Great-Aunt Muriel was half blind and half deaf. As they watched, she missed the hedge she was meant to be trimming and gave Aunt Gladis an unexpected haircut. Judy had to pull the buggy over, fearing she'd drive into a ditch for laughing, and Nick got to watch as several of the Uncles attempted to wrest the sutures from Muriel's paws, dodging and weaving as she swung herself around, trying to find them.

Eventually the sutures were rescued, Aunt Gladis was convinced the bald patch could easily be covered up by a hat, and Muriel was led away for a nice cup of tea and a sit down after all her hard work. Judy turned the cart around, and they were carried back to the house with the tide of relatives. A gale of whispers whipped up in Nick's wake, but to look at him you'd think he never even noticed it. Judy was tempted to rest her paw on his, just for a minute, but this afternoon's slip up in front of Doctor Parish and her interrogation of McHorn were still fresh in her mind. Not here.

Not yet anyway, but by the time she was done...

They parked up and picked their way through the crowd to the veranda at the back of the house, where a dozen long oak tables had been laid out so dinner could catch the last of the autumn sun. If the farm was all pristine rows and military precision, the garden was where the family let its hair down. Weeds sprouted from every corner, eagerly eating up the space so cruelly denied from them in the fields, hiding a hodge podge of ancient wellingtons and cracked flower pots.

Judy led Nick over to the head table where her parents sat, pointing out the experimental mini-plots of jalapenos, rice, and cacao beans, using the chatter to paper over the gaping silence that was somehow worse than the whispers.

Viola Wilde materialized further up the opposite bench, looking oh so out of place. Her fur was darker than Nick's, the color of aged wine, and she stood out like a single rose amongst the earthy browns and greys of Judy's family. Her knees scraped the edge of the table, but she didn't complain. Her eyes skipped from bunny to bunny, arguing, dueling with spoons, as if watching a memory forgotten long ago. Her muzzle jumped, not sure what to do.

Judy really didn't know what to think of Viola. No doubt Viola had some strong thoughts about her future daughter in law (lips, smoke, fox-fur, reckless) and that worried Judy. She glanced at Nick, but he was absorbed in the home-carved salt shaker on the table. He didn't look at his mother, in that too-accidental-to-be-real way she had yet to master. The silence grew deep enough to drown in.

Then Michael plopped down beside her, and it was like someone flicked a switch. The conversation roared back to life and suddenly they were just another pair of faces in the crowd.

"Sup, sis."

"Hi Michael. This is Nicholas Wilde, my - partner." Judy grit her teeth and tried not to choke on the word. "Nick, this my brother, Michael. He deals with all the technical jiggery pokery around the farm."

"Dragging the into them modern age, huh?" Nick looked impressed.

"Kicking and screaming. Which makes it sound more fun than it is." Michael sighed, actually shaking Nick's paw without flinching, "But, someone around here's gotta do it, and it's sure not gonna be little miss jiggery-pokery." Well, at least some things never changed. Good old Michael; sarcastic to the point of insult. He grinned at her, "By the way, you pillow pushers are toast."

"Oh really? Have you met Octavian Hopps? He will decimate you."

"Octavian may be a teenage napoleon, but you should see what we've done with our structural support this year." Michael whipped off his glasses and started polishing them furiously, his eyes aglow with that electric gleam that she remembered from weekends taking the tractor engines apart when Dad wasn't looking, "All self-standing, inter-reliant like a spider's web. Plus the traps. The traps are always the best part."

"Sounds like you might be out of a job." Judy smirked "Michael was the blanket commander back when we served." she explained to Nick. Michael gave a melodramatic sigh and flopped forwards onto the table.

"Oh the great wheel of time turns on, good sister, crushing all we weary travelers beneath. Bet you five dollars we win."

"That would be against my moral code as police officer." Judy sniffed. Michael ran a despairing paw through his ears.

"Ten dollars?"

"Done."

Michael's ears perked.

"Really?" he glanced between her and Nick and back again, like they were a particularly complex bit of clockwork he was trying to reverse-engineer. "Huh."

A mouthwatering blend of smells wafted out of the back door (Judy watched Nick's nostrils flare as far as they could go), followed by her mother and twenty of the aunts, carrying enough food between them to sink a battleship. Soon the tables were groaning, and the kits began to emerge in platoons of four to six.

"Should we be worried about food fights?" Nick asked.

"Not anymore." Judy grinned, "Mom made it very clear when I was young that her dinner table was Switzerland, and if anyone broke the peace they would spending the night in the old barn with the ghosts."

Nick wolf whistled.

"Remind me not to piss her off either." he said. Judy grinned.

Octavian Hopps and his opponent, Nestor, stared each other down over cups of lemonade at the far end of the table, but the other kits were too busy squabbling over what was in this stew and who had the pepper to remember they were at war.

Their gasps at the sight of Nick and Viola were a thing of beauty Judy knew she shouldn't enjoy. Then the bidding war began.

"We call dibs on the fox!"

"You can't have a fox, that's like having a supervillain on your team!"

"We can too!"

Nick looked caught between bewilderment and gratification. Bonnie rapped her spoon on the table.

"That's enough!" she jabbed the spoon like a rapier "The fox is a guest in our home, and I will not have you dragging the poor thing into your nonsense!"

Beside Judy, Michael surfaced from his potato and parsnip stew.

"Don't worry mom, Nick won't have time." he put on his 'evil mastermind' smile. "Judy's been gone to long, she needs to be broken in. Will your freakishly tall friend be joining us on the fields tomorrow?"

Judy winced; she really didn't need Nick pulling his walls up now.

He gazed at Michael for half a second, and something clicked. He gave a lazy smirk.

"I'd love to help out. As long as you're not afraid I'll step on you."

For once in her life Judy was so, so glad her brother was such an asshole to everyone. Nick was fluent in asshole, had been for years. It was like putting him on home turf. Michael grinned around another spoon of stew.

"You'll do fine. Right Dad?"

At the head of the table, Stu shifted in his seat.

"... Every paw counts." he managed, before switching to one of Judy's younger sisters, so he didn't have to think about it. "So, Nyssa, what'd the doctor say about the little ones?"

Judy choked on her stew. Nyssa's smirk ate Nick's best work for breakfast.

"Well-"

"Wait," Judy gasped. Nick moved to thump her on the back before remembering where they were and turning it into a stretch. "You're pregnant?!"

Nyssa sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Yes, Judith, some of us do have time in our busy schedule for things like family." She checked her blunt little claws, "And an active sex life."

Nick bit his lip and kept his eyes on his plate. His paw brushed Judy's knee and he reminded her he was sharp electric and heat, lithe muscle on the prowl and a hot tongue running over razor teeth. Judy sucked in a breath. At the head of the table Bonnie and Stu exchanged significant glances.

Nyssa didn't notice.

"It's all fine Dad, don't worry. He says I'm having twins."

"Tins?!" Great Auntie Muriel squawked "Oh no, you'd better have that looked at dear."

Nyssa sighed heavily.

"Whatever you say, Auntie Muriel..."

Silence fell as everyone ate, partly thanks to full mouths, partly thanks to Nick. As a fox, he normally consumed about three times as much as your average bunny, but after a long day of kidnap and torture he'd worked up an appetite to rival a hippo. The kits watched, hypnotized, as bowl after bowl of Mom's best greens disappeared down his gullet. By the time he'd hit bowl five (slowing down, but not by much) the elders' mutterings about greed and waste fluttered like a storm of moths in the background.

Nick came up for air, careful to hide his teeth from his audience.

"This is amazing, Mrs Hopps.". He selected a smile from his arsenal. Not quite the full megawatt gleam, but still enough to let something warm and comforting settle in Judy's stomach that had nothing to do with food.

"Thank you, Mr Wilde. It's, uh, all to your liking?" Bonnie examined the ring of empty plates surrounding Nick. He'd been careful to leave more than enough for everyone else, but Judy couldn't help thinking of the fields just beyond the fence, and how much their space looked like a patch of dark, dead grain in drought. Nick turned up the wattage just a fraction.

"Definitely. And call me Nick, please." He wiped his muzzle with a napkin and turned a playful little smirk on Judy. "Actually, it makes me wonder why your daughter is allergic to an oven."

"I can cook!" Judy protested. Nick snorted slightly. Only two people flinch.

"With a microwave, maybe. Are you forgetting the carrot pie debacle?"

Judy groaned.

"That is not -"

"There was pastry welded to my ceiling for three weeks, Jude." he grinned. "Did you ever try to teach her, Mrs Hopps?"

Oh, that wily bastard. Nothing could bond people quicker than a shared annoyance (Nick's Law #12).

Bonnie smiled indulgently.

"Many times. Eventually we couldn't afford to repair any more fire damage, so I had to give in." She sighed resignedly "The kitchen curtains still smell of smoke. Do you cook, Nick?"

Score. Rule #19: Names always make things harder to hate. Nick smiled lazily.

"When I have to."

Judy leaned forward in her seat.

"You should try Vupine cuisine, Mom, it's amazing, all drizzles and spices and sauce. Nothing like this."

Bonnie looked genuinely interested, but before she can answer Viola Wilde poked a curious muzzle between them, and suddenly everyone seemed to remember there was another fox at the table.

"He's cooked for you, dear?" She asked, tapering, reluctantly hopeful. Judy smiled eagerly. Second imprression, don't (indecent, paws, shirt, sweat, dangerous) screw it up.

"As many times as I can force him. Why?"

Viola smiled, the way it had taken Judy months to teach her son; open and honest and free.

"Well, it's just nice to know my grandmother's recipes have survived another generation."

Suddenly Judy's smile was much less painful; she looked back at Nick, but his flickered and died. His eyes dropped to his plate again. Judy noticed his mother had barely touched hers.

Conversation petered out.

Dessert passed in a haze of sunset and familiar voices; the fireflies came out to dance around the fruit trees ringing the garden, and the look of awe on Nick's face let her see them through new eyes again.

Too soon, the dishes were being cleared and Nick's offers to help were being shot down a little hastily for Judy's liking. Viola excused herself early, thanked Bonnie for the meal and rushed away like a trespasser scented by hounds. Judy watched her go, wishing she knew what to think.

The kits who pulled the short straw trooped off to help their mother with washing up, and then they were just sitting there, side by side in easy silence. The rest of the kits rolled about laughing in the grass. Judy resisted the urge to pinch herself.

"Okay?" she asked. He smiled at the old ritual.

"Okay."

And then she smiled, and suddenly Judy could see herself staying right here in this chair, with the world, the sky and the fireflies laid out in front for them to see, and growing old and wrinkled and fat wth this fox and bickering every step of the way, until they went to bones together, side by side, beneath the same open sky. There were worse ways to go.

"Judy. Judy!"

Judy blinked, and suddenly she wasn't sixty with a ring on her finger anymore. Her sister was coming towards her.

"Joyce? Hey!" Judy leapt out of the chair and seized her closest sibling in a hug that near crushed her ribs. "How are you?"

"Oh, y'know. Not bad."

"And how many kits is it now?" Judy tried to inject sunshine into her voice. Joyce's ear twitched.

"We capped it at twelve."

"Smart move." Nick said, finally recognizing a name he knew. Joyce managed to smile.

"You must be Judy's famous partner."

"That all depends on what I'm famous for." He joked, and it was Joyce who extended her paw to shake.

"Absolutely nothing right now." She frowned at Judy, who had the good grace to look sheepish, "But don't worry! That just means we've got to make up for lost time."

Nick tried not look like he'd rather crawl into an early grave.

"My name's Joyce, by the way. Though, judging by how you didn't ask for it, you already knew that."

Behind her, Judy froze with GUILT written over her face in big neon letters. Nick coughed.

"Um, well, police work isn't all glitz and glam. Mostly it's just sitting in the cruiser getting fat. We needed to pass the time."

"Oh, I'm sure." Joyce agreed, "Which begs the question of why Judy never mentioned someone she spends so much time with."

Nick paused, carefully, as if navigating a minefield and deciding where best to put his next paw. Joyce still hadn't let go of his paw, and close to he could see something sharp beneath the cheery veneer. He wondered if this was what it was like to be opposite Judy in the interrogation room.

Then Joyce let go and she was chatting with Judy again. Her face hadn't changed, but a kind of understanding had flowed between Nick and her like an electric current.

I'm watching you.

Nick thought he might be scared of the wrong Hopps.

"So, you've been drafted in as a war reserve?" Judy asked.

"Yup, but I'm not farming. I'm a war nurse now." Joyce gave a lopsided grin, "Taking care of all the casualties, so all the college stuff is finally coming in handy!"

Judy winced.

"I bet that's grisly."

Joyce nodded solemnly.

"Oh yeah, feather allergies and bent ears. I think I'm losing my mammality in the sheer horror of it all."

Judy was reminded why Joyce had always been her favorite, and was about to -

Nick yelped.

The entire garden froze. As one, all eyes turned on him.

There was a tiny kit, maybe a year old, yanking enthusiastically on his tail. Nick's fists were balled, his face like scrunched paper. The kit had stopped yanking, and now she sat tenderly stroking, as if Nick's tail were a stray she'd adopted off the street.

Nick didn't move. The farm was caught in that awful silence between one breath and the next.

Joyce swept forward with and scooped the child up.

"Zoe! Be careful!" She scanned the little doe, as if sure she'd be hurt, then looked back at Nick, "You do not yank on other people's fur, you say sorry to the gentle-mammal."

"S'fine." Nick managed, curling and uncurling his already injured tail. "No harm done."

The garden exhaled and the breeze ruffled the trees. Everyone forgot about Nick when he stopped being The Fox.

"Sorry." murmured Zoe, in the half-formed clay speech of an infant. But she didn't look sorry. She stared at Nick's tail enraptured, then at him. "Why is it so soft?"

Nick shrugged.

"That's just the way fox tails are."

"Oh." Zoe thought about this. "That's not very scary."

Joyce flinched and shushed her, but Nick laughed.

"No, it's not. Most things aren't half as scary as people tell you."

"Where's your robber's mask?" Zoe asks, obviously emboldened. Joyce looked as if she'd like the ground to open up and swallow her.

"I lost it." Nick says, "the day I met your... Aunt?" he looked at Joyce for conformation, who nodded mutely. "I used to have a lot of bad things from before that, but I keep losing them, now."

"It's true," Judy confirms, "he's a complete loser."

"Thanks, Jude."

Zoe giggled and finally let Joyce guide her away, who smiled at Judy and then at Nick, but there was vinegar mixed in with the honey, as if she was warning him not to give her daughter any ideas.

...

Later, when everyone was drifting off to bed, to barricade themselves in away from the new intruders. They staggered back through the warren, Nick letting Judy tug him along and deciding to learn the route back when he got lost tomorrow.

They reached his room and he tried to flop onto the bed, except it didn't work because his hindpaws still hung off the bottom and dragged on the floor. He'd never been more tired in his life.

Judy sighed, tugged him up again with gentle paws, and managed to get him propped up against the sink while she arranged the bedding into something more his size on the floor. All the snark and glib that had been holding him up was gone; it was as if a cork had popped and now it was trickling out of a small hole and he was never getting it back. The world looked dark and heavy through half-closed lids.

Then Judy was back to him, he could feel her paws on his own and there was a soothing voice, and he couldn't make out the words but that was all right, because by now he knew her well enough to feel what was being said instead. She laid him down on the duvet and managed to pull his shirt up over his head, and then he was curled up with his head in her lap. She stroked his ears. He felt nine years old again.

"Sing me a lullaby." He murmured, an attempt to claw the snark back.

Except she did.

Low and wavering and just out of tune, and Nick was really slipping away now. Something warm blooms in his chest, bedtime story and midnight cocoa feeling. He held on to her tighter, and through her this childlike simplicity he'd lost in the dark so long ago. He keeps finding things, too. Lucky rabbit's foot. Heh. Strike two today.

He knew there were reasons for him to be tired, so many reasons, they stretched back through eternity to this morning, but he couldn't help but feel cheated of something because she wasn't sleeping too. These youngsters with all thier energy. Even the Judy in his head sounded tired.

Soon she rose to go, and he held out a paw in a languid attempt to keep her. She gave the paw a squeeze instead, and then suddenly she was back and satin lips were pressed into his ear, and then she was gone, summer air rising to nothing.

He felt mothered. He felt home. He felt -

Sleep.

A/N:

He cried with a loud voice: "Lazarus come forth!"

So, I'm afraid I'm not sure what I'm doing here. This fic was dead. I had (have) the plot, the ideas, the dialogue, but I could never make it flow. I moved on to other things. Then this fic kept getting followers. And reviews. And, and, and, so I thought it would be cruel not to write more. It's now midnight and school is gonna love me in the morning.

Again, I don't know if I'll continue this, but thank you for giving me the motivation to write it. Feel free to hate my guts for the rest of time.

As always, reviews are ichor (even well-deserved death threats).

P.s. The 'Mazzeo Park Five' are based on the real life Central Park Five. If you ever want to get pissed off by real world racism, look it up.

Also, #sixseasonsandamovie