Darkness. Cold. Pain.

Judy propelled herself upwards towards the light with powerful kicks. Lungs burning and needles of ice piercing her fur, she searched for a way to break through. The ice above, unyielding and slick, stretched out in all directions – flat and featureless. Desperately, she beat her paws against it.

Must get through. So cold.

Above, through the fractures and bubbles in the ice, she caught a flash of red. Then it was gone.

Hope.

She knew he would be looking for her. Eyes scanning the darkness, she tried to find it again.

So cold.

She felt the icy water taking its toll – sapping her strength – body beginning to feel strangely warm. Drifting downwards, blackness creeping in at the borders of her vision, she saw another flicker of red above.

There it is!

As Judy prepared herself for one final kick upwards, white, slimy paws slid out of the darkness below and closed around her legs. Struggling with the last ounce of her strength she tried to break free.

Weak. Too Weak.

Suddenly she was being dragged downwards into the abyss, lungs on fire, the water a crushing weight on her chest. She screamed – bubbles hissing upwards, the icy water filling her mouth.

One final thought: I want to live.

Inside her cramped-but-tidy room, Judy woke with a jerk, heart racing. She breathed deeply – filling her lungs with air, the feel of imaginary hands slowly fading. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and pushed the pads of her paws into them as if to rub out the image. "That was a bad one", she muttered to herself. Suddenly chilled, she located her blanket – shoved off the bed and lying in a crumpled pile on the floor. Pulling it up under her chin, Judy felt her terror begin to recede.

In... Out... In... Out...

She was suddenly very grateful for her Yoga classes as the deep, rhythmic breathing helped slow her heart and bring back her focus. Mind calming, she heard the sound of distant peals of thunder and the occasional flash of lightning drifted through her partly-open window.

Thunderstorms in Zootopia are exquisitely beautiful - sweeping across the Savannah and Canal districts, picking up energy and moisture. Raindrops start falling, gently at first, but as the front approaches Tundratown and Sahara Square the clouds build up like angry gray mountains, the wind howls and heavy sheets of rain lash the downtown skyscrapers. In the distance, the storm splits – half instantly frozen crossing the boundary walls into Tundratown. The other half crossing into Sahara Square to become a raging sandstorm – the rain droplets evaporating before they even hit the ground.

It was still amazing to her how two opposite climates could exist right next to each other – but that's Zootopia. The entire city is built on contradiction – opposites working together. Tundra and desert, predator and prey, rabbit and fox. It makes no sense but it works – most of the time. Judy had the sudden urge to run to the window naked, throw it open and let the storm wash over her. Wash away the lingering chills from the nightmare. Wash away her anxiety and emotions. Strip away everything down to her core and leave her empty for just one night. Sighing, in resignation, she snuggled back against her pillow and began to trace familiar cracks in her plaster ceiling with her eyes.

She had to admit - this nightmare had shaken her. They had been getting steadily worse – sometimes so unsettling that they would linger with her the next day – making her edgy and short-tempered. Several months ago, she thought about seeing the department shrink but quickly discarded the idea. Her job required periodic mental health evaluations and telling someone you're having dreams about death is a great way to find yourself assigned to desk duty. Or out of a job. Besides, she didn't need that officious old goat of a psych to tell her what was bothering her.

In her two short years on the force, she'd faced horrors and darkness – seen things that would drive sleep away from most animals. But when you're a cop, you learn quickly how to deal with it or you don't stay a cop very long. Some think about their family and friends – others about their car or boat – holding close to the joys in their life. Growing up, all Judy wanted to do was to become a police officer - to make the world a better place. Graduation from the Academy was the defining moment in her life – the realization of a dream. As a police officer, she would finally be able to make a difference and the sheer strength of her conviction drove her relentlessly. The joy she felt the day they pinned that badge to her chest was like nothing she had ever experienced. When Judy returned home alone after a rough day and the darkness came for her, all she had to do was cling tightly to that joy and she found peace.

Then things got complicated.

She and Nick got a call their first year – break-in – Tundratown. Some rich factory owner came in after hours with his date hoping to do a little late-night show-and-tell and found a service door open. Just inside, we found an old otter wrapped in a blanket asleep against the steam pipes. Owner didn't want to look like an ass in front of his girl and refused to press charges so we let the otter off with a warning. The next morning, a bakery owner opening up found him in an alley two blocks away – frozen to death. She and Nick got the call on that one too – just finishing their shift. She still remembers the way his frozen, lifeless eyes stared at her – accusing.

Judy always believed that the law was there to protect the innocent, shelter the weak, free the oppressed and bring justice to the unjust. That night, they had followed the letter of the law, but who did it help? The old otter had nothing except his life and he lost everything over a couple bucks in heating fuel. While he was laying there alone in that cold alley, life slipping away, that factory owner went home to his huge mansion with his little plaything to keep him warm – and that's who they were sent to protect? In those cold eyes and frozen stare, she saw the system fail. She saw herself fail. That's when her conviction wavered. That's when the nightmares started.

The first time, Judy remembered having an exceptionally vivid dream – one about her childhood. She was sitting in the great room of her family's burrow with her brothers and sisters while her father read a bedtime story. She could feel the warmth – the love – like a warm blanket enveloping her. Suddenly she looked around and her family was gone. She was alone and there was something out there hunting her – she could hear it – long claws scraping hard-packed earth. Hot breath drawn in and out with a hiss. Warm slaver dripping from hungry fangs. An instant later, the dream shattered and Judy started awake, heart pounding in her chest.

That was nearly a year ago. In the beginning, her nightmares were just disturbing. Fear. Confusion. Anger. Later they became more horrifying – more violent. The worst were about Nick.

Thinking about her partner always filled her with emotions – not all of them pleasant. She knew she loved him – more than she loved anyone else. But that was part of the problem. "This will be our last day together as partners," Judy said softly, to herself – finally focusing on what she had been trying hard to avoid. With that admission, her emotions swirled violently and coalesced in a tight knot right in the middle of her chest. Normally she tried to ignore this feeling – it happened every time she thought strongly about Nick. Part dull ache, part glowing warmth all wrapped with an odd breathless sensation of anticipation. Like right before the big drop on the roller coaster. Not exactly unpleasant but not comfortable either. Today, with the horror of her dream still lingering, she needed it - welcomed it.

As her mind drifted, the muffled sound of a TV could be heard through the paper-thin walls. Judy could just make out the unmistakable theme song of Grazing with the Stars. She had never seen the show herself – didn't own a TV – but she'd heard every episode this season through the wall. Things were actually quiet right now. Her neighbors, Bucky and Pronk, were not kidding when they said they were loud. A steady stream of arguments could normally be heard coming from the room next door – fighting over chores, what to eat, what to watch, who should be eliminated on Zootopian Idol.

With a slow smile, she also remembered the first time she realized that "loud" also applied to their nighttime activities. She had to admit, the advantage of thin walls was that it was easy to get quite an education listening in. What really amazed her was how a Kudu and Oryx could do the things they did and not destroy the entire apartment – the rooms were almost painfully small and they have those antlers to deal with, she mused. Judy had never been with anyone – she had no time for it and even less desire – her goals were more important to her. But she grew curious listening in – her inexperienced mind crafting almost unbelievable scenarios about what was going on just a few feet away. When this happened, her thoughts sometimes turned towards Nick and she would find herself imagining things she never believed she would be capable of doing much less enjoying.

Thinking about him now, that familiar bundle of emotions – the Nick bundle – melted and began to work its way down her belly - warmth spreading across her thighs. Judy took a moment to revel in the feeling – letting it take control of her body - a wetness growing between her legs. "But he doesn't want me", she thought, cruelly breaking in – warmth draining from her body.

With sudden sadness, she realized she was going to miss this place – her neighbors, her ceiling – hers. Growing up with 275 brothers and sisters, everyone shared everything. There was a lot of "our" and very few "my" - in fact, moving to Zootopia FOREVER only required a small rabbit-sized suitcase for everything she owned. When the diminutive armadillo landlady showed her to her new apartment, Judy left "our" behind. The moment her small paw closed over that key – larger now in her memory – a chapter of her life closed and a new one opened.

Turning to the alarm clock, the glowing numbers read 3:41 - still almost 20 minutes before the alarm. With a sigh, she leaped off the bed and smoothed out her sheets in one practiced motion. "The early bird catches the worm", as her mother would say. But growing up, the truth was often, "The early bird catches the warm shower". And in any case, she wasn't sure if the saying meant the same when talking about early evening. For a few minutes, she was able to distract herself by locating a fork and picking out a frozen dinner - today's feast would be a few withered broccoli florets steaming fresh from the microwave.

Sitting down to eat and slowly chewing her tasteless dinner, she also realized that this would be the last meal in her apartment. "That's being positive", Judy thought, facetiously. Reflecting about tomorrow's move brought up a new set of emotions – fear, sadness, excitement. Desperately she pushed them away, concentrating again on the Nick bundle – seeking that familiar feeling in her chest like a light through the fog. The move would take care of itself – right now, she wanted to feel something else.

At that moment, the alarm went off with a loud buzz (she had forgotten to turn it off). Startled, Judy jumped three feet, knocking over her chair with a clatter in the process. Sighing as she switched it off, she heard a muffled, "HEY, keep it down over there!" from the apartment next door. Rolling her eyes, she pitched her empty dinner carton into the nearby trash and righted her chair, making sure to rattle it a little harder than necessary with a mischievous grin. "Nothing like a little adrenaline to get you moving", she thought and immediately launched herself into getting ready for her last night on patrol. She scooped up her shower basket - lavender fur scrub, toothbrush and carrot toothpaste, towel, and a number of brushes - then quickly slipped into a large, fluffy, white robe (a gift to herself shortly after realizing she had to share a bathroom with a floor of strangers). Leaving her door unlocked, she made her way down the hall to the shared bathroom.

To her surprise, she had to wait. Usually, one of the benefits of working nights was having easy access to the bathroom to get ready, but today she found it locked. After about 15 minutes the door opened in a cloud of steam and a middle-aged badger who she'd never seen before exited, fully dressed.

"Oh hello", Judy remarked with a friendly smile. "Hmph, a bunny with a basket. Now that's original.", the badger muttered, barely lifting his eyes as he passed by on his way down the hallway to the door across from hers.

With just a small flicker of surprise (badgers are not known for being the most jovial), she entered the bathroom, locked the door behind her and made sure to check each lock carefully. Turning to the tub with a sigh, she found what she expected - a ring of red dirt and silver-gray fur left from the previous user. "Probably has a job in excavation", she thought to herself before reaching for the bathroom cleaner.

Putting away the sponge and nodding her head in admiration of a spotlessly clean bathroom, Judy thought ruefully, "well, at least that's the last time for that". After drawing herself a nice warm bath, she slipped out of her robe and into the lightly steaming water. Living alone, a bath is one of those special things she had re-discovered. Growing up, the sheer number of rabbits in their burrow that had to get ready in the morning left no time for a bath except for the small kittens. Everyone took showers and alternated days. In fact, their bathrooms looked very much like bunny factories – lines of disheveled rabbits going in one side and lines of clean, brushed rabbits coming out the other – raw materials suddenly transformed into finished products. Now that she lived alone, taking a leisurely soak in the mornings was a guilty pleasure she had gotten used to. It was great for soothing sore muscles and sorting out her thoughts before heading to work.

Judy lay back in the oversized tub (for a bunny it was gigantic), groaning with pleasure, and let the warm water envelop her like a cocoon. She sank down slightly and floated, weightless, all sounds muffled by the water filling her ears. Floating on her back, completely relaxed, she finally felt capable of thinking about her plans. Several months ago, Judy was having a particularly rough day – the lingering effects of a nightmare still vivid as she listened to Chief Bogo drone on with morning announcements. After the Nighthowler case, this had become one of her favorite parts of the day - like every announcement was a new challenge. In the beginning, those morning announcements were like a daily affirmation of her life – she had done it – she had succeeded. After the nightmares started, morning announcements seemed to take on more of a bureaucratic quality. A bunch of mission statements and corporate slogans. That day, she found it particularly hard to stay focused. Her eyes drifted to a posting on the jobs board. It read, "Open Position: Special Liaison – Mayor Lionheart". After everyone had exited and Nick was heading down to their patrol car, Judy leaped over and quickly stuffed the posting in the pocket of her uniform. That night she sat at her small desk staring at it for hours. The next day she picked up the phone.

Raising an arm, she watched the water sheet off into the tub. All her life she wanted to make the world a better place. But she knew her faith in the system was fractured. The laws that were supposed to protect the good and punish the evil weren't good enough. As an officer, her duty was to enforce, not make policy. This promotion was an opportunity to work with the Mayor and City Council – the ones who make the laws – and help change them. This was her chance to make a difference again. To regain her faith in the system and herself - to end the nightmares.

With the pads of her paws already beginning to wrinkle, Judy reluctantly reached for the lavender body scrub and got down to business. With a final rinse, she stood up letting the now-tepid water cascade down her naked body, running tiny rivulets through her fur. Pulling the tub drain she proceeded to dry herself thoroughly with an oversized bath towel embroidered with tiny red flowers – a gift from her mother. Wiping out the drained tub, ("See, how hard is that?", she thought), she pulled out several brushes and began to put her fur in order.

Rattle, rattle, rattle. Bang! Bang!

The sudden sound of someone trying to open the door broke her train of thought. With a gasp of panic, Judy leaped behind her towel before realizing that the security locks she made sure to check would have stopped a rhino (and in fact may have actually just stopped one). "Just a minute", Judy shouted with chagrin and quickly finished brushing her fur and teeth. Packing everything back into her basket, she took a moment to regard herself in the floor-length mirror. Her clean fur glistened and lean profile highlighted the muscles she had built through long hours in the gym. Patting her flat stomach with a sigh, Judy re-entered her robe and made a final check to make sure she hadn't left anything. Unlocking each lock and opening the door, Judy prepared to apologize for tarrying, but instead, stepped out into an empty hallway.

Making her way back to her room, Judy passed several other apartments. The sound of coarse laughter could be heard from one and an odd, heavily-spiced aroma of cabbage curled out from under the door of another. For decades, the Grand Pangolin Arms has been a well-known fixture in Savannah Central. Occupying 6 floors of a large brick building, the complex was originally a hotel built during the city's gilded period. The structure was abandoned and stripped during the Great Drought and was later converted to low-cost housing. Today, the building belies its former opulence – the rooms are small, the carpets worn and the wallpaper greasy and torn. Now home to dozens of families, the complex often attracts residents down on their luck or who just want to be left alone. It does have several advantages: it's close to the Zootopia Transit Authority and the rent is dirt cheap. Perfect for a young bunny with limited means just starting her career. Judy's new promotion meant she would be working at City Hall in the Mayor's Office – much farther north than the police station. She had planned it out and the longer commute plus two additional transfers just made living here too difficult.

A somewhat surprising cord of sentiment wound itself around her and she suddenly found herself trying to memorize the pattern of the threadbare carpet, the creak of the floors and the look of the hallway light fixtures. Tomorrow she was moving out and another chapter in her life would close – one that didn't go exactly as she expected. But today, while she still could, she would try and etch the final pages as clearly as possible.

Pausing outside her door, she glanced across the hallway, suddenly regretting not getting to know more of her neighbors. Police work is a demanding job that left little time for Judy to get to know the other animals who share her building. She knew Bucky and Pronks (who didn't?), but beyond them and a couple others she passed coming and going, Judy didn't know many animals living here. Suddenly she noticed that the door of the apartment across the hall was slightly ajar. Her highly-sensitized hearing picked up an odd grinding sound coming from within - like the sound of a giant mixer. Ears picking up quizzically, she moved closer to the cracked door and tried her best to casually take a peek. Inside the well-lit room, she could make out rows of shelves lined with earthenware pottery. In the middle, the badger who had passed her earlier was working the pedals of a large pottery wheel. His long, flat hands and slender fingers expertly working the block of clay spinning before him. "Excavator indeed", she thought to herself with irony and more than a touch of embarrassment. Even she had to sometimes remind herself that this was Zootopia and anyone can be anything. Silently turning away, slightly annoyed with herself, she jerked open her door and strode into her room. A flash of eyes and teeth from the darkness at the foot of her bed was all the warning she got.