Author's Note: I've been writing fanfiction in some capacity for almost 15 years (I'm so old!). Silly me for thinking I could "retire" from it. The last fanfic I posted on this site was "Soaring Dragon, Dancing Phoenix" for the Kung Fu Panda fandom. If you're one of my followers from the KFP fandom, it's great to see you again! If you're reading this and wondering "Who the flip is this 'Luna' person?" well, I'm glad to meetcha!

It should go without saying that Disney should have changed their tagline from "Zootopia - Like Nothing You've Seen Be-Fur" to: "Zootopia - If You Weren't a Furry Before This Movie, You Are Now." Since seeing (and loving!) this movie, this little story has been swirling around in my head for months. There are two previous (read: crappy) iterations of this story on my hard drive, but this was the first one I felt was good enough to post. I hope you all enjoy it. And please read and review! After two years, I'm anxious to know if I've still got it!

Disclaimer: Zootopia and all its characters is (c) of the Walt Disney Company and its affiliates. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is this written for profit.

Prologue

October 2016

Judy Hopps looked at the address again: 1955 Cypress Grove Lane, Apartment 401, Savannah Central, the same address Nick had listed on his fraudulent tax forms. Apparently they weren't as fake as she had once thought; careful sleuthing told her that this was his last confirmed legal address, one he had used for twenty-five years. Where he had been living before he left for training at the police academy was still a mystery to her, despite the fact she had known him for over a month before his application was approved and he was shipped off. But process of elimination meant only one thing...

This had been the home he grew up in.

Judy looked at the address in the file again, and then up at the building in front of her. This couldn't be right. The name of the place suggested something middle-class, a nice place with tree-lined sidewalks and children playing. Not...this. She didn't know it then, but this neighborhood at one time many decades before had been one of the nicer, up-and-coming parts of the city. The narrow brownstones and red brick apartment blocks were intended for young families of all species and backgrounds to move in and make a new and better life for the next generation. That had been the plan.

Unfortunately, that plan had not come to pass.

By the time Nick was born, the glory days were swiftly coming to an end, if not already long gone, and with one economic downturn after another, life had gotten harder and harder, until the only mammals left were the ones who were too poor or too attached to leave. And the apartment block in front of her was testament to those hard times, and still bore the scars of a crime wave from almost forty years before, a decade before Nick was born.

The rabbit closed her folder and began the hike up four flights of stairs. The elevator, which had clearly seen better days, had a dusty "Out of Order" sign in front of it; even if it were totally operational, the rabbit wouldn't have trusted it anyway. It didn't take her long to find the apartment, and she noted the light streaming from under the door. Someone was home.

The thought had occurred to her that maybe she was overstepping her bounds. Nick was still away at the academy, and the graduation ceremony was only a week away. When she had last spoken to him, Judy had asked him if there was anyone he wanted to invite.

He said no.

And that bothered her to no end.

Had he had any contact with his family? He'd mentioned his mother-

Judy had raised her paw to knock but jumped when the door swung open, and the resident also jumped, dropping the basket of laundry in her fright.

"Oh! I am so sorry, ma'am!" Judy apologized profusely.

"No, no, my fault!" the vixen replied. "I should've been more careful, throwing open doors like that. Oh, no, dear, you don't have to…" she said as Judy stooped to help pick up the laundry.

Judy smiled. "I don't mind!" she chirped, dropping the last shirt into the basket. It was clearly dirty laundry, but the thing that stood out the most was that it was all hospital scrubs. In fact, the aging vixen in front of her was still wearing a pair of pink and purple scrubs, and an ID card still attached to her front breast pocket. She was a nurse at Zootopia General Hospital, and her name was…

"Helen Wilde?" Judy asked.

"Yes? Oh…" the vixen trailed off and her face blanched when she saw Judy's uniform. "I'm so sorry, Officer, I didn't realize-"

"Oh no, please, nothing's wrong!" Judy assured her. "I just...is now a good time to talk?"

"It's Nick, isn't it?" she asked, clearly still worried, but almost resigned to hearing bad news. "He's hurt, or dead, and you're here to tell me…"

"No, Nick's fine! He's probably out for a run right now." Or nursing some new wounds from the obstacle course, she added silently. "And I'm actually here to bring you good news. I know this must be a difficult subject, Mrs. Wilde, but…"

"You're here about Redd."

Judy blinked with confusion. "Sorry, who?"

The vixen stared at her. "Redd, Robert Wilde, goes by Redd...my ex-husband, and Nick's father? Lord, I haven't seen that old flim-flam in years… Do you have him in custody?"

"I didn't know who he was until just a minute ago," she admitted. "Mrs. Wilde, I know you're clearly busy, but if you can spare a minute or two to talk about Nick…"

"And you tell me he's fine, and not in any trouble?" the elder asked, bringing her hand up to touch a silver necklace around her neck. Judy recognized the burning oil lamp stamped on the charm as a symbol for nurses.

The bunny frowned and asked, "Ma'am, were you expecting me or someone else from the police department to visit you?"

Mrs. Wilde dropped her paw and picked up the laundry basket with a tired sigh. "Every day since Redd first walked out, and every hour since Nick left. I keep expecting to get a phone call, or have a pair of officers show up at my door in the middle of the night. I know that sounds terrible, but…"

Judy gently laid her paw on the vixen's arm. "If now is not a good time, I can come back."

Mrs. Wilde shook her head, hefted the basket to her hip and nodded her head towards the stairs. "You may as well come in. I need to throw these in the wash, but I'll be right back up. Please, Officer…?"

"Hopps. Judy Hopps, ZPD. It's nice to meet you," she said cheerily.

Mrs. Wilde smiled. It was a sad, tired smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes. "Well, Officer Hopps, please make yourself at home. I don't drink coffee, but there's tea, water, and lemonade in the fridge if you're thirsty. Mugs and glasses are in the upper cabinet next to the sink…"

She excused herself and Judy let herself in. It felt very odd being in someone's personal space like this. Sure, she had served warrants before, and had been invited into homes for interviewing witnesses, but the level of trust it must have taken for this vixen to allow a complete stranger into her home, alone, was quite substantial.

Judy took a look around.

Immediately to her left was a galley kitchenette, in front of her was a small living space with a worn sofa, a small TV sitting on top of a short bookshelf, and a fox-sized dining set in the corner to her right. A hallway on her left must have led to the bedrooms and bathroom. It was remarkably uncluttered, orderly, and clean. Judging by the space, Judy guessed it to be at least a two-bedroom apartment, well lived-in, and clearly loved. There were memories here, she could feel it. Not all of them good, but there was love here. There had been love here for quite some time.

She turned to the kitchen to heat up the kettle. Mrs. Wilde had an old copper kettle that reminded Judy of the one in her own mother's kitchen. There were even framed needlepoint samplers on the walls. She glanced at a few of them, lovely embroidered flowers and cross-stitch motivational messages: "A Nurse's Prayer", "A Nurse's Oath", and others such as a simple Serenity Prayer. As the water heated up, Judy's attention turned to the photographs on the walls.

There were photos of Mr. and Mrs. Wilde's wedding day: one solitary image of Mrs. Wilde in her wedding dress, holding a bouquet of calla lilies, and the second showing the happy couple. Judy almost did a double-take when she saw Redd for the first time: he looked just like Nick, spitting image, right down to the sly, sleepy smile. What differed were the eyes: Redd's were sharp and - well, there was no other word for it - predatory, and even in these wedding pictures those eyes showed none of the warmth and soul that Nick's had. Redd was also quite scruffy-looking in almost every photo, including his wedding pictures. On the other hand, Nick - even when he carelessly threw on whatever was clean - always managed to look put-together. Redd still looked slightly unkempt while wearing a tux, while Mrs. Wilde was sleek, smooth, perfectly polished and poised in every way. And her eyes…

Judy could have kicked herself for not realizing it sooner. Helen Wilde also had green eyes, the same warm, sleepy green eyes Nick had undoubtedly inherited from her. While Nick definitely looked like his father, his mother definitely gave him those eyes. Those soulful, carefree verdant eyes that Judy missed every day...

And speaking of Nick…

"Aww," she cooed. Baby pictures. Lots of them. Nick as a newborn, swaddled in hand-knit blankets and baby caps. Nick as an infant, toddling along while an unknown male fox held his little paws, teaching him to walk. Nick as a toddler, laying on his stomach on the floor with a coloring book and crayons scattered about. Another photo, with Redd reading a bedtime story to him. The obligatory first day of school photo, with a kindergarten-aged Nick holding a simple green backpack. Several more photos with Redd, but many more with Helen. Most of the photos on the wall were of Nick. There were a few other family members-grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins…

Judy stopped at a picture showing a teen-aged Nick, standing next to none other than a younger Finnick. They must have known each other since at least high school. And high school fashion in the late '90s provided the bunny with plenty of blackmail for later. Though to be fair, everyone regrets the things they wore in high school. She knew she did.

But the pictures were sad, too. Judy could see the progression over time. The delight and euphoria of a newborn and promise of a bright-eyed child growing up, then fewer and fewer pictures of Redd, and a more and more sullen Nick, until suddenly the pictures stopped. There was one last photo of mother and son together, a formal family photo, when Nick appeared to be in his early twenties.

There were no pictures of him at all after around age twenty-five.

The kettle whistled, shocking her out of her reverie, and she rushed to take it off the burner. The rabbit almost kicked herself. How long had she zoned out like that? And she felt a bit guilty for invading Mrs. Wilde's privacy like that. She quickly found the mugs and boxes of tea, and steeped two cups of chamomile just as the vixen returned with the empty laundry basket.

Mrs. Wilde sighed and rubbed the small of her back as she tiredly entered the apartment. Judy handed her a mug, which she gratefully accepted. "Oh, bless your heart, you're such a love."

"Just happy to help," Judy said, and she meant it. "I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty…"

"Not at all! I did say to make yourself at home. Please come in and have a seat." Mrs. Wilde stepped into the living area and turned on a lamp, beckoning Judy to sit next to her on the sofa. "Now, how can I help you?"

Judy opened her folder and picked up a card. "Mrs. Wilde, I'm here on official business...to deliver this."

Mrs. Wilde accepted the card with a bemused look. When she opened it, she gasped. She read it several times in disbelief before she turned her attention back to the bunny. "This is…"

Judy smiled. "That's Nick's graduation announcement. The ceremony is next week. I thought you of all people should be there. He's never mentioned any other family except you. And though he never said as much, I'm pretty sure he'll want you to be there."

Mrs. Wilde stared at the invitation again, then looked back at her, her green eyes suddenly shrewd. "I've seen you before...and your name...you said it was…"

"Judy Hopps, ma'am." The bunny tried hard to not dwell on the fact her own bias had caused Zootopia to break out into Hell on earth for innocent predators; there were still some predators who were not happy with her. Dawn Bellwether's arrest and the knowledge that Judy - and the rest of the city - had been duped by a horrible conspiracy had eased some of the ill will. But that mistake followed the bunny everywhere she went...no matter how many times Nick assured her it no longer mattered.

"That's right," the vixen remembered, "You're the one who revealed that awful conspiracy."

"Nick helped," Judy said, relieved that the vixen didn't hold any outward ill will towards her for her mistakes. "The media didn't report that, though, no matter how hard I tried to get them to give him the attention he deserves. But that'll change soon. He's graduating from the police academy, and will be the ZPD's first fox officer. And he'll be my partner on the force."

She didn't expect the tears that suddenly sprung into the vixen's eyes. Alarmed, Judy frantically looked for a box of tissues, but Mrs. Wilde waved her off. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm just...I'm so proud of him. If what you're saying is true, I owe - he owes - all of that to you."

Judy blushed. "Well, I don't know about that…"

"I do. He wouldn't have become a police officer without you. So...thank you." Mrs. Wilde sniffed. "I think I will take that tissue after all. Bless," she added when Judy held out the box. "I'm just so proud of him...I worried every day that he would get himself killed doing God knows what in those hustles and scams and that I would be at work at the hospital and suddenly get called down to the morgue…"

Judy was horrified by what she was hearing. "Mrs. Wilde...when was the last time you spoke to Nick?"

Mrs. Wilde dabbed at her eyes with the tissue before composing herself long enough to answer. "It's been seven years now. I was so cruel...we had been arguing, about his activities, and I said the worst possible thing…" She looked at the bunny, shame in her eyes. "I told him 'You're just like your father.'"

Judy frowned in confusion.

"Oh," Mrs. Wilde realized. "Yes, you probably wouldn't know...I guess Nick never told you about him, did he?"

That's an understatement. "No, ma'am, I'm afraid he didn't."

"Well, I'm not surprised, then. He was never around much when Nick was little. And Redd was never an easy one to love. It wasn't always that way, you know. At first it was wonderful, but when you look at someone with rose-colored glasses, all the red flags just look like flags.

"When I met him and until Nick was a toddler, Redd worked in one of the factories down by the river; they closed down before Nick started kindergarten, a lot of good mammals lost their jobs. Some went into retail, or learned a trade, many others turned to crime. Give you two guesses which one Redd chose."

Judy didn't know what to say, but she encouraged her to continue. Mrs. Wilde sighed, "I thought at first he had found some night work restocking shelves at the market or something. Until he started bringing in more money than any shop worker could see in a month, let alone a week. I found out he was running cons, defrauding innocent people. I was furious. But he assured me that it was only until he found another factory job…" she shook her head. "I should've known better. I'm ashamed to admit that I turned a blind eye to it for years. Redd obviously never did find that factory job, and why would he, when he was making more money running those cons than he ever could on the factory floor?

"It just got worse and worse, and soon it became too hard to keep it from Nick - he was always such a smart boy. He figured it out fairly young. I thought I had nipped it in the bud with telling him that what his father was doing was wrong...but every little boy looks up to and wants to be just like Dad. You must understand, Officer, I tried everything to keep Nick from going down that path, but I failed. Redd had so many near brushes with death that I was certain Nick would get himself killed, so when I said he was just like his father…"

She cut herself off and exhaled heavily, staring down at her mug of tea. Judy's mind was swirling with this new information. Now she understood why Nick never mentioned his father; why would he, in fact why would he mention his past at all if it was even remotely as bad as the rabbit was beginning to believe it to be?

"I've regretted that every day since," the vixen continued. "How could I say that to him? What kind of mother says that to her own son?"

Judy leaned forward and gently put her paw over Mrs. Wilde's. "I'm sure he forgives you. He doesn't mention his past often, but when he does, and you come up, he only says positive things. Still…" Judy said. "It's so unusual...I can't imagine not talking to my parents for seven days let alone seven years." She realized too late how insensitive that must have been. If Mrs. Wilde was offended, she didn't show it.

"Redd screwed it up," she said, slowly nodding. "I should've seen him for what he was much, much earlier. It would have been better for Nick not knowing what his father was really like. But I was so convinced that having a male role model in his life was the best thing for him. I was so stupid...I was desperate for any male role model, when I should have looked for a good one. That's all I have left now: regrets. There is so much I wish I could take back… Not divorcing him sooner is chief among them."

Judy's ears were drooping, and she didn't know quite what to say, or even if she should say anything. When she did, she surprised herself at how eloquent she sounded. "We all make mistakes. Nick is more forgiving than you think. When we first met, I… Well, very long story short, I was a horrible friend to him. He keeps telling me not to beat myself up over it, but I still feel guilty about it. He's forgiven me, but I don't think I've forgiven me. Sometimes I think that's harder. Nick loves you, I know he does. But maybe he hasn't called or visited or...been in contact...because he's ashamed. I don't know a lot about his past, but I know a fair bit about him. He has a few tells."

"Tells?"

"Little subconscious ticks that people do when they're nervous or excited. Sometimes when he's annoyed…"

Mrs. Wilde smiled knowingly. "The left ear twitches?"

Judy smiled. "Yup."

The vixen continued, wistfully remembering, "And when he's excited or happy about something, he wags his tail like a wolf pup."

Judy was familiar with that too. In fact, she giggled at the thought of it.

"Does he still chew his nails?" Mrs. Wilde asked.

Judy shook her head. "I kicked him of that habit. He's settled for tapping his fingers on any surface he can find...which frankly might be worse than the nail-biting. But sometimes...his ears lower to just a certain angle - same angle, each time - when he's ashamed. But when he talks about...you...his ears are always at the same angle."

Judy gave this a moment to sink in. It hung in the air around them, settling in like a fog. Then just as quickly, the vixen nodded, tears abating.

"I think I know what you mean. Aside from those ears, his eyes are only more expressive. Anytime I caught him doing something wrong, I could tell he knew that it was wrong, and rather than be sorry he got caught…"

"...He was actually sorry," Judy finished. "Yeah."

Mrs. Wilde looked at her. "You seem to know him very well."

Judy shrugged. "Not as well as I think I should."

The vixen smiled warmly. "You know enough. Certainly more than most do. He must think the world of you, to trust you as much as he does. He wouldn't open up like that if he didn't."

She trailed off, staring at her mug of tea, now cooled. She cleared her throat. "You said the ceremony is next week?"

Judy nodded. "All the information is in the invitation. You'll need to bring that with you to get in; security's been understandably tight lately."

The vixen nodded, reading over the invitation again, holding it like a sacred relic. She shook herself out of her reverie, and, ever the good hostess, offered Judy a fresh hot cup of tea. Judy gently declined, stating her need to get back to work. Mrs. Wilde escorted her to the door to bid her goodbye and thanked her once again for delivering the message. Before she left, Judy turned to the vixen and said,

"Just so you know, he's got a good roof over his head. He's in a little studio apartment, but it's bigger and much nicer than mine. And the rent is reasonable. He gets three square meals a day, though I've been trying to break him off the fast food - but he's such an enabler he's got me hooked now."

Mrs. Wilde smiled knowingly. "That sounds like him."

Judy returned the smile. "He's also healthy. Before he left for the academy, I forced him to join me on my morning jog; he hates it, but I think he does it just to make me happy. Or keep me from nagging him. Either way, he gets his exercise." She paused, debating with herself, then said, "If you want, I can pick you up the day of the ceremony and give you a ride-"

Mrs. Wilde held up her paw to stop her. "Officer Hopps-"

"Please, call me Judy."

"Judy, then," she corrected herself. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think he's quite ready to see me." She paused. "I know why you're telling me all this. And I'm glad. You really are an angel, and I am so thankful that he has someone like you for a friend." She sniffed, and wiped at her eyes again. "Look at me getting weepy again. I swear I'm not like this all the time…"

"It's fine, I understand. My mom's the same way," she said. "I'm just saying, if it were me, I'd want someone to tell her all these things too. I know she's worried if I'm eating well, or getting enough sleep, or working too hard. I know she worries if my apartment isn't good enough, or if I don't have a lot of friends. And, well, you kinda remind me of her, so…"

The vixen stepped over and gently kissed her on the top of her head. "Judy Hopps, you are an angel, and never let anyone tell you otherwise." She stepped back with a warm smile - one that finally reached her eyes - and said, "Thank you...for everything."

"Any time, Mrs. Wilde."

"Helen," she corrected.

"Helen," Judy confirmed with a nod.

They smiled at each other, predator and prey, in complete understanding. Judy waved goodbye and started descending the stairs. When she looked back up, Helen Wilde was still watching from her doorway, like a mother carefully looking after her child.

October 2016, Two Days to Graduation Day

Nick Wilde laid on the top bunk and groaned as he felt his vertebrae popping back into place. He sighed with momentary relief. His Three Months of Hell was almost over. He had two more days. Two days until graduation. If he didn't screw it all up first. The fox wouldn't voice his anxiety to just anyone; he had years of bottling up emotions and hiding it when things got to him. He had sworn to himself that things no longer got to him.

That was before he became acquainted with Ursula Bruin, the ZPD Academy's polar bear drill instructor.

Through every class, every training drill, every verbal dressing-down from the ursine drill instructor, the fox couldn't stop himself from thinking "how did Judy do this?" After a rocky first week, he stopped asking how she managed to do anything at all. If Judy Hopps - as amazing as she was - could do any of this and graduate at the top of her class, why couldn't he do it?

Of course, that was easier said than done. He was more of a sprinter than an endurance runner, always had been, so running those miles would have probably given him a heart attack if he weren't in better shape. And he'd had his tail handed to him several times in the ring. Ursula, the drill instructor (and sadist extraordinaire, as all recruits thought of her), had decided that since Hopps had handled a rhino just fine, why couldn't her fox friend handle an elephant?

Nick still had the scars from that first little brush with the afterlife.

The only thing that kept him sane and focused during those three long months were his weekly calls with his future partner and - dare he say it - best friend.

"An elephant?" she'd asked.

Nick had been laying on his bed for that conversation, and held the phone up against his ear, one arm tucked under his head. "Yup. She figured if you could handle a rhino…"

"But I still got my tail handed to me the first few times I did it!" Judy had exclaimed.

Nick's ears had perked up and he cocked a brow. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I never told you that?"

"No! Jeez, Carrots, if I'd known, I wouldn't've felt so bad about getting pounded into the mat. Again. And again. Oh, and again."

He could hear the wince from the other end of the line. "I'm so sorry, Nick. I know it's tough, but it's just the first week. You'll get through this. You've faced worse already."

"Have I? I might need a refresher."

"Remember how we fought off those sheep while we were trying to bring the evidence of Night Howlers to Chief?"

"As I recall it wasn't so much 'fighting' as 'running away before they kill us'."

"Exactly! With bigger animals, don't try to fight fire with fire; you'll lose every time. Instead, use their strength against them. You're a fox, you're smaller, and you're much more nimble: use that to your advantage. Try it next time you're in the ring."

He did. And she had been right. For once, he didn't mind playing to the stereotypes of foxes being sly and sneaky: sly and sneaky helped him topple that elephant. The elephant would throw a punch, only to find Nick had slipped away to the adjacent corner; he threw another punch, the fox slid between the elephant's feet to the other side of the ring. He had even hopped up onto the elephant's outstretched arm, literally ran circles around his neck, and jumped out of the way just as the pachyderm's fist came up to collide with his own face. The trainer had never seen anything like it, and had commented that it "reminded her of a certain rabbit." Nick had never felt better about himself.

But he'd been a surprise for the other recruits in other respects. He was the best shot in the ZPD's history - and that was certainly no exaggeration; the fox had beaten a record that had been set over seventy years before, by a stag, of all creatures. But physical training and marksmanship weren't the only things police officers were expected to know. The recruits would take classes in criminology, legal studies, psychology, interspecies relations, de-escalation strategies, and sociology. In practical instruction, the recruits learned state and city laws, criminal investigations, patrol procedures, the aforementioned firearms and self-defense training, and even traffic control, defensive driving, and computer investigation skills.

Nick had always been good in school, and aced the classes with ease. That had not been a surprise for him. What did surprise him was that Nick found that his own life experience made other aspects of the academy training a lot easier. His years bending the law to his own ethically-ambiguous ends made him a near expert in local, state and federal laws, and his years of subtle manipulation for successful cons had given him practical first-hand experience with psychology. That quick eye that had always been able to find an easy mark made investigating mock crime scenes a walk in the park. And even the computer training came easily for him.

Being a sure-shot, however, had surprised him the most.

"Why is that a surprise?" Judy had asked him during one of their weekly calls.

"Why are you not surprised?" he'd asked, perplexed.

"I dunno," she'd said. "I guess I just always assumed you'd be good at something like that. You do have much better eyesight than I do. Than most people do, actually."

She had a point. By the time of that call, he had been in the academy for about six weeks, and was halfway through. The worst parts of Hell would arrive in the coming weeks, but for now, he would bask in the glory of something that he did better than anyone else. And at that moment, he allowed those carefully constructed walls to fall - well, not fall, exactly, he wasn't ready for Judy to know everything about him, but...lower a drawbridge? Yes, he could lower a drawbridge. There was no harm in that.

"Y'know, it's funny…"

"What is?" she asked.

"Promise you won't laugh."

"Nick, come on. It's me." It was a good point. So he took the plunge, lowered the bridge, and explained,

"When I was a kid...my dad was never really around, so my hero back then was Robin Hood." He paused, waiting for her to laugh. She didn't. He took a deep breath and continued, "I mean, Robin was everything I wanted to be: generous, noble, trustworthy, brave...basically everything my old man was not. You'll probably think it's stupid…"

"Nick, that's not stupid. I think it's really…"

If she says sweet, he'd thought, I may actually vomit. And never tell her anything again.

"...Wonderful," she finished.

He blinked. He hadn't been expecting that answer. "Seriously?"

"Of course! And actually, knowing that, a ton of stuff just started making sense."

"Such as?"

"Why you suddenly stood up for me when Bogo demanded my resignation, for one. Why you didn't abandon me when you had every opportunity and reason to do so. And I think after that moment, well, be honest: you didn't just stick around to get the carrot pen, did you?"

He fell silent. She was right. By then, by the time they'd made it to city hall, it hadn't been about that damn pen anymore. He had actually wanted to help her, and not for his own selfish reasons.

"I helped you because it was the right thing to do." He started saying that with a shrug, but as the words left his lips, he realized how that must have sounded. And Judy seemed to agree.

"Well," she'd said with triumph in her tone, "It sounds like you're more like your hero than you thought."

"Except for the whole 'rob the rich' thing. Somehow I don't think you'd look too kindly on that."

"No, I'd rather you not do that. Try and stay on this side of the law, Slick."

Strangely, being equated with his childhood hero made the rest of his training just a bit easier. He remembered the stories he'd read as a kit, applied the lessons, hell, even mimicked some of Robin's moves out on the obstacle course and in the shooting range. He wasn't good enough to split a bullet with another bullet (like in the famous story about the archery tournament), but hey, he'd be okay with breaking a seventy-year-old record.

Beyond the training, receiving top marks, and winning the respect of his fellow recruits, the fox could be content knowing that he wouldn't make top of his class like his friend and future partner. Top ten percent would be good enough. So imagine his surprise when the final scores were released and he was in the top one percent, only the second small mammal to do that in over 150 years of ZPD history. He'd been so excited that his first thought was calling Judy right away with the news; as expected, she was ecstatic.

Maybe that phone call was the catalyst. More likely, that phone call was what made him wonder, then realize, what should have been obvious from the beginning. Being away from her for three months wasn't hard just because of the training, or because he was lonely, or because he missed his friend...he missed her because he loved her. Nothing brought him greater joy than their weekly Monday night calls - the only time in his life where he actually looked forward to Mondays. Everything he had ever done since the end of the Night Howler case, every move, every thought, every little tiny insignificant little change in himself had been to make her proud. He wanted to be worthy of her good opinion, and never slide back into old habits. Quitting those old habits cold turkey was hard, but it helped knowing he had her backing him up.

His phone started buzzing. Nick wanted nothing more than to sink into that godawful mattress and sleep, but he knew only one person would call him this late. He checked the time and the caller ID. It was ten minutes until lights out, so he would have to make it quick. He answered the call.

"Hey, Carrots," he said, making no effort to mask his fatigue.

"Hey, Slick. How's my favorite fox?"

"There's another fox? Bastard. How dare he take my Carrots from me?" He could practically hear her eyes rolling.

"Har har. Listen, I know it's late, but there's something I need to ask you."

He frowned. What could be so important that she would call this late, and not on a Monday? Not that he was complaining, mind, he was always happy to hear her voice. "Shoot."

Judy hesitated, then huffed out a breath and took the dive: "Do you know where I can find your father?"

Nick almost forgot to breathe. He nearly choked on air, which would have been quite an achievement. "Why...would you ask me that?" he asked, completely bewildered.

"Well...promise me you won't get mad."

"You went to see my mom, didn't you?"

Her silence said it all.

"And you gave her the invitation to the ceremony, didn't you?" he continued.

He heard her sigh. "Yes…but I did it with good intentions!"

"I know you did," he said. "But sweet little bunny girls like you don't know that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

"Really? I thought the academy's driveway was asphalt and gravel."

"You little smart-ass." He was actually a little proud of her.

"I learned it from the best. And we're avoiding the conversation."

"We're not avoiding anything."

"Fine, you're avoiding it. I went to see your mom, she's fine, she was happy to get the invitation, I think she's coming, and she misses you and loves you, and she's sorry for everything that happened between you and did I mention she loves you?"

"Judy," he interrupted; if he didn't stop her now, she would probably just keep going and work herself into a fit. "I'm not mad. I'm glad Mom's doing well, and if she shows up, fine. If she doesn't, that's fine too. But how did you know her address?"

"If I was able to get my hands on your tax returns, finding your birth certificate wasn't much harder. Did a search for your mother's name, found the address that way. I was lucky that she lived in the same place for over thirty years."

"Yeah, she's a creature of habit." And then some, he silently added. "But why ask about my dad? Wait…" he propped himself up on one elbow, "You're not thinking of inviting him are you?"

"Would that be so bad?"

He struggled to keep his temper under control. He wasn't mad at her at all, but his anger towards his father hadn't ebbed even a little in the past twenty years. "Carrots, my dad walked out on us when I was twelve, and Mom divorced him not long after. Remember how I was when you met me? He was twice as bad back then, and I bet he's ten times worse now, wherever he is." Despite promising himself he wouldn't, the wounds were still raw, and he felt the anger building. "My father wanted nothing to do with me as a kid, so I want nothing to do with him, now or ever."

Judy was silent for a long moment, and Nick kicked himself for taking out his anger on her. He sighed. "Judy, I'm sorry. It's...it's a sore spot, still."

"It's okay, I understand," she said quietly. "Okay, I won't look for him. But your mom…"

"I'll be happy to see her," he admitted. "Lord knows it's been a few years, but I'll be glad to see her, even if she's not too happy to see me."

"Nick, she'll be thrilled to see you! She was practically over the moon when I told her you were becoming an officer! She's proud of you, I know it!"

He smiled fondly and started to say something before he was cut off by Ursula's shouting. "Sorry, Carrots, that's lights out. I'll see you in a couple days...if I don't get kicked out first."

"Don't even joke about that. You'll be fine. I'll see you at graduation!"

"Yeah, you too."

He hung up and turned off his phone. There was no need to use it as an alarm, the academy was perfectly capable of doing that for him. As he curled up under the covers, practically hugging the pillow against his chest, the fox sighed and tried to calm his nerves. He would graduate...he wouldn't screw this up...he would graduate...he wouldn't screw this up…

Graduation Day

For October, the weather was remarkably warm and sunny. It was just how he liked it. Nick doubted he would ever get used to the early mornings, hence the coffee cup in hand. It was actually his second cup. He was trying very hard - along with his fellow recruits - to stay awake during the ceremony while city officials and other dignitaries droned on and on with speeches that lacked originality or passion. Just as the fox began to wonder if this would be exactly like his high school graduation (which in hindsight, he would have happily skipped and just received the diploma in the mail), the other speakers sat, and a small figure stepped up to the podium.

He sat up, more alert now. He took the aviator sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on just as she began to speak.

"When I was a kid, I thought Zootopia was this perfect place…"

We all did, he thought.

"...where everyone got along, and anyone could be anything. Turns out...life's a little bit more complicated than a slogan on a bumper sticker. Real life...is messy…"

Like getting chased and nearly killed by a savage jaguar, or taking down former Mayor Bellwether for example. Stop it, Nick, pay attention…

"We all have limitations, we all make mistakes. Which means, hey, glass half full, we all have a lot in common! And the more we try to understand one another, the more exceptional each of us will be. But we have to try..."

This was it, he realized. In just a couple minutes, it would be real. The whole thing, from meeting that little juggernaut of a bunny, to the application process, and to this exact moment in time, felt so surreal he thought for sure he was dreaming. That it had all been one hell of a hallucination and he was about to wake up, sober up, at any moment. That somewhere, somehow, something would happen to break this bubble and ruin it all.

"...So no matter what type of animal you are, from the biggest elephant, to our very first fox..."

And suddenly all eyes were on him. And they were smiling.

It was real. This was really happening. He was really here, he had really done it, he had made it. He took off his sunglasses and gave Judy a wink. She beamed back at him, and suddenly, everyone and everything else melted away, and it was like she was speaking to him, and only him.

"I implore you...try. Try to make the world a better place. Look inside yourself and recognize that change...starts with you. It starts with me." She looked directly at him, he couldn't be wrong. "It starts...with all of us."

It didn't really sink in until he was face to face with her, on that stage, and she pinned that badge - good God, his badge! - to his uniform. Here he was. He had done it. He was really a police officer. And here she was...looking up at him with such pride, he half expected her to burst into tears. He knew he was ready to.

The next fifteen minutes were a blur of congratulations, city council members shaking his hand and posing for photo ops, and hearty pats on the back from his fellow recruits and new coworkers. He would have a hell of a time remembering all their names. Then in a parting of the crowd, he saw her.

Nick froze and stared. She seemed to sense someone was watching her, and she turned. The vixen's green eyes widened for a moment, then she slowly smiled. He didn't smile in return. Nick hadn't seen his mother in seven years, so he was understandably very surprised when he saw how she had aged. For the longest time, the picture he had in his head was of a vixen eternally young, always smiling, even if the smile never quite reached her verdant eyes, the only part of his appearance he'd inherited from her. From his earliest memory, she always had a sad look in her eyes, but now...now years of care and worry had etched wrinkles, added dark circles, and given her more than a few gray hairs on her muzzle.

It was also highly likely that her job as a trauma nurse contributed to her constantly-tired look, but Nick guiltily doubted that.

She smoothed out her blue dress - one he remembered her sewing years ago when he was a kit - and looked back at him expectantly, as if looking for permission to come forward.

He didn't give her permission. He didn't give her the option. Instead, he wordlessly trotted over and hugged her tightly.

Helen Wilde finally let out the joyful tears she had been holding in. Nick felt them splashing onto his shoulder, felt her shoulders heave with a soft sob and he hugged her tighter. "Hi, Mom."

She pulled back and held his face in her hands. "Seven years...seven years, and all you have to say is 'Hi Mom'?"

"Mazel tov?" he offered.

She snorted with laughter. "Still my little smart aleck."

"Yes, ma'am."

She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. "I'm so proud of you, Nicky. This is the second happiest moment in my life."

"Only the second happiest? Ouch," he teased. "Although I guess your wedding day is kinda important."

She playfully smacked his shoulder, laughing. "I was talking about the day you were born, you little snot."

"Ow! Love you, too, Mom. Jeez, between you and Carrots, I'll be black and blue like my uniform."

Helen frowned. "Carrots?"

"He means me." Judy hugged him so tightly and so quickly he almost toppled over, but that little bunny was much stronger than he remembered: she even picked him up a bit and nearly crushed him with the force of that hug. When she finally let go, Nick sucked in a few breaths while the females got reacquainted.

"He calls you 'Carrots'?" Helen asked, still a little confused.

"Long story, but yes, it's a little nickname. He only calls me Judy when he's being serious about something." Judy looked good in her dress blues, Nick realized. Granted, he had spent a good amount of time admiring his own reflection that morning because damn he was a fine specimen of a fox already, but now he saw the appeal of a mammal in uniform. And he was looking at a rabbit example of that appeal.

"How about a picture of you two?"

His mother's question shocked him out of his reverie. He looked back at her and he saw the knowing smile on her lips. Crap. She knew. The tell-tale looks between he and Judy confirmed it. His mother knew. And she knew that he knew that she knew. And she thought that was delicious. Helen held up a camera. "Come on, Nick. I don't have a single picture of you since you were twenty-four. Let's see that grin!"

Judy gently nudged him with her elbow. "C'mon, Slick Nick, just a couple pictures for a proud mama."

He rolled his eyes and smiled, taking a relaxed pose next to her.

"No, no," Helen said, "Get in closer, hug each other, for heaven's sake, look like you're friends, or at least tolerate each other. There! Perfect. Nick, no bunny ears."

Judy scowled up at him and he quickly pulled his hand away. "No clue what you're talking about, Mother Dear."

Helen rolled her eyes. "Officer H-Judy," she corrected herself, "My son will never forgive me if you don't ham it up for the camera. Just a couple shots…"

"Can we use them as blackmail later?" Judy grinned.

"Oh my, yes," Helen said, returning the wicked grin.

Nick didn't like the looks they were giving him. But, his mother knew him only too well: he liked to ham it up when the occasion called for it. So he and Judy experimented with various poses, some silly, some not, some perfectly respectable and some perfectly relaxed. The last one, he felt, would be a classic: just the two of them, side by side, her arm around his waist, his arm draped across her shoulders, standing close and smiling wide.

He shared a look with the bunny and then shared a grin. He had done it. They had done it. He hadn't screwed this up. And by God, Nick wasn't going to do anything to screw up his chance at a new life.

November 2016

He had screwed up. Never, never try to drink a raccoon under the table, hadn't his old fox taught him that? He groaned, his head pounding, feeling groggy and nauseous, easily the worst hangover he could remember. He frowned. He was no lightweight by any means, but for one drink to knock him out cold? Clearly he wasn't as young as he used to be.

The fox woke up on the cold hardwood floor by the front door of the apartment, on his side and feeling the breeze of chilly fresh air coming in from under the crack at the bottom of the door. There was also a chill from the cracked open window above him, early morning light streaming in with the breeze. The fox shivered and rolled onto his stomach. His head pounded, and the nausea only seemed to get worse. He needed to get up, needed some fresh air, but his muscles refused to work. He was starting to get nervous, but he felt too sluggish to really move. It took all of his strength and willpower to push himself up on his knees.

Open the window, he told himself. Sober yourself up. The red fox had to grab onto the radiator and cursed when he pulled his hands away from the hot metal. It seemed the building's heat had finally been turned on overnight. About time. It may have been Sahara Square, but it still got cold at night during the winter. True, it wasn't officially winter yet, but he found as he got older that he couldn't tolerate extreme temperatures as well as he used to. But still: shivering when it was 70 degrees out? He was getting old.

The fox finally stood and struggled to open the old window. It was nearly painted stuck, but he put all his strength into unlocking it, and pulling it up. Finally it gave way with an ear-splitting screech (which did nothing to help the headache), and he shoved it up as far as it would go. He leaned forward and breathed deeply. He felt his headache start to go away, and he felt less nauseous. He still felt tired and a little disoriented, but that was likely the alcohol. He looked over his shoulder at the empty liquor bottles around the kitchen and winced. Yep, definitely the alcohol. Since when did he drink tequila?

Larry, right, just had to do shots, didn't he? He sighed and gulped down more crisp morning air, feeling better with each inhale. The fox looked back at the other occupants of the apartment, five others, all passed out. Larry, a boar and his oldest friend, lay on his couch, completely motionless.

That was when the fox realized something was wrong.

Larry's snores were loud enough to wake the dead, but he wasn't snoring. Come to think of it…

The fresh air jumpstarted his brain and the fox began to quickly take in the room around him. He had initially assumed that each of these mammals - Rich, Bill, Molly, Peggy, and Larry - had just had too many drinks and passed out. Only one of them - Larry - was an extremely sloppy drunk. Peggy, a raccoon, was a recovering alcoholic, and hadn't touched a drop in years, and wouldn't even have a drink at gunpoint. Rich and Molly, a married pair of weasels, could be hard partiers, but no matter how drunk they got, they were usually the first ones up in the morning after a party; Molly would've been making pancakes by now. And Bill...well, the skunk was drunk most of the time anyway. But for a high-functioning alcoholic who could run circles around the fox on a good day, the skunk was surprisingly immobile, currently slumped over the table, while the weasels and raccoon were splayed out on the kitchen floor like they had just dropped…

Dead.

Panic and fear seized the fox's heart. He started shaking, and with adrenaline surging through his veins, he followed the only instinct he knew: flee.

He fumbled with the lock on the door, quickly becoming disoriented again, and feeling dizzy and nauseous, which he told himself was the booze, not panic. He finally unlocked the door and threw it open and stumbled into the hallway, falling down with a heavy thud. The door across the hall cracked open and he looked up to see an armadillo watching him curiously.

Help, the fox wanted to scream. Help me! But he couldn't speak. He brought his hand up to his throat and croaked. He couldn't talk! How could he explain this?

The armadillo seemed to realize something was wrong. He stepped out of his apartment, his wife and kids watching from the relative safety of their home, as the man of the house investigated. The fox reached out for him, trying to pantomime 'help!' The armadillo looked into the apartment, saw the bodies, and gasped.

"Jane, call 911!" he shouted to his wife.

The fox froze. No. Not the cops. He had been down this road before, he knew what would happen when the cops showed up and saw him there! And now he couldn't even defend himself!

Before he even realized it, the armadillo was helping him stand, the very act making his head swim and the nausea even worse. The fox almost blacked out again, because the next thing he knew he was sitting on an unfamiliar sofa with two armadillo children staring at him.

"You okay, there, pal?"

You're not my 'pal', and no I'm not okay! He patted his throat.

"Can't speak?"

He shook his head, still feeling dizzy.

"Okay, my wife's called 911, they'll send an ambulance too. Can you at least tell me your name?"

This would be hard. He didn't want to give his name, he really didn't, but he didn't have much of a choice. His body still rebelled against him, still keeping him from holding the pencil he had just been given to write with. He couldn't speak, couldn't write...what the hell was he going to do?

He decided to try anyway.

"R-rrreee…" he croaked.

The armadillo leaned in closer to hear. "What's that?"

The fox tried again, using all the strength he had to use his voice to rasp out: "R-Redd. My name is...Redd Wilde."

One last note: The length of time between when a person applies to be a police officer and when they actually start work varies according to jurisdiction. Some places it can take just a few months, others can take well over a year. This is a universe in which humans never happened, so I can take some creative license with how the ZPD hires and trains its officers. According to the Zootopia Wiki, the movie takes place in May 2016 (assuming that the year is the same year the movie came out). I averaged that the time between Judy cracking the missing mammal case, moving back to the farm, and returning to the city by the end of the film took place over the course of a month. If Nick applied for the job right away (in June), the application process could take up to six weeks (mid-to-late July), then it's off to the police academy for three months (the 6-week application process and 3-month academy training seemed to be the median in the USA, but I could be wrong). And like most workplaces, police departments have a probationary period - here, it'll be 90 days - to see if the new officer is up to snuff and can handle the job. Hence, why the events of this story begin in roughly October/November.

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