Cover art by TheWyvernsWeaver (check out their DA)
Story title edited on (with permission) by me

Prologue: October

Approximately five months after the conclusion of the Night Howlers case…

("Until October, partner. And I expect you to miss me.")

She sat swamped at her desk, swimming in an ocean of 'non-incident duties' as the official reports called them, better known by most everyone in the precinct simply as paperwork. And it was high tide, judging by the rate at which the nasty red files were accumulating on her left (unfinished work on the left, finished on the right—just six more hours, I can do this). She was heavily overworked as of late, though she knew perfectly well it was her own fault. Her past week's performance hadn't been her best, and the ratio of left-side to right-side paperwork was proof. These 'non-incident duties' were the most draining part of the job, but also the most crucial. There was one thing she was confident of—the longer she doggy-paddled in this sea of red folders and ineligible black scrawl, the later it would be until she slept. And as great a wonder caffeine was, sleep was something she desperately needed.

Yet she would often allow her mind to drift away from the task at hand, and to a much more comforting thought. She would think of him. She would try and recall just how green his eyes were when they weren't partly concealed by that half-lidded I'm still a swindler at heart look. But the longer he was absent, the less vibrant that green appeared to be. His voice, which she had once found to be so unique in the way he used his words, now appeared distant and blended with the conversations of her workplace. He was fading, and it terrified her.

Before she could set herself back on task, cursing her daydreams for being so damn obsessive, a gentle rapping of claws-on-cubical-wall caught her attention. Her ears were the first to react, standing erect atop her head. She more than willingly turned away from her cluttered desk to see Wolfard, standing just beyond the divider with that ever-present placid look on his face. In one grey paw, he held a paper cup with great care.

"Hopps," he addressed with a small nod. "You looked like you could use another." He approached her desk, cleared a space, and set the cup before her.

"Do I look that miserable?" Judy grinned wearily up at him.

"Not miserable. Just in need of a pick-me-up," he said, and made his way to the cubical to her right, the one which happened to be his own. He emerged with another cup for himself, dragging behind him his rolling-chair. He seated himself in the entryway of her workspace and took a long drink. Swallowed, sighed, wiped the back of his paw across his lips, and spoke, "How are you getting along?"

"Just fine," Judy said in a tone which neither herself nor Wolfard truly believed.

"Is that right?" Wolfard mused. He motioned towards her mammoth workload with a nod of his cup. "You're desk says otherwise."

The rabbit didn't respond, only picking up her coffee and testing the temperature. Still piping, and a little much creamer for her liking, but she certainly didn't mind his kind gesture. "My weekend was occupied—family matters. I'm just catching up with everything," she said with another sip. "How are the pups?"

"Tolerable," Wolfard grunted. "Elton finally learned to play on his own, which is nice. Ayn isn't quite there yet."

"Hmm," was Judy's only response. There was silence, but the conversation had never stopped. The way Wolfard looked her over, with that contemplative and kept gaze of his, made her feel as if he better understood her situation than she herself did. They both knew Wolfard hadn't gotten her coffee so she could focus on her paperwork. They also knew that the reason for her paperwork in such excess was not because she had family matters over the previous weekend.

Wolfard's eyes moved to the second desk fit snugly within Judy's cubicle. This one was clean of all paperwork, clean of everything but a blank monitor and a golden nameplate, centered before an empty chair.

"It's October," Judy said in a voice distant. Wolfard said nothing, though she knew he understood. She drew another sip of warm coffee for her own comfort.

"They're due to return this week," said Wolfard after a long silence. His eyes never left the nameplate.

Judy nodded and swallowed thickly. "You're right," she said, and looked down at her feet. "Thanks for the coffee."

"If you need another, I'm within shouting distance," he said.

Before she could stop herself, a worrisome thought—one which had been plaguing her for the last several months—slipped out of her mouth. "Not everyone makes it through the academy."

"No," Wolfard agreed and took another long drink. "Not everyone, but Nicholas will."

Judy turned to face him. "How do you know?"

"He's a fox," Wolfard said with a shrug, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "They're athletic little things, and I doubt he's any exception."

From what Judy had seen, Wolfard was not lying. Nick was one robust fox. And he didn't even care for things like sports—the irony. But she was still concerned, and either her face conveyed that clearly or Wolfard had read her mind.

"You're worrying too much," he said. His tone wasn't one of sentiment, but of fact.

"I know," Judy said.

"You should be ecstatic, if anything. The graduation is already planned for Saturday. The chief knows you two want to be partners, so I'm certain he'd work out any problems if they arise," Wolfard said, and for the first time he offered a sliver of a smile. No matter how small it was, it gave Judy a great deal of comfort. "Try and focus on your work," was the last thing he said before leaving, dragging his chair in tow.

Judy turned back to Nick's empty desk, to his nameplate. He wouldn't like how the thing said "Nicholas" instead of "Nick", nor that it mentioned his middle initial "P" for Piberius. When she finally spun back around to her desk, the paperwork was waiting.

Nick Wilde had signed up as Judy's partner shortly after cracking the Night Howler case. But it wasn't that easy to sink yourself a position in precinct one. After one month off, most of which spent with the rabbit, Nick soon found himself in Zootopia's central station, a small suitcase at his side. Before him was the train which would take him to the academy. The schedule he had been given said he would return in October, a date which seemed eons from that very day. He turned his back to the train and Judy was there. She smiled, but Nick could see the worry in her eyes, as defined as print.

"You shouldn't worry about me, Fluff. I'll be back before you know it, preferably with washboard abs," he grinned, though his smirk quickly fell when he saw Judy's melancholy. He retracted the handle of his suitcase, kneeling down so that the two were at eye level. Taking one of her paws into his own, he looked into those violet eyes with as much sincerity as he could muster. "I'm coming right back, you know that. Right back."

Judy found herself tracing the patterns in the station's intricate tile-work floor. "In four months," she stated, never lifting her gaze.

"Four months, then we're partners forever. You and me, Carrots. How does that sound? You think you can make it four months without this sly fox at your side?" He nudged her and offered half a smile.

His effort to cheer her up somehow succeeded, and her expression lightened, if only a little. "I guess I'll manage. This is the only way we can work together, after all."

"Yep, no way around it. Believe me, I'd ditch my bag and walk out of here with you if I could."

Nick expected her to chuckle in that shy way she often did, contractive her outgoing nature. But she surprised him by leaning forward into him, burying her head in his shoulder. Nick's eyes widened a little, but he quickly regained his composure with a tender smile.

"Work hard for me, alright?" she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Yeah. Sure."

"No really," she withdrew her head so she could look up at him, "this matters a lot to me. And to you, too, I hope."

"Do you really think I'd ship myself off to some summer camp if I didn't care?" Nick chuckled, shaking his head. He pulled her back into his embrace.

A warning chime sounded out, and the two glanced back at the train. The last few recruits were hopping on board.

"I need to go," he said, and she could feel the voice in his throat as he pulled her tighter for one last moment before pulling away. "Until October, partner," he smirked down at her, fetching his suitcase. "And I expect you to miss me."

He climbed on, the doors closed, and the train carried him away. Just as she had stared at his empty desk after Wolfard's talk, she then stood in silence in that train station, sans the train. Eventually, she forced herself to turn from the empty platform and resume her life without Nicholas Wilde.

Each day after that moment seemed to linger on past the normal twenty-four hours. The sun dragged itself across the sky at an alarmingly slow rate, though only Judy seemed to notice this. Each time she saw a couple on the sidewalk, chatting carelessly and laughing with one another, a tension would build in her. An unsatisfactory clog in her mind—in her heart. She wanted to have just one conversation with him. Just one.

But he wasn't there.

The couple on the sidewalk would keep walking, and she would tell herself that he would come back. I can't let this affect my performance, she reminded herself often. This job meant everything to her, and what would be the point in Nick going away to become her partner if she couldn't keep her job? Though, while on patrol, she would catch herself staring at the ice-cream shop where they first met, or the rooftop where she caught him melting a red jumbo-pop.

("It's called a hustle, sweetheart.")

The enormous mound of paperwork had been reduced after a late night and many more coffees from Wolfard. When she returned the next day, she was glad to be assigned patrol in Savannah Central. The workload was still oppressively large, but driving away from the precinct, from her desk, made her feel much better. So she drove aimlessly, keeping a portion of her mind on the speed of the vehicles around her. She didn't say a word, after all, there wasn't anyone to speak to. Chief Bogo had attempted to give her a temporary partner, though she had quickly shut down the idea. If someone became her partner in the meantime, it would almost be like replacing him. And then he would really disappear.

It was at an especially long red-light when she caught sight of two pointed ears and a tail of familiar color. The individual wasn't in sight for long, disappearing around the street corner. She waited with anxious unrest for the green-light so she could put her suspicions at ease. It's not him, Judy. Don't be an idiot. He'll come see you when he gets back…

…screw it.

Flipping on her flashing red and blue's, she floored through the light, making a sharp right around the corner and thankfully missing the oncoming traffic. At first she didn't see him, but as she looked further down the sidewalk, there he was. Red ears, bushy tail swaying behind him. She sped up to get a better look. Her heart was racing, roaring louder than the cruiser's engine.

The unfamiliar red fox flinched at the sight of her flashing lights. He was pudgier than Nick, slightly taller, and his snout was far shorter. His eyes were brown, not green, and he wore a white shirt under an unbuttoned denim jacket and jeans of the same material. It wasn't Nick, but of course it wasn't. The fox on the sidewalk hardly looked anything like her partner. And if all this wasn't proof enough, she knew Nick hated jeans.

Feeling like an idiot, she turned off the siren and drove away, her free foot tapping anxiously on the floorboard. All the while her mind was screaming at her.

It wasn't him. Wasn't him. Idiot. You ran a red light. Don't let this get to you. Stay focused.

Tuesday aged into Wednesday, which crawled into Thursday. She had no patrols that day, only more 'non-incident duties'. She sat for hours beside his empty desk, absentmindedly scanning over missing person reports and arrest files. She would later shame herself for taking such serious matters so negligently. New papers arrived on her left and piled higher and higher to seemingly no end.

Though eventually there came an end. Or, at least, a lunch break.

She didn't eat much: some crackers from a vending machine and a cheap salad, which she picked at with her fork. The one thing she did consume abundantly was the coffee. It was grainy and had the worst aftertaste—the ZPD has more serious matters than perfecting their brewing skills — but she drank it regardless.

Most everyone had returned to their desks after twenty minutes of small talk and snacks, but not Judy. She was in no rush to return to the pile of documents due at the end of the day. Her mind was elsewhere, on matters she found mattered more to her.

Reaching for her phone, her finger shot to her contacts, then to his name, as she had done so many times before. But she stopped with her paw hovering over 'Call'. If he hadn't responded before, why would he today? He would meet her before the end of the week, in person, and that was better than any phone call, right?

I'm going to see him. 'Patience, the greatest virtue of all wise mammals.' Don't you have a poster of that somewhere?

But she had been patient. He wasn't back before she knew it, like he said he would be. What if he never came back on that train? What if the train never even arrived? For whatever reason, in Judy's mind, this seemed to be a more likely scenario. What if he isn't here tomorrow? Or Saturday? What if he doesn't show up for weeks? Why? The why doesn't matter. It's the what if's that counts. It's the what if's that drove her to press his name.

She waited for the monotoned voice to tell her that her call couldn't be received at the time, and to please leave a message after the beep. The voice never came, and when she withdrew the phone from her ear…

Call rejected.

"…What?"

She stared at her screen for a long while, allowing the words to sink in. He had not picked up. He had declined her call.

The door to the break room opened with it's usual, familiar creaking, though Judy did not lift her eyes from the phone. She was too focused on those two evil words.

"Everything good, Hopps?" said a deep, masculine voice.

She glanced up and saw Delgato. The lion was standing before the vending machine, digging his wallet out of his pocket. Judy only nodded.

He finished filling his cup and walked out of the room, and she was alone again. No, that's not right. She had never been accompanied in the first place.

For four months she had been alone.

The worst of it came that night. Everything had built up inside her on the subway home, and she was on the verge of a breakdown when she arrived at her apartment. She kept her head down as she walked past the front desk, heading for the elevator. She was dismayed to see a sheet of paper taped between the two metal doors.

Elevator under maintenance. Use stairwell.
- MGMT.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am," a deer in reading glasses called from the front desk. "The thing should be up and running by morning."

"It's fine," she mumbled, not sure if he could hear her, and opened the doors to the stairwell.

Inside, the walls were painted an ugly light green color, pealing to reveal white plaster underneath. Yellow lights buzzed loudly above her head as she started up the stairs, wondering why it was that the universe suddenly hated her.

It was a term her mother had used growing up: 'The Universe'. Some called it God, others a mysterious force, even others fate. Whatever it was, it had been so generous up until this moment. She had her dream job, in her dream city. She had better friends than she could ever imagine or ask for. The universe had selected Nick and her to meet and form an unlikely bond, which would spiral into the most absurd friendship the world had ever seen. The universe allowed for—maybe even helped her—to solve Zootopia's most threatening case in decades, one that might have torn the city apart had she not stepped in. But where was the universe now? What did she do to betray it? To anger it? To turn it against her?

She tripped on the lip of a step. Her arms flailed for the handrail, though she did not reach it in time to save her knees from bouncing on the grainy concrete step in front of her. For a long time, she didn't move, listening to her heavy breathing and allowing the pain to emphasize her question. Why? What did I do?

Eventually, she maneuvered so that she was sitting down on the steps. She curled her knees to her chest and watched as her sight became distorted. A wet drop fell down her cheek.

"Don't cry", came a voice in her head, though it was not comforting. Its tone was demanding and authoritative. "What would all the inspired little children who looked up to Officer Judy Hopps think if they saw her sobbing in an abandoned stairwell? Don't. Cry."

Her paw went into her pocket, and she did not stop it from revealing her phone. Her movements were subconscious and robotic.

Contacts— Nick Wilde— Call

She pressed the button urgently, as if it were her last hope, and waited for the phone to start ringing. Now it was Nick's turn. The ball was in his court, and her mental stability relied all on his next move. If he could decline her call last time, then at least he had his phone on him. That means he can't be at the academy, as phones are taken up before training begins.

She looked up at the winding stairs above her, not wanting to see him decline her call again. Not wanting to see his response at all. She regretted calling in the first place.

When the ringing stopped, her throat tightened. She heard a sob, and it took her a moment to realize she made the noise.

Say something. Please. Speak to me. I need to hear you.

The impatience got to her, and her eyes shot down to her phone with wicked desperation.

Call rejected.

"Dammit! Answer me!" she shouted, her voice wavering on the brink of a complete meltdown. The universe seemed to mock her with the echo of her own voice in the enclosed stairwell. Her grip tightened on her phone, and she stopped herself just before she could throw it into that disgustingly green wall. It it were to break now, she could not afford another. Besides, she had only purchased this phone a few weeks ago, and if she broke it, that might tip her over the edge. She wouldn't be able to see Nick's face in old pictures or even read his name in her contacts.

"Answer me…" she sobbed, placing her phone down on the steps. And she cried.

"You're a police officer. One of the best in the city, the chief told you himself. Get control of yourself."

Shut up, I can't deal with you right now.

"Children look up to you."

Shut up!

"How long before they learn you're just some dumb bunny who can't control her emotions? What would Nick think if he saw you this miserable?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" she screamed through an onslaught of tears. Her voice echoed for what felt like forever, surely waking neighbors all throughout the apartment.

I let it get to me.

She managed to her feet.

Does his absence affect me this deeply?

She put her phone back in her pocket with a trembling paw.

"Of course, it does. Why else would you be weeping in a stairwell? You're pathetic, but you're just a rabbit, so it must be natural."

She lumbered up the remaining steps, wondering why he wouldn't answer. She had waited so long for this very week, just for him to deny her calls. Does he realize what this is doing to her? Does he even have his phone at all? Did someone rob him of it?

If this can make me cry, what does that mean?

"Where are you?" her voice was now a whimper. She didn't remember climbing the stairs, only that she arrived at the top, tears drying on her cheeks.

("And I expect you to miss me.")

His voice sounded so distant. She hardly remembered his tone anymore, only that it had once sounded sly and intelligent. But dead. Like that of words on a page. Read it once, twice. It never changed. It is black and white.

It's October…

She opened the door to a dimly lit hallway, trudging along, forgetting to close the door to the stairs behind her. Then at her door, managing the key from her pocket. It took her multiple tries to fit the key into the knob.

In her room, she could let it out. She could hide underneath her blanket with all the lights out, quivering. She could call her parents, or listen to the radio. She could lock herself in there for days, perhaps. Fix herself more one-course microwave meals. She could drink coffee religiously. She could slip away from the world entirely.

But none of this happened.

She opened the door, light from outside streaming into the already illuminated room. Her keys dropped from her paw.

He was there, sitting on the edge of her bed. Smiling. Not in a mischievous or manipulative way, but a sincere smile. His green eyes were soft and seemed to sparkle, glow even, in the dim room. His back was arched as he sat—as if he had been waiting a long while—elbows against his thighs, paws folded in front of him.

She didn't make a noise. A jet soared overhead, and somehow she found herself more interested in that.

"Hey, Carrots," he said, still sincere and soft, his eyes almost saddened.

Her next words confused him. "You're not actually here, are you?" she said in a small voice, springily flat.

His smile fell into a frown. He rose to his feet and approached her with slow steps. Judy noticed he was an accurate size in comparison to the real Nick. Just about four feet, maybe a little taller. And the closer he got to her, the more he could see the detail of his fur. The glimmer in his eyes. The closer he got, the more real he felt.

But he wasn't real—he could not be real. This was all a hallucination after suffering so much stress. If she wanted to believe Nick was here, her mind would tell her he was. Why would he turn down her calls if he was in her apartment all along?

Nick held out his arms in a gesture that made her want to tackle him to the ground and never let go. She wanted to feel his embrace again. His warmth and care. The way he held her gently as if he didn't trust himself not to hurt her. She desperately wanted to feel that again.

But she didn't step closer. If she did, it would only get worse. If she stepped into that loving embrace, she would wake up in a cold sweat. Maybe he would disappear, leaving her alone in her dark, cold apartment. That would hit her the hardest, and the pillow would be wet with tears that night.

This is the part when I realize I'm still in the stairwell, or still in the break room, finishing my fourth coffee, she thought to herself and felt suddenly distant to this impostor in front of her. This handsome impostor that her mind had created to comfort her—how dare it do that. They were in two different worlds, or so she felt.

But when Nick stepped forward, he pulled her into an embrace with that same gentle care she longed to feel again. She could smell his scent heavy on him.

A dream? Judy wondered, but no dream could be so elaborate. Nothing but reality could pull such an impressive scheme. This is real.

Her reaction was delayed, like being shot—you don't feel the pain until you're bleeding on the ground. The dam she built to keep back the tears was ruptured, and she found herself baling into his chest. Into the cream fur that ran down his neck.

For the longest time, he said nothing. He only stood there, holding her, slightly surprised at her reaction. Had him being away really hurt her this much? It wasn't like he had left for years, or said he was never coming back.

He, of course, missed her presence too. Not having his left-hand rabbit there for him had been hard, especially for the first week. The academy had felt longer than he ever expected. Those four months had to be the longest of his life, both due to her absence and the physical strain of the constant drills. But mostly because she wasn't there.

He was the first to back out of the hug. Not wanting her to feel small, smaller than she must as she openly wept, he knelt before her. Just as he had done at the train station before he left. The memory made Judy want to cry more, but she forced herself to stop. Crying made her more uncomfortable than anyone else on the scene. It seemed to combat everything that she stood for. It seemed to remind her that she, after all, was just an emotional bunny rabbit.

She forced the thought out of her head, wiped the remaining tears, and looked into his emerald eyes. They were so real. So much more elaborate than anything she had remembered him by.

"How ya doing, rabbit? Missed me?" His tone suggested a joke, but his face was sincere. Almost worried.

"Yes," she said quickly, like she already knew he would ask. "Yes."

"You sure? Not to guess at your emotions or anything, but you seemed pretty torn up when you walked in," he said, and grinned. "Did you miss this old fox that much?"

She chuckled weakly, glancing down. "It's been a long four months," was all she said.

"Amen to that," he chuckled. "Oh, and sorry for turning down your call earlier. Telling you I was here would've ruined the surprise."

Her emotion changed quickly, and the memories of the stairwell came back to haunt her.

She scoffed. "Nicholas Wilde—I worried about you! What am I supposed to think when my partner won't answer his phone on the week he's supposed to be getting back?"

The fox shrugged. "Maybe that I put the ringer on silent?"

"NO!" She pointed a finger at him. "That is NOT a worthy excuse!" Judy said, though no excuse in the world would make her feel any better.

"If I would have known you were so morose I would have answered. I'm sorry, okay?" Nick held his hands up in defense.

She walked past him with a sigh. "I was worried out of my mind, fox! You were supposed to be getting back this week, and so when you didn't pick up, I guessed the worst."

"Oh, come on! What's the worst that could happen to me?" He said, rising off his knees and turning towards her. He leaned casually against the wall and folded his arms. A wide grin spread across his muzzle.

"You conned for twenty years. I'm sure there's plenty of crime bosses who you haven't severed ties with. Besides, you're rather careless."

"And you're" he pointed to her, "overly cautious."

Judy glared at him for a moment, then sighed, looking away. "You could have at least answered my call at lunch. I'm sure you haven't been camping out that long in my apartment, have you?"

Nick raised a brow. "Lunch?"

"Yeah. About noon, it was."

Nick chuckled a little. "Carrots, my personal belongings were returned at six, when I boarded the train. I got here an hour ago, dropped off the luggage at my place, and came here."

"Then how did you decline my call?"

"I didn't decline your call. At the academy, the phones are kept in storage—you know this."

Judy looked down. "Someone must have heard your phone buzzing and turned it off." She offered a feeble smile. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"Don't be, fluff. I'm just happy you were so worried about me," Nick slurred.

Judy rolled her eyes, internalizing the blush so he would never know. After all, she was applying his own principal. Never let them see they get to you. He never gave the context, though, so it could be applied to flirts as well as insults.

"Oh, I'm sure you cried each night over me," Judy smirked.

"I'm afraid my pillow remained dry, Carrots," Nick said. "But, I will admit, in the cold, apathetic void which is my heart, something missed you."

"Really?"

"I know, I know. It even surprises me," Nick smirked, and for a while, it seemed like that would be all. Then, to her surprise, he grabbed her and pulled her to him in another hug. "But in all seriousness, I missed you, rabbit," he said into her shoulder.

"Yeah," she said, nodding into the crook of his neck. "Me too. And please, answer my calls from now on. Okay?"

"We're still mad about this?" Nick chuckled, pulling away.

"Ten minutes ago I was crying in a stairwell. Sobbing. All because of your stupid plan to surprise me."

Nick took a deep breath and hopped off the bed. "Look, Hopps." He knelt again before Judy, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I won't ever do it again, scout's honor. Now, are we good?"

"Yeah," Judy said with a smirk. "We're good."

"Excellent," Nick said, getting back on his feet. "It is — what time is it? Clock, clock, clock." Nick scanned the room, finally finding the red alarm clock and radio sitting on Judy's desk. "Aha! 9:49—eleven till' ten—and you have work tomorrow, so I should go ahead and get out of your fur—"

"Wait, I...I want to talk to you," Judy said.

"What about?"

Judy paused. "I...I just wanna talk, you know? It's been a while, and you seem to be kind of a natural at vocalization, so I didn't expect it to be a problem."

"Eh, I guess having a silver tongue comes with being a fox — I don't know. But what I do know is that some find my overall charisma," he leaned closer to her so they were only inches apart, and he hummed, "extremely attractive."

"Sit, Wilde."

"Sitting!" He spun her desk chair around and added, "You left the door open."

Judy looked behind her to see the door, still wide open, and her keys, still lying on the floor where she had dropped them. With a flush of embarrassment and the realization that anyone outside could have heard their entire conversation, she hurried over to the door, closed it.

"I'll get the keys," Nick said.

"Thanks."

They both returned to their seats.

"So," she said, resting her head on her knuckles, "how was the academy?"

"Oh, that," he grinned bitterly. "I got some great exercise, so that's a plus. And you know what? I'm an officer now, so what does it matter?"

"You didn't answer my question." She said and crossed her arms.

He looked at her for a moment, then gave in. "It's not like you're supposed to enjoy that kind of place. It sucks, ya know."

"Yeah, it does." Judy agreed. "How were your scores."

"Oh, only one of the top few in the class. I guess it's a fox thing," he mused with a wide grin.

She rolled her eyes, and he smirked all the wider. I guess Wolfard was right.

"So, how's it for you?" Nick asked.

"What? The academy?"

"No," he scoffed, "the ZPD. How's being a big city cop, Officer Hopps? Other officers treating you right? Anyone call you the c-word?"

"Clawhauser, once or twice, but he doesn't mean to. Work's fine. Lonely, I will admit, but fine," Judy said.

Nick couldn't help be a little surprised. She was lonely at work? Why, he didn't even work there yet, so how could she miss him on the job? She had dozens of other officers she knew — Clawhauser, Wolford, even Bogo. Wouldn't that be enough?

The fox hid his surprise under that ever-present smirk. "Well, no longer, Officer Hopps. This sly fox will be assisting you 24/7."

Something in her couldn't help but wonder what he would look like in his uniform.

"Officer Wilde," Judy said, holding her paw to her mouth to mimic a voice over the radio, "we have a 459S in progress. Lower 4th and Vineyard Street."

"Copy, Officer Hopps," Nick caught on, speaking into his cupped paw. "Bringing a boot now. Parked in the fire-lane again, did they? Stupid teens, think they can get away with everything, well I've caught those rascals now!"

"What? Nick, that's not-"

"I'm kidding, Carrots," Nick chuckled. "459S. Burglary. Silent alarm."

Judy snorted and raised a brow. "And illegal parking?"

"22500. And, Carrots, there's nothing but an abandoned lot on Lower 4th and Vineyard street."

"I'm impressed," Judy mused. "I knew you'd make a good officer."

"Well let's not get our hopes up yet. I haven't even started. Not sure how the public is going to react to one of my own as a bluecoat. But hey, I'm the one with the tazor," he said, putting a paw to his chest.

Judy's ears dropped a little, and Nick noticed.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be fine. So what, I'm a fox cop? You're a bunny cop and they said it could never be done. Now you're the one representing the ZPD on billboards and magazines."

"Yes...but-"

"But we'll change their minds. Together."

Judy sighed and smiled up at him. "I'm really looking forward to having a partner."

"I sure hope so. I'm not doing the academy again, not for anybody."

"Nick, thank you," Judy said, looking into his eyes. "I'm really glad I get you as my partner."

He smiled. It was sincere, somewhat. "Me too...but you mean you as my partner."

"No, that's not what I meant," Judy snapped, though she had a playful twinkle in her eye. "I've been an officer for five months now. You've been an officer for, let's see, oh! You haven't even received your badge yet?"

"Yes, but I'm larger than you."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means I can do this." He leaped from his chair, pinning her back to the bed with a playful growl.

She screamed dramatically. "Clawhauser, do you read? 10-00! Officer down!"

He narrowed his eyes, and his grin. "I'm really looking forward to having you, Officer Hopps, as my partner."

"In your dreams, Wilde," Judy grinned. "Now get off me."

Nick crawled off her bed and returned to his spot in her chair. "I should probably get going. It's late."

"Nick, how did you get into my apartment?" She said, sitting up again.

"I told the front desk I was visiting a friend. I knew they wouldn't believe me if I mentioned it was you I was seeing, so I said it was a surprise for a special someone, and that I couldn't tell anyone about it. So there, I didn't lie." He explained. "And to get inside…" he gave off a guilty look and held up a disfigured paper clip.

"You broke into my room?"

"I wouldn't consider it 'breaking in' if I know the person," Nick said.

Judy glared at him. "You could have called," she deadpanned. "No, you should have called."

"Guilty as charged." Nick raised his paws in defense.

"Call next time." She held up her phone.

Nick snatched it away. "What do we have here? A new phone?"

"Hey, give it!" Judy reached for it, but Nick held her at bay with one paw.

"Hmm, password-password-password..." he pondered, swiping his paw, and his eyes widened as he was presented with the home screen. "Your phone isn't even password protected!"

"It's a new phone! I haven't gotten around to that yet," Judy hissed. "Now give it back!"

He opened her contacts and smirked. "'Mom and Dad'. How cute. You know what? I don't think they've met me-"

"Nick, stop! Give me my phone!" she pushed his arm away, but Nick got up from the chair, holding the phone up to where she couldn't reach, still fixated on the screen. He pressed the button labeled 'muzzle-time'.

"No!"

Judy was airborne. She leaped over the fox, snatching the phone from his hands and landing in a roll. She scrambled for the phone, quickly declining the call and placing the phone face down on the door side table

"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed.

"What? I haven't met them yet. Why not tonight?"

"You said it yourself, you should get going. It's late," she seethed, shaking her head as she walked past him.

"Fine carrots, if you insi-"

BZZZ

BZZZ

The two froze, looked at each other, then to the phone.

Judy was on the phone before Nick could react. Low and behold, it was her parents. She shot Nick an icy glare, then turned so that her back was to the wall.

She sighed, pulled a smile, and accepted.

"Hey, the parents!" her tone was spritely. She couldn't help but notice the fox smirking at her. He had resumed his 'default position': leaning against the wall with extra nonchalance. He seemed pleased with himself.

"Hey Judy, I'm just checking in! Did you mean to call us, earlier?"

It was Judy's mother, Bonnie.

"Oh—eh—no, it was an accident," Judy chuckled nervously.

"Oh," Bonnie said, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Wait that's not what I meant! I-I was going to call you soon," Judy said hesitantly

"Oh, well, okay then. How are you getting along in the big city?"

"I…" Judy paused, looking up. Her heart sunk. Nick had slithered his way up to her and was now leaning on the wall to her left. Judy quickly turned the camera away.

"Judy? Are you alright?" Bonnie asked.

"I'm fine!" Judy smiled through her teeth. Nick grinned in response, looking too amused. "Yeah, I…thought I saw a shooting star outside the window," Judy explained. Nick raised an eyebrow.

"Really? I didn't know you could see the stars from the city?"

"Not very clearly, but every now and then you'll get a glance at one," Judy chuckled. She wanted to tackle the fox to the ground and handcuff him.

"Oh, that's neat."

Nick reached for the phone and flipped his thumb over the lens. Judy's mouth dropped.

"Judy? Are…are you there?" Bonnie asked, seeming extra suspicious.

Nick removed his thumb, and Judy laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What was that?"

"…Electrical problems! There's a ram testing the breakers downstairs," Judy explained in an anxious ramble.

"…Okay then."

Nick couldn't hold in his laughter — he finally broke, almost falling to the ground. He had to lean on the desk chair for support.

"Is there someone else there?" Bonnie asked, completely weirded out at this point.

"Oh—err—it's just the neighbors. Paper thin walls."

Nick laughed even louder.

"...Okay?" Bonnie said. "You know, surely your position, after solving that case, provides you with enough to get a nicer place."

"Uh, yeah! It does! But I've grown to like this apartment!"

"…oka—"

"I gotta' go, Mom. Love you!"

"Er-Love you t-"

Judy hung up and slammed her phone down onto the table. "NICHOLAS WILDE!"

"...I-I'm sorry, I..." he broke into another fit of snickers.

His laughing stopped, eyes widening. Judy was airborne.

He was on the ground before he knew it, Judy sitting on his chest.

"I oughta' pour pepper spray down your throat!" She threatened.

"Sorry carrots, I didn't know you'd be so upset," he started to chuckle again. "There was a fox in your apartment the whole time, and she didn't even know!"

"Nick, I swear-"

"What would she have said?" Nick cackled. "What if I had just leaned slooooowly into frame?"

He giggled for another minute or two. To Judy, it felt like hours.

He finally got a hold of himself. "Sorry, Judy. I just…had to seize such a perfect opportunity," he wiped tears from his eyes.

"You owe me lunch."

"That's fine."

"Anywhere I chose."

"Sure thing, Carrots."

She sighed and flopped onto the ground beside him.

"I missed you, ya know," he said, turning his head towards hers. "I really did."

"Yeah, yeah. You've only been here twenty minutes and I'm already tired of you."

"Regretting this partners thing already, are we?" Nick got up, grinning down at her. "Get some sleep, carrots. Can't wait til' Saturday."

"What happens Saturday?"

"My graduation, you dumb bunny," he said. He leaned down and ruffled the fur between her ears. "I can't believe you'd forget."

"Nick, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he opened the door. "Now, get some sleep. And after I graduate, we're going to see your parents."

"Wait—what?"

"Goodnight, Judy," he called and closed the door, leaving the rabbit alone in her small apartment.

Hello everyone.
I'm fully aware that Zootopia is pretty past it's prime, but I wanted to write this anyways because the movie is just soooooo good and Nick and Judy are the best duo I've seen in a long time. In short, I couldn't resist. WildeHopps FTW! The two are just so cute together, and I wanted to see more of them, so I created this story. The events listed in this story's description are planned to come in the next few chapters.

Thanks for reading!

- Trenton.