Author's Notes: Welcome to my first full length story set in the Zootopia universe. The character of David Brushtail is used with the permission of his creator. All other characters and settings are the property of Disney.

Please feel free to read and review. Now…without further ado, here we go….

A Black Sheep's Redemption

Chapter 1: The First Crack In The Wall

I woke up in a cold sweat, bolt upright on my bunk, breathing rapidly. I'd given up on getting anything like eight hours of continuous sleep long ago. Hells, I slept like a lamb, all right—of the newborn variety, waking up every hour, two if I was lucky.

Always, it was the same nightmare scene playing back in my mind, like a bad DVD on permanent loop, that interrupted my sleep every night for the last four and a half years.

I had no idea what time it was. When you're in a six by ten concrete cell, you don't get much light to indicate roughly where you were in the day, nor a clock to tell time by. After what felt like an eternity, my breathing and heartbeat finally returned to what passed for normal. I fumbled around instinctively for my glasses…not like there was anything to see; I was the only one in my cell. I was put in here about a month ago and wore a white jumpsuit indicating that I was under a suicide watch.

Because, about a month ago, I braided a rope from my bedsheet, looped it around the rail of my bunk and the other end around my neck, and tried to take my own life.

That's right. I didn't stutter. I, Dawn Bellwether, former deputy mayor of Zootopia, tried to kill myself.

Why?

Anyone who wasn't living under a rock or in a cave in the middle of the heavens only knew where knew why I was here in the first place. The news only ran the story for…oh, a week. The short version: I merely devised a scheme to turn the city against itself to prove that predators couldn't be trusted.

And it damn near worked. No one could trace the rise in predator attacks back to me. It was the perfect plan.

One thing tripped me up, though. Ever see those parts in movies where the bad guy reveals their entire dastardly plan to the hero of the story? That was me to the letter. I'd gone so far off the deep end that I tried to kill my best friend since lambhood by turning her companion against her.

They should have won an award for the nearly flawless acting they pulled off that day. Even I was thoroughly fooled. When I pulled back the chamber on the pellet gun I held, I found blueberries in place of the serum I'd concocted from night howlers.

I've never liked admitting that I got outsmarted. I have a 165 IQ, confirmed. But…they managed to do it. Got every word of the big reveal recorded as well.

Long story short, it earned me five years at this lovely institution, although I was facing more like twenty. As the days crawled on, my mood went from anger that I was so easily outwitted to despondent. I couldn't take it anymore. The burden of what I had done had become too great to bear.

Ergo, my suicide attempt and my stint in this cell. I had nothing but time to think. I'd been sitting for a while when I heard a gruff voice call my name.

"Bellwether…it's time for your weekly psychiatric appointment. Hurry up."

As part of my sentence, I was required to visit the prison psychiatrist once a week. I sighed. Honestly I stopped counting after about the third week in. Every week was the same…I'd just sit in the chair provided for the hour, saying nothing. In part, because the psychiatrist was a fox by the name of Dr. Brushtail…and it reminded me of the irritating mammal that helped put me here. And well…I never liked the idea of opening myself to anyone.

Not to mention I knew what to expect—my degree (earned at the tender age of fifteen) was in political science, with a minor in psychology. For all the good it did me.

The guard pressed a button and spoke into the intercom, "Got Bellwether here for her weekly. You ready for her?"

"Send her in," the doctor replied crisply and professionally.

The door opened and I walked inside. Taking my usual chair, I sat down to begin our weekly staring contest.

"Hello, Dawn. Are you well today?"

"What do you think?" I snapped back.

"No further attempts of suicide, is there?"

"I'm here, aren't I? So I'd think the answer should be obvious."

He nodded. "Anything you wish to talk about?"

I just kept staring.

"Okay then…since I can't make any progress with silence, I'll have to…"

All right, I've had enough. You want the story so much? Don't say I didn't warn you…, I thought before taking a deep breath.

"You want to hear it from me why I did it…" I said, a note of bitterness to my voice, trying to hold in my temper. "Am I right?"

"That would be a great start, Dawn. I may be a psychiatrist but I'm afraid I don't have a talent for reading minds."

Good grief, he even has his penchant for sarcasm. "Because I'd had enough." I answered.

"Enough of what?"

"Where do I start?" I said with heavy sarcasm. Thelist of things that had caused me to snap read like the city phone book. Or an unabridged dictionary. "Being bullied, pushed around, belittled, and abused by everyone around me. Most of all by that fool Lionheart. Feeling small, weak, and helpless. The anger I felt when I found my mother dead in a back alley from a predator attack. I could go on but we only have an hour."

"I see. I can extend the session if it's necessary, so how long we have isn't a factor. The question I want to ask is this…was what you did fair?"

"Fair?" I said, incredulous. "As if how I was treated was any better?"

"No, it wasn't. Two wrongs never made a right, Dawn…," he replied.

"Tell me, then…what in the hell was I supposed to do? Just roll over and take it like a good little prey animal? I did nothing but take it for years! It just kept going and never stopped. So I finally snapped and pushed back."

"I understand how you feel, but…"

"You understand how I feel?" I said, biting back a bitter and mirthless laugh. "Seriously? You don't even know the half of it! To feel like you're little better than dirt under someone's shoe!" I shouted. "Until you've walked a yard in my shoes, much less a mile, then what right do you have to judge me?"

"I don't have the right to, and that isn't my job in any event. A jury of your peers already has."

"Do you really think I wanted to go that far? I didn't, damn it all! I know I went too far! I was at the end of my rope. No one would help me so I did something myself. Even if it was the dumbest idea a smart person could have…it cost me everything I held dear…" By this point I was nearly hysterical. The wall I'd built around myself had cracked, and all of the frustration and anger at my lot in life burst forth with the fury of a raging river.

I could feel the tears that I'd held back for so long. "I had no one. Do you know how it feels to be so utterly alone? Do you know how it feels to have the whole world push you down?"

"Didn't you have any friends to talk to? Or a counselor? Holding back resentment is harmful in the long run." He replied.

"Just one. And I repaid her loyalty by trying to kill her. I was that far out of my mind."

"Okay."

"I just…want to make it right now. To start over. But I know I can't. How could anyone want to be my friend after that? Or forgive what I've done?"

"I can't answer that for you."

"I hate what I did. With the undying fire of the sun. But…who would believe me? Who would believe I want to change? I'm still scared to death of predators. That much hasn't changed…"

"Understandable…"

"But…I don't want to be scared anymore. I'm tired of it. I just want to do my time and go to some place…and just live out the rest of my years where I don't have to look over my shoulder all the time. Away from everyone else. I've already screwed up enough lives, my own included. People hate me, and I can't blame them."

"But I don't hate you."

"It's your job not to. But tell me, if we just passed each other on the street, knowing what I did, could you still say that?"

"Without hesitation."

I shook my head. "That's all well and good but…there's a whole lot more that do. And once my time is up, I'll have to go back into the world and face them. I'm not sure I can. That's why I want to put some miles between myself and the city."

"I see…" he replied, checking something in my file on his desk. "You're from Springview Rural District, are you not?" he inquired.

"Yes. Born and raised there."

"That's…interesting."

"Why?"

"Oh, nothing really. Idle curiosity. Anyway, to get back to the subject at hand…what do you feel now?"

"About what? Predators? I told you, I'm scared of them still," I said, pausing to take a breath before continuing. "Being here, though…I realize that not all of them are what I thought them to be. Neither, it seems, are my own kind."

"Well, that's an improvement over when you arrived here. But…I was wondering more about your emotional state."

"I'm not suicidal anymore, if that's what you're asking. Just tired and weary. All I want to do anymore is finish my sentence, and disappear into my own little corner of the world. Alone, since the chance of making any friends after this train wreck is a hair above that of the chances of a snowflake in hell. I screwed up. Got that memo already."

The only place I had left to go was the house where I was raised—not that anyone lived there anymore. It was the only thing my mother had left to me, and she'd been dead for nearly ten years now. My father had deserted us before I was born, I was an only child, what family I had was scattered all over the place, and I had managed to ruin the only friendship I had in spectacular fashion.

Outside of turning myself into the city's arch villain, I had few accomplishments in my life. Seriously, you could fit them on a sticky note and still have room. Class valedictorian, captain of the Springview High (and Zootopia University) academic teams for the duration of my attendance at either institution, graduate magna cum laude, and Most Likely To Be The Crazy Cat Lady If Zootopia Actually Had Nonsentient Cats. I'm not making that last one up. I have the proof in my yearbook. The only thing worse than my social life was my love life. I dressed in a style that screamed nerd from atop the highest mountains. If anyone of the opposite gender even looked in my direction…I was positive that they were trying to get the attention of someone behind me. The only person that had ever kissed me was my mother.

"Dawn, are you…?" I heard, bringing me out of mulling just how horribly my life had gone to now.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"Well…we've actually made some progress, for once. It only took four and a half years to get there…but it's progress."

I just shook my head. "Like I said, I've just grown tired and weary of it all. I'm just tired of fighting it anymore. You want to know why I did it, well, there it is. Do I regret it? Only every single waking moment. My life has been a never ending nightmare since that day. I'm just…alone and broken, that's all."

"Well, you can choose to stay alone, or you can do something about it."

"Oh, can I now?" I shook my head slowly. "In case you might have forgotten, I'm only the person who nearly ripped the city apart out of selfish revenge. If I even got the time of day from anyone, it would be miraculous. Hell, doc…even my own kind can't stand me now. If I were to drop off the face of the planet tomorrow I wouldn't be missed. They might even throw a party."

Dr. Brushtail shook his head. "Dawn…no one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

"What?"

"It's…a saying from a historical figure. But it means you choose how you see yourself. No one can change that unless you allow them to."

"Well, it's not like…"

"You admit that you messed up in life. That's the first step to overcoming it…to grow from your mistakes. Where you go from that point is up to you. But…don't throw away the second chance at life you've gotten. That's something that many don't get."

That got my attention. "A…second chance?"

"Dawn, have you forgotten already? It's been a month since you tried to take your own life, and…if it weren't for my timely intervention, you wouldn't be sitting in that chair today."

"What do you mean?" The question wasn't about the attempt; I knew what I'd done. But what did he do to intervene? I…couldn't remember anything from that time.

"It was I who found you hanging from your bed rail. I cut you down myself because, oddly, there were no guards around—and, after I saved you, I sent off a rather heated letter to the secretary of the Department of Corrections about your treatment. Actually, 'heated' might be an understatement. I was downright livid. Let's just say that the warden and half the guards were summarily fired after a full investigation…one which managed to stay off the media radar. You might be the one who perpetrated the biggest scandal in the history of the city, true, but…you don't deserve to be treated as less than a person."

I stared at him, wide eyed in surprise. That anyone would say that after what I did was…astonishing, considering that I thought of myself as less than a person. After what I'd done, who wouldn't think of themselves that way…except a truly twisted and evil soul, and I hadn't quite sunk that low.

"Afterwards, you were so close to death. For a week you lay unconscious in the infirmary. The doctor said that even if you did wake up, there may be irreversible brain damage from lack of oxygen for so long. You…would likely be a shell of yourself, unable to walk, talk,…anything. At least, that's what the 'best and brightest' here said."

They had written me off, huh…I thought. Doesn't surprise me.

"I…sat by your bedside that entire week, at least as much as my duties would ethically allow. The head of the infirmary was an old college buddy of mine, so he didn't mind my…extended visitation. So many times I fell asleep in the chair I kept beside your bed…and I didn't sleep by choice, but because I'd stayed awake for so long I dozed off. When you finally woke up, I was…quite relieved, and that you escaped any ill effects from that episode was nothing short of miraculous."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Why would you do all that for me? After what I did…to your kind?"

"Because I won't write you off like most everyone else here has. First of all I have a duty to you as your psychiatrist to look after your mental health. But…it's also not in my blood to stand by and let that happen to anyone, regardless of their transgressions against society. After all, you're here to pay the debt you owe that society. My job is to help you find your way back to being a responsible member of society again."

"I see…."

"I think everyone who truly in their heart wishes to change should have a second chance. And…I think you really do want to change."

"I want to, yes." I said. "But…"

"Tell me, would you do what you did again?"

"No. Never again." That scene in the museum…where I thought Nick had killed Judy…it was burned into my mind. It was what I kept seeing in my nightmares. And I was fervently grateful that it all turned out to be a ruse. I…didn't want to think about the alternative.

"Well, then, that's a step in the right direction. What does it matter how the rest of the world thinks of you? You're dedicating yourself to a new path in life. As long as you stay true to that change and keep walking down that path, people will eventually come around. But it will take time. After all, you didn't get to where you are in a day…and opinions about you won't change in a day either."

"Okay."

"Well, we've definitely overrun our time…by a fair margin. I'd like you to think about what's been said in here. You've finally managed the first step. Now I want you to consider what to do with it."

I nodded and stood to walk back to the door. "Doc…" I said, pausing.

"Yes, Dawn?"

"Thank you…" I whispered. "For giving me a chance. For listening to me. And I really mean it…" As I was walked back to my cell, I felt…different. A little lighter. I was so used to being mistreated that I had forgotten what real kindness felt like. Not just something to protect an image, but from the heart. It made me wonder what I'd do once I left these walls. Finally someone gives a damn about me and I'm going to lose them soon. Story of my life, I guess. I mean…it's not like he's going to come around after I'm out of here.