Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nick Wilde truly felt like he had won the ZPD lottery. Not that it was luck, though, because after the diabolical stunts he and Judy had pulled this past year, a vacation was inevitable.

“One whole year without any of you getting a SINGLE formal complaint, Wilde,” the chief had huffed, slamming a fox-friendly sized form on his relatively huge desk before sighing in resignation. “...Is a miracle.”

Nick skimmed through the entire form in about a second when his sharp eyes caught the details that mattered. Peeking over the form, he gave a subtle, almost smug smile.

“Two weeks. And don't even THINK about calling me.”

“Oh, chief, you shouldn't have. Really,” the fox winked, jumping off the chair and making with the stuff.

And that was how he found himself with the most generous vacation in ZPD history. It may have just been Bogo's form of pest control, but it was still a full fortnight of doing anything he wanted. Which, of course, meant doing absolutely nothing. And Nick meant nothing in the most professional, sophisticated, and somehow casual way possible. Just a fox and his couch, intertwining in a relationship more stable than most marriages.

Nick nestled deeper into the plush embrace of his couch now, the fabric cradling him like a warm hug as his jaw stretched into a yawn that hurt just enough to feel good. The room around him was consumed in darkness except for the TV, yesterday's takeout on the janky coffee table wafting out a scent of spice and grease clashing with the sour tang of dirty laundry. His blanket, having seen better days, tingled his fur slightly, and his tail basked in the warmth of being smothered under his body.

This was bliss. Waking up from a four-hour nap, tossing together rations or dialing delivery, flopping somewhere in his cramped studio until the stress bled away in the hum of the screen was simply cathartic. The grind with Judy had its thrills - sometimes even excitement - but every fox needed an off switch. Nick just happened to keep his switched off as often as possible.

Judy spent her downtime differently, not to mention very openly. Just the previous week, she’d been relearning gardening skills with her siblings, and two days ago, she’d been cave diving with some random bunny Nick couldn't name. He'd never understood the appeal of “quality family time”.

Still, he couldn't deny it: the past year had been the best in his entire life. No more curling up on the concrete behind a dumpster to sleep, and no more constantly fearing for his life… on most shifts. Sure, police work had its risks, but compared to hustling day and night? Always looking over his shoulder? It was paradise.

And yet…

Solving the night howler case, graduating from the academy—it had sparked something. A curiosity about what “normal” felt like. A life with structure, with stability. He’d had a taste of it, and now he wanted more.

A partner. Not a police partner, a lifelong one. Someone he could walk home with, bring to his mother with pride. A trophy to prove that Nick Wilde had sailed through the seven seas of life or whatever.

With not-so-great effort, he shoved away a cushion and sat up, taking a second to recover before snatching his phone from his couch’s armrest. He gently grabbed the remote and lowered the volume of the TV, putting it next to his uneaten leftovers. He opened his messages and pressed his most recent contact, Alyssa, with the little heart still pinned next to it. It seemed he'd missed some calls from her—just about ten.

Alyssa, or Issa, as he called her, was Nick’s girlfriend. Nick still couldn't figure out how he'd ended up with her: a snow fox with a taste for bright clothes made of expensive-feeling fabrics that belonged in glossy magazines. Not that Nick knew how much high-quality clothing was supposed to cost, but he reckoned a simple silk coat or something cost twice as much as all the furniture in his dingy little studio. To be fair, though, most of his furniture had been picked from the dump, so there wasn’t exactly too much competition there.

Her profile picture had changed since last week. Before, it featured her staring at the camera with her eyes slitted, ears tucked back and chin lifted just so, as if to haughtily present her silver necklace, as well as the… generous stretch of neck under it. Now, it was a picture of her and Nick in a photo booth. This photo was from their most recent outing at one place with a ridiculous name that Nick remembered as something along the lines of “Rich McRich Megaplex”. Alyssa looked just perfect, of course, her white fur glowing against his rusty coat, while he himself seemed to have been caught in the middle of a quip.
Issa was special, alright. And maybe, next to her, he felt a little special too.

Nick tapped the call button and held the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Issa,” he said.

“Finally,” Alyssa’s tone slipped through like velvet, smooth but cool. “I was starting to think you forgot I existed.”

Nick chuckled under his breath. “Me? Forget you? Not a chance.”

“What are you doing without me, hm?”

“Oh, nothing much, just me and Mike. Can't say I don't enjoy his warm, springy embrace, y'know.” He nudged away a cushion that had been hugging his tail. “Real cozy guy.”

There was a pause, sharp enough to slice. “Mike?”

“Ooh, feisty today, are we? Mike-ouch.” He forced a happy grimace, as if she were in front of him. “Uh, don't be jealous. He’s… not really my type.”
Alyssa laughed, but it was too quick. “No, it's not that, Nick. I just think it's weird that you'd rather joke about a piece of junk than say something sweet to your girlfriend.”

Tough crowd. His witty remarks were usually a hit or miss when it came to her. Maybe she was just in a bad mood?

“So, anyway. You know my partner-uh, coworker, Judy, right?”

“Of course. The ZPD's first bunny cop. What about her?”

He shifted on his cushions.

“Yeah, she just won't stop posting about her vacation. Last week, she sent me this picture of her and her siblings picking strawberries. Get this, one of her siblings tripped on a hose. Hilarious!”

“Strawberries, carrots… same difference.” Alyssa's scoff was deliberately gentle, but dismissive. “Same dirt, too. I can't even begin to imagine wasting my day like that.”

“Actually,” he said, leaning back, “It looked kind of peaceful. If I ever retire, maybe I'd settle somewhere like that. An old fox on a porch, watching the fields. And…” he paused in hesitation. “Who knows, maybe you could be there, too. If this all works out, I mean.”

An awkward silence stretched until Alyssa's sharp laugh pierced through the phone. “Come on, Nick. Don't tell me you're jealous of a carrot patch? You'd go stir-crazy in a week if you had to stare at the same crops every day.”

“Heh. Guess you're right.”

“Of course I am. Speaking of things that actually matter, there's this new fish place in Tundratown. They do oysters, and I can't wait to try them. You’re taking me this weekend.”

“Sounds great. But, uhh…” Nick looked over his shoulder at his classic green leaf print shirt and blue tie. “Y'know.”

She audibly scoffed. “My treat. Just be there, I'll handle the rest.”

“Alright. Deal.” His smile flickered and thinned as he squinted at the TV’s glow like it had been forcing him to make that call.
Nick sighed lightly, putting his phone back on Mike’s armrest before taking the remote again and turning the volume up just a bit. His eyes fell onto the yet uneaten leftovers leaking oil on their plate. Cricket steaks, the big shots at big protein called them, but they weren't steaks as much as they were compact patties with protein substitutes and sweet, succulent seasoning.

Zootopians tried their best to imitate real mammal meat, but he was quite sure a traditional naked-and-not-afraid fox prowling in the forest for prey would drop dead upon eating these “steaks”. He reached out a paw, daintily took one, and shoved it in his mouth. He leaned back with his arms locked behind his head. At least the ground cricket gave it some good texture.

Now, the least favorite part of these days. Foxes were inherently nocturnal creatures, and sure, he had put that innate ability to good use on certain assignments, but when he had nothing else to do, the instinctual “NO” to getting a good night's rest was just a big… bummer.

Though that did remind him. Of a time when things had been simpler, because of course they were. On nights just like these, ominously quiet and peaceful, when he had been just a kit. His mother, his ever-so-loving mother, would use their long nights to tell him these strange, long, almost looping stories that worked to ease his then-growing mind as the city slept outside. They held incoherent, but still trackable plots that always struck him as painting a bigger picture.

He’d never bothered with those tales’ false leads, their winding twists, and characters who weren't as they seemed. But when that little noggin of his grew bigger, he could almost link them to what he thought was his mother's life. Almost. All he could remember was that each time, he was only left wondering if he'd missed something.

However, the past was in the past. Specifically, just over two decades in the past. Nick didn't remember a single one, but maybe if he were to visit her one time, she would. Maybe.

In fact, since he had five more days of vacation, he just might. With a bit of clearance from Alyssa, of course, but…

There was a knock on the door.

Turning toward the door, Nick raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me, um, sir, are you by any chance Mr. Wilde?”

“Yeah, that's me. Hold on a sec,” Nick called, picking up the now-empty, yet still greasy plate and tossing it in the sink with the botched science project of dirty dishes. He rubbed off his paws on his shirt before coming to the door.

The rust in the doorknob gave resistance, but ultimately gave way. “What’s, uh…” A familiar tiger stood before him. “Fangmeyer?”

“On my night shift, yes. There’s something important you… should know. From Maplechurn County Hospital.”

Nick furrowed his eyebrows, lowering his head as if telling Fangmeyer to go on.

The tiger, towering over him, gave a long, drawn-out sigh that carried the night air into the apartment with it. “You know, I'm sure the chief wouldn't mind, and you yourself don't seem to be busy with…” he peeked at the TV droning behind Nick. “Anything. So, why don't we go for a drive around the city, huh? Coworkers. Pred’ and smaller pred’.”

Nick had a bad feeling stirring up in his gut.

The cruiser’s door creaked as he pulled it shut, the dull thunk sealing him in. The backseat smelled faintly of stale coffee and leather polish, and the vinyl’s chill seeped through his clothes, just grazing his fur. The low rumble of the engine annoyed the entire vessel. Nick’s tail twitched once and wrapped tightly around his leg, as if it didn’t trust the ride any more than he did.

The city slid by in streaks of neon. Billboards smeared their colors across the glass, painting his reflection in sickly reds and greens. Each bump in the road jarred his spine and sent the bulky police laptop rattling against its mount, clattering against the radio perched above it. Nick’s ears flicked back with every tumble.
Fangmeyer leaned back in his seat, his striped shoulders barely shifting. His claw began tapping in a slow rhythm that disturbed the other sounds in the vehicle until it morphed into them.

“You live pretty far from the station,” Fangmeyer muttered.

Nick gave a forced chuckle in the backseat. “Yeah, a certain someone just loves going out of her way to give me a bit of a wake-up call each morning.”
He turned and pressed harder on the window than needed. His reflection stared back, eyes too dark for comfort.

The tapping stopped. “Does she?”

“Yeah, she lives halfway between the station and my place. I try not to fall off that cute little e-scooter of hers.”

“I've seen it. Red with black accents, was it?”

“Salmon with white.”

“Hm.” Fangmeyer put his eyes back on the road.

The tires rolled over a speed bump, shaking the cruiser enough to make the seatbelt clip jab Nick in the ribs. He clutched his breast pocket in an attempt to ease the throbbing pain.

“Congrats on one whole year on the force. How's your vacation?”

“...It's been alright.”

“Sorry to intrude on private matters, but I heard you've… found someone?”

“You could say that.”

“Best of wishes, then.”

Nick's eyes locked onto him for a moment before switching back to the shining city outside the window. “Thanks,” he should've said.

“Say, where are we going, exactly?”

Fangmeyer pretended not to hear. He braked for a red light no one else would've bothered with, claws drumming on the wheel again, harder and faster. “Wilde. Officer Wilde… as you know, your hometown's in Maplechurn County. Isn't it?”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “What about my hometown? And how'd you know?”

The cruiser slid into a tunnel, its headlights tinting the concrete walls a pale yellow. For a second, Nick caught Fangmeyer's face in the glass with dread flashing in his muzzle.

“Coworker to coworker, I'll tell you this. You know how some prey still see us. Predators, with or without a badge… though I guess you would know.”

Nick’s teeth clicked as he almost shot back. His ears flicked forward, then flattened again. Something told him to wait.

“If you ever feel dissatisfied, unsafe, or unloved, maybe even aggrieved, just know you're not alone. There are others who—”

“Hey, gatito. Point. Get to it.”

Fangmeyer raised his eyebrow in the rear view mirror and gave what sounded like a scoff, almost smiling. “Alright then. Before that, I think you ought to know Maplechurn County Hospital is primarily prey-run. They contacted the ZPD instead of you directly. I don't know why.”

Nick straightened in his seat. His head slumped down in anticipation, his paws curling tight in his lap.

“It's your mother.”

And before Nick knew it, they'd gone full circle through the city and back to his apartment.

Nick didn't even remember getting out of the cruiser. All he knew was that it was time to get home, go to his bed, and collapse right then and there.

And so he did.

And without pause, that same motion seemed to carry him to the morning.

He got out of bed, stumbled in the dark. His tank top puffed out an unpleasant smell.
Tank top?

Nevermind. He stripped it off and chucked it onto a heap of clothes by the door. A low pile, not like the mountain he was used to. Bathroom next.

On the way, he stopped by his wardrobe and reached for his… blue shirt and tie.

It was unusually small. Too small, even. Turning it over in his paw, he frowned as something itched in the back of his mind.

He turned around and took a good look at the room.

Huh. Familiar.

That peeling green wallpaper, and that lousy mattress. And everything else. He could recognize it.

Home. But why?

He found his way to the bathroom. He hesitated before looking in the mirror.

Well, there was a fox here. And this fox's rusty coat of fur was disheveled, but it was there. Smooth as his smile. Hopeless as his eyes. The fox’s lean frame was a jarring sight. The tie slithered into a knot around his neck, and the shirt had already been donned.

Wow, even.

“There’s my dashing young fox, Nicky.” She smiled. She towered over, no, completely shadowed him. Nick couldn't see it, but he knew she was smiling.

Her paw smoothed the fox's shoulders and adjusted his tie. She ruffled the fox's ears, etching his smile wider.

“Those little hustles of yours are paying off, hm?”

Nick's eyes tracked her movements, deliberate, as if to scan him from every angle.

“Nicky, love…”

Nick's chest tightened.

“Go to sleep.”

Sleep?

Sleep.

He jolted awake. This time, he made sure to scan the room before anything else, and things seemed… normal. Yeah. He was wearing the same olive T-shirt. The plain one with the frayed collar. The sky looked alright too. At least, enough to tell it was dawn.

But the young light was streaming through curtains that weren't his, toasting floorboards that were clean enough to be a dream. And the air smelled of lavender and citrus instead of grease and gunk. A beige coat hung by the wardrobe, simply waiting for a chance to serve him — ironed, spotless with its life in order.

So, was that why his reflection was missing?

There he stood, staring at the empty mirror as water mindlessly rushed out of the tap. He'd never lucid dreamed before, so now what? Maybe punch the mirror and hope for the best? Drink shampoo?

If the taste of it were to be based on what he thought shampoo tasted like, maybe he could trick himself into thinking it was sweet.

With utter and unparalleled determination, he grabbed the red shampoo bottle with ears - not very ergonomic - and popped it open.

But wait. Maybe just a single taste first. He took a dollop and reluctantly licked it. It was sweet and smoky, reminiscent of barbecue sauce. Better than drowning in bubbles. Down the hatch with a confident paw on his hip, and a mysterious force pulled his tail, making him slip.

That is, slip back into consciousness. On Mike.
Well, the doctor had said he was at risk of sleepwalking.

Just in case, he decided to wait. Changing his position, he rested his head on his paw, one ear drooping in immediate boredom.
“Hey, buddy pal-o. That laundry's givin’ off pure stank. Get offa me and get to work.”

Bingo. “And who's talking, hm?”

“Mike.”

“Guess what, pal? You're Mike-ouch. Yeah, I saved you from the dump, so you better act like it.”

“Eh, like what?”

“Look, can we just not?”

“But chumpadre, won't we have so much fun heartin'-to-heart together?”

“Hard pass.”

“...You really think so?”

“Yep.”

“Ah, well… that's just way-okay then.”

Nick closed his eyes, and fell into consciousness at last.

He lifted his aching head off the desk just enough to make out the dark. There it was. Like usual. His lousy excuse of a bed weighed on the top bunk, ready to drop as soon as the supports would break, and he really had collapsed onto his study den under it. Unlike just now, his “living room” was really just by the front door. His mountain of laundry really sat just across his equally cluttered cooking station, and the scent had practically fused to the walls.

Reality. Smaller and heavier. Oppressive, even. Not even his worst nightmares could replicate that.

His drool stuck on the spine of a book no one had bothered to read in years. Just handouts from the neighbor, a year out of date. Eyes heavy with a feeling worse than exhaustion, Nick made a great effort to pick himself up, one paw braced on the chair, chest throbbing from the effort.
A drink of water and a change of clothes. One dreadful crawl up and into bed. One fox, a pillow, and his thoughts.

Maybe she could help.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

Classic Judy. Bubbly, bouncy, busy, happy, hardworking, horribly annoying. It bled into her texts, too.

“Sorry Nick, but I'm not gonna have another vacation for the rest of the year — gotta make the most of it!” The message glared up at him, smug with its perfect punctuation.

Trust Judy to make running out of time sound like a school essay. Who even uses em dashes in a text? Of course she wouldn't have time for him. He was always just the one tagging along for the ride.

But then again, Judy had a point. Her only vacation all year was only ten days, which apparently meant she was a very valuable member of the force. Nick, meanwhile, had been handed two full weeks, on top of more sick days than he cared to admit. Bogo never said it outright, but Nick knew. Judy had picked up more than her share of shifts without him. Still, though, it always felt like her world never slowed down for him.

He rolled over in bed. The glass of water on the books below had gathered dust, untouched for days. The room smelled stale. He didn't want to move. Not after yesterday.

Yesterday had been… something. In a haze of anger, Nick had called Finnick for the first time in months, begging for a lift to Maplechurn County Hospital. Finn grumbled, but the van showed up anyway. And then Nick had stormed inside, armed with nothing but a crooked tie and a badge. He could still see it from above, like he’d been watching himself unravel in real time. Officer Nicholas Piberius Wilde, leaf-print suit, flashing his badge at every nurse who tried to smile him off.

“Please calm down, sir.” Again. Again. Like a brick wall with polite voices. Nick hadn’t bought a word of it, convinced the hospital was hiding something. And yet, the only thing he got for his trouble was the sour looks predators always got when they raised their voices, and security’s eyes on him the whole way out.

No answers. Not even a diagnosis. Fine. They could hold the funeral without her only family. Without her son. They'd already done everything else to keep Nick from saying his final goodbyes.

No one had time for him. Not other than her.

Alyssa. Saturday meant their deal. Oysters in Tundratown, romantic evening. Twelve hours away. Too far. He wasn’t about to kill the time with chores.

So, a nap? A good eight-hour snooze session so that he could skip time to be with his boo?

He knew his head wouldn’t like that. And yet, it seemed so enticing.

Well, his other options were no good either.

Another day, or really just six hours, another recurring dream. Except for the fact that that one was new. What was it, some orange-muzzled chum teaching himself to tie a tie? Either way, it stuck with him longer than it should have.

He dragged himself through a half-hearted bath, certain there was still soap clinging to his paw when he toweled off. A migraine brewed at the edge of his skull. No matter. If he grabbed his nicest clothes - a plain tee, the absurdly long yellow floral flannel his mother had once given him (buttons long gone), a pair of slacks, and his one decent watch - and kept his behavior in check, Alyssa would handle the bill anyway.

The bus ride to Tundratown passed in a blur. Just a box of strangers he didn’t bother to look at, because none of them were foxes anyway. Never were.

The bus hissed to a stop. Snow slid off the shelter’s curved roof, dusting Nick’s tail as he stepped out. A pair of moose hurried aboard, hooves clattering on the metal steps. Nick ducked his head, adjusting the strap of his fanny pack, and kept moving.

Dusk settled over Tundratown. The wind carried smoke and soot from distant chimneys, delivering both a biting chill and a sliver of warmth that made Nick shiver even more. He kept to the massive icy sidewalks, slipping from one streetlamp’s glow to the next, ignoring everything else. Only one place mattered tonight.

Soon, he found it. “Silver Tide,” the white neon screamed, a red lobster claw snapping theatrically beside it. Beneath, in smaller letters: luxury seafood restaurant. Nick squinted. A crashing wave might’ve sold the idea better than a freshly blanched lobster.

Silver Tide tried too hard. The brickwork gleamed like it had been scrubbed with a toothbrush, the windows radiating buttery yellow light that felt more staged than warm. Twin black pillars framed the awning like bodyguards, while a pair of drooping ferns dangled in matching pots, more for show than to add life. The door itself boasted a plastic cranberry wreath the size of Nick’s head. He smirked. Nothing said “luxury” like fake fruit.

He shoved open the oversized door, warm air rolling over his fur in a practiced welcome. Even after the polar-bear-sized entrance, the inside still managed to overwhelm. High ceilings strung with chandeliers, grand paintings of impossibly massive waves and dead fish, and the low murmur of voices droning on. Nick kept his head low, slipping into old habits. Walk like you belong, even if you’re just there for the hustle.

Someone bumped his shoulder, hard enough to rock him, barely enough to make the other mammal pause. Nick glanced up at a wolf easily twice his size, fur a sleek, unnatural black marked with precise tan streaks, like they’d been painted on for effect. The wolf tugged at his turtleneck, brushed down the lines of a buttoned blazer, never once meeting Nick’s eyes. He could swear he was being telepathically marked for death.

“Watch it,” the wolf’s throaty voice announced. The cologne hit Nick a moment later, sharp, stinging, and very much excessive. Perhaps to hide the smoky, oddly rusty hint under it. Nick swallowed and decided not to breathe too deeply. 

Nick watched the heavy door swing shut behind the wolf, the echo lingering longer than it should have. He shook himself and slipped toward the grand staircase, climbing to the second floor. No Alyssa among the linen-draped tables inside. His gaze caught on a set of tall glass doors leading to the balcony, where a white silhouette shifted restlessly over the scenic backdrop. His careful, suspicious walk broke into something quicker - almost a trot - as he crossed to her.

The second chair meant for Nick was slightly out of place, nudged a few inches from the table like someone much larger had been sitting there. The rest of the balcony was meticulously arranged. Each seat was tucked neatly, glasses and cutlery aligned, tablecloth corners perfect, and, of course, the view.

“There you are. These prawn crackers are losing their crunch,” Alyssa said, lowering her phone just enough to glance up at him. The fancy bowl of complimentary crackers was almost empty, greasy flakes and crumbs the only evidence left. Someone had clearly been helping themselves.

He eased into his chair. The cushions were firm and cold through his slacks, and for a second, the faint ache behind his eyes flared with the amber light washing over the balcony. He cleared his throat, the movement making something in his skull pulse.

Alyssa, across from him, was all clean lines and effortlessness. Her coral blouse (silk, probably) billowed faintly whenever the wind slid between the glass barriers. The neckline framed the silver necklace that always seemed to find the light. Her fur was pure, almost too pure under the soft lamplight, the faint shimmer along her muzzle catching his eye before he looked away. She sat with that same wistful neutrality she wore like jewelry, only breaking it to offer her condescending smile.

“What are you getting?” she asked, turning the phone back toward herself. “The oysters are for three, but they still won’t be enough, will they?”

Nick forced a chuckle and rubbed his temple. “I’ll let the expert decide. You’ve probably eaten here before.”

Alyssa sighed, nearly smiling in amusement as he flinched when she extended her slim, top-of-the-line phone toward him. “Look, just pick one, Nick. Any one of these, whichever looks good.”

He hesitated before taking it. The screen’s brightness hit him like a headlight, the glare making his migraine throb harder. The digital menu scrolled with elegant photos of white and gold plates, and delicate garnishes atop weirdly small portions. Even his scrolling was done reverently, like a single wrong brush of his pads on the screen could cost him his relationship on top of a few grand. After a few aimless swipes, he jabbed at a random option just to end the performance, sliding the phone back with a flick of his ear.

Alyssa tilted her head, lips curving into a small, sharp grin. Watching him seemed to be only half the fun.

She shook her head with a chuckle, mouthing something as she skimmed the screen. Nick exhaled and leaned back, rubbing his eyes. Tundratown’s lights shimmered beyond the balcony’s edge, blurred halos that only worsened the thrum in his head.

He’d been fidgeting this whole time. On the bus, on the walk here, under the fluorescent streetlights. His tail had been twitching in small, miserable circles, and his ear twitching occasionally. But it was fine. This was just another outing with Alyssa. There was certainly no elephant in the room to address—those rarely went to Tundratown.

Minutes passed in silence. But when their drinks had arrived before anything else, Alyssa just had the audacity to mention Nick's uncharacteristic lack of quips. She let go of her inconspicuous decaffeinated beige beverage, her silver necklace glistening copper under the light. A mild, chilly breeze swept through as she rested her chin on her paw.

“Not a single wisecrack,” she said at last. “Who are you, and what have you done to my Nick?”

Nick stared at the ripples in his glass. “Just… not in the mood, I guess.”

“Come on, just say my name once. Like, put some- some raunchiness into it,” she teased, flicking her straw.

Nick blinked. “Uh… what?”

“Say it,” she said, leaning in slightly. “The nickname.”

He sighed through his nose, shoulders sinking. After a beat of reluctant thought, he channeled his inner ladies’ fox and tried to summon some old charm.

“Issaaa…” he drawled, dragging it out in his best suggestive tone. He even attempted a pose, half a smirk, one paw raised. But it only made his head pulse harder. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and avoided her gaze.

When he finally glanced back, Alyssa’s ear twitched the wrong way. She pulled a sour face like she'd been called a slur, before seemingly snapping back and smiling again.

“Mm. Don’t,” she said lightly. “First of all…” She stirred her drink, the metal straw clinking against ice. “You are such a handsome fox, but you do not do your look justice. And that nickname, now that I really hear it… Issa? Really?”

Nick blinked. “You—you don’t like it? You never said anything.”

“I tolerated it.” Her tone softened, almost thoughtful. “Makes me sound like some ‘Isabelle’… or someone else.”

“Someone else?”

“You know what, from now on, call me…” She squinted, tasting the sound before she said it. “Lyss. Yeah. It’s shorter, sleeker… sharper. That’s me. Try it.”

“Uh… I love you, Lyss?”

She shook her head.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, Lyss?”

Still no.

“Lyss, you are…”

Warmer.

“You are the light of my life.”

That earned her approval. She leaned back, satisfied, and finally took a sip of her drink.

A few minutes later, the complimentary prawn crackers had long been finished. Their drinks were half gone, and the food had yet to arrive, so Nick had one bright idea to break the silence.

“Anyway,” he said, successfully breaking Alyssa’s attention from the dazzling balcony view. 

“What is it?” 

“So, there's something important I've got to tell you.”

Her eyes half lit up. She lifted her chin from her paw for just a second. “Oh?”

“You see, my coworker… I mean, not the-uh-the bunny one, he came to my apartment and…” He chuckled under his breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “What am I even saying? My mother, you know.”

He stopped for what he told himself would be the last time. Alyssa leaned even closer, awaiting what was so important.

“Man, I'm such a wuss… My mom passed,” he said, the words cutting up his mouth. “That night you called me. My coworker told me.”

Alyssa's phone clacked on the table. “Oh my god, you poor thing… I'm so sorry for you.”

There. Word for word, almost, he'd expected it. One part of Nick was dying to hear more, yet another almost dreaded it. The soft weight of someone, anyone's care.

For a heartbeat, the silence was deafening. Alyssa reached across the table and immediately folded her white paw into his. She squeezed it, just enough to make sure he felt it.

“I promise, you don't have to carry this alone, Nick. I'm here with you, every step of the way, okay?”

Nick lowered his head in a small nod. Shame crept up from nowhere, though he couldn't fathom why. His head throbbed. The migraine pressed on the back of his eyes again. When she squeezed his paw harder, he forced himself to meet her gaze.

And then he caught it. That smell.

A single whiff of it stung his tongue. Spice was all that lingered, but it was more than enough to tell. To tell that it was the same cologne he'd noticed as he walked in. From him. The wolf.

His eyes flicked to the empty bowl of prawn crackers, crumbs scattered around it. Alyssa’s claws, perfectly manicured, had left faint streaks of oil on her phone. She’d been here long before he arrived.

“Thank you,” he said, slowly correcting his posture. “That's very… kind of you.”

“Um, excuse me? Your first course.”

The waiter appeared like a ghost in the fog. Alyssa let go of his paw as she slowly turned to pull a face of civility. The white ceramic plates clinked against each other as they were set down, and the briny scent of oyster juice scattered between them, erasing whatever trace of cologne was left.

“Thank you,” deadpanned Alyssa.

Their meal passed like a blur. Alyssa's pure and unbridled shows of affection and care came in waves, and Nick felt a semblance of comfort for every extra oyster and scoop of food that she so lovingly fed him. He ate because it was easier than talking. Easier than fighting the feeling of an ice pick being jabbed in his eye.

Still, that smell lingered in memory, and with it, the question. Who was that wolf?

When they were finished, the question still pestered Nick, even as they stood and watched the waiter return to fetch their dishes and other trash. Alyssa looked well-fed despite eating very little, while Nick felt like he had just finished his death row meal.

He managed a crooked smile. “So. You're a heavy snacker, huh?”

Alyssa tilted her head slightly, rummaging in her purse for her wallet.

“Ah, what am I talking about? Look, this was really great and all, but I have one question.”

Her paw froze over the purse clasp. 

“Who's that black wolf?”

Alyssa stiffened for just a second, quick enough to be mistaken for surprise. She turned around with a smile, smooth and practiced. “Ah, we can absolutely go out like this again, whatever you want, okay? Just…”

Nick cut her off. “No, no, I want you to answer my question, Iss-.Lyss. Who was that guy, and why did you find the time to talk to him before I got here?”

Alyssa looked almost offended. She stepped back, holding her purse closer. “Why, you… I—”

He stood his ground, a feat he hadn't thought was possible right now. “Tell me, Alyssa.”

For a moment, she seemed to slip. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him, one ear twitching. But she quickly lifted her chin in her usual manner, as if to regain her composure. “Just… someone from my job. You wouldn't understand.”

“Oh really?” Nick’s tone dropped. “Because if he’s the kind of guy who drowns himself in cologne to hide what’s stuck to his fur, I think I’d understand plenty. And let me tell you, I've got friends at the ZPD who would too.”

“Hm. And you're sure you could see your girlfriend in handcuffs, and not the fluffy pink kind?”

“The-what?”

“Look, Nick.” She stepped closer, her voice turning syrupy, her paw sliding up his neck to his cheek. “You're grieving. You're not thinking clearly. That's why you have me, alright? I can be your everything, your anchor.”

A cold wind swept the balcony, ruffling his fur. Alyssa's paw kept to his neck, its touch offering a strange, irresistible calmness that muffled the world around him. But his migraine only pressed harder.

“The restaurant's almost empty,” she whispered in his ear. “Do you want to stay at my place?”

Nick didn't even think. He nodded. Alyssa smiled with a breath, triumphant.

“Good.”

Judy hummed to herself, smiling as she trotted through the familiar farmhouse door. Her ears gave a lazy flick, as the soft warmth of the dim living room was almost too much after that slow walk home. That walk, where she'd first felt its spark of wonder.

Somewhere behind her, laughter from the day before still clung to her like ivy on a stone wall. Not hers, but his. He wasn’t quite a boyfriend, not yet, and they certainly weren't established as a thing yet, despite how much Chuck and Tucker (The Hoppses’ bodacious teen twins) had teased them. However, there was something about how he'd looked at her when he asked if she wanted to walk back together. Something calm, patient, gentle, like he wasn't trying to race ahead or pull her along. That alone had felt new. Different. Exciting. Her heart skipped more than a few beats around him, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the novelty… or because she couldn’t believe it might be real.

She breathed in, steadying herself, ears tuning to the soft chorus of her siblings’ snores near the fireplace. They calmed her nerves, a reminder she was home. It was chilly, too. The draft still slipped in under the door. 

Kicking off her shoes, she let out a yawn and remembered it. For the first time in a while, she'd skipped morning coffee and didn’t even miss it. Normally, the day didn't start until she'd downed a steaming cup of java, but today? She'd run on nothing but a smile and the anticipation of his. Yet she felt fine. Better than fine.

The past week had truly been a good use of her time off. Speaking of which…

Judy tiptoed onto the couch across the room, so as not to wake her sleepy siblings (she tripped on the rug), and set down her new purse. After digging through it for a bit, she pulled out her phone.

She hadn't spoken to Nick since before her trip. She thought of his sarcastic grin, the way he had a quip for anything, and how even she herself cringed at her own reply this morning. So, she decided to surprise him with a full-on video call. Button pressed, she began waiting patiently.

Beep, beep. Again. Once more. Just when the call was about to end without him picking up, he picked up.

Or was it really him?

“Nick?” she asked, voice low.

But the camera only showed an unclear, shifting white figure. For a split second, Nick's familiar witty voice bounced through, words indistinct like he was speaking underwater. The camera blurred in motion as the figure seemingly snatched the phone and hung up.

Judy blinked at the blank screen morphing into the darkness around it, her mouth curling into an uneasy frown. The fireplace seemed to be losing heat.

Chapter Text

“Take a gander!” the mischievous rabbit Chuck announced to his siblings on the living room rug as he showed off his pet tarantula. His twin brother Tucker stood beside him, adjusting his crooked glasses.

The tarantula, as wide as some of their heads, retreated into its half-buried coconut shell, disturbing the surrounding foliage as curious and slightly terrified eyes closed in on its enclosure.

“Uh, Chuck, is it supposed to be that big?” asked Lily, eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear.

“Yeah… What if it crawls out?!” squeaked Max.

Chuck chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention. “He won’t, I promise! Look at him, he loves his shell! Besides, he’s super friendly. Right, Tucker?” Tucker glanced at him and turned to Max and Lily with a nod. 

“Friendly? More like terrifying! That thing gives me the creeps!”

“You guys are such babies!” Chuck teased, bringing his face closer to the enclosure. “It’s just a big fuzzy spider. I’ll prove it! Watch!” He gently tapped on the side of the coconut shell. 

“Don’t, Chuck!” Lily shouted, her paws gripping the edge of the rug. “What if it gets mad?” 

Max nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I don’t want to be around if it decides to escape!” 

Tucker laughed, leaning closer to his brother. “Let it loose! Let’s see who can run the fastest!” 

“Not funny, Tucker!” Lily shot back, a soft giggle breaking through her worry. Max quickly stood up when Chuck held the tarantula close to him. He looked ready to bolt as soon as Chuck did it again, which he almost certainly would.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, not too loud, but clear enough to make their ears perk. “Hello?” said a muffled voice, and Tucker glanced at Chuck, opening the door after looking through the peephole.

A tall, dark-tan buck bent down and waved with an awkward smile. “Hi.”

Chuck lowered the tarantula, groaning. “Ugh, you again…”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, is Judy around?”

“What do you want with her?”

“Well, I just thought she’d be ready by now.”

“For what?”

“Coming!” Judy called from up the stairs. The whole room turned to look at her as she hurried down, tugging on a crop top.

“Oh, um, that's just perfect, I don’t mind. And it’s only a walk, so…”

Tucker side-eyed him, and he noticed.

Judy stopped as she was about to don a cardigan. “Oh. That’s just great, then!” she said brightly, grabbing her purse.

He waved the little Hoppses goodbye and slipped out of sight.

She spun towards her siblings. “Alright, gang. Behave while I'm out, we’ll only be an hour.”

“Hey, Judy,” Tucker piped up.

“Yes…” she paused, squinting at him. “Tucker?”

“Are you really sure he’s not your boy-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut him off.

The sound of shuffling paws and muffled squeals filled the farmhouse, dimming to a low hum through the walls. Outside, the crisp fall air reminded Judy of how wonderful it could be outside of Zootopia's tropical climate. A dirt path led from the farmhouse to the fields, flanked by golden-brown grass and a weathered fence in disrepair. He was waiting by the gate, leaning on the bike with that same patient half-smile of his. 

“Sorry I'm late. I swear Tucker's gonna get himself bit one of these days,” said Judy.

“You're right on time, actually,” he replied, easygoing as ever. 

They fell into step beside each other as he pushed the bike along the road, the gravel crunching softly underfoot. For a while, neither of them spoke. Judy knew it was just him waiting for her initiative as usual, but silence by itself felt odd more than anything.

She tried something to break the ice. “You… you look like a kid?” She chuckled after she'd said it, as if masking the awkwardness.

He raised an eyebrow, still smiling faintly.

“I mean, like, I could totally see you as… a kid in summer, biking down the block to see his friend, who lives on a farm. You know?”

He gave a thoughtful “Hm.”

“Then you two hang out and do nothing until the streetlights come on. Maybe climb a tree by the lake, try to reach the highest branch in one jump…”

“...Like us?”

“Well,” she hesitated, “no. We're not kids, are we?”

He stared into the distance for a bit before turning back. “We're friends.”

Judy stopped. “Yeah. We are.” He was slow to react. 

They walked for just a while longer, an unresolved tension simmering between them.

“What's on your mind, Jude?”

Judy looked at him and smiled, almost relieved. “All this time, I've just dreamed. Of being a cop. Now that I am, well…”

“You've realized what you missed out on?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, we all make mistakes, I guess.”

“Hey, y'know, why don't you tell me about one of yours?”

“Oh,” he grinned in pleasant surprise. “Well, when I was ten or so, I was kind of a loser.”

She laughed quietly, trying to be polite. “Were you?”

They came across an old, decaying bench under a dead lamp pole Judy had remembered from her distant childhood. Enough for two rabbits.

They sat down. “Yeah. I got picked on a lot. For just being quiet and all. Slow. Other kids liked running, fighting, and showing off how fast they were. I liked taking apart radios and stuff.”

“So you were the smart one?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Nah,” he chuckled. “Just as much of a nerd as all the other nerds out there. I'm surprised I've never had to wear glasses.”

She laughed softly. The sound came out warmer than she meant it to, and for a moment, she wished the path were longer.

“Really, though… that doesn't sound like a mistake. You were just being yourself, weren't you?”

“Eh. Sometimes, people just hate you for being you. You'd know, right?”

“Trust me, I would. Besides, look at you now. You're tall, um, handsome. Dark, too.”

He laughed, short and genuine. “Thanks.”

“...It's been fun. My vacation, I mean. Would've had fun with the sibs anyway, but it's just…” she paused, searching for the right words. “You've made it so much better. Too bad we only have, what, two more days?”

“I have?” he feigned surprise, though a smile tugged at his lips.

“Yeah.”

They caught the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the distant murmur of a late-running cricket. Golden hues from the morning sun spilled across the rolling hills, casting a warm glow on the humble crop field before them. Leaves in vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow danced gently in the light breeze around the bench. They sat in comfortable silence, absorbing the beauty around them. This moment felt timeless, one where the worries of the world melted away, replaced by a shared appreciation for the simple magic of the countryside Judy had so missed.

“Hey, can I ask you for some advice?” she finally spoke.

He looked at her. 

“I think my friend is going through something. I can't quite put it down, but I just know it. I know Nick better than anyone.”

“Better than his mother?”

“...Probably. I don't know how to ask him nicely. Heck, I don't even know if I should bother with it. That call last night was just…” she trailed off, staring into the distance.

“Judy. You care a lot about people. Maybe too much for your own good. I like that about you.”

She didn’t respond.

“But just remember that… you’re one of them. Caring is only good as long as it doesn’t cost you everything. Even heroes have lines. Boundaries.”

She looked up at him. “Then what should I do?”

“Be there for him. Just don’t lose yourself doing it.”

There was another moment of silence. Not too long, just enough for Judy to take his words in. Then, the sun drying off the air’s chilly kick, like in a moment of catharsis, she placed a paw on his thigh. He looked at her, pleasantly surprised. After a moment of hesitation, he returned the gesture, laying his paw atop hers.

A breeze swept around them, carrying fallen leaves with it. In that moment, Judy’s world seemed just a bit brighter.

Nick was here again. The same dream. But if that were the case, then maybe it did mean something. 

He watched like an unhelpful bystander as the fox struggled with the tie, repeatedly getting even the first step wrong. The fox's eyes flashed with frustration, but not as much as he'd expected, considering the fox was doing this all by himself. 

After a few complaints to himself, the fox managed to complete the first and second steps, and then everything else fell into place. A flicker of pride surged through whatever form he took in this state, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was undeserved. A full Windsor knot. All by one kit and his mirror?

No. There was someone else. An invisible pair of paws quickly straightened the fox's shirt. The movements looked less loving and delicate than the mother’s. And yet the mirror showed nothing more.

“Nick,” they began echoing. Again, and again, like the one saying it couldn't bother to be more gentle. “Nick—!”

Nick woke up to a start when he'd felt a claw digging into his ear, and sat up with a low “Ugh.” His back still ached (probably that horribly awkward chair at Silver Tide), but at least his migraine was gone. He could tell, because Alyssa, who was standing in front of him with her arms crossed, looked white, and not a jaundiced shade of yellow.

But oh, my. The scandalousness of being immodest in one's own house. As a perk of being free from skull-crushing limbo, Nick could finally appreciate and take a good look at that bod of hers. All curves, no creases or signs of actual muscle, lusciously snow white, all gift-wrapped in a scarlet towel and an accidentally seductive pose?

Better yet, she noticed and smiled knowingly.

Nick quickly brushed off his simply-lovestruck eyes and tried to ease the tension, eyes still on her. 

“Way to play the wife. I feel like working a 9-5 already… heh.”

Awkward silence.

“Right, uh… What's for dinner- I mean, breakfast?”

Alyssa's smile faded as she checked her phone. “Ah, that. My… boss called earlier and, to be honest, I don't think I can catch the meeting and get us breakfast,” she lowered it, “so you'll have to get some yourself.”

“Oh. I see.” He paused. “But wait, what… What do you actually do?”

She raised an eyebrow as she was just about to leave, her tail peeking through the towel.

“Your job, I mean.”

Alyssa straightened like she was carefully picking an answer. “A… high position in a marketing thing.”

Nick blinked. Marketing? He always thought she’d do something in a creative field because she was rich anyway.

That was odd. Something about seeing her without that necklace felt like stumbling upon something he shouldn't have as a kid. Something utterly scandalous, and perhaps even inappropriate. Anyway, he was still tired. He returned to lounging in his sleep, arms behind his head like a true slacker on vacation.

Never mind, actually. Just a few moments later, Alyssa slammed the door shut so hard that it woke him up for real. Bummer. Things were actually getting interesting. 

Nothing else to be done in this spacious king-size bed. Not other than brooding all day. So, still too lazy to go out for breakfast, Nick shoved away the wrinkly blanket to stumble down the stairs and explore the house. After all, hot metal rods in your eyes tend to obscure vision, a lesson he'd learned the hard way yesterday.

The house was actually surprisingly modest; a first glance told him that much. Just a good ol’ house built for small, maybe middle-class predators. Simple and minimalistic: polished floorboards, a few pieces of out-of-place furniture, but that smell. It wasn't cold like regular Tundratown. In fact, looking out the window, the place was not too far from Savannah Central's borders. If he really squinted, he could see the bullpen in all the chaos.

Just by the door, there was a wooden necklace stand. There were three stands, but one was clearly more used than the others, and it just happened to be the only one occupied by Alyssa's silver necklace. Out of curiosity, he cautiously grabbed it, holding the stand in place as he did. 

A closer look revealed that it was nothing special. The faint scratch marks catching the light suggested at least a decade of service. What really struck him, though, was that in the two months he’d known her, it was the only piece of real jewelry she ever wore. He thought rich people were immune to sentimentality, and yet there she was, rocking this simple, unassuming necklace every day, like it had some important story to tell.

Curiosity piqued (and half satisfied), he remembered a big square hole in the roof when he'd gone down the stairs. Attics or something, people called them, but he just couldn't relate. After absentmindedly dropping the necklace on the couch, he lazed his way up the stairs and found the ladder.

Climbing inside, the dust hit Nick almost immediately. He had to look away for just a second to prepare himself. There were only a few things inside. The odd piece of tacky furniture, a roll of garbage bags, and a few differently sized boxes. Clearly remnants from Alyssa's moving here. But when he looked inside one of the boxes, the suspicion set in.

Among the other pieces of trash and e-waste was a gold engagement ring. Its prongs were bent outward, and its gemstone was missing. Attached to it, a note, reading:

        2-8

Ring 

display on no. 6

Cryptic much? The engravings on the ring read “Forever, even if,” in an elegant, tiny font. Moreover, it perfectly fit a fox's finger.

He put everything back in the box and searched through another labeled “Old.” Inside was a stack of drawings, a tattered notebook, and scattered art supplies. A large hardwood-framed picture lay at the bottom. It showed two horses smiling and embracing. One had flowing hair and ambitious eyes, while the other, towering over the first, wore a humble smile. 

Looking closer, though, it seemed they weren't just holding each other; the bottom half of the picture was torn apart. And just when Nick was about to turn it around to find out more…

“Nick!”

Nick immediately turned around.

“Where are you? Have you seen my necklace anywhere? I always keep it on the stand by the door.”

He quickly put everything back in order. “Uh, I think it's on the couch somewhere!”

“...Found it. Why is it here?”

“I don't know. Bye!”

“Alright. The money’s right here, bye, love you!” she blew a kiss, and the door clicked shut just a few moments later.

Just in case, Nick waited a few seconds before climbing down, her perfume still lingering. He found a handy notebook and a stun gun in one of the outfits he'd packed the night before, and wrote down what was on the ring. Cop instincts — even in that near-delirious state, he'd managed to pack the essentials in the short minutes Alyssa had allowed him to stop at home. 

He was scrawling down everything he could when he remembered how hungry he was. And that this was also kind of an invasion of privacy…

No matter. Nick checked Alyssa's clock once, got a change of clothes, and grabbed the money from the couch's armrest.

He brought the stun gun. Just in case.

For breakfast, he chose a place he knew from his hustling days. It had an effortless name (simply Badger Breakfast), slightly dirty gray and brown tiles, superbly diluted coffee, and most of all, divinely greasy fish filets. All the defining qualities of a perfect breakfast place.

Nick stopped stirring his coffee as he rested his chin on his paw, eyes wandering to the ceiling fan wobbling above. His ears twitched as a kettle hissed for just a moment somewhere in the kitchen, and the sound of cutlery clashing continued after, its hum broken by the click of a toaster. His fish fillets were rapidly cooling, but at least they weren't suffering the fridge-fresh tartare sauce's fate.

The ancient brass doorbell rang particularly loudly, drowning out the other commuters. He flicked his head in its direction and watched two polar bears stroll in, a cub and his dad.

Just the dad? That reminded him of something.

Oh, right. Mom's gone.

Nick blinked at the thought like it was an old friend showing up uninvited. Somehow it didn’t feel real, even now. Not yesterday, or when he’d shouted at the hospital staff. His brain still filed it under “temporary inconvenience” like one of those things you forget to pay attention to until it’s too late.

He turned away once they noticed his odd looks, leaning back in his chair as he snatched a fillet from his plate. 

The ring, his dream, and that weird portrait all hung loosely above him, just out of reach. But underneath it all was the painful, stinging truth that once this sorry vacation was over, there would be no one to call after a long day.

He sighed. 

“Hey, Wilde,” said a voice from behind the counter. The owner, a badger, was wiping down a greasy table while giving him a rough, but not quite malicious side-eye.

Nick straightened. “Oh, uh, you actually-”

“Yeah, I remember your name an’ all,” the badger groaned. “Now, if you're done broodin’ on that cuppa, your friend's been waitin’ for a while.”

Nick raised a brow halfway through a sip. “Friend?”

“Uh-huh. Didn't order nothin’, but he's been watchin’ since you up and sat down. Maybe shoulda got takeout instead, y'know.”

Nick furrowed his brows. He set down the coffee and looked over his shoulder for the so-called friend. Nothing.

The badger shrugged, turning back toward the kitchen. “Just sayin’. Don't loiter, ‘kay? Tryna do my job here.” He disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Nick at that.

Friend, huh?

After a while, Nick finished his food with an uneasy feeling in his gut. Outside, the air couldn't decide what it wanted to be. A warm, polluted breeze from Downtown rolled in and tangled with the freezing breath of Tundratown, turning the street into a damp, slushy mess. For once, he almost wanted to wear shoes.

The sky was a sickly blue with a hint of stagnating smog. His fur couldn't tell if it wanted to lie flat or stand up, each breath feeling either tighter or smoother than the last. A bus hissed to a stop around the corner, but he didn't go for it. 

Instead, Nick took a left and stopped at a storefront to check his reflection. A classic hustler trick. And it worked, too — in the glass, behind his own faded outline, a shadow shifted. That alone was enough to know.

“Hm,” he smiled without humor. So he did have a little friend.

No particular destination in mind, he kept walking, this time even more attentive.

He tried to listen to the friend's sounds. Hooves? Too soft. Pads, maybe? But there were no sounds of claws, and he knew just how few hustling buddies of his were declawed. And what would a rodent be doing tailing a fox? Last time he checked, he was on okay-ish terms with Mr. Big, mostly thanks to Judy.

He stopped for a bit. He whipped out his notebook and deliberately dropped it. As he bent down to pick it up, he listened closer.

There. Just for a second, but he caught it. Not like steps at all. More like something being dragged against concrete. Too coarse for fabric, but most of all, constant.

Nick only took a few more steps forward. His ear twitched when the same scrape came back, fainter, but clearer now that he knew what it was. In quiet frustration, he stopped and gave a hearty sigh. “Look, pal.”

He turned around.

“Not hooves, not paws, and I don't hope you're a shrew. What are you?” 

Nothing. The city sang its usual song of distant traffic.

“Look, I know you're there. Black-eye over there said enough. Come on out,” he said, paw hovering above his stun gun.

Still nothing. 

Nick turned to the nearest wall, leaning onto it. “Alright, I see. Not a sucker for action, are you? Let's just have a little talk.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Show yourself.”

For a moment, even the wind hesitated. The same scraping returned, closer this time. It drew itself out from the darkness between two buildings.

Nick braced. The bricks were still cold against his back.

Something long and thin emerged from the shadows, slithering with a grace too alien to be mammalian. For a second, he mistook it for caution tape, and rightfully so. Scales caught the light in brief flashes of black and gold, like warning and being glamorous at the same time. The rest of it kept uncoiling behind, endless, like the pitch-black alley itself was crawling out.

A snake. And Nick realized, even with some of its body still coiled on the ground, it was easily twice his height in length, half as thick as his head.

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the knot that had just formed in his chest. There weren't supposed to be snakes in Zootopia. Not on the force, not out on the streets, or anywhere else.

“Huh,” he forced a grin, “that's new.”

The snake lowered its head.

“Your kind? Out here? Buddy, your blood's cold enough! No one really needs ice in their veins!”

The effect was instant. The snake tensed, ribs just under its head visible for a moment.

“Boy, Bogo's just gonna love this, isn't he? Tell me, what are you doing tailing a cop?”

It tilted its head.

“Heh,” he chuckled, more to fill the air than anything.

Just some weird creature of the forest, Nick told himself. He could take him. He’d wrangled rhinos several times his size and talked grizzly bears down from bar brawls. This was just a scaled-up noodle with an attitude. 

Almost like it could hear his thoughts, the snake seemed to brace. Nick's eye twitched. Its silence was getting on his nerves.

“Fine,” he said, “you asked for it.”

“Freeze!” Nick commanded, lunging with his stun gun. He missed, and the snake jerked back, body rippling in motion as it retreated into the alley. 

He bolted after it. His tie flew in the wind. The snake left a noticeable trail in the slush, leading Nick to a dumpster at the end of the alley.

It must've climbed on it and leapt to the other side. Adrenaline gave him a boost as he jumped over and continued running. Their chase continued for only a short few moments. But then, Nick felt a sudden ache throughout his body that immediately slowed him down.

The snake wasn't doing much better. Its movements lost their glide, each push and dart forward taking more effort than the last. The two of them staggered down a narrow lane. A strange cold mist was settling about.

Nick turned the corner, and through the mist, he could make out the snake looking behind itself, as if hoping to have lost him. He tightened his grip on the stun gun.

It was hard to see, but the snake veered around a bin, disappearing into shadows.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Nick growled. He slid after it, tail lashing, breath ragged. His fur was dancing in confusion, but pride shoved him on.

He rounded the corner…

And the alley beyond was a dead end. The snake was cornered. 

Nick stopped, bent slightly, panting for breath. “Looks like we're both… out of our depth, huh, scaly?”

It turned to face him, eyes intense enough to pierce the mist.

The fox adjusted his tie to look presentable. His stun gun almost dropped.

“Look. No snake has set foot in Zootopia in… a long time. Not any that I've heard of.”

The snake tensed again. Nick almost smiled at its reaction when he realized why, but refrained.

“Look, I don't know why you're stalking me. But if I could just turn you over to the ZPD, you could tell them what you're doing, and we'll get you back home. Or wherever you came from. Alright?”

The snake's golden scales glistened ever so slightly. In a second, the mist shifted, and the gold was gone.

Nick looked around. Then, faster than he could think, something cold and heavy brushed on his body, then his neck, and tightened.

He froze. The snake had looped around him, its coarse body winding around his torso with terrifying gentleness. His stun gun clattered to the ground, sent away by a single flick of muscle. He could feel the tremor of his very lungs struggling to find space.

The snake rose, its - no, their - hood flared wide, and fangs beared. The world slowed, narrowing to gold and black scales, dark eyes, and a great hiss. This animal demanded respect, and Nick had failed to show his.

For a heartbeat, Nick's mind went blank. No quip, no plan, just a flicker of every bad decision he’d ever made. When he snapped back, he realized what this snake truly was. They were a cobra. He'd heard of them. Bright scales, triangular head, forked tongue, and deadly venom. 

Upon seeing Nick's humbled, mortified face, they loosened their grip on him. Their mouth closed, but their hood stayed open, still apprehensive.

“Hey! What's going on over there?!” an elk called out from the street. 

They looked in his direction. “I'm calling the police!”

Nick dropped to the ground with a dull thud. The cobra’s hood snapped shut as they uncoiled and slithered away. He was still panting, shaken. He didn't stand up, but rather just sat there, as if his body wasn't ready to act yet.

“You okay there?”

He didn’t wait. Didn’t even look back. He ran the other way, the strange air burning in his chest, paws barely catching the slick pavement.

Only when an open store came into view did he stop, paws on his knees, panting. His reflection in the window looked pale. Eyes wide, and tie crooked. He straightened up, pretending nothing had happened. Just another morning. That was it.

But his legs wouldn’t stop shaking.

When the door clicked open sometime past nine, Nick was still slumped on the couch. His shirt was wrinkled at the edges, its collar crooked. His creased, undone tie lay on the table like it had a story to tell.

“Rough day?” The clinking of Alyssa's keys by the necklace stand punctuated her words.

Nick shrugged. “Eh.”

“You look like it.”

A few minutes later, the bathroom door clicked open shortly after the sound of running water had stopped. Nick didn't bother to look as Alyssa had emerged and made her way upstairs. He sighed and lay down on the couch, laying a paw on his forehead as he stared at the ceiling.

“Need something to bring you to bed? Don't suspect you've got much of an appetite,” she asked, coming back down.

Nick simply waved his arm, tail twitching like he couldn't be bothered to speak.

“Hm. Tea, then.” She headed off to the kitchen.

“See you in bed,” he muttered, standing up. He walked upstairs in an unsteady gait.

Alyssa paused as she was washing a mug. She opened the door to the cool, dry pantry and grabbed something from the sparse top shelves. She then grabbed a teabag from a lower shelf.

A couple of minutes passed. Nick was still lying down and staring into oblivion, only this time in bed. He rolled over to stare at the wall (arguably a better view) when he heard Alyssa come up the stairs.

The door creaked open.

“Chamomile,” said Alyssa, the mug clinking on the nightstand. “Helps with falling asleep. I always drank it for that same reason.”

Nick didn't respond. She disappeared again, and he could hear what sounded like her climbing a ladder. 

He sat up, pushing away a loose sheet as he took the tea. He took a slow sip and winced at the wall. It was way too sweet, but there was still a sharp, bitter kick to it. Maybe she put the teabag in for too long. Either that, or it had broken entirely; when Nick looked back at the tea, he noticed some weird black sediment at the bottom. 

With another hesitant and unpleasant sip, he decided to dump it all in the bathroom sink. He watched the black grit swirl down the drain, dark threads curling like smoke. Then it was gone. He wasn't sure why that made him feel better, and the fact that it did made him feel worse.

A moment later, Alyssa returned, padding softly across the room. Her fur glinted faintly in the low lamplight. Nick scooted to give her space as she perched on the edge of the bed, her movements unhurried, deliberate.

“How's the place? How are you feeling?

“Tea was too sweet,” Nick murmured. But as if out of obligation, he added: “I could handle it, though.”

She smiled at that - just a little curve of the mouth - and brushed a paw through his chest. “You always were hard to please. Then, I suppose you'll be off to dreamland soon?”

He tried to smirk back, but faltered halfway. His head felt heavier than before, thoughts sliding out of focus like wet ink on paper. Maybe he shouldn't have thrown away the tea. Maybe it was just exhaustion.

“What's on your mind, Nick?”

Nick paused. “Things. My mom, mostly.”

“You seem distant lately. Though I could imagine why,” she said, tone slipping into what sounded like compassion.

“Hey… help me understand this dream, will ya?”

Alyssa tilted her head, tail flicking once.

“It’s me, watching me. Like, little me. He’s tying a tie, but... I just know there’s someone else.”

She nodded subtly.

“I think it's my mom, but I don't think so. I feel like it's…”

“You’re trying too hard to make sense of things that aren’t meant to.”

“Well, isn’t that my job?”

“You’re not a detective, Nick. You uphold the law. You don’t untangle it.”

“I guess so.”

“Besides, you don't need to go around chasing every shadow that follows you. You've had enough close calls lately."

Nick stiffened. Furrowing his brows, he slowly turned to look at Alyssa. “...And how would you know?”

“I meant emotionally, sweetheart. You've been tense ever since you found out about your mother. Anyone could see it.”

He didn't have a comeback. She smiled, faint and practiced. “You’re in good paws, Nick. I promise.” Her paw lingered on his arm a second longer, then withdrew. “Goodnight.”

He watched Alyssa's silhouette move toward the switch, her shape thinning into shadow. The room dipped into darkness, leaving only the faint city glow through the curtains. He let out a breath and sank into the mattress. The scent of chamomile clung to his tongue, sharp beneath the sweetness. She slipped into bed beside him.

He rolled over to face the wall, blinking slowly. The ceiling felt too close. Somewhere behind his eyelids, a light flared - gold at first, then black - and when he blinked again, it was gone.

Nick took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, ready to drift into sleep…

But an unreadable amount of time later, he thought she'd fallen asleep first, until he felt it.

Something soft brushed his chest. Not fur against fur, but a deliberate touch, as if mapping out his body. It hesitated around and under his stomach. Someone seemed to be mumbling under the pulse of his ears.

“Lyss?”

She froze for half a second, then withdrew her paw with an almost childlike laugh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Nick blinked at the ceiling, heart thudding. “What were you doing?”

“Just wondering. You work out a lot? On the force?” Her voice was low, lilting, almost playful.

He let out a breath. “Not really, but it's a perk of the job. Why?"

“...Do you wanna have some fun?”

For a second, Nick caught a whiff of her perfume still sticking. “Yeah, I'm more of a ‘sleep it off’ kinda guy.”

“Come on. We've known each other for two months. Plus, I heard it relieves stress, you know…”

He sighed, tossing and turning a bit. “Look, not tonight, Lyss. I just need some sleep.”

"Alright. Then we'll have to settle for this." Alyssa leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, handsome.”