Chapter Text
Every mammal in Zootopia seems to see the same thing when they look at Officer Judy Hopps - a symbol of hope, equality, peace.
The first bunny cop, bright, brave, unstoppable. A walking slogan the city loves to point at and say, “See? Anyone can be anything.”
But what they don’t notice, what they’re never supposed to see, is the part that trembles under all that brightness. The part that thinks too fast, worries too hard, hides too deeply. The part that fears failure so much she keeps it locked under armor made of optimism.
Judy buried it because that was the only way to keep going. Because if she slowed down, if she let anyone see the cracks, she was terrified she’d never make it. And for a long time, it worked.
But after the Gary Viper case, everything intensified.
The attention. The expectations. The pressure to be perfect.
What had started as pride slowly twisted into something tight and breathless. At first, she tried to rationalize it.
The city’s brighter because of something I did.
I have friends. A partner I trust. A family that’s proud. I should be happy.
But the cameras never left. The praise never dimmed. And her fear of disappointing those who believed in her grew quietly, steadily, until it filled the gaps between every heartbeat. Then the symptoms came.
Her heart racing out of nowhere.
Chest tightening, vision narrowing, pins and needles in her paws.
Panic, sudden and sharp, in the middle of a normal day.
It made no sense to her. Judy Hopps wasn’t supposed to panic!
She never told anyone.. Not really.
Once, she joked to Nick about overthinking things, but he laughed and said,
“Come on, Carrots. You always figure it out in the end. You’re perfect.”
She laughed back. Pretended it didn’t sting. Pretended it didn’t make the pressure worse.
So she kept burying. But it didn’t stop.
2 month after the Viper case, and after they’d recaptured most of the prisoners Nick accidentally released. Chief Bogo declared the team deserved a night out.
A simple celebration, easy, normal.
Exactly what Judy told herself she needed. But the second they stepped outside the precinct, a wall of reporters crashed into them.
Microphones. Flashes. Dozens of eyes.
“Is the department prepared to comment on the escaped suspects?”
“What does Officer Hopps think this means for predator reintegration?”
“Rumor says Hopps and Wilde had prior contact with Gary Viper’s associates, is that true?”
“Will the case change how ZPD handles inter-mammal violence?”
Questions piled on top of one another, fast and heavy, like falling bricks. Chief Bogo barked,
“This is NOT a press briefing! Clear the area!”
But then reporters pushed closer to Judy. A camera flashed directly in her face.
Her throat tightened. Hands went numb. Her heart slammed painfully against her chest.
Don’t mess up. Don’t let everyone down again. Don’t interrupt Nick. Don't—
Nick said something next to her, breezy and amused.
“Hey hey, one at a time, folks. Cameras make Carrots shy. You’ll scare her back into her burrow.”
But she barely heard him. The noise compressed around her. The air vanished. Her body betrayed her.
“I..I forgot my purse inside,” she blurted, forcing a smile that didn’t fit her face. “You guys go ahead.”
She slipped inside before anyone could stop her, darted into the first empty room she could find, and shut the door behind her.
Dark. Quiet. But not quiet enough.
Again, why am I like this?
A cop who panics? I should be fired. Unfit. Dangerous.
What if I misfire during a mission and hurt someone?
What if Nick realizes I’m a mess and finds a better partner?
What if he leaves me?
The room tilted. Her paws braced against the desk as panic ripped through her.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only fear, blinding, total. Then—
“Carrots?”
Nick’s voice came through the dark like a thread of light.
Judy jerked upright, vision blurry. Nick glances around the dark room, take one look at her and freezes.
“Judy? Hey, are you okay?”
She backed away, raw and exposed.
“Why..Why are you here? I told you to go ahead…”
Nick hesitated, then quietly said
“Well… you said you forgot your purse. But you don’t carry one. You pay with your phone, remember?”
The realization that he caught her lie made her stomach twist.
A stupid excuse. A stupid bunny.
“And this isn’t your office,” he added gently. “Judy… are you alright?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
She lowered her head, gripping the desk so hard her knuckles shook.
“I’m just… dizzy. Please. Go wait outside.”
He tried again, voice soft
“Judy… talk to me. You don’t look—”
“I said I’m FINE!”
The words snapped out of her like a whip. Nick froze, and regret hit her instantly.
“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Nick… I’m so sorry…”
He stepped closer, slow and careful.
“No, hey… it’s okay. Just let me—”
“No!” She flinched. “I just… need a moment. Please.”
He didn’t push. Didn’t pry. He simply nodded once and stepped out, closing the door with a soft click.
In the silence, her breathing finally loosened. The trembling dulled.
When she stepped back into the hallway, Nick was leaning against the wall, pretending he hadn’t been waiting.
“I’m okay,” she said. "Really."
He didn’t believe it. But he smiled anyway and walked beside her.
For the first time that day, she felt a sliver of calm.
Later that night, the celebration ran late, though Judy barely remember half of it. She laughed when everyone else laughed. She smiled when they toasted our success. She even teased Nick a few times, just to keep things normal.
But Nick saw too much, he always does.
Judy felt his eyes flick toward her every few minutes, patient and unbearably knowing, and that terrified her. Something inside her felt cracked, like a thin line running through glass.
By the time they stepped out of the restaurant, the streets had quieted. City lights shimmered like distant stars, and the night breeze brushed cool across her fur. Nick walked beside her, paws in his pockets, humming something off-key.
“You know," he said lightly, "if you wanted to skip dinner, you could’ve just said so. No need to invent a purse.”
“Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes
“Seriously though…” His voice softened. “You scared me a little.”
“I didn’t mean to..” she murmured.
“I know.” And he did, Judy could feel it.
After a few quiet steps, he added.
“If something’s wrong… You don’t have to hide it from me, Carrots.”
Her heart twisted. The words almost reached her tongue.
He said he cares about me. I already told him everything… that I’m afraid I am what everyone thinks I am, that I feel like I’m failing all the time.
This should be easy. I should be able to tell him what I’m going through right now.
But again, she froze.
I don’t want to look weak. I want to be strong. And Nick never really unloads his worries on me, not the way I do.
He had trauma too—things he kept tucked behind jokes, behind that careful, practiced ease.
So what if I dump all this on him?
What if it’s too much?
What if he sees how weak I really am, stops believing in me…
No. Not right now. Not when I feel this fragile.
Pull it together, Judy. Come on.
So instead, she forced a laugh.
“I’m fine. Really.”
Nick didn’t believe it.
But he let it go, for now.