Chapter Text
What if it happened differently?
Pawbert looks at the rabbit laying on the floor, whimpering in pain. He grits his teeth and looks down at his hands. He shakes his head and immediately reches for the fanny pack. A soft click of a pen and right into her chest. He brethes in, she does as well. He immediately reaches for the viper outside the door and brings him in close to her.
The three, soon turned into five, drive straight to the fallen civiliation of the reptiles. With power been restored and peaces made, the five if them cheer and celebrate the new victory. With Milton and the twin Lynxleys locked up, Pawbert can find the rest he needs.
He wakes up a few mornings from that previous encounter to make announcements and inform the people about his family
A soft glass reflection stares back at him from his bathroom mirror, a new one at that, as it was reserved for the “actual Lynxleys” before him. Those words jolsed in his mind. He stared deeply into his own eyes.
His father stared back.
He shook himself back to reality, in the mirror was just him again, yet a concerned expression over his face. Stop. That’s not who you are. You’re different. He sighed whole-heartedly, and groaned in annoyance.
A rhythmic pulse was felt every step he took, mostly cause of coffee, maybe because of nerves. He stepped onto the big stage full of microphones. He is almost immediately blinded by the shine of photographs.
A pig in the audience shouts out a question, “Mr. Lynxley, what do you plan to do with your newly founded power over the electricity over most of Zootopia.” Now would be a perfect time to mention that Pawbert was never skilled in social cues, never trained for press like his siblings were, and barely new anything about the technology itself.
“Well, I will try to research the authors words and see what can be improved for the many people of this city.” He fixes his tie, sweating profusely. He calls on another paw like hand.
“When you say author, you mean your grandfather correct?” He twirls his thumbs and sciits closer to the microphone.
“Well…”
He continues with questions, getting closer to perfection with each answer. About 20 questions in, he calls on one hand, they seem to be a type of tiger. “Because of your father being arrested, how will this effect our current electrical power? Furthermore, what do you have to say about your own father, Milton Lynxley?” His ears twitch, a blank expression now darkened over his face. Words can’t seem to escape his mouth. He breathes out in defeat.
“That will be all, thank you for time.” He walks directly off stage. He can’t hear the yelling and questions over his own heartbeat.
He stood infront of the train, staring down at his phone. He scratched the hem of his sweater, the green yarn getting stuck on his claws. The worn and tear of it’s sleeve gave more evidence of where it came from.
He thought of his mother, her smile, that beautiful necklace she wore almost everyday of her life. Everyday except…her funeral. It was all a haze, him being very young, about eight or so. He didn’t want to remember it. His mother made this sweater for him, and even made one for herself. That was the only thing he got from her, not money, not jewlery, a sweater. That was enough for him. The sweater has been hemmed, enlarged, and torn in diffrent places to fit him when older. He has olmost grown fully out if it now. He needs something more to remember her by. He steps into the opned doors with intent.
The doors of his father’s room swing open. He has to have it somewhere, that necklace. The only thing no one wanted, kept in a dusty closet. There it was, a silver chain and a rose charm at the end. He held it in his hands, tears streaming down from his face. He places it around his neck. Standing up, he walks towards the mirror and smiles. He sees more than his father, more than his siblings, he sees one more person, a person he loves.
His mother
Pawbert, while slightly better, is still anxious, scared of how others perceive him. He doesn’t even take off the bracelet for a shower, he planned to never take it off. Slipping on a jacket, he walks out the door, heading towards the bus stop. He looked at the time on his phone, eight-thirthy, he had a few more minutes.
As he took steps towards the large platform, he stopped in his tracks. He somehow read eight-forty five, rather than eight-forty.
“Wait!” He ran towards the doors, they closed on him immediately. His ears fell down his head. He started to step backwards not looking next to him. A voice caught up to him and before he could look…
“Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT. SHIT-”
A heavy body ran into him. He opened his eyes and there laid a reindeer. His horns curled toward him, his fur cream and dark brown. He had a bulky build and fluffy fur peaking out of his clothing. He stared back at Pawbert.
“Are you okay?” He reached his hooved hand out, bringing him up closer to his face. He had hazel eyes, hints of sage mixed in. He gives a warm gentle grin, the snow falling off his shoulders and legs.
He gazed into his eyes a bit longer.