Chapter Text
Judy sighed in relief and turned away from the security monitor, her heart still pounding. Nick was safe, he’d be here soon, and they could find that patent! ‘Sorry,’ she breathed, turning to Pawbert, ‘last case there was kind of a… twist.’
The lynx placed a comforting paw on her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. ‘I know,’ he replied, his voice heavy. Before the rabbit could react, his other paw had swung, connected with her neck, then withdrawn. The blow was so unexpected that Judy’s first thought was he’d lightly slapped her neck, as odd a gesture as that would’ve been. The impression barely had time to form before it was dispelled by the pain of searing needles where his hand had been.
The world tilted and blurred, then Judy gasped as Pawbert caught her and set her quickly on her back.
‘Oh! Hoho! Ohmygosh…’ Looking terrified and jubilant, the lynx placed a paw over his chest and let out a relieved laugh. ‘I really… oh, my heart is pounding! I thought you knew! I thought you…’
From her position on the ground, Judy barely caught the blur of movement as Gary lunged. Even as the cat stopped the snake dead – centimetres from his neck – the blur remained. But that was the least of her problems. A new kind of pain was spreading like fire from the pricks in her neck, her nerves screaming as she flopped over to watch her new friend be carried away.
‘Sorry, partner.’ The voice was Pawbert’s, but with only the barest attempt at sincerity. Gary grunted painfully as he was dumped into the snow on the lookout. ‘Hate to leave you out in the cold, but… I’m gunna.’ The lynx pulled a length of thin cord from his pocket. Judy couldn’t see exactly what he was doing from this distance, but as Gary let out a strangled cry, she could guess; sure enough, as Pawbert stood up, Gary was left weakly thrashing against a binding that held his neck fast to the railing. The tip of his tail flicked against the rope in vain, the knot too small to undo; it looked like he had barely enough slack to breathe.
Something else caught Judy’s eye as the lynx turned toward her, and she finally understood what had happened. Two metallic glints shone above his paw: fangs. The same sort of envenoming weapon used to frame Gary’s ancestor, all those years ago...
‘It’s a shame, really. “The venom of the viper is not a poison to the viper itself,” and I’m a little,’ he sucked in air through clenched teeth, ‘squeamish about blood.’ He sighed in mock-regret. ‘Pleeaase don’t be mad at me. I mean, you get it!’ he started forward, arms open with a conciliatory air. ‘We’ve always been on the same page. Me and you! Underdogs! Right?’ He crouched down. ‘You’ve gotta prove you’re as good as everyone else…’ a hint of bitterness in his voice reached Judy through the haze of pain, ‘...that you belong.’
He looked away, abashed. ‘I know, it’s messed up. But this is my chance!’ The device in his paw clinked as he chambered a full vial of venom. ‘I have to take it. Cos when I get to his great-grandma’s home, and I burn the original patent? I’ll finally be something in my family…’ Judy’s whole body felt weak, and the venom was only partly to blame. How could she have been so easily fooled? ‘…and I’ll finally belong, too.’
‘Judy!’ Nick’s faint voice, echoing through the massive industrial space, reached her. Pawbert’s ears flicked, and a icy lance pierced Judy’s heart. No… please, no, not Nick too…
‘Ruh-rohh,’ said Pawbert, his tone childish yet menacing. He walked to the flickering security monitor, on which Nick was visible, and longingly ran a claw across the tiny fox behind the glass. Was he already imagining Nick’s demise? Judy shuddered, disgust and panic sending a wave of nausea through her sickening guts.
‘No loose ends.’ A hint of genuine regret. It was small, but it was there, and Judy latched onto it. The lynx walked outside to where Gary was tied. ‘Bye, partner,’ he mumbled to the wordless and shocked snake. Seeming to remember at the last second, he reached down and unzipped the bag, plucking out the anti-venom pen. He ambled back to the prone rabbit. ‘Bye, Judy Hopps.’
As he stepped over and past her, Judy grabbed his trouser leg in spite of her screaming muscles. The lynx, taken aback, looked down at her. ‘Pawbert, please,’ she implored him, ‘you can be different than your family.’
Pawbert seemed to consider for a second, before his expression hardened. ‘I don’t wanna be different.’ He pulled out of Judy’s grasp, opened the door and, his eyes boring into hers with a singular expression, placed the anti-venom pen on the control panel beside it.
The door closed behind the youngest Lynxley.
***
Nick wandered, his nose constantly twitching, through the vast interior of the Weather Wall. ‘Judy?’ he half-called. Some heightened sense kept him from outright yelling, but he couldn’t pin it down. ‘Nibbles, do you see her?’
‘No, nuthin’ yet!’ replied the beaver, seemingly unafflicted by the same caution.
A light yet icy breeze whistled through the suspended catwalk. Nick pressed on, shivering, his worry growing. She couldn’t be far.
***
‘Nick…’ Judy’s voice was a hoarse whisper, but she couldn’t stop saying his name. It was her fault. All her fault. They’d argued, and now – maybe by chance, maybe because she’d convinced him to risk his life – he was walking into a trap. One she should’ve seen a long time ago. ‘Nick… oh…’
There was one last chance now, and it was sitting only a few body-lengths away, tantalisingly out of reach: the antivenom pen. A goal. The only remote shot at saving Nick from her own mistakes. She dragged herself slowly, excruciatingly towards it, struggling against the morass of panic and sorrow to come up with a plan. Any plan.
Gary’s voice, hoarse with cold, reached Judy. ‘We shall… succeed… Judy Hopps.’ She turned a little, barely able to see him; he’d painfully twisted his head over to look her in the eye.
Judy barely registered the words, totally consumed by reaching the pen. She kept crawling.
***
Nibbles swung the torch up, heart pounding at the light footfalls she’d heard, just in time to illuminate a large lynx a few steps ahead of her.
‘It’s okay! Judy sent me.’ The familiar-looking cat held a paw up, placating. ‘She needs to find Nick.’ The bejumpered mammal got right inside friendly distance, smiling to suit. Nibbles didn’t have time to react, and the smile vanished as he emptied venom into her chest.
***
Judy’s crawl had slowed. Every muscle and ligament was burning up, while every nerve felt like ice. Every millimetre of contact with the ground was its own agony; but still, she persisted.
‘We… shall succeed,’ Gary repeated, urging her on. She turned, and with another pang of fear, saw Nick on one security feed – the stalking predator, Lynxley, on the other.
A helplessness like she’d never known. The antivenom pen, out of her reach, out of Gary’s. Had Lynxley known she’d never get to it? Was that why he’d left it? One last cruelty… and Nick—
Judy’s limbs gave in, the weak penetrating her bones, and she flopped to the cold metal.
‘Judy!’
She shivered deeply. ‘I can’t… move… and you’re… you can’t… help.’ A shuddering breath. ‘And now he’s gonna… Nick’s gonna…’
It had been her fault. The guilt wracked her; she’d been the one to convince him to come, she knew it. The case… of course she’d been willing to risk herself! That was the only way to fix the world’s problems. But as soon as Nick had seen it her way, the first time he’d run toward danger instead of away… Nick, the only animal who’d ever truly had her back – who she’d laughed with and cried with, who had inspired deeper feelings in her than she’d felt for anyone else – was going to—
***
Nick contemplated the door and grimaced. Had they really come this far up? Where were they going? Doubt and panic rising, with no leads and too many options, he pushed it open. The cold buffeted him and he recoiled, before pressing onward. He couldn’t see through the fog; maybe they were looking over the ledge?
***
‘Judy… the world was never meant to be on one animal’s shoulders.’ Gary’s strained voice felt a mile away. Judy finally turned some attention to him.
***
Nobody there. Nick made for the door, but a form emerged from the fog, one quickly recognised: the lynx from the gala. The one who’d taken Carrots away, and shown up again with her only minutes before. The one who’d been helping the snake all along.
Jealousy turned quickly to guilt. What was he thinking, in a time like this? If the lynx was here, Carrots was here, and just maybe he’d get the chance to say sorry. To me-apologise, to… compromise.
The line of thought stopped dead as the lynx revealed his paw. Nick’s heart sank.
***
‘That’s why my great-grandma wanted Zootopia to be for everyone. So we… could all help each other.’
Judy glanced at the security feed; both figures were boxed into one screen now, surrounded by snow… outside? She hadn’t dared to hope, but now the choice to hope was taken away from her, the despair of unstoppable reality swallowing everything else.
Her voice was barely a breath. ‘I… didn’t… help.’
‘You did! You chose… to help me. And became my best… warm-blooded friend.’ Gary had given up struggling against the rope, but his eyes glowed with warmth despite the drowsy chill that must’ve been settling into his body. He smiled, genuine and sure. ‘No matter what happens… to us, Judy Hopps… we shall succeed… in the end.’
And Judy could imagine it, snakes slithering through the streets of Zootopia. Rescued from exile by some future movement, some brave mammals and reptiles who’d finally unite against their true foes and succeed. The animals of all shapes swam together, joyous and dreamlike behind her eyes; a movement she realised she and Gary would never see.