Chapter Text
It takes all of five minutes after the Lynxley family’s official arrest for Judy to collapse.
Luckily for her pride, the cameras have stopped rolling by then, all photo-ops and footage-mining complete. Nick is quick to scoop her out of the snow and takes some small comfort in having to let her go when the paramedics allow him to ride with them to the hospital. The ambulance screams through Tundratown, and he keeps a grip on the railing of her stretcher until it’s time for them to move it again.
He’d gotten the antivenom pen to her just in time, according to the doctor. Any longer and she would have been a goner. A direct stab to the neck with a full cartridge of the stuff— especially for a mammal of her size— should have done away with her much faster. But she’s stubborn.
“I don’t understand why I have to stay here,” she rambles, now fully-conscious and propped up in a bed so big it dwarfs her. Nick lingers nearby, a half-folded magazine in his lap. “I mean, I’ve got both the antivenom and the additional correctors in my bloodstream now. And I feel fine!”
“Yeah, I think they want you to be here just about as much as you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means these poor nurses would probably rather not have to repeatedly explain the importance of continued observation and treatment after a taxing event. Need I remind you that you were knocking on death’s door not even twenty-four hours ago?”
Judy scoffs. “And I was up and running again five minutes later!”
The professionals had chalked that little miracle up to adrenaline. Yes, the antivenom was the most important piece of the puzzle, but it was the first step of many. A stab to the heart didn’t mean she was stabilized. It just meant that she could muster up the strength to jump off a cliff after him.
Nick watches her now, unable to wipe the smile off his face as she pleads her case to anyone who will listen.
“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Ms. Hopps?” the nurse, a fallow deer who can’t be much older than her patient, dares to ask.
Judy opens her mouth, ears perking up with gusto. He already knows that there’s another protest right on the tip of her tongue. Nick raises his brow and waits to see if it’ll land, snickering to himself when she opts to melt into her pillow instead.
“...no, I’m fine for now. Thank you.”
“I’ll be back to check on you later. Just hit your call button if you need anything!”
“Mmmmhm.”
Polite as always, she waits until the nurse leaves the room to groan. It’s a long-suffering sound reminiscent of the day they met. Nick scoots his chair an inch closer and unfurls the magazine over the bedrail.
“Come on, Carrots, don’t be like that. Let’s look on the bright side, shall we? Now you have plenty of time to learn all about the torrid love affair our new mayor is having with one of Gazelle’s backup dancers.”
Judy swats the trash magazine away. “I should be out there, Nick. I should be supporting Gary. What good can I do from a hospital bed?”
“What good can you do slumped over in the snow?” He says, and she pouts at him, which he was expecting. She knows he’s right and she’ll continue to complain anyway. “I’m sure my good friend Gary, who I have said maybe five words total to, would rather you take a well-earned breather.”
“I’ve never been good at breathers,” she grumbles.
“Now why does that not surprise me?”
His words are punctuated by the beginnings of a yawn. The past few days had been a lot for a lackadaisical fox such as himself, even if said fox was now fully trained and therefore unable to be classified as careless anymore. Still, he instantly regrets letting that show in front of Judy, whose face has softened considerably at the sight of him.
“You’re tired.”
“Not tired,” he says. “We were at a pretty high altitude for a minute there. My body is simply replenishing its oxygen.”
“Sure it is,” she turns to smush her cheek against her pillow. “Hypocrite. You should go home and get some sleep. Maybe after you throw away that week-old pizza box beside your mattress.”
“Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”
“On the leaving or the cleaning?”
He stays put in his seat, which is an answer in and of itself. Judy’s ears droop in that tell-tale way they do when she’s feeling down. It’s aggravatingly adorable.
“In all seriousness, you need to rest. Otherwise I’m going to be worried about you and Gary.”
“And the rest of Zootopia, I’m sure.” She keeps looking at him with those big, sad bun-bun eyes. Nick sighs, his tail absentmindedly curling around the leg of his chair. It’s hard to hold her gaze, but he tries his best. “I don’t want to leave yet. I don’t want to leave you yet. Not when I just got you back, alright?”
“Well, the good news is I’m not going anywhere. You’ll know where to find me tomorrow morning. No urgent phone calls to Clawhauser required.”
“So you’re kicking me out? I gotta admit, that hurts. This may dissuade me from ever being open and vulnerable with you again.”
He’s barely able to get all that out with a straight face. The way Judy sits up to lean over and give his shoulder a series of quick punches doesn’t help matters. Nick gently pushes her back into the small divot she’s made in her bed.
“I’m going to call security!” she laughs. The yawn that’s been lingering in the air catches her at last, muddling the start of her next sentence. “And I’m going to miss you. But even that won’t stop me from calling security.”
With a great reluctance, Nick stands. His feet feel heavy in a way that goes beyond simple fatigue. He opts to move his arms first, stretching a hand out to give her a rub behind her ears.
“Will you visit tomorrow?” she asks, leaning into him. “First thing in the morning?”
“If that’s what the lady requests, I will be here. First thing in the morning.”
“Get some sleep.” she presses. He nods, if only to try and sate her.
“You could text me, you know.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She yawns again, which kinda undercuts the snark she’s trying to dish out. Nick grabs the magazine from where it ended up on the floor and drops it on her bedside table.
“Just in case you get curious about Gazelle’s backup dancer.”
“Nick!”
A grin splits his face in two as he heads for the door. He makes a hell of a show out of turning the knob before disappearing into the hall.
—
Nick heads home and stays just long enough to be able to truthfully tell Judy that he was there.
He sits on the couch for about ten minutes and thinks about turning on a movie, then decides against doing so mainly because he can’t remember if he set the television back to cable the last time he used it. The last thing he feels like seeing right now is coverage of the Lynxley conspiracy.
Then, he pads over to his mattress and contemplates how realistic it is that he’ll actually be able to get some sleep. Even when this exhausted, he knows he won’t be able to wind down enough to drift off. He’d much rather be up and doing something to distract himself than just lay there and ruminate. It’s a habit he’s picked up from Judy somewhat— all that nervous bunny energy rubbing off on him.
So he leaves. He doesn’t know where he’s going when he steps outside, but he knows he can’t be there by himself any longer.
“Foxes are solitary creatures,” he can hear himself saying to Judy in this very doorway mere days ago. What a load of bullshit. Thank god Finnick isn’t around, or else he’d get an earful.
To his satisfaction, the streets of Zootopia are never quiet. The gym he lives below is one of those twenty-four hour joints, meaning that he nearly gets crushed underfoot by a pair of elephants as he slinks by the entrance. Nick straightens his tie as he sidesteps them and heads for the crosswalk.
Prior to his aiding Judy in the Missing Mammals case, he spent every damn day walking around like this— up to no good, even if he had the permits to deny it. That had come to a screeching halt after he’d made the decision to join her. From that point on, he was scaling nets at the academy training ground rather than drain pipes fastened to apartments. He remembers every back alley shortcut in his borough, but that doesn’t mean they remember him.
Nick waits obediently for the signal to cross before walking. He doesn’t realize he’s doing so until he falls into step beside a group of other law-abiding mammals.
God, what has she done to him?
His phone pings, and his hand shoots into his pocket to retrieve it. The feeling of the topside of his palm against the rough of his pants briefly stings, and that’s when he remembers Milton Lynxley’s claws breaking his skin. He’d be smart to get that checked out, but at the moment, his top priority is a message from…
Well, he doesn’t know whose number that is, actually.
8:49pm, sent from: 209-678-7743
Do you think you could grab me some of the little crossword pencils from the waiting room the next time you’re here?
8:49pm, sent from: 209-678-7743
The nurses thought I was joking when I asked. Imagine that
8:50pm, sent from: 209-678-7743
This is your new bff by the way
8:50pm, sent from: 209-678-7743
Nibblessssss
Nick stares down at his phone screen in bewilderment. How the hell had she gotten his number?
“Pick up your feet, would you, fox?” A pig scoffs, stepping around him and continuing down the road. It’s then that Nick realizes he’s stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
He shakes his head and sticks his phone back in his pocket. Then he turns right to head into a bar catered primarily towards the preds in the neighborhood. He and Finnick prefer other joints for petty reasons, but there’s something to be said about familiarity when the entire world feels like it’s going topsy-turvy.
After settling onto a stool and ordering a club soda (which he hates, but upon being asked what he wanted by the bartender, just said the first thing that came to mind) he turns his paw over on the countertop to get a better look at it.
Sure enough, Lynxley’s mark stares up at him, red and angry from neglect. And now that it’s on his mind, Nick can’t ignore how much it hurts. Maybe he should’ve ordered alcohol.
“One club soda,” the bartender, a raccoon, slides the glass to him. Nick stares at the bubbles with discontent until he’s interrupted. “Hey, you’re Nick Wilde, aren’t you? From the news?”
Motherfuck me, is what he wants to say. But he nods and gives a halfhearted: “No pictures please.”
He doesn’t recognize this guy, which means that he’s new. Likely started while he was off at the academy. Likely has no idea that he used to come in here pretty frequently when he was Conman Wilde rather than Officer Wilde.
“What are you doin’ in here, man?” the bartender continues, polishing a glass as he goes. “Didn’t you just crack another huge case?” He turns his head to look at the televisions illuminating the otherwise dark room. One of them is playing the nightly news, and Nick isn’t even remotely surprised to see Gary onscreen, a slew of rapid subtitles below him as he speaks. “That one! That case with the snake!”
“I’m taking a breather.” Nick says.
“You don’t want some alcohol after all that?” the bartender attempts to joke.
Nick doesn’t laugh. Instead, he keeps watching the screen, waiting to see his face. Waiting to see–
“Is the bunny with you? Now her I’d love to meet,”
With that, he bristles, turning around and jumping from his seat before he can do something stupid like bare his teeth. The feeling of the night air through his fur is only momentarily comforting. It takes less than a second for him to scrabble at his ears, murmuring to himself in frustration.
What the hell is he doing? Or rather, what the hell is he trying to do, skulking around like this when all he wants is to see Judy? When the only place he wants to be is in that uncomfortable chair next to her bed?
Without another thought, he turns on his heel and begins heading for the nearest train station. She can pout and protest all she wants about it. At least he’ll be there to see.
—
He hadn’t considered that hospitals have these things called “visitor’s hours,” and that they usually end shortly after the sun goes down. Considering it’s half past ten now, it’s safe to say he’s missed his window to get in.
Or, that would be the case, if he were a less persistent mammal.
“Excuse me, miss…?” he calls out, tailing the young doe nurse that had been taking care of Judy earlier. She’d been passing through the lobby after he was shot down by the receptionist, which he saw as one door closing and another opening.
It was his hope that, as she turned to look at him, he’d be able to steal a look at her badge and tack her name onto the end of his question, but said badge is obscured by a clipboard in her hands. She looks surprised to see him.
“Oh, hello! Mr… Wilde?”
“Yes, but you can call me Nick. We met earlier when you were taking care of my partner.”
“I remember!” she chirps. Her voice is sweet, but hurried, likely because she has somewhere more important to be. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well, you know, there is. I was wondering if I’d be able to go and see Judy.”
Her face falls slightly. “Oh, uh… I’m sorry, but visiting hours actually ended around two hours ago. But they’ll start again tomorrow at 7AM sharp!”
“You know, that is— that is actually just what I heard from your wonderful coworker up front a moment ago. But, you see, the thing is…”
He doesn’t know what the thing is beyond… I really want to see her. But that won’t fly. He passed at least four other mammals in the waiting room that probably really want to see their loved ones too. No, he needs to find another angle.
“Is this for work?” the nurse asks.
“Yes! Bingo!” Nick snaps his fingers, lifting his shirt slightly so she can see the badge clipped to his belt that he had fully forgotten to take off while at home. “It is indeed for work.”
Not his finest performance, but he is pretty much running on fumes at this point.
The nurse hugs the clipboard closer to her chest and glances around the room. Nick can tell he’s walked out onto a tightrope and, for the sake of keeping his balance, stays quiet while she considers the situation.
“I don’t know if I should be doing this.” she finally says. Before he can try and convince her, though, she gives him a pointed look. Then, she whips around, scanning her badge and walking through the doorway it opens. Immediately after, she flags down the nurses on the other side under the guise of having a question about a patient.
As they crowd around her, Nick slips by, silently thanking her a million times over as he makes his way to an elevator.
Judy is in room 807. He memorized this prior to being told explicitly that she was being put there. It’s easy enough to reach with his badge out in the open. The staff seem so occupied with their work otherwise that they don’t even notice him. He jiggles the doorknob gently at first, and then slowly turns it open.
To his surprise, the lights have been dimmed. And to an even greater surprise than that, Judy is out of commission, slumped into her bedding with an ear tucked under her chin.
The quiet of it all makes his face go hot. A nauseating wave of foolishness washes over him, like someone’s gone and turned a spotlight on him. The question from earlier comes back to haunt him: What the hell is he doing?
He shouldn’t disturb her. She’s just fine, clearly. And he’ll be fine too, able to handle another few hours separate from her.
In a moment of what he can only conceptualize as pure desperation, Nick pulls out his phone.
10:53pm, sent to: 209-678-7743
What’s your room #
—
“Well, well, well…” Nibbles Maplestick drawls from where she’s sitting up in bed. Nick stands in the doorway, unamused. “They always come crawling back, don’t they? Do you have what I requested?”
His ear twitches. “What are you talking about?”
“Uh, my pencils? About yay long?” she pinches an imaginary pencil between her fingers. “Big bowl of ‘em in the lobby by all the magazines and newspapers. Can’t be missed.”
“Well, I missed them.” Nick collapses unceremoniously into a chair. “I didn’t realize you were admitted.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you considering how preoccupied you were. They carted me off shortly after Judith. Not that I fell on my face into the snow like she did, but after seeing that happen, Gary thought it would be wise to get me checked out too.”
“Ah.”
“And how is our sweet Judith fairing?”
“Well, right now, she’s asleep,” he says. The way Nibbles silently stares through his soul probes him to continue. “I was with her the entire day. She’s not happy about having to be kept for observation. Please keep her nurses in your thoughts.”
“And did you two talk?”
Nick squints. “In general? Yes, we spoke to each other. I would have come across rather rude otherwise.”
“Oh Nicholas,” Nibbles laughs. She has a way of saying his name like they’re old friends, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t even know why he came here, but he’s starting to regret doing so. “I mean have you talked? Y’know, talked talked about all that oversharing you did on the bridge?”
Yeah, he should have just stayed home watching the news on mute.
“I appreciate your concern, Nibbles,” he starts in a way that implies that he would rather her not be so concerned. “But I think we said plenty on the bridge. I also think you heard too much of what was said.”
“But that’s how I know there’s more to talk about!”
“Aren’t you supposed to be experiencing the unfortunate aftereffects of being rehabilitated from snake venom? Or, I don’t know, asleep?”
“Hey, you’re the one who sent me a ‘you up?’ text, okay? I figured that meant you wanted to talk, since I am obviously your closest confidant.”
“Okay, that is not… that is not what I did. And you are…” Aside from Judy herself, probably his closest confidant by default given what happened when they were incarcerated. He and Finnick don’t spend a lot of time talking about feelings. Nibbles seems to have followed the same train of thought, because she’s smirking in a way that would put a sly fox to shame. Nick sighs. “Look, what happened in the jail was a special circumstance.”
“So you don’t want to talk about Judy right now?”
That disarms him more thoroughly than he wants to admit. But he’s tired, frustrated, and confused. It’s like taking candy from a kit. Nothing impressive.
The way his head lolls backwards sets Nibbles off again. She clambers out from under her covers, sitting on the edge of the bed to point at him.
“Ha! I knew it! You think I thought you snuck in here after-hours to come and visit me?”
“What do you want, a medal?” he groans. “I’m just worried about her. I know being cooped up in here is driving her up a wall, and… I guess there’s a part of me that wishes we’d had some time to breathe after unloading all of that on each other. But duty called. That’s just how it goes.”
“Good thing you got about as captive an audience as you can get. I doubt they’ll discharge her tomorrow if she’s been working herself down to the bone like this.”
“I guess I just don’t know how to bring it up,” he admits. “It was easy to do on the bridge because, well… What else was there to say? Now we’re back on solid ground. And I don’t know if…”
The words die in his throat, but Nibbles practically hops into his lap in an attempt to revive them. Nick stares haplessly at the lights, brighter in here than in Judy’s room, embedded in the ceiling.
“You don’t know if what?”
“I don’t know if she realizes what I… meant. What I really, truly meant when I said all of that. The big picture.”
“Paint me that picture, Nicholas. What did you mean? What did you want her to know?”
“That I love her. And not just in the buddy-cop partnership way, but in the ‘I can’t bear to be away from her for another second’ way. The ‘Fuck, I lied, I’m not a solitary animal at heart’ way. Why else would I have joined the force? Why else would I… do anything that I did, if I wasn’t in love with her?”
For the first time since he stepped into the room, a silence falls. He expects Nibbles to sully it, but when he looks up, she’s staring at him with an uncomfortably warm smile. How she keeps backing him into corners like this is a case he can’t crack.
Nick crosses his arms and, to avoid Nibbles’ gaze, looks at the door. He thinks briefly of stepping into the hallway— of the path to Judy’s room.
“And if she didn’t realize… Well, maybe that’s for the best. I don’t know if that’s a risk I can take now. I don’t think I could stand losing her again.”