Chapter Text
“Oh—are you guys sure you can’t stay just a little longer?” one of Judy’s sisters pleaded, ears drooping as she bounced anxiously on the train platform.
“Aww, I know, I know,” Judy said softly, crouching to wrap her in a tight hug. “But I’ll try to visit soon, okay?”
“That better be a promise,” Stu added as he joined them, blinking hard like he was trying not to cry.
“We’re gonna miss you so much, bun bun,” Bonnie said, already stepping forward. “Oh—come here, you two—”
Before Nick could react, he was swept into yet another group hug, wincing as the pressure tugged at his wounds, still sore from the attack he sustained just hours ago.
“You better take care of our daughter,” Stu sniffled, turning a watery eye toward him.
“Oh, honey, I’m sure he will,” Bonnie chimed in brightly. “Didn’t you hear how he saved her all heroically last night?”
“MOM—!” Judy yelped, ears instantly burning red.
“You have my word, Mr. and Mrs. Hopps,” Nick said smoothly, that familiar smirk firmly in place. “After all, how could I ever survive without her?”
“Awwww!” Bonnie clasped her paws together, positively glowing while Judy seriously considered dissolving into the pavement.
Nick chuckled as he scooped up their bags, and slowly headed toward the train.
“C’mon, carrots,” he called over his shoulder. “Can’t be late saving the world.”
The final goodbyes blurred together, and then they were off. Fields of cabbage whooshed past the windows, and before they knew it, Bunnyburrow was shrinking behind them as they sped toward the Rainforest District.
“Sooo…” Judy said, already scrolling through the case file on her phone. “Two missing mammals in two weeks. Both counselors, at the same summer camp.” She flicked through the photos. “A moose and an antelope.”
Nick leaned over to peek at the screen. “Wonder where a mammal as big as a moose could disappear to,” he mused. “Oh—maybe she’s hiding behind a tree. A very big tree.” He spread his paws wide for emphasis.
Judy snorted. “Very helpful, Officer Wilde.”
“Hey, I try.”
“You know the place better than I do,” she said, glancing up at him. “What do you think?”
Nick’s grin faltered just slightly as he leaned back, eyes drifting toward the window.
“Eh… ‘know’ might be a bit generous. I went a couple of times as a kid. That was before—” he stopped himself, jaw tightening as if it hurt him to continue.
“Nick…” Judy’s ears drooped instinctively. “Are you sure you’re okay with this case? I mean, I know that—”
“Oh—yeah. Yeah, totally,” he said quickly, a little too quick. “Ancient history. I’m a changed fox now.”
But Judy didn’t laugh. She knew this was all too ‘typical Nick’ using his jokes to mask the terrible childhood trauma he had gone through.
“You know I’m proud of you, right?” She said instead, tenderly placing her paw over his.
Nick’s breath hitched. Unhelpfully, his brain supplied the image of last night—them together in bed, curled up against one another, and the way Judy squished their noses together… the thought of it made his face heat up instantly.
They were so close in that moment that they were practically kissing… did she maybe want to do that?
“Nick?”
“Oh—uh—yeah,” he said, squeezing her paw before pulling back just enough to breathe. “Thanks, carrots. Really.”
“Sooo… anything you can tell me about this place before we get there?” Judy smiled, her heart skipping a beat under his touch. She wondered what he was thinking just now. Was it also about last night? She could still feel him pressed up against her, with that soft, bushy tail that she had always wanted to touch. Did she overdo it with the nose squish? He seemed to like it… gah! Lately she just couldn’t stop herself from doing these silly little things. And she feared that if they didn’t talk about it soon, then she was about to do something really stupid.
“Well,” Nick said, grateful that they returned to the original topic, “it’s not quite in the Rainforest District. More like… the edge of it. Near a protected woodland reserve. Pretty isolated.”
“Hm,” Judy tapped her chin, detective brain clearly whirring to life.
Nick leaned back again, watching unfamiliar towns blur past the window. He appreciated how carefully she’d handled the subject of his trauma, and all the support she’d given him on the matter, but the anxiety still curled tight in his gut.
After all, he hadn’t been back there in years.
Flashes of childhood memories—being muzzled, laughed at, written off—tried to claw their way forward, and he shoved them down hard. He was a cop now, an adult. That place didn’t get to define him anymore. He was no longer a medley of broken dreams and raging insecurities. Judy had helped stitch him back together, and he wasn’t about to fall apart again.
Still… he couldn’t shake the feeling that old cracks had a way of reopening under pressure.
But maybe this time would be different.
Or at least, he really hoped it would be.