Chapter Text
Rain beat a steady, quiet rhythm against the dark windows of the Rainforest District bar, blurring the neon lights outside into smeared streaks of amber and violet. Inside, the evening crowd was sparse. Soft murmurs and the occasional clink of glass filled the warm air, but tucked far away in the deepest corner of the room, one rabbit sat completely oblivious to it all.
Jack Savage sat alone.
A heavy glass of bourbon rested between his paws. The ice inside had long since melted, diluting the dark amber liquid. He hadn't taken a single sip. He just stared into it, watching his own hollow reflection ripple against the surface.
The bartender wiped down the counter nearby, casting a worried glance toward the booth. "Mr. Savage? Can I get you something else? Maybe some water?"
Jack didn't blink.
"Mr. Savage?"
Jack slowly raised his head, his dark eyes dull. "No. I'm fine, Barnaby. Thanks."
The bartender didn't look remotely convinced, but he knew better than to press a grieving billionaire. He nodded quietly and withdrew to the back room.
Jack dropped his gaze back to the glass. Why didn't I just tell her? It was a question that had eaten away at him every second of every day since the news broke. He knew the answer, of course, and that only made the bitter taste in his mouth worse. He had been terrified. Terrified that Skye wouldn't feel the same way. Terrified that confessing his love would shatter the priceless, lifelong friendship they had built since they were kids.
So he had hidden behind his work. He had told himself there was plenty of time. Another week. Another meal. Another tomorrow.
Jack let out a quiet, raspy laugh that held zero humor. "Tomorrow..." He covered his face with a trembling paw. "I really thought I had time."
Two Months Earlier
Sixty days ago, Jack Savage had felt virtually invincible.
He was easily one of the wealthiest mammals in all of Zootopia. His corporate empire spanned tech, real estate, and global trade. His investments grew by the second, and his bank account afforded him every single luxury a mammal could dream of. Fine suits, custom cars, luxury estates, private jets—if Jack wanted it, price was never a factor.
Yet, despite his endless fortune, he was bankrupt in the one commodity that actually mattered: time. And the only thing he truly desired wasn't something money could purchase.
It was an Arctic fox named Skye Winter.
Skye was his anchor. They had grown up together, inseparable since childhood. They had navigated school together, gotten into ridiculous trouble in the Burroughs, and spent endless weekend afternoons wandering through Savanna Central talking about everything and nothing.
Jack could still picture those days with agonizing clarity. He could hear her bright, ringing laugh whenever he made a terrible joke. He could see her rolling her eyes before reaching over to swipe half the fries off his plate. He remembered the fierce, stubborn way she’d argue over completely trivial nonsense just to prove a point.
Somewhere along the line, the shift had happened. He couldn't pinpoint the exact day or hour, but Skye was no longer just his best friend. He was head-over-heels, irrevocably in love with her.
And he had never uttered a single word about it.
Jack had rehearsed the scene in his head a thousand times: “Skye, look... there’s something I need to tell you.”
But every imaginary scenario ended in disaster. What if she looked at him with pity? What if she laughed it off? What if she pulled away, and he lost his best friend forever? Every single time he mustered the courage, fear slammed the door shut.
I'll tell her tomorrow, he’d promise himself. When the timing is better.
Jack's Office
"Mr. Savage? The final acquisition contracts need your signature before five."
Jack glanced up from his desk, rubbing the bridge of his snout. His assistant stood across from him, holding a thick leather folder.
"Just set them on the desk, Peter," Jack said softly. "I'll sign them before I leave."
"Very good, sir. Oh, and your private flight to the summit is confirmed for tomorrow morning at eight."
Jack nodded, offering a tight smile. "Thanks. It’s just a quick trip. I won't be gone long."
As soon as the office door clicked shut, Jack pushed his paperwork aside and reached for his phone. A notification was waiting on his screen.
> Skye: You better take me out for a proper meal the second you get back from that business trip, big guy.
>
Jack smiled, the tension leaving his shoulders. He quickly typed out a reply.
> Jack: It's a deal.
>
He held his thumb over the screen, watching the cursor blink. Slowly, he typed another line.
> Jack: There's something I've needed to tell you for a long time, Skye.
>
His pulse spiked. His chest felt tight. Come on, Jack. Press send. Just do it.
He stared at the words for three excruciating seconds. Then, letting out a heavy sigh, he hit backspace until the box was blank again.
"No," he muttered to the empty room, a nervous chuckle escaping his throat. "Not over a text. I'll tell her in person. As soon as I get back."
I'll tell her tomorrow.
The Business Trip.
The trip to the northern coast was routine—dull board meetings, endless handshakes, and dense financial reviews. But through every hour of it, Jack's mind remained firmly back in Zootopia.
By the time his return flight ascended into the clouds, he felt a strange sense of calm take over. Sitting in the plush leather seat of his jet, he pulled up Skye's text thread again.
> Skye: You better take me out for a proper meal the second you get back...
>
Jack smirked softly to himself. "As if I’d let you forget."
He brought up the keyboard. He typed: Of course not.
He paused, his thumbs hovering over the keys. There's something I need to tell you when I land.
He stared at it. For a fraction of a second, he almost hit send. But he closed his eyes and forced himself to delete it again. No. Do it right, Savage. Take her to her favorite spot in the Rainforest District, sit across from her, look her in the eye, and say it.
He leaned his head back against the headrest as the jet engines hummed. For the first time in years, he wasn't afraid. He imagined her reaction. Maybe she'd be stunned. Maybe she'd laugh that breathless laugh of hers.
Maybe... just maybe... she had been waiting for him to say it all along.
"I'll see you soon, Skye," he whispered.
The Phone Call.
Zootopia International Airport was bustling when Jack stepped off the ramp. He pulled his leather weekender bag over his shoulder, checking his watch.
"Finally home," he muttered, feeling lighter than he had in months.
He pulled his phone from his coat pocket, scrolling to Skye's contact. Before he could tap the call button, the device vibrated violently in his grip, the ringtone piercing the air.
The screen displayed an unknown, local landline.
Jack frowned slightly, answering as he walked toward the main terminal. "Jack Savage."
"Mr. Savage?" A deep, solemn voice came over the speaker. "My name is Officer Miller. I'm with the Zootopia Police Department."
Jack slowed his pace, a sudden cold prickle tracing down his spine. "Officer Miller? Is something wrong?"
A beat of heavy silence stretched across the line. "I'm sorry to bother you right after your flight, sir, but we received a priority dispatch regarding an incident downtown."
Jack's ears pinned back against his head. His instinct flared. "An incident? What kind of incident?"
"There was a severe collision on 4th and Main earlier this afternoon..."
"Officer," Jack cut in, his breath catching in his throat. "Who was involved?"
"Mr. Savage, I need to verify a few details first—"
"Who was in the accident, Officer?!" Jack snapped, stopping dead in the middle of the crowded terminal. A few passing travelers turned to glance at him, but he didn't care.
Officer Miller took a slow, heavy breath on the other end. "A vehicle belonging to a Ms. Skye Winter."
The air left Jack's lungs instantly. "Skye? Where is she? Which hospital?"
"She was transported to Zootopia General, sir, but..." The officer choked up slightly. "Mr. Savage... I'm so sorry."
Jack stood frozen as the world around him seemed to lose all sound. "Sorry? What do you mean 'sorry'? Is she in surgery? What is her condition?!"
"She... she didn't survive the impact, sir. Paramedics pronounced her gone at the scene."
The words floated in the air like poison. Jack couldn't process them. They made no sense. It was a mistake. A stupid, bureaucratic ZPD error.
"No," Jack whispered, his voice cracking violently. "No, no... that’s impossible. I—I just talked to her. I literally just texted her."
"Mr. Savage, we have her ID—"
"No!" Jack shouted, his body trembling violently. "I was just coming home! I was going to see her tonight! I was going to... I was going to tell her..."
Tears welled in his eyes, blurring the bright airport lights into terrifying streaks of color. His fingers lost all strength, and the expensive smartphone slipped from his grip, clattering loudly onto the cold terrazzo floor.
Jack didn't reach for it. He didn't hear Officer Miller's quiet, apologetic voice faintly calling his name from the speaker on the floor.
He stood there in the middle of a bustling, indifferent crowd as travelers walked past him, children laughed in the distance, and flight announcements echoed overhead.
"I was going to tell her I loved her," Jack choked out, dropping to his knees as his legs completely gave way beneath him. He buried his face in his trembling paws, weeping openly in the middle of the terminal. "I waited too long... God forgive me, I waited too long..."
For years, Jack Savage had lived under the comfortable lie that tomorrow was a guarantee.
Now, kneeling on the cold floor of an airport terminal, he finally knew the absolute truth.
Tomorrow was never promised.
Three Days Later
The sky above the Zootopia Memorial Cemetery was a dreary, bruised grey. A cold, soft drizzle fell over the headstones, soaking into the dark fabric of Jack’s black suit.
He stood motionless beside the fresh grave, staring down at the dark earth. He hadn't slept in three days. He hadn't eaten. He barely felt alive.
Slowly, Jack knelt down and placed a single, pristine white lily on the damp soil. It was her favorite.
"Hey, Skye," Jack murmured softly, his voice dry and hollow. "I know... I know you'd be yelling at me right now for standing out here without an umbrella. You always hated getting wet in the rain."
He tried to force a small, nostalgic smile, but it shattered instantly.
"I wish you were here to yell at me," he whispered, wiping a mix of rainwater and fresh tears from his cheek. "I kept thinking I had time, Skye. I kept telling myself, 'Just wait until tomorrow.' I was so damned scared. I was terrified you'd look at me differently... that I'd lose you if I told you how I felt."
Jack let out a broken, raspy chuckle. "And look at me now. I kept quiet to protect what we had, and I ended up losing you anyway."
He reached out, resting his trembling paw against the cold, carved marble of her headstone.
"I love you, Skye," he choked out, bowing his head against the stone. "I love you. I've loved you since we were kids."
"Jack?"
A quiet, gentle voice broke the heavy silence behind him. Jack wiped his eyes quickly and turned around.
Nick Wilde stood a few feet away under a large black umbrella. Beside him was his wife Judy Wilde and their hybrid kids Spruce and Ginger. Judy was cradling their two-year-old daughter, Spruce, while Nick held the tiny paw of their two-year-old son, Ginger. The two toddlers looked around with wide, innocent eyes, completely unaware of the heavy grief hanging in the air.
Nick stepped forward, his eyes full of genuine sympathy. He reached out, placing a firm, steadying paw on Jack's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jack."
Jack managed a faint, exhausted nod. "Thanks for coming, Nick."
"Of course we came," Judy stepped closer, cradling tiny Spruce in her arms. "She was incredible, Jack. I can't imagine what you're going through..."
Jack nodded numbly, but as he looked at Judy, a dark, silent knot tightened in his chest. A bitter wave of jealousy washed over him—subtle, ugly, but impossible to ignore. Judy was a rabbit who had actually done it. She had taken the leap, ignored the species barriers, and built a life with the fox she loved. Jack had been too much of a coward to do the exact same thing with Skye, and now he was paying for it.
Ginger let go of Nick's paw and toddled over, looking up at Jack with bright, curious eyes.
"Why Jack sad, Daddy?"
Nick looked down at his son, his expression softening. "Because Jack lost someone very, very special to him, buddy."
Ginger looked at the gravestone, then back up at Jack. Without a word, the little fox leaned forward and wrapped his tiny arms around Jack's leg, squeezing as hard as he could.
Jack blinked in surprise, feeling a sudden warmth pierce through the icy numbness in his chest. A genuine, albeit tearful, smile broke across his face. He reached down and gently patted the boy's back. "Thanks, little guy.
Spruce reached out from Judy's arms, babbling softly and pointing her tiny paw at him. "Unca Jack!"
Judy smiled gently. "See? She remembers you."
For a brief, fleeting moment, the suffocating weight on Jack's chest felt just a tiny bit lighter.
Nick and Judy stayed with him for another half-hour, offering quiet comfort before eventually heading back to their car to get the kids out of the cold rain.
Jack watched them walk away. He had no idea that the happy family stepping into that car had once been entirely torn apart and put back together by the delicate threads of time. He didn't know about the garage in the Rainforest District, or the red convertible, or the terrifying paradoxes Nick and Judy had survived.
Honey’s memory device had done its job flawlessly. To Nick and Judy, their life was simply a peaceful, unbroken straight line. The time travel had never happened.
Only two mammals in the entire city still carried the burden of that secret.
And neither of them realized that secret was about to be dug up again.
Later That Evening
Jack didn't go back to his empty penthouse. He couldn't bear the thought of walking past rooms filled with memories of her.
Instead, he retreated to a dim, quiet bistro a few blocks from the cemetery. His encrypted corporate phone sat on the wooden table, buzzing continuously with calls and text alerts from anxious board members, frantic press agents, and concerned friends.
He ignored every single one of them. He just stared through the window, watching the rain wash down the glass.
"Mind if we join you?"
Jack blinked, turning his head.
Honey stood beside his table, dressed in a muted raincoat. Standing just behind her was Finnick, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, looking unusually quiet.
Jack shrugged dully. "Go ahead."
Honey pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, while Finnick slid into the booth beside her. For a long while, none of them said anything. The silence was comfortable, born from years of shared history.
Finally, Honey broke it. "How are you doing, Jack? Really?"
Jack let out a short, hollow laugh. "Do you want the polite answer, or the truth?"
"The truth."
"I'm furious," Jack said, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his paws on the table. "I'm so damn angry at myself."
"Jack, it was an accident," Honey said softly, her voice full of empathy. "You can't punish yourself for a reckless driver."
"I wasn't here!" Jack's voice snapped with sudden, sharp intensity before dropping back to a raspy whisper. "I was away on some meaningless business trip signing contracts I don't even care about. I should've been here. I should've taken her out to dinner three days ago like I promised."
He looked out the window, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I built an empire, Honey. I have billions in the bank. I have properties, cars, influence... everything this world says you're supposed to want." He laughed bitterly. "And the one thing I needed... the only thing I wanted in this entire world... I couldn't buy."
Honey looked at him intently. "Time."
Jack nodded, his throat tight. "Time."
From beside her, Finnick shifted slightly, his voice deep and grim. "That’s a real dangerous thing to wish for, Jack."
Jack looked at the desert fox, catching the strange, heavy tone in his voice. He glanced back and forth between Finnick and Honey. "Why do you say it like that?"
Honey and Finnick exchanged a brief, uneasy look—a silent conversation passing between them in a split second.
"What?" Jack demanded, his instincts sharpening. "What aren't you telling me?"
Honey let out a long sigh, leaning forward over the table. "Jack... there are things about Nick and Judy's past that you don't know."
Jack frowned. "What are you talking about? Their accident a couple of years ago?"
"They don't actually remember what happened to them back then," Finnick said flatly.
"What do you mean they don't remember?"
Slowly, cautiously, Honey reached into the inner pocket of her raincoat. She pulled out a sleek, silver, pen-like device and placed it silently on the polished wood between them.
Jack stared down at the object. "What is that? A flashlight?"
"A neuro-temporal memory eraser," Honey said quietly. "I built it. And I used it on both of them."
Jack raised an eyebrow, looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. "You wiped their memories? Why in the world would you do that?"
Honey leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely carried over the rain. "Because if they remembered what they went through, it would have destroyed them. They had to forget."
"Forget what?" Jack pressed, growing impatient.
Honey looked him straight in the eyes. "Time travel."
Jack stared at her. Five seconds passed. Then ten. A nervous, disbelief-filled chuckle escaped his snout. "Okay. Good one, Honey. Seriously, I'm not really in the mood for sci-fi jokes tonight—"
"She ain't joking, Savage," Finnick interrupted, his voice dead serious. "We're telling you the absolute truth."
Jack's smile evaporated completely. He looked at Honey’s deadpan, serious expression, then down at the silver device on the table. "You... you actually built a machine that travels through time?"
"Yes," Honey said simply.
"And Nick and Judy... they went back?"
"Nick did," Honey corrected gently. "To fix a mistake in his own past. But changing time isn't a game, Jack. It nearly cost them everything. It almost erased Judy from existence entirely. That's why I had to wipe their memories once the timeline stabilized. Finnick and I are the only two mammals alive who know the truth."
Jack’s breath caught in his throat. His heart began to hammer violently against his ribs—not with fear, but with something he hadn't felt since the phone call at the airport.
He stared at the device, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, flying straight back to the fresh grave sitting in the rain three miles away.
His voice dropped to a frantic, desperate whisper. "Can it be done again?"
Honey didn't answer immediately.
Jack reached across the table, grabbing her paw. "Honey. Look at me. Can the machine go back again?"
Finnick slammed his small paw on the table. "Jack, stop right there. Don't even go down that road."
Jack ignored him entirely, his wide, desperate eyes locked onto Honey. "Can you send me back?"
Honey looked at his bloodshot eyes, seeing the profound, unbearable agony consuming him. She swallowed hard. "In theory... yes. The Temporal Flux engine is still intact in my workshop."
"Then do it," Jack demanded, standing up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. "Send me back. Send me back to last week!"
"Sit down, Jack!" Finnick hissed, pulling him back toward the booth. "You don't know what you're asking for!"
"I don't care!" Jack whispered fiercely, tears finally spilling over his cheeks. "I've already lost everything that matters to me! My life is over anyway!"
"Jack, listen to me," Honey said, her voice shaking slightly. "Time travel isn't a reset button. If you alter the past to save Skye, you alter every—"
"Take it!" Jack cried out, slamming his paw onto his chest.
"Take all of it! Strip my bank accounts to zero! Turn me into a street beggar! I don't care about the money! I don't care about the fame! I just want Skye!"
The small bistro went completely silent. A couple seated near the counter turned to stare, but Jack didn't give a damn.
Honey stared at him, her heart breaking for her old friend.
"Jack... even if you save her, the timeline will demand a balance. You could end up changing other mammals' lives for the worse. Nick, Judy, mammals you've never even met... their histories could shatter."
Jack wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, his jaw setting into a hard, unyielding line. "I'll take the risk."
"Why?" Honey asked softly.
Jack looked down at his trembling paws, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain outside. "Because I spent my whole life being a coward. I let fear rob me of the only mammal I ever loved. If I have even a one-in-a-million chance to go back and tell her the truth... to keep her alive... I'm not wasting it."
Honey sat in silence for a long, agonizing minute. She looked at Finnick, who merely let out a long, defeated sigh and rubbed his temples.
"I knew we shouldn't have told him," Finnick muttered quietly.
"
"Honey looked back at Jack, seeing a man standing on the edge of an abyss, completely willing to jump. She slowly reached out and picked up the silver device, sliding it back into her pocket.
"Jack, listen to me," Honey said, her voice shaking slightly. "Time travel isn't a reset button. If you alter the past to save Skye, you alter everything. The ripple effects could rewrite your entire life. You could lose your fortune, your company, your status"
""Take it!" Jack cried out, slamming his paw onto his chest. "Take all of it! Strip my bank accounts to zero! Turn me into a street beggar! I don't care about the money! I don't care about the fame! I just want Skye!"
"The small bistro went completely silent. A couple seated near the counter turned to stare, but Jack didn't give a damn. Honey stared at him, her heart breaking for her old friend. "Jack... even if you save her, the timeline will demand a balance. You could end up changing other mammals' lives for the worse. Nick, Judy, mammals you've never even met... their histories could shatter."
"Jack wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, his jaw setting into a hard, unyielding line. "I'll take the risk."
"Why?" Honey asked softly.
"Jack looked down at his trembling paws, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain outside. "Because I spent my whole life being a coward. I let fear rob me of the only mammal I ever loved. If I have even a one-in-a-million chance to go back and tell her the truth... to keep her alive... I'm not wasting it."
"Honey sat in silence for a long, agonizing minute. She looked at Finnick, who merely let out a long, defeated sigh and rubbed his temples.
"Honey looked back at Jack, seeing a man standing on the edge of an abyss, completely willing to jump. She slowly reached out and picked up the silver device, sliding it back into her pocket.
"All right," Honey said softly. "We'll do it."
"Jack let out a ragged breath, a surge of overwhelming relief washing through him. For the first time in two months, the crushing darkness in his chest cracked open, letting in a single beam of light.
Hope.
"What do we do now?" Jack asked, his voice trembling. Honey stood up, zipping her raincoat to her chin. Her eyes were filled with a grave, heavy caution. "Now, we go to my garage and prepare the machine. But remember this, Jack Savage..."
"She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
"...Time is a predator. It doesn't like having its prey taken away. And if you go back to change history... time is going to fight back."