Work Text:
The little all-night café was always quiet this early in the morning.
It suited Nick's more nocturnal rhythms, which for the time being at least, coincided with the end of Judy's current shift.
The pair were sat across from each other at a small table, towards the corner and away from the chill of the door. Outside, a motorised street-cleaner thrummed and brushed its way past through the narrow street, its amber beacon flashing warmly.
Judy placed her mug of tea down on the tabletop, and looked up at the fox opposite her, taking in his faint smile.
“So, I have some good news,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Nick's eyes darted to his left, a slightly conspiratorial glance as he leant forward with elbows on the table.
“My background check came back.”
He placed a rectangle of paper in front of him, gently smoothing the concertina-fold lines out with his paw. Judy looked down and saw the ZPD crest at the top of the page.
“And, my application has been formally accepted.”
A broad grin spread across his face, although lacking a little of that usual cocksure attitude Judy was now familiar with.
“Oh, hey, hey!” Judy exclaimed as she rocked backwards, ears suddenly erect, eyes bright. Her paws drummed flat on the table, as she returned Nick’s toothsome grin.
“Good news indeed, Slick!”
It was her turn to lean in, head angled slightly, matching her own lopsided smile.
“See. I told you. Nothing to worry about.”
He was beaming now, a deep breath puffing his chest.
“Eyes open, Carrots. Like you said.”
She held his gaze for a moment.
“When’s your induction?”
“The 27th. Next week.”
“Well then, Mr. Wilde, we should celebrate,” she breathed. “My shout. Have you eaten?”
Nick gathered up his papers carefully.
“Not for a while.”
“Something warm? It's pretty chilly outside.”
Nick nodded in agreement.
Judy turned and fluttered an enthusiastic paw. The waitress, a young rabbit herself, looked up from her well-pawed text-book, folded a page corner, and padded over.
“What can I get you?” she asked, brushing a lock of long hair away and unrolling her order pad.
“A bowl of porridge, with a medium and small dish, please — oh, with a side of blueberries.”
* * *
Judy had always thought of Nick as the type who’d keep a suitcase packed with just the essentials, set and ready to go when the need arose.
As she began to settle in for the night, she’d thought the insistent buh-buhz of her phone — signalling a flurry of text messages from Nick — might have just been down to his excitement or nerves.
After all, when it had been her turn to leave for the Academy, she’d hardly slept the night before and as a result, kept her dormitory at the Hopps Burrow awake most of the night along with her, so she could at least empathise with Nick on this.
But as Judy scrolled, reading down the message thread, she quickly realised Nick was actually fishing for help about packing his bags in preparation for the morning.
“Ugh,” she protested, under her breath. It was getting late, and she’d had to double-shift to make sure she’d be free to be there with him when he left for the Academy.
Of course, when she’d asked earlier in the week if he needed any help to pack, he’d put her off with all the calm assertions that he had ev-ery-thing under control:
It’s just packing.
How hard can it be?
“Dumb fox,” she said, not unkindly.
She began tapping out responses to the thread of questions:
J: “Just pack light, a few civvies and you’ll be fine. You’ll get kit issued to you when you’re enrolled.”
J: “There’s a laundry on campus.”
J: “Shops, too.”
J: “You don’t want to be that guy with half the universe in your duffel.”
J: “And no, don’t wear *that* shirt, either.”
The moments ticked by, until Nick responded.
N: “Yes, mom ;)”
She shook her head. That was as good as a thank-you as she’d likely get, and she made her way to her bed.
* * *
A fine, cooling drizzle fell slowly at the pickup point. Fresh recruits, paperwork in paw, stood eagerly in the waiting line searching the gloom for the arriving halo of headlights belonging to the Academy chartered bus.
Nick stood apart, with a loose waterproof covering a surprisingly muted blue pinstriped shirt. A crumpled, but at least sensibly packed duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.
Judy smiled up from under her small umbrella. Nick looked down with knitted brows.
“It’s stupidly early. It’s raining. It’s your morning off.”
“Nick. It’s a big step. I just wanted to see you off,” said Judy softly, looking back along the line of recruits.
Nick thrust his paws into his pockets and brought his shoulders up against the cold.
“I have travelled on buses before,” he said, dryly.
“I’m a big fox now.”
Judy laughed.
“No, I mean — well, it’s a long course, Nick. And you don’t get any leave off-campus until you’ve passed basic. I wanted to make sure you’re all good, before you go.”
Nick took a deep breath of the cooling morning air and blew out through his nose, relaxing a little.
“I’m all good, Carrots. Eyes open, remember?”
The whine of the bus slowing to a halt drifted in over the gentle thrum of the early morning traffic. Wet brakes squealed, hydraulics exhaled.
An officer stepped out, unfolded her clipboard and begun the roll-call.
There were eight or so other mammals at this stop and Nick knew he’d be likely be the last one called. He always had been.
He suddenly found himself reaching out for her paw. Judy reciprocated, giving a reassuring squeeze. A moment passed before Judy spoke up.
“Nick. I don’t think the Chief would appreciate me commandeering a duty vehicle to drive you to the Academy because you missed to get on a perfectly good bus.”
“It’d be police business though, right?”
“Hm.”
Then abruptly, the roll-call announced: “Wilde, Nicholas P.”
Judy let go of his paw and gave him an encouraging pat on his side, with just enough momentum to nudge him on his way.
There was a moment of hesitation as he turned to look back at the small rabbit and her umbrella. Goodbyes were hard for Nick, Judy could see it in his eyes.
“Safe journey. See you soon,” Judy encouraged.
“Wilde, Nicholas P.?”
Nick drew in a deep breath.
“Here, Officer.”
Nick's paw went up as he trotted over. The officer raised an eyebrow as she checked his paperwork and gave him his enrolment docket, before gesturing him aboard.
Judy watched as he padded quickly up the steps, and she began to walk alongside the vehicle, weaving amongst the other recruits family and friends, watching for him in the illuminated carriage.
He was already swinging around, clearly engaged in conversation with his fellow passengers as if he’d known them for years.
That fox, she thought, rolling her eyes.
Nick steered towards a window seat on the pavement-side and landed smoothly. He started to wipe the running condensation from the glass with his jacket sleeve, before glancing down to see Judy stood opposite, looking up from under her umbrella.
Judy heard the bus doors whistle, then hiss closed as the driver started to load the engine, ready to pull away.
She glanced left, watching for the brake lights to go out, then up at Nick to give him a smile and a wave.
Nick looked nonchalant.
Finger-pistols; a wink, a grin, all of the nervousness hidden.
Judy blinked, returning a finger-pistol. Her cheeks puffed out momentarily as she stepped back.
Not wanting to look away as the vehicle rumbled off carrying the smudge of red fur with it, she watched as it vanished away from view, up onto the slip-road joining the interchange.
Only then did she turn, pulling her coat a little closer.
“Eyes open, Slick.”