Archive of Our Own

The smell of coffee was cloying to Nick's keen sense of smell despite arriving at the earliest opening hours of the cafe. That's so he could avoid a crowd but there was a smattering of mammals present under the gray morning light. But at least there weren't any lines.

He dragged his feet to the counter, automatically reciting his order like a script long memorized. Technically, it was a script. A script of a dull play that he pathetically called his life. Well, maybe except for one thing. An addendum in the smallest of letters scribbled onto the margin.

He put a cap on it.

Later, he internally soothed himself.

He angled his neck to scratch at an itch below the cold bite of the metal collar.

With half-lidded eyes, he recieved his cup of steaming black coffee. He was currently on auto-pilot—the state of mind where your limbs moved based on muscle memory and barely anything is registering in your brain. Which is why he didn't notice the mammal standing behind him until it was too late.

Scalding liquid poured onto his white shirt. He dropped the cup, shaking his paw where some of it had gotten him. His cry of pain was joined by one that did not come from him. A figurative anvil dropped in his stomach.

A gray-furred bunny was frantically wiping away drops of his coffee from her head.

Unbeknownst to him, the light on his collar turned from green to yellow.

"I'm so sorry," he said, ears flattened.

He fumbled for his pockets and produced a handkerchief. Blood roared underneath his eardrums as he approached the bunny to offer assistance—nevermind himself.

"Again, I'm so sor—"

"Don't touch me," the bunny spat, shoving him away.

He stumbled back.

She was a head shorter than him—the ramrod straight ears not counted—but, despite that, she managed a glower that would make anyone wilt. There was something to her—an air of steel cold authority and severity that Nick knew he had messed with the wrong prey. Something glinted under her trench coat.

Whispers began to float inside the cramped space.

"Did you see that?"

"I think that fox just poured his coffee on the bunny."

"Tsk. Predators. How typical."

Nonononono—

It wasn't on purpose. Can't they see it was an accident? He also has coffee spilled on himself!

Eyes were on them. Too many. The preys were throwing silent accusatory glares his way while the other predators averted their gaze. They knew how this would end for him. He was on his own. He always was.

He tried again for an apology. His rib cage started shuddering from the rapid thrumming of his heartbeat. He opened his mouth.

Zap!

His vision turned white. His paws instinctively clawed at the torture device clamped around his throat. He can't breathe.

All at once, the pain lifted. It left him panting, doubled-over with his paws on his knees. Sweat beaded under his fur. The collar blinked yellow. Then back to green.

Murmurs were now threaded with quiet jeers.

The bunny had her brows furrowed. She was reaching for him.

He couldn't bear it.

He ran.

Throwing open the doors of the cafe, he bolted down the road, unsure of where to go but just as long as it was anywhere other than here. It was a pathetic move. Weak. A submission to the humiliation that also somehow proved them right—the ones who thought this damned collar was a good idea in the first place. It was admitting to a fault that was not his.

But was it?

He wasn't looking where he was going. This could have been easily prevented. Maybe if he wasn't so—Stop it.

He ducked into the shadows of an alleyway. He forced his lungs to take in as much air as it could through his nose and he exhaled them all through his mouth. His collar beeped and a spike of panic went through him before he stamped it down. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Inhale. Exhale.

The drumming of his heart settled. The collar beeped again—this one higher pitched than the last. A sound that said he had successfully calmed himself.

He slumped on the wall and rubbed his face with both paws. Even here among the stench of garbage and soiled water, the smell of coffee on him was disgustingly potent.

~~~

He snatched the remote from the desk much to Finnick's exasperation. The metal collar clicked and unlatched itself. A moan escaped Nick as he rubbed his gloriously bare neck. The feeling of liberation that follows never gets old. He could simply get drunk from it.

He had packaged his whole morning encounter in a small, beaten up box and kicked it to the very back of his mind. Absolutely no use dwelling on it now. Those kind of things happen all the time. He's gone through worse.

Cheers and screams assailed him from all sides and he spread his arms wide to welcome it. The blinking of neon lights hurt his eyes but he kept them peeled to not miss a single second. The screeching of metals, chugging of gears and the ringing of bells when someone had won a prize—he soaked in all of it. This was his. He made it happen.

"You're being weird again," Finnick grunted, standing on a stool so he could be seen above the desk.

Nick's lips peeled back in an unbridled grin. He spun his collar on his digit before throwing it to their assigned cashier and receptionist. "How's business tonight, my friend?"

The smaller fox caught the metal device and set it aside. Unlike for the customers whose collars are hanged on hooks behind the desk, Nick has requested his to be just at a moment's reach so he can make a quick escape back to the clinic if needed. Like, say, when the ZPD comes knocking at the doors during their nightly patrol. They never could believe that a fox like him could own a doctorate and run a clinic. Or it was to explain to late night customers that didn't get the memo that ten o'clock was the cutoff. On most nights, Nick would welcome them in regardless. The point was: he needed it on hand to keep up appearances so it didn't raise any red flags to the wrong mammal.

"Still good," Finnick admitted begrudgingly. "The cash has been rolling in. At this rate, we could pay our debt to Koslov by the end of the month."

Nick did a silly little dance. The news with Koslov was a bonus. What mattered was that more cash meant more predators checking in. And more predators meant that word was spreading of their grand venture—exactly what he wanted. He wanted others to know of a safe space for them, a haven where they could run wild.

Finnick had the same line of thought but his opinion of it landed more on the negative. "Hey, Nick," he started, "lips have been getting more loose. I know it means well for the business but I think we should lie low for a bit."

The red fox's cheer was dampened by the other's serious expression and implication. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that—" he leaned forward— "one slip up to the wrong mammal could end everything we've worked so hard for. We should probably stop for a bit so—"

Nick was shaking his head. "You're saying that we should close down?"

"Temporarily," Finnick hissed. "A week at most. It would quiet the others down enough. We can't risk the fuzz suspecting what's going on down here."

The taller canid hid his discomfort with another one of his disarming smiles. He chuckled, bracing his forearm on the desk. He didn't want to cause any unnecessary panic by showing how much this got to him. "Look, I really appreciate your concern," he said, "but look around us. We can't dissapoint these fine folks by closing it down. That goes against our reason for starting it in the first place."

"Nick—"

He raised a paw. "If you want, I'll do some snooping in the morning. I'll judge the extent as to how many know. Does that make you happy?"

Fennec crossed his arms. If it were physically possible, a storm cloud would be brewing over his head by now. "No," came his resounding answer.

"Great!" Nick pushed himself from the desk, clapping his hands together. "Go ask Ben to take over so you could wipe that frown from your face. I'm gonna go check on the rides. Bye bye now."

He could hear his fellow fox's grumblings as he pressed on. His smile wavered. Finnick was right. Nick wasn't stupid. They taught the other predators to use cryptic code words so the ZPD won't catch on early. Three months of operation and everything had been actually running smoothly. But good sense demanded a healthy dose of paranoia.

They needed to address this. He'll call for a meeting with the others after closing hours. With what seemed to be a concrete plan in mind, he squared his shoulders and plastered back on his smile.

Other predators cheered when they saw him approach. They exchanged high-fives, bantered, even crushed him in a viselike hug. Cubs taller than him waved bashfully but regarded him with admiring eyes. Nick felt like he was glowing from the inside.

The night proceeded without a hitch. More reason for him to have suspected that something was amiss.

With an electric pop, all lights went off. Gears screeched to a halt and cries of confusion sailed up into the air. Darkness descended over them.

The backup generator whirled to life, bathing them in cheap, colorful fluorescents. The rides stayed dead apart from those that didn't need electricity like Upstream but the bears also stopped to gawk. Predators were looking at each other for answers. Those closest to the fox turned hopeful gazes to him but his eyes were solely on the bunny perched atop the sign of Roar-A-Coaster.

She looked very familiar.

A screech emanated from where she stood. Several predators flinched and cupped their ears.

"Citizens of Zootopia," she called through the megaphone. "This is Lieutenant Judy Hopps and we have come to shut this whole amusement park down."

Shouts of outrage. The blood from Nick's face drained. The bunny waited for the clamor to die down before proceeding.

"The entire premise is sorrounded by ZPD officers," she informed them. In the corner of his periphery, a wolf grabbed his muzzle and pulled—revealing a sheep under the faux fur. "There is no need for conflict. Everyone may exit single file after putting back on their collars."

The last statement caused a charge in the air.

"Officers will be there to assist you."

They had thought she was finished. Predators were casting quick glances to the exit behind the Roar-A-Coaster where preys in uniform waited. Parents were enveloping baffled kits and cubs in their arms.

"Additionally," the bunny continued, "it is imperative to surrender Nicholas P. Wilde."

He froze.

"Mr. Wilde, if you are here then you must—"

"Bullshit!"

Everyone whipped around to the badger balanced on the bell atop Bite-Me!

"You ain't gettin' your dainty soft paws on Nick, you hear me!" his friend, Honey, yelled back.

Nick was shaking his head even when he knew she couldn't see him. Her beady eyes were turned on all the predators below her.

"Years we have been oppressed by this 'by prey, for prey' systems," she rallied. She stabbed a claw in the direction of the bunny officer. "She thinks she can make us put back those torture devices of our own free will? These 'officers' think they can take on all of us? All they have are numbers. Us preds are bigger. Stronger. We have claws. We have teeth."

Murmurs of agreement. Others were nodding, some pumping their fists in support.

"She's right."

"They can't keep doing this to us."

"We aren't wearing the collars anymore."

The words rippled and spread throughout the crowd. The trepidation of the few were swallowed up by the outrage of the majority. The officers pulled out tranq guns from their holsters.

"Enough!" The megaphone screeched again. "I am willing to overlook this impertinence," Lieutenant Hopps barked. "We mean you no harm. We at the ZPD look after both prey and predators. Violence will be employed if needed unless Mr. Wilde is surrendered and all of you comply."

They weren't listening to her. Honey started a chant that caught aflame among them.

Not tonight.

More and more voices joined in. A chorus borne out of long suppressed anger and grudge. Predators advanced on the officers. Teeth were bared, claws extended.

Guns were aimed.

"Wait!"

The whole warehouse boomed with the word. Eyes searched for the source and found Nick behind the glass overlooking the whole amusement park. He was in what passed as his office, clutching the microphone connected throughout the whole speaker system.

"I'll come peacefully," he murmured. Through the glass, his eyes locked with the bunny's. "Just please don't hurt any of them."

He was painfully aware of the hurt look on Honey's face. It wasn't just her either.

"Everyone, it's been nice while it lasted. Run along now. Please do as Lieutenant Hopps says."

He descended the stairs. The bunny was there to greet him.

"A wise decision, Mr. Wilde," she said, her expression impassive.

He gave her one good look and the pieces clicked. "Oh," he muttered. "It's you. Sorry again for the coffee this morning."

She didn't give any acknowledgement of recognizing him.

Was he being too nice to the one responsible for shutting down his dreams? The one who was holding the cuffs that were about to clamp on his wrists and take him to the slammer? Possibly but his mind had gone numb. If he was wearing the collar, it wouldn't even let out a single beep. Speaking of which, he felt a spike lance through his chest when the bunny produced his metal choker. He knew it was his because she was kind enough to explain how she got it.

"Found this on the desk," she said. At least she had the decency to sound monotone and not smug. Nick guessed that any officer would since he made it so easy for them, didn't he? "I've dealt with enough predators to recognize it as a fox collar."

"Good for you, Officer," he deadpanned.

Her expression didn't change in the face of his sarcasm. She moved to put it on him.

"They shot a kit!"

The words didn't register until it was too late. The air swelled with roars and screams.

Bodies slammed together.

The ground shook from the collective stampede of paws and hooves.

All chaos was let loose.

The bunny jumped back to avoid being tackled by a lynx. Nick was swept up by the tide of fur and muscles. He saw Hopps sidestepping a weasel that came too close. The tips of her ears dissappeared when a huddle of tigers blocked his view.

When he had regained his bearings, he judged that a mammal as small as him's best chance of survival was to not fight the flow. The crowd surged for the only exit.

A nearby wolf yelped and hit the ground. A cheetah was carrying his friend who had apparently fainted—No. Not fainted. On the unconscious mammal's neck was a green-fletched dart. It was also lodged on the wolf's shoulder.

The officers had abandoned all caution and open fired.

Honey was right about one thing, though.

What the predators lacked in numbers, they made up in size and strength.

They barreled through the barricades of the ZPD. Officers were quick to jump out of the way with their weapons still straightened. More mammals went down. Tranquilizers cruised through the air to bite into skin.

The Wild Times customers scrambled uphill to get back to their cars. Some just went full pelt to the docks.

Nick's heart hammered away at his chest. He frantically searched for his friends. He was standing under the moonlight with a toppled barricade near his feet. He was out in the open. He knew he should hide or run but his concern compelled him to stay.

This was all his fault.

He was forced to move when a dart whistled past his cheek. A sheep officer had noticed him and was reloading his gun.

"Run!" Finnick's voice cried. The officer in charge of cuffing the smaller fox struggled to maintain him. "If they get you, you're dead! Run, you idiot!"

Nick hesitated. What kind of friend would he be if he didn't? He looked at Finnick's scowl, the glare that silently said: Run or I'll chase you away myself.

A blur of gray snagged his eyes and he realized he was left no choice.

He did as his friend said.

~~~

The rush of water drowned out the events that were transpiring. He ran alongside it, gunning for the bridge and the stack of crates beyond. It was his chance of outmaneuvering his pursuer if he managed to outrun her.

Static went off from somewhere behind him.

"This is Lieutenant Hopps in pursuit of Wilde," he heard the bunny communicate into what must be her two-way radio.

She sounded too close for comfort.

"Can't we talk about this?" he panted.

"We most certainly can," came Hopps's reply.

He thought about it. Could he talk his way out of this? His luck had already gotten him this far. Why not try it out one more time? His legs actually slowed but he didn't stop. Another mistake.

He was tackled from behind. His body lurched forward, the ground rapidly rising to meet him. The breath was knocked out of him and a weight pressed on his spine. He thrashed out of instinct. His foot met with something hard and he kicked with everything he had. The weight was off him.

"I thought you said we could talk it out," he heaved. Call it inappropriate but the joke slipped from his lips as easily like breathing. He squinted against the darkness and spotted the bunny rousing to her height near the edge. "Hey, I think you should step away from there, sweetheart."

"That's Lieutenant Hopps to you, fox," she snapped. Despite that, she did step to her right. But Nick matched it by stepping to his left.

A stray dart lay by where he should have been before she tackled him.

The water lashed against rocks and dockside, sending sprays to where he stood. Goosebumps rippled along his arms and his fur stood on end. They had to shout to be heard over the gurgling.

"Hold it right there." He put his paws up in a peaceful surrender. "I'll go with you. Peacefully."

"Glad we could come to an understanding," Hopps yelled. For some reason, Nick derived a sick sense of pleasure from seeing the stern Lieutenant all tousled up. Her indifferent mask was gone too and in its place was barely concealed frustration.

"But I have a condition." He emphasized this by putting up one clawed digit.

She didn't seem too pleased by this but said, "I'm listening."

He took a breath. "No collar." She didn't seem to bring it with her but he didn't want to take chances. Not like what he has been doing all night. Hell, all week even.

A distant yell. The onslaught between predators and armed prey continued from just a few meters away. But no one could interrupt their little face-off because crates hid them from view.

Thanks to the moonlight and his night vision, he could see as clear as day but he had to wonder what the bunny was seeing. Could she see enough to pull out her tranq gun and aim? He could see the bump of it on her hip, hidden under her coat. At this distance, two good bounds from him would close the distance. The edge where the water screamed was just two steps away.

"It's my only condition, Lieutenant." He actually didn't believe she would agree but why not try. He was testing how far he could push, to see what stuff this unconventional bunny cop was made of. If she relented then great. If she didn't then he'll give it up. It just didn't feel right to surrender without giving a fight.

To his surprise, the bunny stayed quiet. His keen eyes saw her nose twitching in thought, her foot thumping on the concrete. Was she actually considering it? Or was she scheming how she could pull a fast one on him?

Her little mouth opened.

If she answered, he didn't hear it. A dart bounced close to his foot and chipped the ground, needle bent. There was a whoosh near the back of his ears.

His periphery caught officers climbing over the crates supposed to hide them.

Panic was a drug injected into his veins, spreading to his nerves then to his beating chest. He scrabbled to escape.

Hopps was shouting something, her face stricken. She was running towards him.

That's weird, he sluggishly thought, why would she be making that face?

Then he realized.

He was falling.

~~~

No sound escaped Nick's parted lips.

The water choked and spat behind his back, eager to recieve him.

At least his last sight was of the bright, round moon puncturing the inky black expanse of the night sky—and a bunny with purple eyes just as round. That reminded him of a story his mother used to tell him. Age has ironed out the details from his memory but it was something about a rabbit ascending to the moon to go live there.

He didn't care to wonder why she had jumped over the edge for him, paws outstretched.

What a dumb bunny. Now they're both gonna plunge to their deaths.

Merciless cold swallowed them both, the air squeezed from his lungs and water rushed to replace it.

~~~

An orange-furred head broke the surface of the water with a gasp.

Nick sputtered, flailing. Limbs were frozen stiff but his self-preservation instincts kicked him into motion. His molars chattered against each other, flecks of fluid flying from his nostrils. His paw paddled him to solid ground while the other stayed clenched.

He flung the soaked bunny to the concrete first before collapsing himself, coughing up more of that frigid liquid. Saliva flooded his mouth and bile burned up his throat. He hurled.

One last spit and he had regained some of his faculties. He eyed the unconscious bunny and her unmoving chest. He cursed.

He stumbled to her side, kneeling to flip her on her back. He checked her pulse. There wasn't one.

Hid body kicked into action before his mind could catch up. First were the chest compressions. Dominant paw over the other. He didn't pause to think how much force he should use on account of her being a smaller mammal. CPR was about resuscitating the heart. A broken rib or two doesn't matter when you're at Death's doorstep.

Thirty chest compression later and there was still no response. He tilted her chin, blocked her nostrils with a thumb and sealed her mouth with his. He exhaled and kept an eye on her chest to see it rise and fall. He pushed away and waited before their lips met again.

He didn't see the fist coming.

It was a wild haymaker that grazed his nose. A yelp escaped him. It wasn't a particularly powerful punch but a fox's nose was extremely sensitive. Tears gathered uncontrollably in his eyes—not because he was emotionally hurt by it but because it was just the body's natural response. He felt the need to tell that to himself.

The bunny was awake, coughing and expelling water from her own lungs like what he did minutes ago. She didn't shout or throw accusations his way which was nice because he was having a difficult time recovering from that nasty shock.

"Way to thank your savior," he grunted. He couldn't help himself.

Through his blurry vision, Hopps wrinkled her nose. She wiped her lips and spat. He vaguely mused if she could taste the barf from his mouth. He decided to keep that information to himself.

Now that they were as alive and well as can be after swimming through the river against their will, he took his time to survey their sorroundings. They were in a dock identical to the one they fell from but—if it were even possible—the warehouses were seedier and had an air of abandon to them. Shadows clung to the brickworks like black miasma.

"This must be lower Downtown," he thought aloud. It wasn't for the benefit of informing the bunny—he didn't think she would be talking to him anytime soon.

It was an unfamiliar area to him, having never gone this deep to the darkside of the city. Even more alarming was that there were no signs of habitation. With empty buildings like these, you would expect that it would be teeming with the homeless and misbegotten.

He turned at the sound of a pained hiss. Hopps's coat flap lay open to bare a horizontal gash on her right thigh, blood oozing from the opening. She had tried to get up but what she managed was just to prop herself on her elbows. She tried again, planting her left foot under her, but he stopped her.

"I highly suggest just staying still." He tried not to let actual concern show through. He was toeing a fine line between caring for a fellow mammal but also keeping a distance to the prey who raided his park. "I'm a doctor, you see."

"Through online courses," she reminded him, wincing.

He walked forward and dropped to his haunches, elbows on knees. Her eyes kept straying to his bare neck.

"I know so little about you while you seem to know a lot about me," he sneered. He gestured to her injury. "May I?"

She looked like she had eaten a basketful of sour lemons. Finally, she croaked, "Why?"

"Fun fact: if that gets infected, you die," he said, adding a little airy lilt to his tone. It made him sound like he didn't care what happens to her next. "We need to clean it up before that happens."

"No, I meant, why are you helping me?"

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "You'd rather I not?"

She shook her head, sending droplets of water flying from her drenched long ears. "Stop playing coy, Mr. Wilde."

"And if I refuse?"

A string of tension tightened between them. Nick had no qualms on tugging on it or even strumming it like an instrument. He didn't care for what this bunny thinks of him. She took Wild Times from him. She sent her friends to the slammer or on the run. She brought the officers to the place he wanted other predators to see as a sanctuary.

She took away his dream.

She shifted her position and cried out and all his previous opinions of her were shoved to a cramped recess of his mind.

"Stop moving," he said, gently this time.

"Make up your mind, then," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"About what?"

"Whether you hate me enough to leave me alone or help me." He saw that it was quite the effort to hold back in a whimper.

He sighed. "You tried to pull me back on the docks, right?" She had grown quiet. "Why'd you do it? I thought you wanted me gone in the first place."

"I didn't want you gone." The vehemence and indignance in her voice surprised him. Her face was set with conviction. "You were to be brought to justice. You have the right to a fair trial and you wouldn't be standing on the defense stand if you were dead."

Despite himself, he felt a spark of amusement. "What are my charges, anyway?"

"Operating without a business license, safety code violations, hindering official investigations, and endangering of minors." She spoke in just the span of a breath that he had a hard time catching all of them. "Also tax evasion."

He stared. She looked so serious listing all of them.

He bursts into laughter.

"You think this is funny?" She crossed her arms, trying for the glower she used back at the cafe but he was busy wiping away tears to notice.

"Of course," he giggled. "Can't forget the tax evasion, am I right?"

Truth be told, he didn't know why he was laughing. He couldn't explain. Perhaps it was just him desperately seeking humor in a time like this. Or him finally losing his mind. Whatever the case was, he was grateful for it because he mananged to evade the clutches of self-pity once more. She probably thought him insane but that was better than unraveling in front of a stranger.

"Why did you save me?" she blurted. "You could have left me in the water. You even resuscitated me."

He didn't have much energy left to stage a performance. "Honestly? I don't know," he said. "Now are you gonna ask questions all night or will you let me check out that wound."

She had opened her mouth but she clamped it shut. The decision pained her just as much as her leg did. "Fine."

She let him approach. She flinched when his claws glinted under the moonlight but he just used it to tear off the fabric from around the wound. It didn't look that bad at a second glance but it was still deep, blood oozing rather than flowing.

He pushed himself to his feet and started walking away.

"Wait—where are you going?" He couldn't see her face but he heard her curse—probably from moving too suddenly or regretting the sliver of panic in her voice.

"Off to scavenge stuff to boil water with," he said. "Using plain old river water would worsen things rather than help. Just try to put pressure on it."

A question lingered in the air as the distance grew: Was he really?

It was the question he pondered as he rounded the corner, plunging into a darkness that did not hinder him. Was he really going to help the bunny? Can't he just run for it while he still could? Why was he still here?

She could barely stand. She won't be going after him but her pained face flashed in his mind.

But if he ran then there's a good chance that she will actually die.

He grimaced.

She was a cop. What's more was that she was the one upturn his greatest ambition. He was under no obligation to save her. And yet she had jumped after him. She didn't get to him in time but she tried.

He wiped both paws on his face with a groan.

Fine. He'll just stick around long enough to treat her wound but after that, he's off.

~~~

She didn't flinch when he poured the lukewarm water over her wound.

"Stop squirming," Nick instructed. He unbuttoned the bottom half of his shirt and, with the help of his claws, tore them into strips.

The bunny did as he said, watching him.

"Please don't kick me." He leaned forward with the fabric, arranging them under her thigh.

The work was quiet with only the pop and crackle of the fire to punctuate the air. He didn't look up until he tied the improvised bandage into a neat square knot.

"There we go." He inspected his handiwork with a nod. A draft blew up what remained of his shirt and he shivered. He stepped away and took up position on the opposite side, holding out his paws to the fire. "You'll need stitches for that but can't do it myself. No proper equipment and all."

She had looked startled when he returned with what materials he could find. She hadn't spoken since then until, "You're more expressive than back at the cafe."

He snickered, eyes trained on the dancing flames. "So you recognized me."

"I didn't see much point in bringing it up." She groaned as she tried to adjust herself. Orange light bathed her face in a warm glow across him. "I saw you the moment you entered. You just shuffled straight to the counter and ordered."

"What's so wrong with that?" He shifted his weight on his haunches, creeping closer to the circle of light.

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just that..."

He raised his brows, finally deigning to look at her. Sparks danced in her glassy eyes. It made her almost look unguarded. The bunny cop stripped of the stern mask she wore.

"You're different," she finally concluded. Even so, she looked confused. "More talkative."

He shrugged. "That happens when you don't have a torture device strapped to your throat."

The stern Lieutenant made a return. She lanced him with a piercing glare. "The T.A.M.E collars are meant to discourage aggravation."

"And happiness," he added, "and excitement and fear and practically all kinds of emotions. You can see why predators aren't exactly 'expressive'."

Her eyes narrowed even further but not from suspicion. He tired to keep eye-contact to a minimum but was that uncertainty?

"That's not true," she said, sounding like she was also trying to convince herself.

"How would you know?" he snapped. He momentarily cowered at the sound of his voice, the gradual rate of his heart beat. He strained to hear the familiar beep of his collar, the warning of the inevitable shock. But then he remembered he wasn't wearing it. The joy of the realization mixed with his anger produced something between a scowl and a grin. "I've been wearing this since I was six. I know what it does. You don't have the right to tell me what it should and shouldn't do. You preys always have it easy—"

"Easy?" she hissed. She tried to stand but forgot her injury so she fell back. He thought about how he ever deemed her face unreadable. So many emotions flitted across her countenance that it was like rapidly flipping across the pages of a book. What he had mistaken for sternnes was actually defensiveness. "I had to put twice as much effort to be recognized for something that other preys can do with less. I didn't get to where I am today just because I was prey. They only saw me as a dumb farmer bunny. I had to prove myself."

Her outburst left her her heaving. He didn't know what he was expecting from opening that particular can of worms but it wasn't this. Especially when tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Her lips thinned. Awkwardness filled the air and he shifted uncomfortably. Should he even feel bad for her? Does she deserve his sympathy? After everything she put him through?

He was trying to sort through his own feelings when she spoke up again.

"Thank you for saving my life," she said, reluctant shame tinting her words. "I also know that you didn't mean to spill your coffee on me. I was just overworked and I tend to be cranky in the morning but..." She sighed. "I'm not trying to excuse myself. I'm sorry for how I acted."

He stared. This night was getting more and more surprising. A cop actually thanking and apologizing to him? He could see that she was being genuine. A warmth bloomed under his ribs. It was scary, whatever this feeling was, but also...nice.

He felt obligated to say something back and, maybe he had to, so he could also ease the tightness in his chest. "For what it's worth, I think you make a good cop," he said and realized at the same time he said it that it was true. Yes, she may have sabotaged him but she also wasn't one to let someone like him be swept up by the waters and turn a blind eye. And didn't she say that she would ignore Honey's protest back at the park? Saying those kinds of words were probably equal to inciting a revolution in the mayor's eyes. He knew Hopps would keep to her word too because she was just like that.

Her ears flicked and she looked up. The hope in her eyes made him look away.

"Never did meet any bunny cop. You must be really something else." He stoked the fire and it popped, sending sparks flying towards the sky. "You always wanted to be one?"

He didn't expect her to answer. He was just automatically filling the space with words which made the sound of her voice even more surprising.

"Yup," she said. "Ever since I was a kit. Not everyone thought I would make it, though." She hesitated. "There was this fox I was classmates with."

He raised his brows to encourage her to continue.

"He tried to take away my friend's tickets. I got in between them and he..." Her paw hovered over her left cheek.

"Did he do something to you?" He could easily imagine a young Hopps standing up to the local bully. For some reason, it tugged a smile from his lips.

She shook her head. "No. The collar stopped him before he could do anything. We were nine at the time."

He winced for the poor fella.

"I was grateful for it back then," she continued. He didn't want her to but he didn't stop her. "But it just went on shocking him. It didn't stop. Adults were gathering around us and I didn't know what was happening." She rubbed her throat. "Is it really that...painful?"

She was serious.

"It is," he said. He didn't have the enrgy to describe it. "It's why I started Wilde Park in the first place. It's supposed to be where we can get away from all that hurt." He didn't know why he said that but since the bunny was sharing something about her then it's only fair.

Her ears straightened, her pinched brows communicating a decision made.

She finally let down her coat. It gathered behind her with a wet splat. She removed something from her hip and it was—

He launched to his feet, muscles tense. "Why do you have that?"

His breathing quickened. She had his collar. How stupid of him to let his guard down around a cop. Even more so because along with feelings of outrage, he felt betrayed and that made him feel more pathetic

He began backing away but Hopps raised her paws in a placating gesture. Wordlessly, she tossed the collar over the fire and it landed near his feet. The glass over where the light was supposed to be on cracked but the device remained intact.

"The ZPD will doubtlessly send a search party for me in the morning," she said.

"What?" he blurted. He was looking at the inert piece of metal that had cause him so much suffering.

"It's your decision, Wilde," she softly said.

He raised his head and their eyes locked. He searched for any sign of deception, a catch. A string he couldn't see.

"Why?" he asked. His mind had a hard time catching up to what she was saying.

She smiled and it made him momentarily forget why they were there. "It's your choice."