Chapter Text
I.
Judy couldn’t get it out of her head.
Two lynxes dwelt in her thoughts these days, both named Pawbert Lynxley. One sat in the Zootopia penitentiary, dressed in orange and awaiting formal charges as he underwent psychiatric evaluation. The judge had already dismissed the preliminary insanity motion, citing the level of premeditation shown in Pawbert’s actions; just how long HAD he been carrying around that venom injector before using it anyway?
That lynx, in spite of his horrifying actions, occupied the more comfortable side of Judy’s brain, just another bad guy brought to justice and locked up for his crimes. That, she could relate to. It was what she did. And after all, he had very nearly succeeded in killing her, coming much closer than Bellwether ever had. If he’d pulled off his scheme, the death toll would also have included Gary, and Nibbles …
And Nick.
Prison was exactly where he belonged, and hopefully for a long, long time.
So why did her thoughts keep drifting back to that OTHER Pawbert? The one she’d met at the gala, winning her over with his adorkable awkwardness? The one who’d helped her and Gary on their quest to right a generations-long wrong, and proved himself a trusted companion - until he shattered that trust into a million fragments with one thrust of twin poisoned needles up in the Climate Wall? Bellwether had never gnawed at her like this. Pawbert ought to be case closed, finished business, over and done. He’d shown who he really was, even rejected a last-minute plea from her to stop what he was doing and turn to a better path. He’d made his own bed, and now he was lying in it. He deserved no sympathy, no second chances, and most certainly no spare thought or consideration from her.
And yet ...
Gary was the one who convinced her to visit Pawbert. Her new viper friend had far more reason to despise the lynx than she did; not only had Pawbert tried to kill Gary too, but his plot would have left all of snakekind exiled from Zootopia, and opened the way for the Lynxley family to displace the few reptile residents who remained in the city. It was so much more than attempted murder. It was the disenfranchisement of an entire class of animals, a displacement from which they might never recover.
But Gary still wanted to see Pawbert. In spite of it all, he still wanted to see his betrayer. And so Judy went along with him after her shift that evening, as much to scratch her own nagging mental itch as to support the snake.
Pawbert was already in place as they entered the high-security visiting area, seated behind the glass that would separate them. His forlorn expression and downcast gaze reflected a mammal who’d been beaten down and lost hope, or at least one resigned to whatever fate awaited him now. Realizing his unexpected visitors had finally arrived, his eyes widened as he saw who it was.
Judy took one of the stools set before the glass while Gary coiled himself up onto the other. Pawbert glanced from mammal to reptile, pushing back in his seat a bit but saying nothing. Twin gazes bore into him, Judy’s stern and unflinching, Gary’s more open and empathic. After several moments, Gary broke the silence. “Hello, Pawbert. How are you doing?”
The lynx’s breath caught, then came fast in short rapid gasps. His body language showed clear discomfort. But still he did not speak.
Judy cleared his throat. “He asked you a question,” she prompted, with the admonishing tone of a strict schoolteacher.
Pawbert’s jaw worked several times before he could form any words. “Wha … what are you guys doing here?”
“We came to check on you,” Judy answered.
“Well, I’m still here,” Pawbert replied with pained sarcasm, paws spread to indicate his incarceration, “so you’ve got nothing to worry about there.”
“That’s … not what we meant,” Judy said, impatience edging her voice. “We wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Pawbert’s eyes went blank, as if that statement had momentarily broken his brain. When they regained their focus, his expression became incredulous, almost accusing. “Okay? You want to make sure I’m okay?! Why would you even care about that? I tried to KILL you!”
“We know.” Pawbert’s gaze went to Gary, the compassion in the snake’s tone arresting his outburst. “We both know that. You have done very, very bad things, and you must pay for that. But … “ Gary’s tail tip curled up against the glass as if it were a hand of reassurance. “I miss my friend.”
Pawbert gaped at the snake, still incredulous. When he responded, the hysteria was gone from his tone, leaving only sullen emptiness. “I was never your friend. I was only pretending to be, to get what I wanted. The friend you miss never existed.”
Gary fell silent, unable to immediately refute such an assertion. Seeing it would fall to her to salvage anything meaningful out of this visit, Judy said, “Pawbert, I need to know something. Two things, actually.”
His eyes turned back to her. “What?” he asked softly.
“Who are you? Are you the awkward charmer I bumped into at the Zootencennial gala, the companion who always seemed like he would make such a good friend - or the monster who tried to murder four innocent animals and frame one of them for the deaths of the other three? Because I need to know.”
Pawbert considered the question. “Both,” he replied at last. “I’m both. Judy, I never tried to hide who I was from you. Only what I meant to do. And what I meant to do was horrible. I know it was horrible. You told me it was horrible, and even begged me to stop before it was too late. But I didn’t listen. I didn’t listen, because I could only think of my family, and what it would mean to them if I succeeded. What it would mean for ME if I succeeded. And now … “ He shrugged. “Look where it got me. Look where it got my family.”
Even as a caustic comment formed on the tip of Judy’s tongue, Gary spoke. “It’s not too late, Pawbert. You can still choose to be good. It’s not too late.”
The lynx emitted a hollow, defeated laugh. “Yeah, it kinda is.” His head fell to the table before him, paws clasped over his ears. “I am so screwed up. And so screwed.”
The others couldn’t tell if he was sobbing; if so, it was very soft. After a few moments he lifted his head again, eyes moist. “You said you had two things to ask me?” he said to Judy.
She nodded. “Pawbert … will you ever try to hurt anyone again?”
He sat with his gaze locked with hers. “I … I don’t know.”
She looked to Gary. “I think we got what we came here for.”
But this last question seemed to have reached Pawbert in a way none of the others had, and he went on, almost as if talking to himself. “I am broken. I am so, so broken. And … I think … maybe … I need to break … completely. All the way. And then… if I survive that … maybe I can put myself back together into someone who’d be worth visiting.”
Judy felt something shift inside her. This was what she’d been waiting for. This was what had kept her would-be murderer in her thoughts far more than he warranted. A moment ago she’d been ready to dismiss him as the sociopath who would extinguish her life without a second thought, but now the old Pawbert had shown himself once more. The awkward one. The charming one. The harmless one, now doubly harmless and pathetic and teetering on the brink of self-awareness as to just what he’d done, just who he was, and what he might just have to do to change.
She only wished his vague proposed solution didn’t sound so dire.
“Pawbert, you’re not thinking of … doing anything to yourself, are you?”
This question seemed to genuinely surprise him, and break through his introspective fugue. “What? No. No, nothing like that. I mean … no, I’m not.”
“Good.” Judy hopped down from her stool and started for the exit from the visitors’ area. “I … I’m not sure when I’ll be coming to see you again, Pawbert. Take care of yourself.”
Gary lingered on his chair, favoring the lynx with a pleading expression. “You might not think you are a friend, Pawbert, but you will always have one. I will see you again soon.”
Pawbert could only hang his head, avoiding the reptile’s gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”
And then they were gone, and Pawbert Lynxley was alone once more.