Chapter Text
As Pawbert made his way to the grand ballroom, he couldn’t stop catastrophizing all the ways the night could go wrong.
What if I trip going down the stairs and break my jaw and bleed all over some random Zootopian elite? What if my fly is open the whole night and everyone notices? What if I go to the snack table and something gets stuck in my whiskers? What if a chandelier drops and kills me in front of everybody? What if the real reason somebody wanted me out there is so they can take me for ransom?
And that’s not even accounting for if I accidentally say the wrong thing to the press or the Mayor! They’re probably going to ask me about my Dad, but I never know what's good to say and what's not! I don’t know who he’s talking to most days; how am I supposed to know the inside scoop on his business ventures?
Slow down, you’re stressing too much.
He shook away his thoughts. “Breathe, Pawbert.” He took a deep breath and counted to ten. “It’s going to be ok. I’m going to walk through those doors, and everyone is going to see me standing right by Dad’s side. Once the press reports I still exist, then everyone can go on not caring about me for another year or two, if I’m lucky.
“And once the night is over, and I haven’t made a fool of myself, I can spend the rest of the week until the new year vegging out until my job at the mailroom reopens. Maybe I’ll buy a property in the Nocturnal District or something for some sort of getaway home. Then Cattrick and Kitty will get off my back as everyone forgets I exist.” His forced smile couldn’t reach his eyes.
“But before all that, I’ll keep up with and even improve on Dad’s lessons about being ‘a dignified member of high society,’” he said in the worst imitation of his father.
He snickered as he continued his act. “Pawbert. Stand up straight and look me in the eyes. Unfortunately, I highly doubt you have a single confident bone in your body, but if you keep that air of ineptitude you carry everywhere, people are going to eat you alive.”
He marched to the other side of the hallway, trying his best to match Milton’s stride of impatience and superiority. He turned around and sharpened his eyes at an imaginary duplicate of himself.
“Pawbert. You must learn to fight back against your adversaries. Complaining accomplishes nothing; so use your anger. A Lynxley follows their own code of justice and knows how to enact it.” He trailed his eyes up and down his nonexistent copy. “If you lack the strength or drive to retaliate with your claws or words, you must find other means of striking fast and hard.”
He crossed his arms and glared as he continued. “I know you will never reach the level of your siblings. In them, I see a forest fire. In you, I see an unlit candle; lacking in brightness and power, even when lit.” Pawbert couldn’t stop the smile from rising as he giggled into his hand.
He attempted to refocus as he looked up ahead. He froze at the sight of himself in one of the manor’s many mirrors. Alone.
His previous respite died quickly.
“Well… It’s not like I can avoid the party forever. To be a Lynxley is to be one of the highest of high society, and I can’t not be a Lynxley…” he sighed. Pawbert shook his head to clear his thoughts as he stopped at the ballroom doors.
“Think of it as training. If I can prove to Dad that I can handle myself at this party, then maybe he’ll start believing that I can handle myself in the real world,” his smile grew softly, filled with some optimism.
“Unfortunately for you, Pawbert, your idiotic ideals are as mistaken as your whiskers.”
Pawbert flinched as he turned around to find Milton Lynxley giving him a leveled look.
“A-ah, Daddy! Did you just get here?” he asked with the largest grin he could fake, before paling slightly. “H-how much did you hear?” he just above whispered.
Milton ignored him as he continued with his original sentence. “As you should have known by now,” he emphasized, “one measly gala won't be enough to prepare you for all that is required of a proper Lynxley. Even if you manage to do minimal damage tonight, I have no doubt that won’t be the case for anything to come.”
The younger lynx deflated a little. “W-well, that might be true, but, uh. At least it will get me even more ready, right? Even right now, you’re saying I need more practice.”
“On that, we agree,” he condescended. He turned away from his son.
“Pawbert, do you know why you were allowed at tonight’s gala?”
Was this a trick question? “...Because some reporter got too nosy and we have to protect our image?” he said, with an uneven lift.
“No,” Milton corrected bluntly. Pawbert flinched again. “You’re here tonight because I allowed you to be, and so that you can protect my image. We Lynxleys will not tolerate even the slightest threat to our name. Answer me, why do you think that a measly journalist was asking about you?” he punctuated. “You are worth nothing to nobody, so what made you so special to be personally requested tonight?”
His father’s harsh but true words had hit him like a brick wall.
Why did somebody ask for him, the most hidden and uncontributing member of the Lynxley family? His father is the obvious choice, but Cattrick and Kitty hold their own influence in their respective spaces. He isn’t in higher demand or public perception compared to the rest of his family. So, to ask again, why Pawbert?
“I-I-I don’t know,” he stuttered as he looked away.
“Exactly. And that is why tonight must go perfectly. Play your part and do not disappoint me further, Pawbert.” Milton advanced towards the ballroom doors before briefly looking back in slight disdain. “And do try to fix your whiskers, they’re still unstraightened. Imperfection is unbecoming of a Lynxley.”
Pawbert felt hollow as he heard the large doors close in front of him.
~~~~~~~~~
Ok, Pawbert, you’ve done well so far. Just a couple more hours until the main event. You can survive until the gift exchange with your family.’ He plastered on another attempt at a smile.
He lifted his head from his table (hiding spot) against the wall and faced the ongoing party.
…
Yeah, nope.
“I need alcohol,” he grumbled to himself.
“Well, would you look at that?” Pawbert heard someone nearby chuckle and was surprised to find a fox with a big mustache talking to him. He looked to be roughly in his 30’s, clad in a black tuxedo. If Pawbert had looked harder, he might have noticed the mustache looked a little out of place. But he didn’t get that chance as the fox pressed on.
“I have an extra drink with me right here. It’s all yours if you want it.” The fox held out a glass for him.
Pawbert shot back up as he registered what was said to him. “O-oh! Thank you! If you’re sure?” He accepted the outstretched beverage and took a sip.
“Ahh, don’t worry about it,” the fox said as he waved it away. “I underestimated how much I had drunk tonight, and you seemed like you could use some unwinding. It is a party after all.
“And where are my manners?” The vulpine lightly smacked his palm against his head in an exaggerated display. “The name’s Nathan Winters.”
“Winters? I’ve never heard of them before.” Pawbert tilted his head slightly. “I suppose it’s a fitting name for Tundratown, but, and correct me if I’m wrong, you look more like a red fox than an arctic one.”
“Your astute observations would be correct, my friend. I must admit, it’s quite a hassle to have to explain it all the time, but it’s simply a family name.”
“Ach, please forgive me! I meant no disrespect, Mr. Winters.”
“None taken. And please, call me Nate. Although…” Nate traced the rim of his own glass and looked at him with a slightly sharp look that almost caused the lynx to flinch. “I told you my name, but I do not believe I have had the pleasure of knowing yours.”
“Oh, right!” One of Dad’s first lessons: ‘The first thing to do when meeting someone new is to shake their hand.’ He shot an arm out.
“Paw!”
At Nate’s confused look, he quickly hid the appendage behind his back. “Uh, I mean, Pawbert. My name is Pawbert. Pawbert Lynxley. Yup, that’s my name.” Dang it, Pawbert, too much.
The fox chuckled again. “Ah, so you must be the impressive Mr. Lynxley I keep hearing everyone talk about. I must say, it is such an honor to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh, actually, I’m nobody impressive. You’re probably thinking of my father, Milton Lynxley.” Pawbert pointed across the room in the vague direction where he would probably be.
“How interesting. Well, I should go and introduce myself later. For now, I find I am pleasantly enjoying your company.”
Pawbert could tell he was being buttered up, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t secretly enjoy it. He took another sip. “So, Nate, what do you do for work? They only let the finest in here.”
“Well, I am so glad you asked,” he grinned. “I’m actually the founder and CEO of a modest frozen confectionery enterprise.” He leaned in close to the younger man. “Between you and me, though,” he paused and looked around for dramatic effect, “I’m actually here to try and find some more investors.” Winters stepped back and grinned conspiratorily. “You wouldn’t happen to have a few of your powerful Lynxley connections you could call to help a pal out, right?”
“A-ah, well…” Pawbert wrung his hands. “Actually, my Dad is the one with any influence, but I don’t think he’s the kind of person to invest in something like that. …I don’t really get out much, never mind talking to people, so I don’t think there’s anything I can do to help… Sorry…” The cat felt guilt and shame crawl up him.
“Oh well. Can’t blame an animal for trying.” The fox huffed with indignation as he turned back to the gala. It seemed another dance had begun.
“W-wait! I know it’s not much, but I can spare a few hundred from my allowance. Would that help?” he said sheepishly as he pulled out his wallet. Pawbert needed to please the elder gentleman.
Nate turned back around and put a paw over his chest. “Well, aren’t you just an angel? Thank you for your generous donation, from the bottom of my heart.” He quickly accepted the cash before the lynx could get another word in.
“Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m going to go enjoy the rest of the party. There are plenty of people I still need to meet, as I’m sure you understand. Toodles, Robert!” he winked as he made a speedy getaway.
“O-oh, no problem! …And it’s Pawbert, actually.” It was no use calling after him; the strange fox had already scurried away.
“What an interesting fellow,” he mused after a moment.
He motioned to finish his Champagne, but got very confused when nothing pressed against his muzzle. Suddenly, he noticed his hands felt lighter and looked down to find it had impossibly disappeared into thin air.
“What?” He looked around, hoping that he had simply forgotten he set it on the table. No such luck.
Pawbert turned toward the direction he saw Mr. Winters leave to. Surely he didn’t… No, I must be mistaken. He shook his head and sighed, mourning the loss of alcohol.
(The poor lynx would later discover that his wallet had gone missing, too.)
~~~~~~~~~
Pawbert had tried to go out and socialize, really, he had! But some things felt like the universe didn’t want them to mix. Pawbert and parties were one of those things, he had come to realize. Trying to converse with the elite and upperclass felt like juggling flaming bowling pins in front of a live audience.
He navigated through the crowd, scanning for anyone who hopefully wouldn’t make him want to pull out his fur.
Come on, there’s gotta be at least one okay animal here to talk to. Maybe Mayor Lionheart is close by? The lynx looked around again. No such luck.
Anybody at all? I need to show Dad I can do this… He was starting to get desperate, but he knew picking someone randomly would only cause more tribulation for himself.
It’s no use. His ears flattened. Would I have better luck if I checked the balcony?
Making his way outside, he was surprised to find it empty. Well, empty except for a familiar light-gray feline leaning over the ledge.
What’s Cattrick doing out here by himself? He usually has a couple of women in his shadow, not to mention various corporate managers trying to get on the good side of the company’s heir.
Stepping closer, a foul odor crept into his nostrils.
“Hey, Cattrick, why are you–?”
The lynx in question raised his ears at the sound. He exhaled deeply before turning halfway to face him.
As Pawbert reached the railing, the dying embers of a joint in his paw dangling over the ledge caught his attention first. Must’ve been catnip then. His brother’s bloodshot eyes only reaffirmed his theory.
Cattrick sighed. “What do you want, Pawbert? I was in the middle of something out here.”
“Oh no, sorry, I didn’t need anything. I’m just shocked to see you like this, I suppose,” he shrugged.
“Well, we all have our weaknesses.”
“Right.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
Pawbert tried to fill the air. “Sooo…”
An excited squeal from below caused the elder Lynxley to flinch.
“I hate these fucking parties; it’s too goddamn loud,” he hissed under his breath, not quite quiet enough to go unheard.
Pawbert’s voice lifted with some genuine surprise. “Really? But you always act like you practically own the place already.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” he groaned and rested his head on the marble. “When I take over the company, I’ll need to know who I can trust. These stupid galas, dinners, and events are just Dad’s ploy to speed along that process.”
“Huh. I never would have guessed.”
“Yup,” he said, popping the p with exhaustion. He took another drag.
The silence was a bit less suffocating this time. Pawbert looked up at the moon, watching as flurries of snowflakes danced around in its light. He wished he could have more times like these with his siblings, away from all the storms of responsibility and worth. It was enough to make him lose track of how much time had passed while he was relaxing.
He heard claws on the tile getting closer as Kitty made her approach toward the brothers.
“It’s almost time for the main event, boys; we need to get onstage.” She looked up and down Pawbert, and seemingly deemed him ‘good enough,’ before turning her attention to Cattrick and looking him in the eyes.
“Now what are we going to do about you? Dad’s not going to like it if you show up looking like you lost a battle with a field of flowers,” she huffed and crossed her arms.
Cattrick sighed as he smothered the joint on the marble, then flicked it away for the snow to claim. “Not much I can do about it now, so stop worrying your pretty little head, and let your older brother handle it.”
“Only by 15 minutes,” she growled under her breath. She exhaled and massaged her temples before giving him a leveled look. “Whatever. Come on, Pawbert. We’ve got to entertain Daddy dearest while our mess of a brother finds a way to claw his way out of the hole he dug.”
Pawbert looked back at Cattrick before joining Kitty’s side. “You’ve got 10 minutes. Maximum.” She turned and started walking to where their father would be waiting. Pawbert lingered for a moment and wrung his paws.
He spared his brother one last glance. “Good luck, Cattrick.” Quickly, he scurried off to find his sister, desperate not to be late as well.
In his rush, he missed the pathetic groan from the balcony.
~~~~~~~~~
“Before we begin with the Annual Lynxley Gift Exchange, I would like to thank everyone here for coming tonight,” the lynx patriarch said, looking around the room. “I am forever grateful for your continued support for our family; without you, we wouldn’t be where we are today.
“At this time of the year, all animals focus on spending more time with their friends and family, and spreading that love to everyone. This idea, giving back to the community, is the legacy of the Lynxleys. Ever since my late Grandfather, Ebenezer Lynxley, created the brilliant Weather Walls that have allowed Zootopia to flourish, it has become a place where everyone is welcomed with open arms.
“For all our friends, and for those yet to come,” Milton toasted, as the crowd sprang up in applause.
He turned to the large, decorative tree behind him. Among the many fake boxes were a few real ones, their existence solely for tonight’s event. “As many of you may know, it is a tradition for the members of the Lynxley house to share the joy of our first presents with you all.”
Secretly, Pawbert wondered if his gift would be his first and last. Unlike his prodigal siblings, he usually didn’t receive anything for the holidays, other than someone shouting at him. Plus, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. He sighed internally and resigned to his fate.
“–my youngest, Pawbert.” He jumped slightly at hearing his name. He looked around and saw Cattrick and Kitty’s subtle smirks. Shit, did they see that? But more importantly, what did Dad just say?
“Like his siblings, he is one of my greatest pride and joys; I can hardly imagine what our family would be like without him in it. He has so much room for growth and potential, and I can’t wait to see the animal I know he’ll become.”
To say Pawbert was shocked to hear such praise come from his father would be an understatement. Is it possible I’m not as much of a disappointment to him as I thought…?
“Pawbert,” Milton said with a soft, disarming smile as he held out a small box, “would you do me the honor of accepting my gift as the first of the evening?”
As he took the ornately wrapped present, his perception of his father completely shifted. The young lynx couldn’t help the feeling of accomplishment that spread through him. He couldn’t even count on his paws how long it had been since he had felt this much love.
Seemingly out of nowhere, somehow tonight had become one of the best in his life. “If it would make you proud,” he responded, resolutely.
Slicing the ribbon with a claw, Pawbert lifted the lid, anxious to see what his father had gotten him. Peering down, his heart stopped.
Inside was a smartwatch, its black pleather band simple, yet clearly expensive. As he slowly picked it up, he turned it around to take in all the details. He was surprised by what he found on the back: a simple engraving; Lynxley. It was such a simple message, but it meant more to the young lynx than anyone could ever realize.
Because now, in some astonishing way, Pawbert felt like his father had finally accepted him as being worthy of the Lynxley name, even if indirectly.
As he fit it over his wrist, he looked up at his father. “Thank you, Dad,” he smiled, so genuine it almost hurt as the crowd erupted in polite applause for the lynx pair. Committing the moment to memory, Pawbert’s spirits were too high to notice the way Mitlon’s eyes sharpened at him for a split second.
The rest of the night had passed in a blur. No other gift had mattered to him as much as the watch did. Watching the final stragglers leave the party in their drunken stupor, Pawbert slipped away to his room, unnoticed. It was a good day for him, but absolutely a long one; it was already almost 2 am.
Finally, in the comfort and privacy of his own room, he looked at himself in the mirror. So this is what it feels like to be a Lynxley, he thought, his beliefs strengthening. Daddy has done so much for me; I need to keep proving to him I’m worth it.
“And that means I have to start acting like it,” he voiced aloud, steeling himself.
“First order of business, getting rid of past Pawbert.” He walked to his bed and dug around underneath it. After a moment, he pulled out a small lynx plush that he had hidden; his siblings would have mocked him relentlessly if they knew he still had it.
“There you are, Mr Lynx.” Looking up and down the toy, his smile faltered slightly. His heart stung, but he knew he needed to do. “You have served me well, but we Lynxleys have no room for childish things. I’m sorry, but you must know it was always going to be this way.”
He moved toward the dresser and shoved the stuffed animal in the very back, where he would be out of his life forever. If he were to truly follow in his father’s footsteps, he should have destroyed it instead; setting it ablaze would have done the job nicely. But Pawbert was tired, and deep down he knew he wouldn’t be able. It was the last thing he had to remember his mother by after all…
Pawbert chuckled nervously and looked around the room instinctively for his father’s gaze; he would have been disappointed in his son's half-assed plan. He tried to shake off his irrational fears, so he went to the mirror to ground himself in his reflection. As he focused his eyes on the watch, he puffed out his chest. “New year, new Pawbert.”
Setting the watch on his nightstand, Pawbert got ready for bed and tucked himself in. His head was still buzzing from the earlier excitement as he stared at the ceiling.
In Zootopia, he thought, parroting the Mayor’s signature catchphrase, anyone can be anything. And that means I can be a Lynxley.
He smiled to himself as he slowly lost the battle to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~
…Roughly a year and a half later…
…
Judy sighed in relief as she watched Nick make his way to safety inside the weather wall, just in time. “Whew. Sorry,” she turned to the lynx beside her, “it’s just the last case was kind of a twist.”
“I know.”
Time stopped as she felt Pawbert stab the device into her neck, its paralyzing venom coursing through her veins.