Chapter Text
"If I show you all my demons
And we dive into the deep end,
Would we crash and burn like every time before...?"
If he hadn't woken up feeling like crap, he might've been more enthusiastic.
There was nothing quite like going to visit Chief Gruffulo in a sterile, soul-sucking hospital when he could've been sleeping off what felt like his worst hangover ever. Woo-hoo.
Scratch that. There was nothing about the day so far that could've made him feel more enthusiastic.
Crappy apartment—one that was still more of a mess than ever.
Annoying headache.
Throbbing paw.
Sucky feeling overall.
He hadn't meant to fall out of bed while on the phone with Judy, but he also hadn't expected to feel so lightheaded sitting up.
The call couldn't have ended sooner, in his own humble opinion.
As much as visiting the chief with Judy would toss a wrench into his day of suffering in bed—why was he even suffering again?—having her drop by all unexpected like that at his apartment would be ten times worse.
He couldn’t let her. Wouldn’t let her.
Not yet. Not now.
Not when he couldn't remember where he'd left the tube of cream and that bloody towel when he had rolled into bed last night…
With that in mind, he hauled himself to the closet, half-heartedly picking out a shirt that he hoped wasn't the same one she'd seen him in yesterday. The eyes that stared back at him through the bathroom mirror minutes later were slightly bloodshot, though he couldn't begin to figure out why.
His body was shutting down on him. For some stupid reason.
When's the last time you slept? Really slept? And last night didn't count, what with all the tossing and twisting he'd put his blankets through. That's probably it. Lack of sleep. Sure.
His paw had just refused to stop its incessant throbbing, making sleep a thing of fantasy.
Speaking of... If he could unearth that tube, he could swipe the wound with some water, then a bit of cream. After that, he could try out those fingerless gloves he had tucked away after a failed scam.
Knew they'd come in handy someday.
Tucking the wound safely into the glove, he found himself paying for normalcy with pain. But looking fine had always gotten him leagues further in life than feeling fine. With the addition of his signature shades covering the faded red in his eyes—and whatever minor bruise that had the nerve to start forming on his cheekbone—no one would be the wiser.
That was the hope, at least.
Popping a couple of painkillers for the headache, Nick ignored his paw and ducked out into the wild streets of Zootopia...
...Where animals were unusually loud and the traffic seemed to be doing its very best to end him. Forty-five minutes had felt like more time back when all he had to do was fall out of bed. Now, he found himself jogging in the wake of having to search so long for that tube.
Jogging. It was the perfect scapegoat for whatever breathlessness was taking hold of his lungs, if anyone should ask.
The second he saw her, catching sight of her perky ears over the traffic, he slowed to a saunter. Maybe he’d be breathless by the time he reached her, but he could at least make an effort to look put together.
Her wave spoke of more energy than he would possess in a lifetime and he shot her a grin.
“Right on time,” he quipped as he joined her on the hospital front steps.
Judy flashed him that innocent little grin in response. “Actually, a few minutes late, but who’s counting?”
The smirk didn't feel half as easy as usual, but he mustered it anyway. “You, apparently.”
Her nose twitched in a flicker of annoyance, but she ultimately ignored the comment. Instead, she held out her paw. Only then did he notice the familiar plastic cup.
“Here,” she said, her tone softening. “Unlike certain mammals, I had some extra time on my hands, so I got us a pick-me-up. Macchiato, extra strong.”
Slightly touched, he accepted the offering. “My academy addiction drink. You remembered.”
Judy shrugged. “We’ve only been partners for a little over a week. It hasn’t been that long since the academy, you know.”
“Ouch.” Nick clapped a paw to his chest in mock hurt. “Just come right out and tell me I’m not a real cop, why don’t you?”
That’s when she noticed. She didn’t give him a snappy comeback or remind him that technically he was still very much a rookie. She simply noticed.
“Those are new.” She nodded at the fingerless gloves, her expression pensive—as hesitant as it was curious.
Nick glanced down, giving his free hand a once-over as he took a sip of his drink. “Just trying something different. Getting a new lease on life’ll do that to you.” He raised a brow. “Is that bad?”
She was quick to shake her head, though he had a hard time believing the words that followed. “No, of course not. It’s just… interesting. That’s all.”
“Interesting how?” It was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted—maybe needed?—to know what she was thinking. To know why her brows were creased. To know what made her nose twitch like that.
But as his paw throbbed all the harder, he decided he would rather bite his tongue off altogether than dredge up the rest of that conversation. So, he sucked down more of his macchiato. If he had any luck left at all, the drink might shake the fog out of his head.
The hospital was as sterile as he’d remembered. He had spent most of the aftermath of Bellwether being with Judy as she got her leg checked out. Worse than they’d both thought, the gash on her leg had required crunches for about a week, during which Judy had nearly gone stir crazy—and Nick had been inches away from losing his mind trying to keep her from ditching them prematurely.
It wasn’t a place he’d hoped to see again, at least not anytime soon. Serving on a police force in a semi-dangerous—okay, very dangerous, depending where you were and who you were—he should’ve known that hope would be nothing more than a pipe dream.
He let Judy do all the talking to the receptionist, saying something about Bogo, flashing her badge, etc… His world had begun to tilt slightly, so straightening that out with a few hard blinks seemed like a higher priority than hanging on Judy’s every word.
“Nick, come on.”
She was halfway down the hall already, staring back at him with a concern he didn’t really need right now.
How the heck did she get halfway down the hall…?
Picking up the pace, he joined her with a flashy grin. Though maybe it fell a bit short because instead of smiling back, her frown only deepened.
“You know, you still have your sunglasses on, right?”
“Really?” He took a moment to adjust them. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
She shot him a look at that, shaking her head as if to say, Typical.
Typical Nick Wilde. Right. Well, at least his less-than-stellar reputation was doing him some good for once.
Slipping into the disguise of being annoying for the sake of it, Nick adjusted his shades and followed her into Bogo’s room.
If the buffalo was happy to see them, he kept the feeling to himself.
“Hopps, Wilde,” he greeted with a nod. “Do you have nothing better to do on your day off?”
“Morning to you, too, Chief,” Nick couldn’t help but quip. The hard stare he got back was earned, but so worth it.
“We wanted to check in and see how you were doing,” Judy began with a smile. “And… to apologize. For what happened at the gala.”
Nick took a long sip of his drink. If he hadn’t wanted to be at the gala in the first place, did he still have to apologize for it? There had to be some sort of loophole that would allow him to keep his silence on this topic. And if his head could stop pounding for just a second, maybe he’d be able to think of one.
Bogo sighed, a familiar sound when dealing with this particular team, Nick had come to learn. “You two never should have been there in the first place… However,” he went on, holding up a hoof to silence whatever defense Judy was about to make, “none of what occurred afterward should have happened to you, either.”
Afterward… Nick exchanged a light wince with his partner. Yeah…
“So,” Judy said after taking a breath, “you… know? About… About our case, and the snakes and the Lynxleys?”
Bogo gave a brief nod at the TV on the wall. “I’ve been watching the news.”
“That seems to be a theme,” Nick mumbled, thinking of Finnick from last night, and before Judy could even raise a questioning brow, he asked in a louder tone, “Am I right to assume you’re gonna need a report for this one? Even though we technically weren’t active participating officers in this case?”
“You were actively participating in your own case,” came Bogo’s punctuated reply, “which means I’ll need a report from each of you.”
“Right.” The shades hid his eye roll, but Nick was pretty certain Judy had seen it anyway. She wouldn’t stop glancing at him. But was that because of his perceived disrespect or… because of whatever concern was creeping into her eyes?
Don’t need that right now, Carrots. Seriously.
Nick took another drink. “Because we broke policy and you need that on record?”
“Because, I know there were things that happened that should not have happened,” Chief Bogo corrected, his eyes softening as he met Judy’s gaze. “Things I never would have authorized. And I want to hear your side of the story. Both of you.”
“Of course, sir,” Judy said, eyes glowing with that age-old determination. “We’ll get right on that.”
“Take your time with it,” Bogo responded, “and take advantage of your time off. No doubt you could both use it.”
Nick could already feel the onset of the kind of fatigue that always came with report writing. Or maybe that was something else… Either way, it was an effort to keep the incoming groan tucked securely in his throat. “Will you accept a quick sticky note with the highlights, or does it have to be typed?”
Judy hit him with a not-so-subtle glare, but Nick couldn’t be bothered to care. A plastic hospital chair had shown up in his peripheral a few minutes ago and all he could think about was how nice it would feel to sit down.
“Typed and formatted,” the chief commanded, his dark eyes narrowing on Nick. Seeming to truly see him for the first time. “Wilde, are you drunk or hungover?”
Ah, yes, my favorite conversation starter.
“Neither at the moment, sir, but we’ll see how the rest of this day goes. The beautiful benefits of being off-duty and all that jazz.”
Finishing off his drink, he tossed the cup into the trash can near the door, barely missing his target. The cup hit the floor with a thud as hollow as his desire to care.
Sloppy. Can’t throw better than that, Wilde?
Shut up.
“Then take off those ridiculous sunglasses.” Bogo gestured to the room. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re inside.”
Huh. Nope, definitely hadn’t noticed, Chief.
“Is that an order?” He could practically feel Judy’s stare drilling into the side of his head… along with whatever headache was currently trying to kill him. “Remember, we are off the clock.”
“Wilde…” The accompanying growl wasn’t one Nick wanted to tangle with, so he complied with a shrug that felt too casual for its own good.
Judy didn’t comment, didn’t even gasp in shock. Almost like… she knew already. Or, at the very least, had a feeling.
You wore sunglasses into a hospital. How could she not know?
The bruise chose that moment to throb, taunting Nick with its very existence. Folding the sunglasses, he shoved them in his back pocket, hand trailing up to tug open his tie as an afterthought.
If he could unbutton his collar a bit, he might be able to let some of the building heat out… Then, with any luck, the hospital room might stop feeling like a sauna.
Bogo’s sigh was to be expected, but as he made a show of massaging his temple, there was an undercurrent of… something… in his tone. Something Nick’s clouded brain couldn’t identify. “Let me guess, another bar fight?”
“Not this time, actually, if you can believe it.” He was sure no one in the precinct was going to let him live that one down… His first major on-duty call response had gone less than smoothly.
“Then what happened?”
A lie danced on the tip of his tongue, wanting to spare Judy the details. One side glance her way, however, and her expression confirmed that she already knew.
Besides, the sunglasses were off now. What other mask was there to hide behind?
The truth was more refreshing than he’d expected, even if it did sting a little. “Getting arrested isn’t exactly a fun activity. Zero out of ten, do not recommend,” he added when the following silence threatened to overwhelm him.
Bogo merely raised a brow. “How and when did this happen?”
But Nick was already waving a hand. “It’s a boring story, sir, and it’ll probably be in the report.” And on the bodycams, came the startling thought. Right… Great. To distract from an increasingly uncomfortable topic, he nodded at the chair. “This seat taken?”
Without waiting for Bogo to reply, Nick slid onto the cool plastic, savoring the relief of no longer having to hold up his body.
“The ZPD,” Bogo began slowly, “does not condone the use of excessive force.”
Nick shrugged, doing his best to ignore Judy’s gaze. “To be fair, I would’ve beaten me up, too, if I were resisting arrest like that.”
“And were you resisting arrest?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Words were coming too easily now, flowing like a rapid stream, and he couldn’t explain why. “One hundred percent.”
Is it just me, or is it insanely hot in here?
He wanted to say it. Wanted to blurt out the question that was eating at the tip of his tongue, but he’d said more than enough already.
Pursing his lips and sticking to silence seemed like the next best course of action.
Had the gloves not been his final lifeline, he would’ve pried them off ages ago.
Maybe Bogo won’t mind sharing that water cup on his side table. He just needed something—anything—to cool him down.
Wasn’t it cooler outside? No, wait, it was hotter… Right?
He couldn’t remember.
Doesn’t matter. It’s fine.
He’d just let Judy do the rest of the talking, and—
“Nick?”
Lips still pursed, he answered Judy with a lazy hum. Meeting her gaze was a mistake, he realized that the second their eyes locked, and he instantly remembered why he’d been avoiding it up till now.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” It was a repeat of the question she’d asked over the phone, but before he could even begin to formulate his standard reply, she held up a finger. “And think very carefully about your answer this time.”
That last bit gave him pause, but only for a second or two, and he offered another shrug. Throwing in a grin for good measure would’ve helped smooth matters a bit, but the energy to liven his expression just wasn’t there anymore.
“I’m fine. It’s not like it won’t fade eventually.”
“I don’t mean the bruise,” she countered, eyes softening. It was this softness that sucked him in—it always did—and made him wholly unprepared for her sneak attack.
Her paw clapped across his forehead and his reflexes weren’t alive enough to jerk out of the way in time.
“Do you realize you’re burning up?”
“What? Really?” No amount of sarcasm and deflection could save him now, he knew that, but damned if he wasn’t going to try. “It’s not hot in here to anyone else? I thought for sure some intern was having a field day with the thermostat.”
“Even your jokes need to take a sick day, Wilde.” That was Bogo. At least, Nick was pretty sure… It was getting hard to tell through the fog.
With the rising heat, he could barely hear himself, much less the chief. Much less Judy.
Judy…
She was saying something. Probably something important. He should listen. Listening was good. Wasn’t that what would make him a good partner…?
No, wait… She needs to listen, wasn’t that it? She didn’t listen to his side and that’s why everything went wrong in the first place. Right?
“Nick!”
He startled, wondering when his eyes had slipped shut. Don’t remember giving them permission to do that…
“What?”
She grabbed his wrist, and for a moment, he feared she might rip his glove off. The worst part was that he didn’t know if he’d be mad or grateful for the relief.
Instead, she seemed to be taking his pulse. In the back of his mind, he knew that was some sort of piece of academy training, but he couldn’t remember why it was important.
“Way too fast…” came her sudden diagnosis. “That’s it, I’m calling a nurse.”
“Allow me,” Bogo said, the traitor, pushing a convenient little button on his hospital bed.
“Is it just me, or does this feel really unfair?” Yet Nick remained firmly planted in the chair. At this point, it didn’t seem worth it to muster the energy to stand. Some nurse would just barge in and tell him to sit back down.
Speak of the devil…
A lioness arrived seconds later, going straight to Bogo.
Looking him up and down, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I think,” Nick supplied, his sarcasm coming out a little too out of breath for his liking, “he’s going into cardiac arrest. Don’t worry, sir, I’ll cry at your funeral for you.”
Bogo fixed him with a hard stare. “Nice try, Wilde.” To the nurse, he said, “Could you please take this irritating mammal back for examinations? He hasn’t come to terms with it yet himself, but I do believe he’s dying.”
Nick couldn’t help but bark a laugh.
Laugh or you’ll cry, right?
When the nurse turned to him in horror, he waved a hand. “Don’t worry, he’s not serious.”
“I am about the examinations, rookie.”
Looking from Bogo to Nick, the nurse finally cleared her throat and regained some of her professionalism. “What are your symptoms, Mr. Wilde?”
For the first time in his career, he was beyond grateful to Judy for answering for him.
“Rapid heartbeat, feverish forehead,” she began, ticking the points off on her fingers. “And he keeps zoning out. That’s only what I’ve noticed. Who knows what else he’s not telling us.”
“Aw, come on, Sherlock,” he drawled, doing his best to save whatever was left of his dignity, “you were doing so well.”
The nurse made a few notes on her phone—not very professional, in Nick’s opinion—and grabbed the end of her stethoscope.
“Yeah,” Nick said, holding up a paw, “I’m pretty sure that’s not gonna do anything.”
“Then what will?” Judy had her arms crossed now, brows furrowed in a mix of concern and frustration.
Nick couldn’t find it in himself to blame her.
I’m frustrated at me, too, Fluff. Don’t worry.
“You were the one who made me get checked out yesterday,” she continued, and Nick liked to pretend he couldn’t hear the touch of hurt bleeding into her tone. “I knew I should’ve pushed you harder…”
“It’s not your fault I’m stubborn.”
“Right, so, my health matters more than yours, is that it?” She eyed him, ears drooping. “Because that’s not fair.”
A huff and a half-smile was all he had left in him. Both came out more weary than he wanted, but the fever wasn’t doing him any favors at this point. “Never said it was, Carrots.”
That determination returned, pouring into her expression with a renewed sense of justice. Justice, he realized with a pang, for him.
“All right, here’s the deal. You tell the nurse how to help you, and I won’t include certain… things in my report.”
Certain… things?
He could pretend he knew exactly what she was talking about, but that took way too much effort. And in the end, did it even matter?
“Blackmail? Really?” Whatever offense he was going for felt as weak as his limbs, as the head he was struggling to hold up. “The chief’s right here. I thought you were better than that.”
I thought we were done arguing…
Yeah? I thought you were done being a loner.
As if as some sort of cruel reminder of this fact, a bolt of pain shot through his paw.
Her soft reply nearly broke him. “And I thought you were being honest when you told me you were okay.”
Hefting a sigh, he glanced from Bogo to the nurse, and then back to Judy.
“You know what? We’re all here already.” He shrugged. “To hell with it.” Looking back, he blamed it on the fever—maybe a bit on Judy, too, and definitely a lot of it on himself for letting it go this far—but it was just so dang hot, he could barely think.
Tugging off his glove, he held his bandaged paw up for the nurse to see. “What d’you got for infection?”
Before the flustered lioness could respond, Judy took his paw in hers. Gently, carefully, as if handling a brittle antique.
Brittle. That was a good word. Descriptive. The flushing heat had been making his bones feel brittle for the last hour or so. Maybe even longer.
His mind tried to warn him, sending alarm bells wailing, signaling what she was about to do. His body, however, was too sluggish to stop her. All he could do was sit back and watch in morbid fascination as she unwrapped the bandage.
The wound looked better than before, sort of, but he figured he was probably just getting used to seeing it.
By the way her lavender eyes widened, Judy disagreed. Hard.
“You were right,” she said, voice quiet, expression now entirely unreadable. “You weren’t the one who got stabbed in the neck… You got worse.”