Chapter Text
Even with the custom protection, Judy's ears were ringing by the end of the drill. Her arms were sore, too, and her eyes stung from the smoke.
She'd worked from sidearm revolvers all the way up to the autoloaders that kicked so hard they clicked her teeth together with each pull. But her accuracy hadn't suffered too much, she didn't think.
Casset didn't seem to think so, either. The big polar bear was inspecting Judy's last spread with the eye of a professional.
"With a little polish you might still make a decent sharpshooter," she said. "You're well within qualifications. Your skills are developed, your accuracy is excellent. So." Casset tossed the target sheet on the pile. "Why are you still here?"
It was a drill as familiar as the shooting now. Casset had made her go through it every day for the last week. Judy safed her pistol and placed it on the workbench, waiting for the order to break it down and clean it. "Remedial."
"And why are you in remedial?"
"I ran toward the gunfire on my last case."
"You ran toward the gunfire on your last case." Casset folded her arms. "You broke cover and somehow pulled your partner with you. And you paid for it." She tapped a claw against the pistol slide. "These things don't let you make mistakes."
It wasn't Casset's job to give Judy the psych treatment, but it always seemed to leak in a bit. Judy supposed that was the guilty conscience talking more than anything. Despite the advice and training and counsel from the actual psychologists, Judy sometimes wondered if she could have done anything differently to prevent that night in the alley. Two more dead, and Boots soon after.
Not running down toward the armed suspects with nothing but a taser would have been a start. Judy steeled herself and looked Casset in the eye. "Yes, Ma'am."
Casset frowned down at her. "Clean that. Then you're dismissed for mess."
Judy was getting good at breaking down the academy's range of firearms. She didn't have a particular interest in them - they were loud, and made her sore, and typically her work never warranted more than a light taser - but that was a big part of what she was here to do: gain a fresh appreciation for how they worked and what they did, by any means necessary. Bogo had been explicit about that.
So she oiled parts and wiped them down and reassembled the pistol step by familiar step, and though of Nick.
They'd started this case as good partners, and in the space of just weeks something new had appeared between them, something wonderful. Judy had never been in love before, not really. Even though this new connection with Nick was borne in no small part of desperation, of necessity because neither of them had anyone else who understood quite the same way, she was glad for it. Because he did understand her. She understood him. They might have learned to trust and share and love under dire conditions, but that didn't make it any less valid.
He was here, too. But Judy couldn't risk showing that for the relief it was.
Bogo was expecting them to shape up and learn lessons from this, not treat it as a vacation. If they were to be long-term partners, he'd said, they needed a 'dose of responsibility.' Of the real world. As if watching animals die and hearing Boots' heavy footfalls wasn't enough of one.
Judy shook her head to stop the memories and started out onto the overcast quad. Most of the cadets - nuggets, Casset called them - were already inside for the evening. There was just one group left, jogging the perimeter, risking the evening rain to finish up their calisthenics. Judy didn't bother looking for Nick. They did their exercise in the mornings, with their assigned group.
He was already in the dining hall, holding down their favorite table along one wall where there was a good scattering of mid-scale chairs. She watched his ears come up and his tail swish as he caught sight of her in the doorway, but then he turned back to his food.
Nick was careful. She couldn't blame him. Word got around even faster than she imagined: that she and Nick had cracked the Night howler case while he was still a civilian; that they'd been part of whatever made a mess of Fallside Heights; that they were back now. Here, Nick kept his head down and avoided making waves when he could. Judy tried to do the same, for his sake. They drew enough attention without encouraging any more of it.
The line for the salad bar was almost always shorter than the one that served bug burgers and soy shakes. Judy loaded up on cucumbers and tomatoes and took her tray over to their table.
"Hey, Carrots." Nick was quiet, but his greeting was plenty warm. This time he did give her that reckless extra second of eye contact she wanted. "You smell like firing range."
"I came straight here. Are you actually getting left alone tonight?"
"For the moment," Nick said. "You holding up under Casset?"
"It's tiring, but yes. She's doing her job," Judy reminded him. "More than you or I can say sometimes."
Nick was quiet at that, except for his expression. She loaded her fork with greens and she could feel his eyes on her, as if to make sure she really was okay.
"Hi, Hopps."
A brown squirrel climbed onto the slightly-too-big chair next to Judy, balancing a tray of fruit and nuts as he went. He was wearing a big smile, despite having come in from what most nuggets considered the worst part of Academy training: regulations review.
"Patch."
Everyone called him that, on account of the splash of lighter fur along one side of his face. His full name was Julian LeCarroll, but 'Patch' was much easier on the tongue. Casset had certainly taken a liking to it. It was easier to yell.
He started in on a walnut and gave Nick a nod. "Wilde."
Nick inclined his muzzle. Judy felt for him. Patch was a real newbie, younger even than Judy had been when she enrolled, and he'd grown up in farm country just like she had. this was the most cosmopolitan experience of his life so far, and his first chance to spend a lot of time with predators. He was still very careful, especially around Nick. Judy wasn't sure he noticed.
Still, he was trying, which was more than some of the recruits seemed to do sometimes.
Christopher Strecker was a wolverine without much love for prey species who, in Nick's words, 'took himself entirely too seriously.' Strecker was proud, which was fine; but he was also fiercely independent, which wasn't always the best mindset for the Academy. There was nothing wrong with proving oneself - Judy knew she was evidence of that - but it wasn't supposed to come at the disregard of others.
Strecker dropped his tray on the table alongside Nick and barely spared a glance for Judy and Patch on the other side; he just sat heavily and started poking through the protein on his plate.
Judy could almost see the social barriers Nick was busy dropping into place. Patch had gone still and hesitant, too.
"Good class?" Nick asked his neighbor, with the tone Judy recognized as the one he reserved for hustling targets. She swore the subtle difference made a quiet whistling noise as it went over Strecker's head.
"Fine." Strecker crunched on some exoskeleton. "The instructor there, Stalkman? He says you were in on that last SWAT action up in the nice part of town."
This had been inevitable. Just days since they arrived, and the other cadets were already asking them direct questions. Judy supposed she should have expected it from Strecker. He was blunt.
Nick met Judy's eyes briefly. His notched ear flicked. "We were there."
"I heard you were the ones that put the big rhino down."
"Boy, talk moves fast around here, and it gets less accurate and more bloodthirsty the faster it goes." Nick leaned back from his plate and pointed his muzzle at the wolverine. "First, nobody at ZPD 'puts anyone down.' Second, we were carrying tasers, and we never fired."
Strecker just snorted, unimpressed. "So what really happened?"
"Classified," Nick said.
"You're shitting me. Over some hitman?"
"Language, Strecker." Nick's ears dropped. "It's code for 'do your own research and stop listening to the chatter.'"
"So it went south, is what you're saying," Strecker said. "I get it. You don't have to sugarcoat it."
He wasn't exactly wrong. Judy - and by extension, Nick - had made some very poor decisions during the hunt for Boots. Whether or not they'd directly lead to deaths still wasn't clear, but that was almost academic. If she had a chance to try it all over again, Judy would be doing several things differently.
Living the experiences, with all the accompanying adrenaline and fear and lightning-quick, glacier-slow time, was easier than reliving them. Judy didn't like confronting the awkward questions. Maybe she did have a guilty conscience.
"I'm saying you can do better than just blindly taking whatever you hear about a case at face value." Nick shook his head. "Look into the records, if it's that important to you. Those you can, anyway. Most of the case is still sealed."
"They told me this rhino-" Strecker started.
Nick stood, making the chair squeak against the floor. "Sorry, everyone." He ignored the badger and gave Patch a bland smile. "Wasn't quite as hungry as I thought I was, I guess." He started for the bus bins. "See you all tomorrow, bright and early." He canted an ear. "Coming, Hopps?"
---
Leaving early from mess gave them half an hour before lights-out. It made for raucous dorms, at least among the newest candidates. The senior dorms, where Nick and Judy stayed, were a bit better, but they left even those alone while they could. Nobody seemed to mind that they walked the academy paths after dark - and after dark, there were fewer eyes around to see them.
There was a light breeze up, carrying the scent of the fresh-cut grass on the quad and the persistent threat of rain. It reminded Judy of home.
Nick waited until they were at the corner opposite the mess hall.
"Sorry, Carrots. I'm not exactly helping us out of this hole, but at least they're looking at me and not at you."
That pulled at her. She looked up at him. "Strecker just doesn't get it yet."
"He should know better, though." Nick shook his head. "Unlike him, I have done my research. His dad's chief over at Precinct Five."
Judy's ears twitched. "Happytown."
"Happytown," Nick said. "So you understand he's got a bit of a predator bent, and a bit of an enthusiasm problem. Don't let him get to you."
Judy hadn't planned on it. She suspected the wolverine was already getting to Nick more, if dinner had been anything to go by. He didn't have much reason to roll out the weapons-grade snark these days. "Don't worry about me."
"Too late, Carrots."
"Trade you, then," Judy said. "You're playing with Strecker. I can tell."
Nick stiffened.
"I can't stop you," she said, before he could respond. "We both know that. Just be careful about it. You've seen how Patch watches both of you."
His tail curled in closer. "I know I shouldn't. It's reflex."
"I can't really blame you," Judy said. She brushed her paw against his - not to hold it, that was risky even this time of night - but just to reassure him how she could. "You know your limits. But he reminds me of Torren, a bit."
"No, you're right. We can't afford to make those mistakes again." Nick sighed and looked out over the dark lawn. "This is what Bogo was talking about, wasn't it? The whole responsibility thing."
"'Real life is messy,'" she quoted at him.
And they'd learned to deal with the new and difficult parts together. But they didn't have that luxury here, not while everyone from the brass on down to the newest of recruits was watching every move they made. Judy didn't know which was more risky: the wrath of Bogo and Casset and the threat of losing their jobs over what they did to be together, or the fear and suspicion they might trigger in the people who were looking up to them now. She didn't want to have to consider either.
But they had no choice. Perception was inescapable.
They turned the corner toward the dorms. Senior cadets - and temporarily returned officers - got two of the little communal buildings to themselves.
"I will be careful," he said. "Promise."
"Me, too. For Patch's sake, too."
"He'a bit like you, you know. Blind idealism."
"I kind of feel like I've earned the right to say 'poor kid,'" Judy agreed. "But that's hypocritical, and he's only a couple years younger than I am."
"Well, here. Idea." Nick cleared his throat. "Poor kid."
"I just don't want to draw too much attention to him," she said, fighting the chuckle. "We get noticed, and that's not his fault."
"Nothing against the guy, but I'm here to keep an eye on you," Nick said. "This place was tough when I came through, and when you did. That's for a reason. We can't carry anyone."
"You're here because Bogo sent you here," Judy corrected him. "And he's expecting you to learn a couple things."
Nick grimaced. "Like responsibility."
"Like responsibility."
They paused together, before they got too far into the glow the dorm lights put out onto the lawn. Judy held off reaching for his paw again.
"I wish you could stay in my room, at least," she said. "I could get one of the nuggets to switch. We're technically senior."
"You know why that's a bad idea."
She looked at their feet. "What if the nightmares start again?"
Nick sighed and reached for her shoulders, and for a moment Judy wondered if he was going to gather her into a hug out here after all. His paws were warm.
She'd feel more guilty about bringing it up if it were actual manipulation. But the dreams were something neither of them had control over. They hadn't told anyone about that: not the incident interviewers, not the psychologists. Would it change the brass' stance on their relationship if they did? She couldn't know. Didn't want to risk it.
"I'll come find you." Nick tilted his head at her. "Promise me, if you need me, you'll tell me."
"Promise."
It wasn't as good as his arms around her, but Judy found it reassuring all the same. Nick wasn't so principled as to actually stay away if and when she needed his help. She knew she wasn't, either. But they could both pretend until then, for his sake. Until then, this was what he thought would protect her most.
"I love you," she whispered.
Nick closed his eyes and his ears flicked back, as if her pronouncement were a physical thing washing over him. He squeezed her shoulders one last time. "Love you, too. Go get some rest."
Judy watched him slip through the front door of his own dorm building before she followed suit.
Her shared room was quiet, at least, save for the snoring. She climbed to her bunk and tried to drown it out. Her bed felt large and cold tonight, and not because it was intended for large-scale mammals.