Tremors

Okay, because people were requesting some tender stuff between Nick and Judy with Judy helping Nick overcome his collar and muzzle trauma (God we are turning into /mlp/ at this rate)
This is written from Judy's diary, a one shot by clunkbot.




>I've let this book gather dust in the nightstand for too long. Normally I make it a point to put something in it 'Tomorrow', but I guess...I have a lot to digest
>Funny how these margins can chew thoughts better than a brain can. Something very calming about seeing my words on paper
>Anyway, I checked the last entry and it doesn't mention anything about Nick, so...here goes.
>Short version is this: I met this guy. Like, a GUY. I know, Hopps. You were but a wee girl when this diary started, crushing on Harry Alitz. Harry's still cute (I think. God what's it been, years?), but he's not kind, not...tall, not charming, clever, funny- That's Nick. Harry can't hold me the way he does, pressing my nose against his poofy chest...I bet Harry doesn't have a chest that feels like down.
>Other thing is: Nick is a fox. So, not like Harry. But a good fox! God I've learned so much these past years, I don't even recognize the girl who started this journal. We've been dating for so long...and everything that dating involves *ahem*
>The reason for this journaling is because today we tried something I've never even heard of before!
>At the ZPD, we use muzzles and collars on offenders. Nick always makes me 'cuff 'em' (He always says that when we have to collar/muzzle someone)
>I asked why I always have to 'cuff 'em', 'book 'em' or 'send em downtown', and he started getting all weird on me
>We've been dating for a few MONTHS at this point and he just starts getting all defensive when I bring it up
>So the other night I made him sit down with me so we could talk about it. I didn't like the way he was acting. Normally i'd have let it slide, but he sounded...scared. Which is what prompted this discussion
>Because I REALLY like him, and want to help

>Normally he puts up all these walls (and believe me, it is RARE to see this guy lose composure), but the whole discussion got serious. He had this really distant look in his eyes, like he was still back in that memory
>He said as a young kit, he'd tried to join the scouts. But when he was at his most vulnerable, he was beaten badly and muzzled. "They couldn't have a predator in the scouts. They saw the teeth, the eyes, claws...God they weren't even scared. They were just full of hate. And they saw all that, they put a muzzle and collar on me...and here I am now."
>I was about ready to find those kids and stomp some heads, and then he looked at me, coming back down to earth with this weak little voice and said "Carrot. Judy. I can't do this job if the most important part traumatizes me."
>So I decided then and there I was going to help Nick.
>I had to take some basic psychology courses in the academy, so I knew a little bit about "conditioning therapy". It's something the staff docs use after something REALLY bad happens to an officer. Try to get them back in fighting shape.
>I brought it up with Nick and he hesitated. He asked if he could see them first. Hold these artifacts of his youth before allowing them on his body. He turned to me and said thank you with this weakened half smirk that sounded like he was swallowing down tears. I didn't see any in his eyes, but part of me knew how hard he was fighting back.

>Back to the original purpose for this entry. Something to collect my thoughts. I wish I had a psych to bring this to, to help me understand
>Today was the first day Nick put the muzzle and collar on.
>"You'll be here with me, right?"
>Of course I would. We stripped down (to feel more at ease because hey, who doesn't love nakedness? Took me awhile to get used to it, but I'm a fan)
>He stopped me as I was putting the collar on, put a paw across my arm and asked if it was on the "lowest possible setting", which it was.
>The collar was first, so I let that sink in. he just sat there, breathing slowly, almost making himself take in air. I grabbed his paws and held them. He looked at me, trying to smile while rocking gently back and forth.
>We sat there for a bit before his breathing became even and he stopped rocking back and forth. I looked at him and told him how great he was doing. He smiled back at me and squeezed my paws a bit harder
>'Does it hurt?'
>He shook his head bu kept his eyes on me. I think he was scared to look away. I got up and asked if he wanted to try the muzzle now.
>I could see the apprehension rising in his chest, puffing it out, a breath held for too long. The indicator light began to burn red so I started to say 'maybe next time?'
>He stopped me though, letting that damning fear come out in a slow current of hot breath.
>"Go...Go get it. We'll try it. But if I want it off, I'll tap on you okay?"
>He stopped me as I brought it closer to his face. "You'll take it off me when I tap, right carrots?"

>Nick is much bigger than I am, so he I came up behind him as he was sitting and pressed my naked body into his, arms curling around his wiry frame
>He tried squeezing my arms but I could feel it. He touch was limp, and his whole body shook with hundreds of little tremors, making his hug feel more like a weak pinch
>'Nick, we don't have to do this. We can stop now...You've come so far-'
>He wrapped his paw around my arm, head buried in his own lap. If I had to guess, he was probably glad I wasn't facing him.
>"Carrots. Please. Just do it." I could feel the anxiety in his voice. I was surprised the collar didn't buzz.
>When the muzzle first came around his snout, his head (naturally) drew away from the cold chassis.
>He took a few deep breaths and then asked me to continue. So I slipped it very lightly across his nose
>He started making this whimpering sound like he was hurt, but with the muzzle finally on him, those became small concussions of noise trapped in his throat.
>I hugged him as gently as I possibly could, I told him he was in a safe place and it could all come off as soon as he wanted it.
>I heard it then, and even my heart skipped a beat. The impartial hiss of electric prongs delivering a small current to a suspect
>Nick groaned and lurched forward. I panicked, which probably wasn't my best move, but I was scared for him
>I tried to take the muzzle off him, but he put a paw on me and looked into me with those huge green eyes of his. No tears. But a very powerful fear. Conflict in the way they shook, but a soft request only communicated to another soul. They said "No."
>I asked if he was sure, and he nodded his head slowly, lying down on the floor with his belly up
>His whole body shook like a leaf, I watched his stomach deflate and inflate with incredible control, almost as if his entire psyche was completely devoted to controlling his breathing

>The only thing I could think to do was just...lay there by his side at first. I held his paw in mine, he squeezed back. So afraid. He almost looked like a little kid about to get his first shot.
>Then I put my head against his chest, falling into the crook of his body
>My ears are good. Naturally all bunnies have hearing that puts most other animals to shame.
>My ear against his chest, his hear was like a hammer, constantly throwing itself against the cage of his ribs like it wanted out. His tiny squeaks and little whimpers, the ones he didn't think I could hear, echoed across the struggling bone and sinew of his body like gun fire in a canyon
>I could hear every intricate fear and memory manifesting itself in his involuntary twitches, his tiny moans held back by the arbitrary clasp of steel or the noose fit tightly around his thin neck
>I smelled the sweat in his rusted fur. It smelled like some exotic spice. It smelled like our love, like the nights spent making complete and genuine love to one another.
>He put a paw against my back and pressed me into his chest, deeper, like a mother nurses one of her children
>I asked if he wanted to stop now. I couldn't see into his eyes, which had squeezed shut with the tensing of his nerves, but I saw his head roll from side to side.
>"If that's what you want."
>We sat in my living room for awhile. I don't know how long. I don't know how he took that much, but he did. He was a mess on my floor and I was going to clean him up.
>Finally after some time, with me resting against his heart, he tapped me a few times on the nape of my neck and raised his head
>His fur was sodden all over, like he'd just taken a sweat bath, which made getting the muzzle off kinda difficult
>He didn't say anything until the collar came off too
>And he didn't say anything either until he threw his sweaty mass on top of me, still worked up and shaking. He hugged me tightly and thanked me deeply and more sincerely than he'd ever done before.
>I was laughing a bit, told him how brave I thought he was for doing this
>Then said he needed a shower (Very good thing we got naked)
>I helped him into the shower, he used me kinda like a crutch. His legs looked like noodles, still bowed in, knees nearly clacking together.
>And his tail! It looked like a wet towel. I've NEVER seen it like that before, especially plastered between his legs like that
>We sat in the shower for awhile, letting the water crash against the tile, split into steam and close off everything but Nick and I. He didn't say anything for a long time in there, just kinda swaggered with his eyes shut while I worked some coat-wash into his fur
>No thundering heartbeat, no stiff silence and apprehension in there. Just the dull thunder of a shower, the hiss of pressure in the pipes and Nick murmuring something beneath his breath, something I only caught in fragments.
>He cut the water after a good 20 minutes and let everything drip off. Without even looking up at me, he said "Carrots. Thank you. That was...intense back there. Thank you for sticking with me."
>'Of course. We're partners. That's how this works.'
>He let out a small relieved chuckle and asked if he could go to bed (to which I agreed)

>So I guess that's why I'm writing in this journal after so many years. I just need to collect my thoughts.
>He's in bed beside me, I'm watching the covers rise and fall, hearing calm air filling him and leaving him. Something about his safety is making me smile
>Something about the demons he faced down today is making me write this journal
>Still, he wants to keep trying, wants to let his guard down, and for that, he's a much stronger person than I am.