For mammals who treasured peace and tranquility over the commotion of Zootopia, mornings in Bunnyburrow were a treasure to hold sacred. The only sounds that one could hear on mornings like these were the soft chirps of birds singing from nearby trees, or the buzzing of cicadas, bees and other insects flying through the plantlife. The sun peeking over the horizon brought a gentle warmth to the miles of open green pastures near the winding roads, no towering skyscrapers like those in the city two-hundred miles away.

Within one of the few town markets of the tri-burrow area, a round-bellied fox adorned in a pink apron over a blue-checkered shirt waited from inside the door of his pastry shop. The fox kept his left paw over the sign reading "Open" from his view, while he looked down at his other paw holding onto his phone which displayed the time. It seemed to take forever, but the clock finally ticked away the final minute of the hour, showing 10:00 am on the screen. Not a second passed before the fox's paw on the door flipped the sign over, showing the open side through the glass to anyone who walked by. Gideon Grey's Real Good Baked Stuff was open for business right on schedule.

After unlocking the door from the inside, Gideon himself turned about and surveyed the inside of his shop. The front itself wasn't much bigger than someone's garage, but it had the necessities. A glass counter with pre made goodies could be seen upon walking in, everything from cupcakes to danishes and good old fashioned pies. Along the back of the wall hung a list of items sold along with the price for each one, and the left and right walls had a selection of kitchen utensils and various spices and other toppings for a little extra to go with the shoppers' choices. Behind the back wall and out of view was Gideon's kitchen, where he'd spend two hours every morning before opening whipping up a fresh batch of goodies, making sure everything for sale was made fresh that day, not selling anything even one day old.

Waltzing behind the counter, Gideon rested his elbows onto the surface next to the cash register, pulling his phone out and opening the web browser. He'd grown used to waiting for a bit after opening. Pastries weren't normally a commodity that had mammals clawing at his doors before they'd opened. He held onto the hope that business might pick up near the end of the year, when the Thanksgiving and Christmas frenzy gripped the nation. In his down-time, Gideon opened up the Zoogle News app, receiving a flurry of top stories published within the past few hours.

Most of the titles read the same thing: Prey/Predator Clash Continues. Predatory Panic Sweeps Zootopia. Prey Victims Reach Startling Heights. A disheartened pout spread across Gideon's face while he scrolled through the headlines. He'd found it hard enough in his youth being a predator in a community dominated by rabbits and other prey animals. While Zootopia's slogan "Anyone Can Be Anything" served as a beacon of diversity to all species, it seemed that creed had been cast to the wind. Despite the severity of the situation, the constant reports of unexplained predator attacks had become monotonous to the fox himself. His right eyebrow raised in curiosity when one headline caught his attention, the name it spoke of ringing a familiar connection from his days as a cub.

Ex-Officer Judy Hopps Spotted On Family Farm

"What the…?" Gideon muttered, tapping his thumb against the headline to open the article. He hadn't seen Judy since both of them were children, when he'd holstered a mean-spirited attitude toward all of the prey animals that outnumbered him, Judy included. He'd heard about her graduation from the police academy and ascension to police officer in Savanna Central along the grapevine of the town. Much to his surprise, Gideon actually felt happy for the rabbit, despite the fact that he'd tried to discourage her from such wishful thinking in her youth. Once the article had loaded, Gideon began to read the details of the report.

Following the press conference at the ZPD in Savanna Central, in which Officer Judy Hopps suggested that recent predatory attacks on prey might be linked to resurfacing instincts in their DNA, the rabbit officer gave up her badge soon after, ending her service only a week after it began.

Hopps's whereabouts have been unknown to the public for two months after her resignation. Recently, a reporter spotted her at her family home in Bunnyburrow.

Judy was seen behind a wooden sales-stand on her family's farm, selling the farm's produce to patron's. Neither she nor her family were available for comment.

Reading the first few lines of the article felt like a knife twisting in Gideon's heart. It reminded him of the moment that had taken place so many years ago. During the afternoon of the annual Carrot Days Festival, he'd mocked and heckled Judy when she'd revealed her dreams of becoming a police officer during the festival's talent show. Later on, when she'd stood up to him for stealing prize tickets from the black sheep Sharla, he'd pushed her to the ground and scratched her face to keep her beneath him, discouraging her from dreaming big and instead accepting what everyone expected of her. He remembered holding her face against the ground, her scared eyes looking up at him, her mouth quivering in fear while he scorned her.

I want you to remember this moment, the next time you think you will ever be anything more than just a stupid, carrot-farming dumb bunny!

She'd worked so hard for more than a decade, to prove him wrong, to prove everyone in the community wrong, that she could rise above their expectations and become something more than anyone gave her credit for. After she'd cracked the case of the missing predators just two days after joining the ZPD, it seemed she'd proven her worth beyond measure. With the city erupting into chaos following her press conference, her drive to hold onto her dream job had been crushed. Though the picture was taken from afar and out of focus, Gideon could barely see Judy's face as she leaned on the wooden sales stand. Her ears slouched behind her head, and her eyes remained fixed on the counter underneath her. She'd lost that sense of accomplishment, and she'd come crawling back to Bunnyburrow. Just like he'd said, she'd become another carrot-farming bunny now.

Before Gideon could read on, the bell over the front door of the shop rang, making his ears jump before his head rose to see who'd walked in.

"Howdy there!" Gideon piped up, covering his heartache up with a wide and welcoming smile, "What can I get you folks — ?"

Before Gideon could continue, he felt his stomach flip when he recognized the two rabbits who'd just entered his bakery. The male wore a plaid shirt with jean overalls, his wife wearing a pink shirt and matching dress. It was Bonnie and Stu Hopps: Judy's parents. Gideon cursed the irony that they of all bunnies would wander into his business after he'd read an article about their daughter. Did they know who he was? Did they know what he'd done to their daughter ages ago? He could only imagine what kind of grudge a man could hold against someone if he knew they'd hurt his offspring, even if it had taken place ages ago. Judging from the smiles on their faces, they seemed to bear no ill-will toward the fox at the moment. Steeling his nerves, Gideon forced himself to play it cool, going along with whatever came his way, be it peaceful or heated.

"W-well well, if my eyes do me justice, I'm looking at Mr. and Mrs. Hopps, right?" Gideon asked in a pleasant tone. Of course it was them. Even if Bunnyburrow had as many farms as Zootopia had buildings, the Hopps's were among the most renowned farmers in the country. It was a stupid question that he knew was stupid coming out of his mouth, but the fact that his tail had tucked itself against his behind in fear prevented him from saying anything smart at the moment.

"That's us," Stu replied with a grin, "And I don't need the sign outside to tell me your Gideon Grey. I tell ya, I haven't seen you since you and Judy graduated elementary school."

"That's about, what, thirteen, fourteen years now?" Bonnie asked from the right of Stu, "Gosh it's such a surprise seeing that tiny fox all grown up now."

"Heh, w-well, you know," Gideon said with a nervous stammer, "I've sure done a lot of growing up — and out too!" he added, giving his round stomach a hearty pat on the surface. The two rabbits offered a polite smile before glancing toward one another.

Kill me, Gideon thought to himself, his tail wishing it could crawl up through his spine, Merciful heavens, please just kill me.

"Well, I'm impressed you have this little shop of yours here," Stu resumed, eyeing the various pastries on display under the glass counter, "Me and Bonnie don't come into the market all that much. Did you just open shop?"

"Been in business 'bout a month, yessir," Gideon replied. Looking at both of them, he noticed their eyes wandering to the selection of pies at the center of the counter, "Hey, tell ya what: you guys want a free sample?"

"Are you sure, Gideon?" Bonnie asked, "We don't want to impose on your business."

"It ain't no trouble. It's not like I'm gonna foreclose just 'cause I give out a free slice now and then," he chuckled, sliding the back of the display open. "What flavor y'all in the mood for?"

"Is that a blueberry one I'm looking at?" Stu asked, pointing to one of the pies on the shelves.

"Sure is."

"Yeah, I think we'll take a slice of that."

Bonnie shot her husband a brash grin as Gideon pulled the round dish out and placed it on the top of the counter. "Trying to see if his tastes better than mine, dear?"

"Ah ah, this isn't a contest," Stu assured her, "There's many ways to make an excellent pie of the same flavor. Your mom makes a delicious one her own way, and my mom does it her way; they're all great in different forms, everybody gets blue ribbons for their efforts!" As the two shared a laugh, they noticed that Gideon had cut not one, but two slices from the pie itself, before reaching behind him for some plates. "Oh Gideon, you don't have to cut two slices for us; we can share just one."

"Nuh-uh," Gideon replied with a shake of his head, "Y'all both gotta have a whole slice to yourselves to properly judge it. It's only fair."

"Alright, well, if you insist," Stu relented, Gideon sliding their plates to them along with their own forks. The fox kept a steady appearance, but he could feel his heart pounding just a bit as the two rabbits stabbed their forks into the crust and scooped up a helping of the pastry into their mouths. It took a few seconds of chewing, but he saw both of their eyes widen at the same time, giving a nod of approval. Gideon felt just a bit of tension leave his body, knowing they at least approved of his cooking.

"That's excellent, Gideon," Bonnie said, wiping a bit of blue gelatin from the corner of her mouth, "Tell me, do you make the crust yourself, or use store-bought?"

"Homemade, ma'am," Gideon replied, "Few years after high school, I started gettin' real into baking and stuff. Started reading a lot of books on the craft, and even saved enough money to take some classes at the Burrows community college. I just don't think I can call myself a proper baker if I don't bake it from scratch, you know?"

"Good merit, son," Stu praised him, taking another bite of his pie, "What about the fruit and produce though? Where do you get that?"

"Now that stuff's store-bought. Ain't got a farm of my own, so I gotta make do with what's on the shelves. I think I'd make better stuff if I bought organic, but business ain't exactly given me the funds to buy top shelf."

Stu nodded, chewing the pie in his mouth and turning to face his wife to the right. The two rabbits kept their gaze on each other in silence for a few seconds, as if having a mental conversation through their eyes. Gideon always thought that was a made up trait about dating or married couples, but seeing it in action before his own eyes made him a firm believer that such wonders indeed existed.

"Say, Gideon," Stu asked after swallowing the morsel in his mouth, "I don't mean to get too personal, but how's business for you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Gideon took a breath and scratched his head in thought over the number of mammals who'd walked into his door and left with a purchase over the past month.

"It's… decent," Gideon admitted, albeit with reluctance, "I mean, I wasn't expecting a huge uproar in customers the first day I opened. Can't really afford advertising, so I gotta rely on word of mouth. Kind of hoping that helps pick up circulation 'round here."

The two rabbits looked at each other again, another silent exchange taking place between them this time ending with a nod from Bonnie.

"I've got a proposition for you, Gideon," Stu began, putting his fork down and resting his paws on the counter, "How'd you like to use produce from the Hopps Family farm to make all of your 'real good stuff'?"

Gideon's eyebrows jumped in surprise. Out of all the things he expected to come out of the mouth's of Mr. and Mrs. Hopps, a business proposition hadn't been one of them.

"I… I — yeah, that'd — well, are ya sure?" Gideon asked, still taken aback by the offer, "I mean, you think that'll help?"

"Absolutely, and for a number of reasons," Stu said, before clearing his throat, "First of all, hate to sound brash, but Hopps Family Farm kind of has a reputation in Bunnyburrow. We're pretty much the best in the business when it comes to raising the best stuff you can eat out of the dirt or a tree."

"The other thing we want you to consider is, the timing of this kind of partnership," Bonnie added, a little less cheerful than her husband, "I don't suppose you've kept up with the news and all the ruckus in Zootopia?"

"Yeah, 'bout the predator attacks and the fights in the city," Gideon replied, "I getcha."

"Right. Well, I'm no expert, but much as predators are a minority in Zootopia, that goes double for Bunnyburrow. And I'm not meaning to sound offensive, but that might be the reason your business isn't going as well as it should — a lot of prey animals here might be scared to enter an establishment run by a predator, what with all of the unexplained attacks going on. I'm not trying to label you, or say that you're going to attack anyone — you understand that, right Gideon?" Bonnie asked. The fox nodded in understanding.

"Right, I getcha," he replied, "And I gotta say, I don't blame 'em. Everybody's scared right now — heck, I'm scared too. I'm hoping whatever's going on don't take hold of me. I wouldn't want to get struck with whatever's going around and maul some poor animal who can't defend themselves."

"I don't blame ya," Stu said with a nod, "But from what the news has told us, all of the predator attacks have been taking place in Zootopia; so as long as you stay in Bunnyburrow, you might have a better chance place." Stu took a breath before he resumed speaking, "Anyway, craziness aside, me and Bonnie think that maybe what the world needs right now is a partnership between prey and predator, showing both of us working together in harmony to bring 'em 'real good stuff', don't you think?"

Gideon took a moment to think the proposition over. He'd told himself when he started his business that he would do his best to make it on his own, no handouts from anyone. But with Zootopia in its current state of chaos, Gideon felt like this was a necessary handout; not just for himself, but for confused and scared predators and prey everywhere. Taking a few seconds to ponder over the matter, Gideon nodded in the affirmative.

"Alright Mr. Hopps, that sounds like a good deal," he said, "But I wanna make sure you get a good benefit out of this too; this ain't no charity case, ya hear?"

"Of course not!" Stu said with a laugh, "I thought maybe you could add something to your logo to show where you get your produce, advertise us in a way. I'm thinking 'Gideon Grey's Real Good Baked Stuff: Made With Fresh Produce From Hopps Family Farm'. How's that sound?" Stu asked, extending his paw toward the fox.

Gideon nodded with a smile, before reaching for Stu's paw and giving it a firm shake, "Mr. Hopps, you got yourself a deal."

"Wonderful! Well, what time do you close tonight?"

"I lock the doors up at six o'clock, sir," Gideon said, "And whatever I don't sell, I bring home. Either finish 'em off myself, or donate 'em to someone else who might appreciate it."

"Well then, why don't you come by after work, and we'll have a contract written up for you? You have a lawyer you can contact to read it for you?"

"Nah, that's fine Mr. Hopps. You folks are good honest rabbits; I don't need no lawyer to tell me you'd do me right."

"That's very kind of you, Gideon," Bonnie replied, pushing their empty plates back to him, "You know how to find the place, right?" Gideon nodded his head. "Great. We'll see you tonight then. Thank you for the samples."

"My pleasure. Nice chatting with y'all."

As the two rabbits exited the door, Gideon heaved a heavy sigh of relief, almost collapsing from the release of tension he'd harbored. The conversation had gone so much better than he anticipated, but he'd still felt on edge that something would trigger discussion of their daughter Judy, how she'd given up on her dream job, and how his insulting presumptions of her had unfortunately come to pass. Now they expected him to show up at their house tonight, with Judy living there once again. It wasn't a matter of if they would see each other; it was a matter of when. What would happen? Would she call him out for bullying her in the past? Would Mr. Hopps tear the contract up before his eyes and throw him out of his house? Would he use his reputation to spread Gideon's misdeed across town and throw his pastry business into the dirt?

Looking at the blueberry pie with two slices missing, Gideon reached for the knife and cut a rather hefty slice for himself, leaving only half of the circular pastry left. He took a hearty bite of the treat, letting the gooey blueberry filling and sugary crust wash over his tastebuds, bringing just a bit of comfort to his nerves.

It's okay, Gideon, he thought to himself, swallowing the bite he'd taken, It ain't gonna happen for another eight hours or so. No use frettin' over it now. Pushing his fork down into the flaky crust, he took another large bite, chewing it over to cover up his fear of the coming night.

And whatever happens, whatever they say or do to you: you have it coming.

In point-two miles — Turn left on — Thumper — Road

Gideon peeked at his phone on the dashboard of his van, looking at the GPS map displayed on screen. It had taken him about half an hour to pack everything away after he'd closed up shop, and almost the same amount of time to drive all the way from town toward the farmland where Stu and Bonnie lived. The sun had begun to set when he left his bakery, and only a bit of light remained over the horizon as he approached the turn.

Turn left on — Thumper — Road, Gideon's GPS instructed before he made his turn. Continue for — One — Mile — to — Hopps Family Farm — on right.

Gideon felt his arms grow tense at the sound of the device announcing his approaching destination. His heart rate increased, knowing he was about to visit the home of the woman who he'd beat up when they were children, and speak with her parents about making a business deal. The fox felt a pain spread through his chest while he thought it over, wondering if it was wrong to do so with such a history between them. Did he deserve to make a profit off of them, after he'd abused Judy so long ago? Did they really want to make a business a deal with him, or did they invite him to their home after dark with the secret intention of teaching him a lesson.

Oh God. Gideon thought as he crossed half a mile to their home, What if they're planning to kill me and hide the body under the farm? What if it's part of Judy's revenge against me after failing as a cop?

Gideon shook his head as he drove, then locked his eyes on the road when he realized his truck had veered off toward the edge of the asphalt. He scolded himself for thinking such a thing. The Hopps family were among the nicest rabbits in Bunnyburrow, and would never think of doing that. The worst that would happen is that Stu would chew him out for what he did, back out of the deal, and send him on his way. Then he'd go back to his shop and hope he'd sell enough baked goods to make ends meet.

Arriving at — Hopps Family Home — On right.

Gideon pulled into the driveway of the house built on several acres of green pastures. It was a generously sized two-story house of white wood, big for most mammal families, but probably on the small side considering the amount of children bunny families tended to have. From what he could see, Gideon could count about six rooms with their own windows from the front and sides, possibly a few more at the back of the house. It was old and worn with age, but looked well-kempt nonetheless.

Gideon pulled his paws off of the steering wheel and shook them about, trying to force the tension of of his system. Rubbing them together, he went over the drill of how he'd carry himself, and how to respond to the situation.

Be friendly.

Be polite.

Address them as Mr. and Mrs., Sir and Ma'am.

Be honest.

And in the chance that they brought up his treatment of Judy, or if Judy herself was present:

Be humble.

Own up to what you did.

Apologize for it.

Make no excuses.

Still feeling nervous, Gideon turned the van's ignition off and stepped outside. His feet felt like they were wearing concrete boots with each step the house, walking up the wooden steps and to the windowed door. Taking another deep breath, Gideon forced his paw to the door before knocking on it five times. His teeth clenched together under his closed mouth, while he bounced back and forth on his feet with his paws behind his back. After half a minute, he saw a pair of ears at the bottom of the window, before the ears lifted to show a rabbit looking up at him. However, it wasn't Stu or Bonnie looking at him: it was a much younger rabbit, a boy in a red short-sleeve shirt, looking up at Gideon with confusion.

"Mom!" the boy yelled loud enough that Gideon could hear through the wooden barrier between them, "There's a big fox at the door!"

"Peter, inside voice!" he heard Bonnie's voice yell back, "And get off of your brother's shoulders! Gabriel, I told you not to let him stand on you like that, now both of you get away from the door!" The young rabbit jumped down in a hurry, before his mother opened the door while rolling her eyes. "Hi there Gideon. Did you find the place okay?"

"Sure did, Mrs. Hopps," Gideon replied, seeing the two rabbit boys look at him with suspicion.

"Hey, isn't that the fox that Judy knew?" Peter asked. Gideon felt his heart turn to ice. That was it: he was dead meat now. He had to fight the impulse to drop to his knees and beg Mrs. Hopps for forgiveness, until something occurred to him.

How would a kid that young know about what I did when I was his age when at the time?

"No, stupid!" Gabriel said to him, "That fox had a green shirt on! And he wasn't fat!"

"Hey, both of you!" Bonnie said in a commanding voice, "I'm already in a mind to put you in the corner for standing on each other, don't test me right now."

Both of the boys rolled their eyes. "Yes ma'am," they said in unison.

"Now where is — oh, there you are," Bonnie said to an approaching female rabbit, noticeably older than both of the boys, dressed in a tight-fitting pink shirt and thigh-high khaki shorts.

It's Judy, Gideon thought in horror, watching the rabbit busy herself with her cellphone. From the pictures he'd seen in the newspaper, everything matched, from her build, height, even the color of her eyes. Oh man. This is it.

The rabbit looked up from her phone for a moment to Gideon, squinting her eyes and inspecting his features.

"Hey, your name isn't… Nick, is it?" she asked, her voice matching that of the popular girls Gideon had heard back in his high school days.

"Uh… no?" Gideon replied.

"Oh. Whatever," she said, turning her attention back to her phone.

"Julia, can keep the kids upstairs for a while? Me and your father are gonna talk business with Mr. Grey here."

"Yeah, sure," the rabbit replied in a nonchalant tone. Upon closer inspection, Gideon saw that despite the resemblance to Judy, "Julia" has skinnier arms, thinner eyebrows and even bigger patches of black at the tops of her ears. Julia turned to the two boys making faces at each other and clapped her paws to get their attention. "Hey, Munchkins: let's get upstairs, we're gonna watch Spider-Ham."

"Which one?" Peter asked.

"Uh, I dunno, the one where he fights the rabbit with the shield?"

"That's not a Spider-Ham movie, idiot! That's Captain Zootopia, Spider-Ham is just IN it!"

"I don't care what movie it is; GET UPSTAIRS!"

"Ugh, fine!" Peter groaned, Gabriel and Julia following close behind. With the younger rabbits moving to the upper level of the house, Bonnie turned toward Gideon with a tired smile stretched across her face.

"Can I get you something to drink, Gideon?" she asked, sounding somewhat exasperated, "I have fresh squeezed orange juice if you'd like?"

"Uh, sure — yes ma'am, that sounds great," the fox replied.

"Good. Come on into the kitchen then, Stu's just going over the contract one last time."

Gideon followed Bonnie down the hall, turning the corner into where he saw Stu sitting at the table with a stack of papers in front of him, reading them through a pair of glasses on the edge of his nose.

"Hey honey," Stu said, his eyes still on the bottom page of the stack, "The kids upstairs?"

"They are. Hopefully they'll stay up there for an hour or so," Bonnie said, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a vase with bright orange liquid inside it.

"That's fine; we should finish long before then." Stu dropped the papers into a neat stack before looking up at Gideon and removing his glasses. "Gideon. Good to see you," he greeted him, his voice lacking the enthusiasm it had held that morning in Gideon's bakery. "Have a seat," he instructed.

As Bonnie poured a glass of juice, Gideon noticed how dark the kitchen was at the moment, the only light coming from the hanging lamp above the table. It looked every bit like a room of questioning that he'd seen on Paw and Order. With an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach, Gideon sat down as Bonnie placed his orange juice on the table in front of the fox.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hopps," Gideon said, suddenly feeling parched and taking a large gulp of the sweet and tangy nectar, "Mm, that's good stuff there."

"Thank you. Honey, do you want any?" she asked her husband.

"Nah, I'm good. Let's get started."

As Bonnie took her seat next to Stu, the male rabbit cleared his throat and scooted his seat forward.

"So, this right here…" Stu began, indicating the stack of papers he'd been reading before Gideon sat down, "Is just a bunch of legal practicality, saying we're forming a partnership, it states what percentage of profits both sides get — pretty much fifty-fifty down the line — also that you can't use the Hopps Family Farm brand as your own, you have to get our permission to use it for any new products — just stuff to make sure both sides are on good terms with each other," Stu explained, "Before we get to that though, there's a hatchet we gotta bury first, and I think you know what I'm talking about."

Here we go, Gideon thought, seeing both of the Hopps parents glaring at him with stone faces. The fox took another large gulp of the glass in front of him, draining it to the last drop before looking back at them with his head lowered.

"I know you hurt my daughter fifteen years ago," Stu said, his voice low and grim, "Both me and Bonnie know. We knew it the day it happened, after Judy came back to us with a scratch on her left cheek." He anticipated they'd know and that they'd bring it up, but the statement still hit Gideon like a brick to the chest, his ears lowering in shame. "She wouldn't tell us who did it at first, until we demanded it from her, then she finally admitted it was you. I was already mad that you heckled her while she performed her talent show onstage, but she handled you pretty good, so Bonnie told me to leave it be. After I learned that you scratched her face and held her down, when she just wanted to do the right thing and standing up for her friends…" Stu held a fist over his mouth, her eyebrows narrowing at Gideon from across the table, "I had a mind to go find your parents and give them a piece of my mind, and maybe a little more than that if it came to it."

"I convinced him not to go over there," Bonnie said, putting a paw on Stu's left shoulder, "I told him that your parents — well, they weren't the most civil of couples in Bunnyburrow, and that going over there wouldn't do anything but cause more trouble." As Bonnie smoothed her paw over her husband's arm, Stu's eyes cut through the dim overhead light toward Gideon, the fox seeing in his eyes that he was exercising every bit of strength he had to keep himself composed. "You should probably understand Gideon, our parents raised us to fear foxes. My father especially had it in for them; in fact he used to say foxes were red because — " Bonnie shook her head, "You don't need to hear that. The point is, in spite of our fear of foxes, Stu still wanted to go over to your parents and confront them about what you did to our daughter."

"You're darn right I was," Stu said, his voice carrying a hint of a growl, "Lemme tell you something; when you threaten my children, you could be a fox, a badger, or a jaguar, but I will not be afraid to start some mess with you. You do not mess with my children, especially my daughters. If I had been there when it happened, if I had seen you hurt my little girl in front of me… They'd have put me in jail because of what I would have done to you. Not even joking."

Gideon nodded in silence, his ears still resting flat against his lowered head. He deserved to hear it. He needed to hear it. For too long, he'd carried the weight of his mistakes without consequence, and now his time for retribution had come. He didn't have any form of rebuttal for what Judy's parents said to him. Putting his paws over his face, Stu let out a long breath, forcing himself to push past his anger and continue.

"However," he began, his paws sliding under his chin, "Despite what Bonnie and I thought of foxes, Judy had a more open mind than us. When she graduated her police academy training and moved to Zootopia, we had a care package with a bunch of anti-fox gadgets, because we worried that what happened to her back then might happen to her in the city. And you know what she told us?" Gideon shook his head, obviously unaware of what she'd said since they hadn't seen each other since grade school. "She said 'Gideon Grey was a jerk who happened to be a fox.'"

Gideon lifted his head up along with his ears in response to what Stu had just said.

"Judy said that… about me?" Gideon asked.

"Mhm," Stu replied, "Our little girl Jude, with an indomitable spirit, didn't blame your actions on your species. She blamed it on your character — which probably had to do with your upbringing, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Right. Still, me and Bonnie had our distrust of foxes, until something crazy happened: we saw her name in the newspaper."

Scrolling through her phone, Bonnie pulled up the article that she'd saved, showing it to Gideon. The fox leaned forward to see the headline " Bunny-Fox Duo Crack Missing Mammals Case" resting above a picture of Judy, dressed in her police uniform with her arms crossed. Standing up next to her was a skinny fox, wearing a green floral shirt with his paws in his oversized pants pockets.

"Judy saved a bunch of missing mammals," Stu continued, while Gideon took in the sight of the photo, seeing the proud smile on Judy's face after she'd proven her worth, "And she did it with the help of a fox — Ned Wilde?"

"Nick," Bonnie corrected him.

"Right, Nick — Nick Wilde. He was apparently the last one to see one of the missing mammals, and she recruited his help to track him down. They went through a lot of peril, but in the end, they both solved a case that the whole ZPD couldn't even solve."

"That's when our opinion of foxes changed," Bonnie said, "Hearing that this fox — Nick — helped our daughter out when she was struggling to maintain her position on the force; it really opened our eyes to some things."

"Me and Bonnie come from families that don't take kindly to foxes," Stu said, resting his paws on the counter, "But our families also preach about finding redemption through forgiveness. And, well, we're willing to forgive you for what you did, put it behind us and start fresh. When we talked with you earlier today, you seemed like an upstanding fox who really matured past his days of the schoolyard bully. However… we still need to hear it from you," Stu instructed, placing his paws on the table, "So, is there anything you feel like you need to say to us about all of this?"

Gideon took a moment to collect his thoughts. He'd expected that the topic would come up, and that he'd get the verbal lashing he deserved for what he'd done. He'd not expected them to present him with a chance to redeem himself. Gideon didn't even glance at the stack of papers on the table, promising to help bring a more profitable business venture for his bakery. He wanted to clear his conscience of the burden it had carried for so many years, and he wouldn't let that chance slip out of his grasp.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hopps…" Gideon began, looking through the faint light overhead to the parents of the girl he'd abused, "I am… so — so sorry, for what I did to Judy back then," he said, the married couple keeping their stone faces on him as he spoke, "It's like you said; I acted out in my youth because I came from a messed up home. My parents were always yelling and fighting with each other, and that kind of environment makes for a lot of stress bottled up inside. We were the only foxes in Bunnyburrow, and I didn't feel much companionship from them, so I felt isolated in a town that's mostly rabbits and other prey animals. I felt outnumbered, so I wanted to use my strength to keep animals smaller than me under my foot, so I could feel like I had some kind of control in my life… but that ain't no excuse," he said, shaking his head.

"I got into a lot of fights when I got older, even in high school. The principal told me that if I kept it up past a certain age, I'd wind up in jail. I got put in one of them 'scared-straight' programs, and saw a bunch of stuff in prison I wish I hadn't seen. So I got some counseling from school, and that's when I learned about why I wanted to hurt other mammals, because of feeling alone and stuff — but — but that ain't no excuse," he clarified, feeling guilty for rambling about himself, "Just because I had my own problems don't justify me giving problems to good mammals that don't deserve it, like your daughter. It took me until I was almost outta high school to realize it, but your daughter is one of the nicest, good-natured rabbits on the planet, and I tried to keep her down. Not a day goes by where I'm not reminded of her scared little face when I forced her against the ground, and it makes me sick thinking about how I'm the one who did that to her." With the image of Judy's nose twitching in fear flashed through his mind, Gideon could feel his eyes start to burn at the inner corners.

Don't you dare do it, he commanded himself internally, This is about them and Judy, not you. Don't you be a big ol' baby about this. After taking a few seconds to compose himself, Gideon continued.

"I wish from the bottom of my heart that I could go back to that moment, and grab my younger self by the ear before I pushed her down, and tell him to stop it… but I can't. I have to live with what I did. That's a part of me now, and even though I've done the best I can to become a better fox and treat mammals nicer, I still gotta live with that. I can say I'm sorry to to you a thousand times, and I'd do it if you told me to; but it ain't gonna erase the past. So if you'll forgive me, I'd sure appreciate that, but if you don't — then I don't blame ya."

Gideon sat in silence, his eyes on the table, noticing his paws had been shaking since he'd started speaking. A few seconds passed without a word from anyone at the table, before Gideon looked up to Judy's parents. Stu had his palms covering his eyes, his body trembling. Bonnie's right paw rubbed his back in soothing circles, her own mouth curled inward as her eyes glistened against the light over them.

"Thank you, Gideon," Bonnie said, her voice cracking. It took a few more seconds to find the strength to speak before she continued. "I think I speak for both of us when I say that Stu and I appreciate what you said, and we do have it in our hearts to forgive you; don't we, honey?" Her husband nodded his head, still unable to form words. "Oh, Stu…" Bonnie said, a feeble chuckle escaping her throat as she rubbed his back.

Gideon felt immense relief from seeing their emotional reactions. It still hurt that it had come to this, that he'd make such an awful mistake in the past and that it had led to some much grief between all three of them; but it felt good to get it out in the open, and to hear that he'd received forgiveness from her parents. Despite the relief it gave him, it was only half of what the weight he carried gone.

"Just one more thing, if you don't mind?" Gideon asked, as Stu pulled a tissue out of the box on the side of the table, a loud honk filling the kitchen when he blew his nose, "I read in the paper today that Judy's living here now, after she, uh… quit her job." It felt so painful for him to say it, knowing that Judy had done such a good job her first week in the ZPD, then quit soon after. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to apologize to her myself. Is she here now?"

Both of their eyes puffy and red, Bonnie looked to Stu, still wiping his nose with a tissue. Their expressions seemed uneasy, conflicting emotions making it difficult for them to make a decision.

"Gideon, we… appreciate the gesture," Bonnie began, sniffing through her nose a bit, "And we would be grateful if you apologized to her. The thing is…"

"Judy's here, up in her bedroom," Stu said, tossing his tissue to the side, "That's pretty much the only place she is anymore. She helps out with the farming chores, she'll come down to eat, and look after the kids if nobody else is available. Other than that, she just sulks in her room. It's been a struggle to get more than a few words out of her for the past two months."

Gideon's heart sank. He'd gotten his hopes up that he could rid himself of another chunk of guilt if he could apologize to Judy, make everything between she, her parents and himself all water under the bridge. He couldn't believe that Judy of all mammals — the one who'd stood up to him and kicked him in the face when he could take her down with a simple push — had finally learned when to quit after all these years. With Zootopia eating itself alive, and Judy's will shattered, it felt to Gideon like the whole world was crumbling around him.

"Tell ya what, Gideon," Stu said, "The contract here says your first delivery will start at the beginning of next week. We'll see if we can get Judy out of the house to sell some produce around the same time you show up, and you can apologize to her then. How's that sound?" Both he and his wife looked toward Gideon with earnest smile, the first time since they'd stepped into his shop earlier in the morning.

"Okay, Mr. Hopps," Gideon said, his voice soft as he looked between them both, "You got yourself a deal."

"Great," Stu replied, reaching out to Gideon's paw and shaking it over the table. "Speaking of deal, it's probably best we get through this contract here, before the kids finish their movie upstairs." Stu reached a paw toward the stack of papers, then paused before looking between his wife and Gideon. "We're all done with the emotional stuff here, right? No more tears and blubbering?"

"Are we?" Bonnie asked, leaning her head toward her husband with a cheeky grin.

"Yes! We're all done, all cried out, and — it's all out of our systems." Watching the two rabbits, Gideon allowed himself to laugh at their good spirits. While he still wished he could have cleared the air with their daughter, he relished in the fact that he had at least won half the battle. While Stu skimmed through the first paragraph of their business contract, Gideon told himself he'd remain patient for them. He'd waited years to receive forgiveness from her parents: he could wait a few more days to receive it from Judy.

Bunnyburrow's summer afternoons brought a heat like no other. Anyone who stayed out of a shaded area without sunscreen or proper hydration played a dangerous game with their health, as the rays of the sun shined so bright that it even made visibility a challenge. The only difference between the heat of the country and that of Sahara Square was the fact that Bunnyburrow's air felt more humid and less dry than the sandy town several miles away.

Along the heated asphalt, a gray van rolled along the road past everlasting stretches of white fences. It was the same van usually found behind the newest pastry shop in the town market, but the decal on the side had a bit of a modification to it. Underneath the familiar title of "Gideon Grey's Real Good Baked Stuff", there was the additional subtitle reading "Made With Fresh Produce From Hopps Family Farm". With the van approaching Thumper Road on the left, the driver up front continued to speak aloud to nobody in particular.

"Hey Judy, it's me Gideon," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him, "Good to see you. I, uh…" The fox shook his head with discontent. "Nah, that ain't gonna work; she ain't gonna think it's good to see you, after what you did to her. Let's see… Hey Judy; I heard you been going through a tough time, and — Nope, nuh-uh," Gideon muttered, "You ain't earned the right to be her shoulder to lean on. You gotta amend the fences before anything like that. Hmm… Judy, a couple days ago your parents and I sat down and talked it out, and — no dangit!" Gideon groaned, making the left turn on Thumper Road, "That makes it sound like she's a child, and you had a conversation with 'the adults'."

Knowing he had a mile left to get his act together, Gideon wracked his brain for the right way to apologize to the bunny he'd bullied as a cub so many years ago. He began to think of the articles he'd read about her success in the ZPD and how she'd proven him wrong — even if her success had only been temporary. He also thought about how much he himself had changed, reflecting on his aggression through years of counseling, and finally letting go of all the anger he'd carried since childhood. Clearing his throat, Gideon gave another attempt at rehearsing his upcoming chat with the bunny.

"Judy. I know you and I don't have a good history together, and if you don't wanna talk to me, I don't blame ya," he began, his voice low and soft, imagining her apprehension at seeing him of all mammals, "I wouldn't want to talk to me neither, knowing what an awful cub I was. But if you could please have some mercy on me and gimme a chance to talk to ya, I'd sure appreciate it." Gideon took a deep breath, envisioning that his plea would hopefully work enough for her to lend him an ear. "I just wanna say… I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry I made fun of you, and I'm even more sorry that I hurt you. That wasn't right of me to push you down just 'cause you were weaker than me at the time. I've gone through a lot of counseling since high school, and what I've figured out is that I felt weak on the inside, because of my family life at home. So I pushed you and all the other smaller mammals around so I could feel strong. That wasn't the right way to do it though. I shouldn't have hurt you just to make myself feel better. I told you that you'd never be a cop, but I tell you what — when I read in the papers of what you'd done with that Nick fella, I sure felt happy to know that you'd proven me wrong. You're good mammal, and I wish every day of my life I'd reached to you for friendship instead of reaching to scratch your face. Can you please forgive me for making the dumbest mistake of my life?"

With just a quarter mile left to his destination, Gideon reflected on what he'd said with a satisfied nod. "Yeah, that's pretty good," he assured himself, "She'll like that. Just go up to her and say all that, and hope she forgives you; just like her parents did." Gideon wondered if Judy might have an emotional breakdown like her parents did a few nights ago, when he poured his soul to them about how much he regretted his actions. He wouldn't take any pleasure in making her cry, but he'd appreciate the knowledge that his apology might touch her heart in a similar way.

Pulling up to the farmhouse, Gideon saw near the side of the road a wooden stand, where Stu and Bonnie stood next to another bunny looking much younger than them. Gideon honked his horn twice to get their attention, Stu's ear turning up to the sound of the horn and looking toward the approaching van. Gideon directed his sight to the younger bunny next to the couple, wondering if that was Judy. It looked similar to the article about Judy being spotted on her family's farm, but quite different from the one where she'd been in her police uniform next to that other fox. The bunny looked rather thin, dressed in a pink plaid shirt, her face obscured by a large straw hat.

That's not Judy, Gideon thought, remembering that Judy's photo in the article Bonnie showed him last night depicted her with a more robust and athletic figure. Gideon figured it was that other rabbit, Julia, or one of other several Hopps daughters that sort of looked like Judy. The fox heaved a disappointed sigh as he rolled up in front of the wooden stand and parked his van. All that stress, all that preparation, and she wasn't even there. Judy was probably still in her room, sulking over whatever tragedy happened to her after her accomplishment with the missing mammals case.

Oh well. Always next week, Gideon reasoned, stepping out of his van and heading toward the back. He threw open the doors, looking at the bountiful tray of pies and other pastries he'd brought along with him. Just when he began to pull the first tray out, he heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Gideon Grey," a soft voice he didn't recognize called to him, making his ears lift upward, "I'll be darned."

Gideon felt his chest tighten up as he contemplated who the voice could belong to. Letting go of the metal tray, he turned around and met with the sight of the bunny in the straw hat looking up at him. Gideon instantly recognized the violet eyes staring at him, reminded of the nine-year-old girl dressed in her police costume and looking up to him with a defiant and challenging glare.

It was Judy. He wasn't sure why he hadn't recognized her when he'd pulled up. It could have been that he couldn't see her face properly, or that her physique had slimmed down now that she wasn't active in the police force anymore. Maybe the camera added a few pounds when it took her picture for the article? Regardless of the reason, Gideon knew without a doubt that the bunny looking at him now was indeed Judy Hopps.

This is it Gideon, the fox geared himself up, preparing to say what was on his mind, Just tell her… oh dangit, what was I gonna say? In the process of telling himself that it wasn't her, Gideon had accidentally flushed his prepared speech down the drain of his mind. Feeling a bit of panic rising within him, Gideon forced himself to speak quickly, before things became more awkward between them.

"H-Hey — Hey, Judy," Gideon began, his ears dropping against his head as he fumbled over his words like his mouth was spitting up marbles from his throat, "I'd just like to say, I'm — I'm sorry for the way I behaved in my youth," Gideon fought to keep his throat from closing around his words, struggling to remember even a little bit of what he'd originally meant to say. "I-I-I had a lot of self-doubt and it manifested itself in the form of unchecked rage and aggression. I was a major jerk."

Idiot, Gideon chastised himself after his rushed apology, That weren't even half of what you were supposed to say. You had fifteen years to get this right, and you blew it. Good job.

Before the fox had any chance to further scold himself, Judy shrugged her shoulders in a passive manner.

"Well… I know a thing or two about being a jerk," Judy replied, returning a soft smile to him. His ears raising up somewhat, Gideon took satisfaction in her reply. No, he hadn't said his rehearsed speech to her, and he'd probably never get another chance to say it right. And no, Judy hadn't broken down in tears like her parents had a few nights ago. Her smile however showed that she bore no ill-will toward the fox who'd bullied her so long ago. Both of them had grown up, and their experience had changed how they viewed and interacted with the world around them. Gideon felt grateful for any positive reaction she gave him at the moment.

Noticing her parents beside her, Gideon remembered the business side of his trip to the Hopps Family Farm.

"Anyhow, I brought y'all these pies," Gideon said, turning around and pulling out a tray filled with pies of assorted flavors that he'd finished baking just an hour ago. Stu opened his mouth to say something, until his ear turned up to the sound of some of his children running around a yard away from them. The rabbit turned about and rose his paw up toward them.

"Hey kids! Don't you run through that Mendicampum holicithius!" Stu yelled, making the kids come to a sudden halt in their antics.

Mindy-campy-who-now? Gideon thought, looking ahead to the field Stu and the others stared at. A few feet in front of where his children had stopped, he saw a number of dark blue flowers with pointed petals growing on the edge of the fields. Recognizing their shape and color, Gideon remembered the time in his youth when his mother had tried her paw at growing tomatoes behind their trailer. She'd bought the same dark flowers as pesticides for when they grew, but his father had pitched a fit over having such a dangerous substance anywhere near Gideon. What had followed was a heated exchange of words and phrases that Gideon didn't want to hear, leading him to lock himself in his room with a pillow covering his ears.

"Well, now there's a four-dollar word, Mr. H," the fox said with a chuckle, "My family always just called them Night howlers."

"...I'm sorry, what did you say?" Judy asked, sounding taken aback from the tone of her voice.

"Oh, Gid's talking about those flowers, Judy," Stu said, pointing to the night howlers, "I use 'em to keep the bugs off the produce, but I don't like the little ones going near 'em on account of what happened to your Uncle Terry."

"Yeah, Terry ate one whole when we were kids and went completely nuts," Bonnie explained.

"He bit the dickens out of your mother," Stu added, a bit of agitation building in his voice.

"A bunny can go savage…" Judy muttered, her attention seeming to dwindle from her parents.

"Savage? Well, that's a strong word," Bonnie replied, "But it did hurt like the devil."

"Well, sure it did.," Stu interjected, a little more than agitated by now,"There's a sizeable divot in your arm. I'd call that savage!"

Gideon shook his head at the visual he'd conjured up: Mrs. Hopps as a young bunny and her brother messing around with dangerous pesticides, resulting in a ferocious animal chasing after his own sister like a monster from a horror movie. He wasn't sure what possessed kids to do such stupid things, but knowing his own past, he wasn't in a place to judge.

"Night Howlers aren't wolves... they're flowers," Judy said to herself, making Gideon lower his eyes toward her with concern, "The flowers are making the predators go savage... That's it! That's what I've been missing!" she screamed, grabbing her father's arm in a frantic state. In the blink of an eye, she ran toward her father's truck, before coming to a stop and turning to face him. "Oh, keys, keys keys keys, hurry come on!"

Caught well off-guard, Stu felt around every pocket on his overalls, until he detected one of them holding the keys to his truck. He tossed them to his daughter who caught them in the air, then ran into the driver's side of the truck.

"Thank you! I love you, bye!" she yelled towards them, before starting the truck and peeling out of the farm, kicking up a flurry of dirt and dust as she rolled onto the asphalt and down the long road away from them. With the tray of pies still in his grasp, Gideon stood next to Stu and Bonnie, all three of them looking toward the truck shrinking further and further into the distance.

"... You catch any of that, Bon?" Stu asked with his eyes still on the road.

"Not one bit," his wife replied, looking in the same direction.

"Well, that makes me feel a little bit better," Gideon said with a chuckle, "I thought she was talking in tongues or something!"

A few seconds of silence passed, before Stu and Bonnie turned toward Gideon, trying to regain a grasp on reality.

"Okay. So, whatever that was all about," Stu began, rubbing his paws together nervously, "You got to say your peace to her, before she went crazy. Do you feel better, Gideon?"

"I do, Mr. H.," Gideon replied, "Thanks for bringing her out so I could put that behind us."

"And thank you for being a big enough fox to do that," Bonnie added, "It takes a big heart to know you did something wrong, and an even bigger one to own up to it in front of the mammal you wronged."

"Amen," Stu concluded, "Anyway, how about you drop those pies off on the stand, and we'll get you set up with some produce? We got 'em all bagged and boxed up for you 'round the corner."

"Sure, thanks," Gideon said, taking a step behind Stu leading the way. His mind still dwelled on what Judy had rambled about before she took off in such a hurry, even as he put the tray on the wooden sales stand. Night howlers, wolves, predators going savage because of flowers.

That's when it hit him. All of the predator attacks taking place in Zootopia, and how they related to what Bonnie said happened with her brother Terry. Gideon hadn't the faintest idea of the bigger picture, but he reckoned that the flowers somehow connected to all of those attacks. Looking back toward the direction she'd driven, he realized that had to be where she was heading at the moment. She'd put the pieces together and regained her lost determination in an instant, speeding toward the broken city in a desperate attempt to fix it.

"Gideon?" Stu called, half a yard away from Gideon, "You okay?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine Mr. H., I'm coming," Gideon replied, turning back to face the rabbit and follow him toward his cut of their produce. The fox's thoughts dwelled back to the past, when Judy had stood on the stage of the talent show, proclaiming to everyone before her that she would become a police officer. He remembered how she'd glared up at him, standing in front of the black lamb Sharla, unintimidated by his size and strength, determined to do the right thing.

You don't know when to quit, do you? Gideon thought, smiling to himself. Good. I hope you never learn when to quit. Don't ever let anyone push you down, Judy. Don't give up. Keep pushing back. Keep trying, every chance you get.