Judy staggers out of Bogo's office and hears the door slam shut behind her.

Gone, it echoed in her mind, gone, done.

She was done.

That was it.

Judy feels her knees weaken and her arms shake and what…

…what is she supposed to do now?

She goes to her desk and tries not to pay attention to the low murmurs of her coworkers, tries to concentrate on not leaving anything behind, tries not to pay attention to the lump in her throat and the burning behind her eyes and—

And really now, she should be…should be…holding her head high, or, wearing a grin, or, proud that she still did what she could do, or…

…Or.

"Judy?"

Judy looks up and blinks rapidly, the burn behind her eyes steadily getting worse along with her vision and she swallows down needles and feels them grate against the edges of her dry, dry throat.

But that hardly matters.

She looks down at her paws and sees them shaking against the hard wood of her desk, and she closes them into fists, squaring her shoulders before looking up and getting an eyeful of cheetah.

Clawhauser.

And dammit, dammit it was pity, fucking pity, and she hates it, but didn't hate him, couldn't hate him, because it's Clawhauser for god's sake, but—

Judy swallows again and tries for a big smile, falling short pathetically and both of them knowing it.

"I was…," she still keeps it though, keeps the remaining shreds of her pride on her face with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, and waves (flops) a paw over her ex-desk. She's going to miss it.

He nodds, almost uncertainly, and his paws are up against his chest and twisting at his shirt, and says, blurts out, really, "I'm gonna miss you."

Judy stares in eloquent response.

He flushes, "I mean, I know, I know we haven't known each other all that long or…or all that well either and gosh— I sound stupid but," he flashes her a smile, "You were still part of the team. So I'm going to miss you."

Judy smiles up at him, a little more genuine, a little less heartbroken, her eyes getting all the more glassy, "Thank you."

And she means it, of course she means it.

Clawhauser opens his arms and Judy lets herself be gathered in them, basking in the temporary warmth of a friend before letting herself back down.

She coughs, her throat a little less dry, eyes a little less glassy, her entire self a little less inclined to break into pieces in the station, "Thank you, Claw—"

"Benjamin," he says, and Judy's small, broken 'smile' made of upturned lips splits into a genuine, if wobbly, grin.

"Benjamin," she repeats, nods, and the cheetah opens his mouth to say something until—

"Who the fuck is manning the front desk?!"

Judy's eyes widens, and her shoulders tense and Benjamin swats at the air like that was going to help, but.

They look at each other.

Benjamin's entire frame sags but keeps his smile on and reassuring, bringing a paw up to squeeze Judy's shoulder, "You can still make it, whatever you want to be," he says sincerely, warmly, "See you later, Hopps."

And then the rest of her clearing turns into a blur because she can't get to Benjamin again, people too eager to give her the boot, can only empty her workspace and fill her boxes and she is practically kicked out the door before 15 minutes was up.

Judy stars at the doors of her failed dreams and the finished paperwork in her hands and tries to fight back the new onslaught of that familiar burn stinging the back of her eyes.

But she doesn't let herself cry, doesn't let herself sob, not even when she reaches her sad excuse for an apartment and turns on the radio to find more depressing songs, not even when her neighbors blow sharp digs into her shredded self-esteem, not even when her parents (- good lord her parents what was she going to tell them—) call and she can't bring herself to face them.

Nope.

Not even if the entire goddamn city goes into a riot.

(But if her neighbors hear her quietly wet her pillow with salty tears, not crying, not sobbing, but breaking into pieces and desperately trying to pull herself back together again, then they didn't say anything.)