A/N: HIIIIIII EVERYONNNNNNNE

First of all, if you've read my stories before, particularly The Tale of Crossfire and the Hustler, please forgive me for my lack of responses to comments and reviews. On top of having a very full schedule, I tend to feel a little overwhelmed by the kindness other people show me. I'm often afraid that by responding to them, I will only prove to be disappointing, so then I put it off until it seems too late to respond without making things awkward, aaaand I'm just a mess, basically. I realize this is irrational, though, so please continue to be patient with me. :) I promise I don't mean to seem cold, if that's how I've come off.

Secondly, I must let you know that I can't guarantee regular updates for this new story. Again, I have a very full schedule. Nearly every hour of my life is accounted for in some way. However, I've had this story in my head for a long time, and I figured I'd finally publish the first chapter (which I wrote a couple years ago, I think), gauge interest, and spend time writing more chapters when I need an occasional break from my other projects and obligations, if interest seems strong.

Also, please excuse any errors. I went over it a few times myself, but I haven't shown it to my regular beta readers because I'm just testing the waters for now.

Okay, I'll stop babbling. Here we go.

Warning: Depiction of death.

Nick let out a low growl as soon as he entered the grocery store. After walking along the streets darkened by the night sky, the fluorescent lights were more offensive to his eyes than usual. Of course, it didn't help that he was still a bit tipsy from his weekly guys' night out at the bar with Finnick, not to mention exhausted from all the hours he'd put in at the precinct over the past week, so his head didn't exactly welcome anything other than darkness at the moment. If he could just go home, snuggle up with his bunny, and sink into blissful unconsciousness, he would, but she had texted him about some food they needed to restock, and he knew better than to walk through the door empty-pawed.

He slipped the phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and peered down at the text Judy sent him. "Carrots," he huffed with a smirk. "Of course we need carrots."

Shuffling toward the produce section, Nick snatched up a basket and started throwing various requested vegetables into it. He slowed to a stop in front of the peppers. Before him was an assortment of reds, greens, oranges, and yellows. Glancing back at the text, he checked to see which color Judy wanted, but she hadn't specified. Well, he didn't want to get the wrong one, so he typed up a quick message.

"Which color pepper do you want?" it read.

A minute went by without an answer. He composed another one.

"If you don't tell me soon, I'm just getting the orange ones. I know it's your favorite color because you can't stop slobbering all over my fur every night."

Allowing himself a small smile at his own joke, he shot it off to her and waited another thirty seconds for a response, but none came. With a shrug, he walked away, making a mental note to come back and gather some orange peppers if she hadn't replied by the time he had picked up everything else on the list.

The next things he grabbed were some wheat crackers and a couple blocks of cheese that he knew she liked. "Can't go without that sweet cheese and crackers," he mumbled amusedly to himself.

As he continued meandering through the aisles, he noticed that there was a sale on a brand of wine that they both enjoyed. He was tempted to snag a few bottles right away, but he remembered Judy telling him that they would be on a strict budget for the next couple of months so that they could save up more money for a nice vacation in the summer. Sighing, he noted that she still hadn't responded to his question about the peppers, but he decided it couldn't hurt to send another text asking what she thought about indulging in the wine.

"Remember that wine that we drank at Bogo's birthday party?" he typed. "There's a really good sale on it right now. Want some?"

Once again, he lingered long enough for her to reply, but she didn't.

Furrowing his brows, Nick set down the basket, plugged in his earbuds, and clicked on her contact information to call her. The line rang four times before going to her voicemail.

Blinking in surprise, he tried again. Still no answer.

"Huh," he said. Upon checking the time, he found it was only 9:31 p.m. She wouldn't usually be asleep yet, but maybe she was more tired than he realized. It wouldn't be the first time she had hidden her exhaustion from him; it was all he could do to make sure she took good care of herself when they were working on a difficult case, and they'd had a string of them lately.

The thought that she might not be feeling well made him a little more anxious to finish up and leave. He decided to just skip the wine for now, opting instead to throw a few orange peppers into a plastic bag, pay for everything, and head out the automatic doors as quickly as possible.

He hurried down the streets at a light jog, wishing that he had brought a car even though the bar and the store were both only a few blocks from their apartment. Rounding the sign designating their building, he nodded gratefully at the exiting hare who held the lobby door open for him, ambled toward the staircase at the opposite side of the reception desk, and took the steps two by two until reaching the third floor. The door to their apartment was just a few feet into the hallway from there; he stopped in front of the one that read 315, gingerly set down the grocery bags, and fished out his keys. He opened the door, set the bags down inside and next to the frame, and shut the door behind him, blinking in confusion when he found that the lights in the apartment were off. All of them that he could see, anyway. Only the bedroom and bathroom lights would be hidden from this vantage point.

It did seem strange—he had expected her to be home, and she would have left a light on for him even if she had gone to bed, despite his night vision—but he didn't see a reason to panic.

"Carrots?" he called. "You there?"

Silence.

Nick flipped one of the switches, illuminating the hall, and hung his jacket in the coat closet. "Carrots?" he tried again, swiveling his ears forward, but he still heard nothing.

As he began sauntering down the hall and toward the adjoined living room, his nose caught a whiff of something faint. His eyes widened—it was something metallic. He knew that smell very well by now.

Darting forward and slamming his paw on the living room switch to flood the space with light, he glanced around wildly. When his eyes settled on the couch pushed up against the middle of the opposite wall, his mind crashed to a halt as his breath felt smashed out of his lungs.

Judy was slouching in the middle cushion, arms, legs, and ears limp, one palm facing upward. Her head was lolled to the side, eyes still partially open but sightless, a trickle of blood spilling from the side of her open mouth. She didn't move.

"JUDY!" Nick screamed as he rushed forward. He checked her pulse and found none. Her eyes remained still when he waved a paw in front of them. She didn't stir when he grasped her shoulders or smoothed the fur on her head. It appeared that she was entirely oblivious to his frantic panting and half-formed pleas to respond.

Heart pounding and throat constricting, Nick finally regained the presence of mind to whip his cell phone out of his pocket and dial 911. He put the phone on speaker while he knelt in front of Judy, trying to think of something else he could do to rouse her or prove to himself that she was still alive. A female operator picked up immediately.

"911, what's your emergen—"

"It's my wife!" Nick cried. "She's not breathing, she has no pulse, and there's blood coming from her mouth!"

"Sir, can I get your address?"

Nick rattled it off, stumbling over the words as he reached forward to cup Judy's cheek. It was still warm.

"I'm sending an ambulance to you right away, sir. They should be there in three minutes," the operator informed him calmly. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Shaking his head, Nick forced his voice to work despite the overwhelming urge to break down sobbing. "I-I don't know. I came home and found her like this." He fought to keep his breathing under control as he gazed at her blank eyes. "Tell them to hurry! Please!"

"The paramedics will be there as soon as possible, sir, I promise," the operator assured him. "In the meantime, don't move her, as you may cause her further injury. I'll stay on the phone with you until they arrive."

She kept talking, but Nick soon tuned her out, focusing entirely on watching Judy for any sign of life, any sign at all. As his eyes wandered desperately over her body, they settled on the card that had been tucked into her upturned palm. Somehow, he had missed it until now.

The part of his brain that was well-trained in police procedures told him to leave it alone, but it was a pathetic whisper in comparison to the incessant screaming in the rest of his mind. He carefully removed the card from Judy's palm and studied it, his jaw dropping in horror.

It looked like a business card. The words "MAGIC HAT" lined the bottom in swirling indigo letters. Above them, a shiny black top hat was depicted upside down and surrounded by colorful sparkles on a white field. Stormy clouds protruded gracefully from its cavity, appearing to be guided upward by a black, white-tipped wand in the upper right corner. In the blank space below the wand was a small scribbled message:

"And POOF! She's gone!

—Thunder"

If you're wondering what kind of story this could possibly be if an important and much beloved character is dead from the outset, please remember the description. I promise you it's not that simple. ;) This story may be kind of an odd ride, but if you want to know what happens next, I'll do my best to make it worthwhile for you.

Good night!