Chapter Text
The contest over who was more sure-footed was largely a tie, Nick decided. They'd been hiking for an hour, taking turns leading, and neither of them had slowed down.
He led the way to the overlook. From the top of the bluff, they could see deep blue evening skies, all the way into Sahara square, until the heat from the dunes made the climate wall fuzzy in the distance. The open space was all rolling sandstone and scraggly green bushes, until the city took over again to the west.
Judy tapped him with the water bottle. He took it and tipped it back to drink.
"That was a good half hour of climbing," she said. "That's our cardio taken care of for the weekend."
"More than that." He grinned down at her. "You know descending is harder, right?"
She shrugged. "We're not on deadline. I'm not worried about setting any records here."
Their first free weekend since this whole thing had started. Nick had forgotten how nice it was to let go of everything - or maybe, to have everything let him go. He would have slept in this morning, had Judy not considered staying in bed past 7 unacceptable.
Now she was shading her eyes against the evening's low sun with her paw. "You can see all the way to the bay from here."
"And the spire." Nick pointed to the scarp in the foreground. "Patch says it's good climbing."
She turned into the breeze to look. It was quiet, but for the wind in his ears and their steady breathing.
"We could invite them next time, if you want," she said. "He and Shay are probably as restless as we are."
Nick smiled. He would have to call them up - and for once it wouldn't be about arrest records or security cameras. Judy was right: It would be nice to get out again. Maybe they could pack a picnic, do something normal. The dinner they'd shared in the garden seemed so long ago now. Less complicated. Now whenever they looked at each other there was history, and lessons and knowledge.
"I can't help but feel like their neuroses are our fault now."
Judy snorted a laugh. "We gave them a taste for reckless adventure, sure, but they did the rest themselves." She came up in front of him, so she could lean against his chest.
That was true enough. They'd all made mistakes. In guiding their friends through the fraught case, Judy had overreached. Nick had under-reacted. Those weren't things they wanted to teach. But in the end, if it hadn't been for Patch and Shay, Park wouldn't have been cooling his heels in prison.
He swore Judy knew when he was thinking hard. It was in the way her nose twitched when she looked up at him.
"Next time will be better. Shay has all sorts of ideas for tracking mammals faster now. And Patch won't ever get in over his head again."
Nick tightened his arms. "My guess is Bogo hopes there never is a next time."
"He ended your probation." Judy shrugged. "That counts for something."
It counted for a lot, actually. Police officer, seasoned veteran and now mentor. Nick shook his head. That was as intimidating as it was rewarding - but there was no avoiding the responsibility now.
He had a good partner in not-crime to help with that, at least. She was keeping still beside him, under his indulgent clawtips.
And when he looked down for her reassuring smile, it was like she'd seen a ghost. He followed her sudden attention, down the valley to the west.
It took him a minute. The lighting was different, and the vibrant colors of real life made the sandstone even brighter. And there were no flowers in the corner.
But the rest of it...
"That's-" Judy tilted her head. "That's our puzzle, isn't it?"
It was. Nick sighed against her. "We weren't supposed to go find it until we were done."
She twisted around. "You mean you didn't plan this?"
"No!" he laughed, and sat on the rock. It was still warm from the day's sunlight, so he pulled her down next to him. "Not this time. I didn't know it was going to be this easy to spot."
"I don't see the flowers," Judy said. "So maybe it doesn't count."
"A technicality," Nick said. "I'll allow it, I guess."
"You know this means we do have to finish it, though," Judy said. "Tonight. No matter how long it takes."
"You're going to fall asleep in my lap again."
He felt her warm sigh against the fur of his throat. "Probably."
That didn't matter now, though. For the first time in weeks, they had that luxury. They didn't have to pause their work, or fight to keep it separate, or worry that something quiet and shared would distract them when they could least afford it.
Now they had time to sort themselves out, like pieces of an even more important puzzle. Now he could pull her to her feet, and lead the way back down the trail toward dinner on their rooftop. Their friends, the city, the responsibilities and obligations they had to keep it all running -
It would all be waiting for them in the morning.