Chapter Text

Nick still didn't know if he was cut out for leadership. If he was honest, he might have felt more confident calling the shots on SWAT raids than being the one others looked to to teach civic values or splinting or forestry.

But he'd saved the email about local community positions when it had come around the office, if only because he'd enjoyed the proud little look Judy had given him when he told her. He hadn't started to consider it more seriously until later.

Now they were in the garden, her pulling carrots out of the ground and snapping peas off their stalks, and him cleaning the dirt from them with the little brush and gathering them in the basket on the chair next to him.

She was leaving the decision up to him. She would, even if part of him was hesitating because she didn't like that this would gobble up some of the precious little free time they already shared. Even if part of him worried that it would take him away from her paperwork when he might be able to help. Detectives had even more of it than officers, it turned out.

"I've only ever learned first aid," he said. "I'd have to teach it."

"Basic field aid is nothing like the trauma training we got." She passed him a carrot. "The worst you'll probably get into is CPR."

"I've camped exactly once. If we don't count that time we got rained out up at the pinnacles."

"You did okay then."

"And what if they don't like me? They might find out I'm a cop."

That got Judy to turn around, to study his face so she could decide whether he was being serious. She chuckled at his expression. "That one's an excuse, Mr. Wilde."

Nick shivered. "And they'll call me that, won't they?"

"There might not be any escaping it." She was still watching. She had a smudge of dirt on her brow where she'd reached up to rub at her forehead at some point.

Now, she put her vegetables down in the soil and closed the short distance between them, to press her dirty paws against his own. She pushed all the way onto his lap, under his chin, so he had no choice but to hug her back or risk overbalancing both of them. He leaned them back against the sun-warmed brickwork.

She knew. It wasn't something she had to say aloud. From the moment Nick had brought it up she would have known there was more complicating this decision than schedules or first aid. Nick had spilled his first experience with the Junior Ranger Scouts early. And all these years on it was still tough to relive sometimes, even with the closure he'd experienced, with the help she'd given him.

"I think you would make a wonderful scoutmaster," she said against his throat. "And I think whoever you meet would love you, too."

"First time in a long time we're doing something that isn't together," he said. "I know you're not looking forward to that part."

"No," she agreed. "But for what it's worth, I don't think a hobby to yourself will kill either of us. I think this is good for you."

"Mm."

"And I'll be right here when you get back. You can tell me all about it. I want your stories."

Nick made her more comfortable in his lap. "And what about Bogo? I'll have to clear it with him."

Judy closed her mouth. "That's actually a good point. Want me to talk to him?"

"Oh, no, we agreed." He could still get her to squirm in his claws, and it tugged at him a little bit. It was sealing the deal, knowing she believed he could do this. "When you got promoted. No pulling strings for favors."

"Something unofficial, then."

Persistent Carrots. "As long as you don't lay it on too thick."

"Who, me?"

---

Bogo, as it turned out, had liked the idea - he just had to insist that Nick's paid police work came first, and that cramped Nick's schedule a bit. When the dust from the applications and recommendations and child safety forms settled, he was only able to help out once or twice a month. It was still a good start, a good way to ease back into what Nick used to know. The full-on Ranger Scouts was a step up from the younger program Nick had participated in as a kit, but the principle was the same.

Now, on select Tuesdays and Saturdays, Assistant Scoutmaster Wilde stood by the mirror in his apartment, making sure the neckerchief and clasp of his new staff uniform was straight. The patterns and badges had changed a bit since the last time Nick was through, but he had long experience with maintaining uniforms now. This was a breeze.

Judy watched from alongside like she usually did, this time with a steaming mug of soup in her paws. "What's on tonight's agenda?"

"Planning, mostly. There's the forestry service campout next month." If he went along, it would be his first expedition with the troop. "Who's going, what they're doing, that sort of thing."

"Will you go?"

Nick looked over at her. "I haven't thought that far ahead. And I don't have your schedule."

"You should go," she said. "And don't worry about my schedule. I think I can manage paperwork on my own for two days without you. Imagine all the firebuilding. And the marshmallows."

Nick could hear the jealousy in her voice. She'd grown up on a farm; she knew how nights out like those went. And it did sound like a lot of fun.

But knowing that she wouldn't be able to come just made it harder to pull her into his arms and nuzzle her goodbye. "I'll bring the dates back, just in case."

---

Whatever else happened on the trip, it promised to be chilly. The cool season seemed to be getting an early start, if the breeze off the train was any indication. Nick hustled to the side entrance of the school gym where Troop 82 held its meetings. There was a stop keeping it cracked so yellow light spilled onto the parking lot. Someone was already here.

Scoutmaster John and the other ASM, Gregory, were setting out the flag for presentation of the colors. Kits and cubs in their rank patches wandered to and fro. This troop skewed young, mostly second- and first-class scouts. Nick recognized John's kid, Johnny, the hippo. He had started to keep track of the others, too: Luke the otter, a moose, a meerkat who had just moved in, watching with wide eyes as a wolf darted back and forth under the bright halide lights with the bobcat twins, Chris and Steven. There were no foxes.

"Evening, Nick." John raised a hoof. "Glad you could make it. Getting cold out there, yeah?"

"Not too bad yet," Nick said. "A bit early for snow. Hopefully it holds off for a couple more weeks."

"Ah, that's half the fun." John had cut his scouting teeth in this very same troop, and never left. "You get enough of it and it starts to insulate your tent."

"Builds character, then?"

"That's freezing rain." Greg grinned and tilted his mane at the wind that hissing around the open door. He went to secure it. "Pack your good thermals."

These kids were just old enough to start running the formalities of their meetings themselves. Johnny was senior patrol leader, busy calling the rest of them to order in their two patrol lines - lightning and scorpion patrols, by their own popular votes.

Nick stood at attention to one side with the other leaders and saluted the flag with the same ceremony he did during colors at ZPD events. If anything, the scout oath they recited now had only become more important.

And it still took a certain bravery to stand up in front of these kits and their wide-eyed innocence and trust. It had taken a few meetings before Nick started feeling at ease with his role as a mentor and guide. It was more focused than the interactions ZPD had with citizens. More personal. A little more familiar.

"Color Guard, reform ranks," Johnny called.

"Each patrol needs a breakfast and lunch menu by the end of tonight," John said, as the troop broke into its brief meetings. "The closer we can get to healthy, the better, but don't begrudge them their donuts. Greg, can you make sure it happens?"

The lion nodded. "No problem."

John pointed to Nick. "And everyone should have enough layers, just in case it does get cold up there. Winter coats coming in do not count, remind them."

"You got it."

It was strange. Position of authority or not, most of these kits probably had more camping experience than he did. But Nick was at least savvy enough to not let that show - and his own enthusiasm seemed to help later on, as he got the kits in lightning patrol to stop debating the relative merits of pancakes vs. dry cereal long enough to talk about the clothes they needed. The overall answer was yes, everyone was ready.

Only Kyle gave him pause, when he came to find Nick later.

"Mr Wilde?"

No, he still wasn't used to that. Nick turned and looked down. "Hey, Kyle. What's going on?"

"I had a question about the clothes for the trip." The meerkat had huge ears, which usually bounced around like satellite dishes to catch every bit of noise that came his way. Now they were flat against his bowed head as he counted off on one paw. "You said base layers against the fur, midlayers to trap air, and a shell. To keep the weather off."

"That's right." Nick crouched down, to get closer to his eye level. "And do you have all that?"

Kyle glanced up. "Is a hoodie okay?"

"For midlayers?"

"For a coat. We never went camping in the cold."

He hadn't spoken up at the polling, but Nick couldn't exactly blame him. He was still so new he only had a couple meetings of time on Nick. The Fellingers had come across town from Sahara, from where Kyle had started scouting. He was still finding his feet here, among a lot of new faces.

But he made a good point, too. Going unprepared into the cold wasn't just dangerous; it could wreck any interest Kyle had in the trips.

"I think we can make it work," he said, careful to keep his response positive. The meerkat's glance was skittish. It must have been hard enough for him to talk about this. "Do you have gloves?"

Kyle nodded. "And a hat."

"Then you should be fine." Nick got back to his feet. "Just make sure you bring them."

He was a bit brighter now. "Okay."

But Nick did check with John, after they'd finished wrangling the patrols. They stood at a table in the corner to keep an eye on things, while the scouts broke out the rope to practice their knots.

"Don't worry about it." John shook his big head.

"I wasn't quite sure that was the right thing to say," Nick admitted.

"No, that's the right call. You're fine."

"We do have a couple extra parkas in the storage unit," Greg added. "I saw them when we cleaned it last time. They'd probably fit someone as small as Kyle. We'll bring it with. If he needs it, it will be there for him."

"Sorry," Nick grumbled. "That's the sort of thing I'd know if I could make more meetings."

"With your schedule?" John waved it away. "You're going above and beyond as it is. It's good of you to check, too."

They watched as one of the bobcat twins waved a completed taut-line hitch. The others crowded around to check it for function. Kyle, at the edge of the cluster, looked on and chewed his lip.

"He's getting better," John said, when he noticed Nick's attention. "I think the move was a little bit rough on him. He didn't want to talk to anyone the first couple meetings."

He looked careful. He probably wasn't used to being the center of attention anyway, and the others didn't look like they'd come around to including him yet. Was that because he was naturally quiet, Nick wondered, or was it because he was new?

And how could he fix it?