You make my heart all Jimbly: A Jimbo Jimbles the Third Fanfic

You make my heart all Jimbly

Detective Jimbo Jimbles wasn't entirely sure if he had ever been in love. Not really.

There was a friend in primary school, a rabbit, whom he'd spent his breaks hopping around the fields with, his hooves fumbling on the grass in an attempt to keep up. Maybe the way he felt about that rabbit was love, but he was too young to know.

There were a few flings- casual hookups, but that was a long time ago. Jimbles had grown into his lonely life- dinners in front of the TV, an empty bed, no one to come home to.

And there was Mistress Monkee.

But was that love? He didn't think so. Just pure, animal attraction. Pulled in by the sway of her hips and the feeling of her fur, her perfect, elegant hands. The way he felt towards her was strong, intense and all-consuming at times. But it wasn't love.

So this feeling, stirring in his hairy chest, warming him from the inside the way only alcohol really had in the last few decades.

Was it love?

.....

Two weeks earlier

Every time the phone rang, it reminded Jimbles of why he would always be alone.
No one understood the life he lived or the people he served. His hooves always reaching for justice, snout always on the trail of a new lead.

His days were spent breaking bad news, seeing families cry- fall apart. Watching the victim's friends hold funerals and sit silent in the pews of a courtroom.

And because of his dedication, his choice to live this life- his own relationships had dissipated in front of him like a cloud of cigarette smoke.

First there was Toad. Oh, Toad. One of the only people Jimble's ever thought he truly knew. And that was all a lie, a wool pulled over his eyes for years. Jimbles had been too intoxicated- both literally and off the high that was deep friendship, to notice how he was being played.

After Toad was arrested, everything had gone dark. Darker than it already always was in this rainy city- and in Jimbles' head. He'd spent many a night trotting through the city alone, walking the same routes he used to with Toad. It seemed so quiet now, without the jingling of his spurs echoing down the street.

And just when he thought he couldn't get lonelier, couldn't sink deeper into this abyss that had been forming around him- he had stepped into The Monkey's Paw one night to hear the news;

Mistress Monkee was gone. She'd said a few goodbyes to some friends, packed up her things and skipped town in search of a break from the rain.

"Will she be back?" Jimbles had asked, his already gruff voice somehow deeper with desperation.

"Said not tuh count onnit." Polly, a hostess at The Monkey's Paw had answered. And the look on Jimble's face had Polly the Possum almost considering playing dead just so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore.

That was three weeks ago. The rain here hadn't cleared- it might not ever. And somehow Jimbles knew that unless the sun decided to show its face again, he wouldn't see Mistress Monkee's. It was a dread that lived in the pit of his stomach.

One morning though, the phone rang, and Jimbles' braced himself like he always did- all of his coarse hairs standing up straight. He'd nosed the phone off the receiver, his wet snout nearly sliding it off the desk, to the sound of an annoying, high pitched squeak.

"Jimbles, old friend." Sheriff Squirt. His tone sent a shudder of annoyance through Jimbles' body, and he considered hanging up- but it would take him at least 5 minutes of snorting and prodding and fumbling just to return the phone back to its place.