Gadget ran a hand through her hair, glanced to the nearby window. The light over the conference-room table -- the only light on in HQ -- blocked the view beyond. Her reflection gazed back, pale and tired, hair mussed, ink smudge across one cheek... darkness seeped through her image in places. The star atop their holiday tree twinkled patiently. She absently fingered a month-old piece of paper on the table.  

Have something to take care of. I’ll be back, don’t worry. Take care. Chip.

                Gadget sighed wearily. Leading the Rangers on cases, seeing to the day-to-day affairs around the house, keeping Dale out of as much trouble as possible, keeping team spirit up, all the innumerable responsibilities, plus inventing... Maybe I should rest for the holiday, like Monty says. Don’t know if I can pick it up again if I do. Don’t know how much longer I can keep it up anyhow. Chip, where are you??

                The door handle rattled; the popsicle-stick portal swung inward.  A figure tumbled down the domino steps and lay very still at the bottom. She rushed to kneel beside him; the chipmunk looked as if he’d been through a minor war. She reached out to touch him, sure it was a hallucination born of exhaustion... and snatched her hand back; he burned like fire. “Monterey Jack!!!!”

When the crisis ends, the Rangers still have to deal with the....

 Aftermath

by Meghan Elizabeth Brunner

adget wavered a little, steadied herself on the workbench. She shook her head to clear it and reached for a well-used mug nearby. And grimaced. “Nuts. Out.” She went to the pot she kept handy and tried to refill the mug. Two drops splashed into the bottom. She sighed heartfeltly. No help for it; she would have to go down for more. She hated to admit it, but she had been studiously avoiding the others.  Well, if you’d been smart enough to brew more before they got up, you wouldn’t be in this fix. 

                She took a moment to find her composure. If the illusion was not perfect... between Chip’s unprecedented disappearance and the shock of his return, everyone had been either too dazed or too frantic to pay her any mind. But after they had recovered enough to notice how long she had been looking after him without tending to herself... She had discovered rapidly the necessity of looking tip-top at all times... and how fast they noticed if she did not. Gadget carefully made her eyes clear and alert, squared her shoulders, and marched off to the kitchen.

                “Good mornin’, Gadget luv,” Monterey greeted as she strode into the kitchen. His tone gave no indication of how rarely he'd used the greeting in recent days.

                “Moring,” she replied distractedly, frowning at the wall-mounted thermometer. The inventor gave its side a firm smack, but the digital readout obstinately refused to change. 

                “Breakfast?" Dale offered, indicating the place that had been set for her in hopes that she would be down.

                “Coffee,” she answered simply.

                 “Luv, you've been up all night. You should get some sleep."

                Wilec’s voice whispered a memory in his daughter’s mind... Oh, I could bind myself in a nutshell and count myself king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.  She shivered and rubbed her arms vigorously. “I’m going to find a sweater.”

                “It’s not cold in here,” Monty pooh-poohed. “Dale, what’s that thermometer say?”

                Dale got up and checked. “Seventy-two. Chip, do you think it's cold in here?” he asked as his comrade entered.

                He looked surprised. “No, why?”

                “Gadget thought it was,” Monty answered. "She came down after coffee. I don't think she'd been to bed yet."

                Chip frowned as he took his seat. “What’s that, the third -”

                “Fourth,” Zipper interjected.

                “Fourth time this week.” He pronounced each word heavily.

                “You should put on a sweater, Chip. Aletna said to take care of yourself, and that doesn’t include getting chilled.” Gadget proclaimed as she strode into the room, all brisk business.

                For the first time, Monty got a good look at the inventor. A feverish color burned in her cheeks, and the sparkle in her eyes, dim since Chip’s sudden departure, had completely vanished.  “Hey, are you feelin’ all right, luv?”

                “I’m fine, Monty, just a little chilly.”

                The detective decisively set his glass of orange juice on the table and rose from his alphabet-block chair.

                Her eyes widened as she discerned his intent. “Chip, no. I’m fine. I never catch anything. You don’t have to -”

                The leader of the Rescue Rangers cut her off by placing one arm around her shoulders to keep her from backing away and pressing his other hand to her forehead. He let out a low whistle. “Don’t tell me you’re fine, Gadget. You’re going to bed right now, like it or not.”

                “Not without breakfast, she’s not,” Monterey intervened, gesturing broadly with a wooden spoon.

                Chip nodded assent. “You’re right, Monty. She should have something before we tuck her in.”

                “Maybe she doesn’t want breakfast! She’s fine! She doesn’t need you to worry about her! She’s not a child; and you don’t need to talk about her as if she isn’t in the room! She doesn’t need someone to take care of her!” Gadget snapped, scowling.

                “Yes, you do. And you are going to sit here, eat breakfast, and then I intend to put you to bed.  Understood?” Chip led her to one of the blocks and firmly seated her.

                No! No! No! Inertia! Tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest! If you sit, you’ll never get back up!

                By the time Monty turned to put steaming bowls of cream of cheese soup on the table, the bundled-up mouse was slumped over, head pillowed on her arms, fast asleep. “I guess breakfast will have to wait after all.” Gently he he lifted her in his arms. "I’m gonna take her to her room, mates. You think somebody’d better track down Aletna?”

                The leader shook his head. “She’s pretty warm, but it’s probably just from overworking herself. If she was going to catch something from me, she should have done it by now. Maybe she’ll just sleep it off.”

*                              *                              *

                Zipper pantomimed putting a crown on his head, grinning gleefully.

                Monterey Jack groaned as he put a checker on top of the playing piece closest to him. “Ya gotta cut it out, mate. I’m runnin’ outta checkers ta crown ya with!”

                A desperate wail echoed down the hall. “Chi-i-i-i-i-ip!”

                Chip jerked his attention from studying case files Gadget had prepared during his absence. Dale has about ten levels of panic. This must be number eleven. With Monterey and Zipper hot on his heels, Chip nearly sprinted through the corridors and arrived before the panic-stricken chipmunk slightly out of breath.  Whew!  I’m more out of shape than I thought! “Dale! What’s wrong?!”

                “Gadget’s sick!”

                Chip summoned all his patience. “Dale, we already knew that, remember? Monterey carried her up from breakfast?”

                “No! I mean really sick! When I yelled, she didn’t wake up!”

                Monterey and Zipper exchanged concerned frowns, and Chip pushed his partner aside to tiptoe to Gadget's bedside. He softly laid a dark brown paw on her forehead, but pulled away abruptly, staring warily at her sleeping form. His voice held an alarmed, apprehensive note. “Monty... Dale’s not kidding...” Turnabout is fair play... You took care of me when I needed it, Gadget. Time for me to do the same. He gave orders on his way to the door. “Monty, get a cloth and some cool water; try to bring her temp down. Get a thermometer too, while you’re at it. I’m going for Aletna.”

                “I’ll go,” Dale offered eagerly.

                “I want her to get here in one piece!” he called over his shoulder.

                Normally the remark would’ve started an all-out brawl, but Dale hardly took notice.  He gingerly perched on the edge of Gadget’s bed, taking her hand. Monty returned shortly with the supplies, Zipper at his side, and tried hastily to cool her off.  Eternal minutes passed before a frown broke her apathetic expression.

                “Gadget? Canya hear me?” Dale tried hopefully.

                The inventor groggily opened her eyes. Someone was between her and the window, so sunlight prevented her from seeing details, but she knew only one person who would be at her bedside.  “Dad?”

                Dale stared with shock and horror into her azure eyes, unnaturally bright from fever. He turned a helpless gaze on Monterey and Zipper, who were looking at the youngest Ranger in dismay. When the twosome noticed Dale’s unvoiced question, they nodded vigorously. He swallowed hard, lowered his voice a little, and hoped for the best.

                “Right here, honey. How’re ya feelin’?”

                “Tired. And a little cold.”

                Her voice sounded faint, like a little girl just awakened after sleeping through a long car trip. Monterey had to concentrate to keep the image of an extremely ill three-year-old from overlapping that of the young lady. “I’ll get another blanket, ‘kay Wilec?”

                “Right, Monterey.” He only half-glared at the wink from  the heavy-set mouse.

                “Monty’s here?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Where’s Mom?”

                “She’s busy fixin’ lunch, luv. She an’ yer dad’ve been takin’ shifts,” the Australian rescued Dale as he draped the thick quilt over her bed, then handed her the thermometer. “Here. She wanted us to check see how hot ya are.”

                Obediently she put the glass tube in her mouth and closed her eyes to fend off dizziness. Zipper hung silently in the background; unsure if his friend would recognize him. The cool touch of Monty’s saturated cloth kept her awake for the most part. Even so, more than once she began to drift off before, with a little coaxing from the others, she remembered to hang on.

                When the required three minutes ended, “Wilec” held the thermometer to the light. He frowned, squinting at it, before handing the thing to his companions. “I don’t think I’m reading this right.”

                Both fly and mouse gave it a shot, exchanged wide-eyed glances of startlement, and nodded. “You are,” they chorused.

                “Why? What’s it say?” asked the voice so unlike Gadget’s, even more fuzzy than before.

                “It says you need to sleep,” the chipmunk dodged, tenderly running the back of his hand along her cheek. She covered it with her hand, pressing it to her face.

                “Cold hands... I love you, Dad...”

                “I love you too, sweetheart.”

                Quietly she began to hum a lullaby to herself, smiling. Before long, it trailed off and the soft expression of happiness faded to a blank.

                Monterey heaved a worried sigh as he re-applied the cool compress; anxiety painted the face of the little fly. Dale couldn’t take his eyes from their charge. The closest Gadget had ever gotten to illness was when she had been drugged with iocane. Everyone else had caught the flu at least once, and other stuff besides, and when they did she always fussed over them like a mother. To see her shivering under all those blankets, so delirious she thought her parents were still alive... “She didn’t even recognize me.” He looked up at his fellow caretakers, but didn’t move; Gadget’s grip on his hand remained firm.

                The door burst open to admit an out-of-breath Chip and a frazzled-looking Aletna.

                “What is it with you Rangers? Trying to get yourselves killed? Out, out, everybody out!”

                The boys beat a hasty retreat, then took up a post outside Gadget’s bedroom door. Chip and Dale paced while Monty leaned against the wall and muttered fretfully under his breath. “Never catches anything my tail! Nearly kills herself every time she gets sick. Never catches anything. Hmmph!” Zip just sat and frowned.

                After an eternity Aletna emerged looking grim. Everyone jumped to attention. “Well?” they chorused.

                She leaned against a convenient wall and sighed “Mostly exhaustion from overworking herself, I’d say, with a touch of what you had, Chip.” She looked at them very seriously. “She needs rest above all; someone must stay with her to see her condition does not worsen and that she stays in bed.”

                “Thanks, Aletna. I’ll take the first watch,” Chip volunteered, softly pushing into Gadget’s room and closing the door behind himself. As he knelt beside her bed, an image flashed through his mind.

~

                Chip groggily opened his eyes and blinked a few times, not trusting his fevered senses to project reality.  The vision did not change. Gadget knelt beside his bed, head pillowed on her arms, hair fanned wildly about to conceal her face. With the hesitance of someone who fears a mirage he smoothed her golden tresses into place.  And gasped softly.  Her face bore evidence of a night spent weeping. Why?  he wondered with the odd clarity that follows waking from fever-dreams. Certainly not for me...  He gently brushed the tears from her cheek, acutely aware of her softness, gazed at the moisture on his fingers.  Though not given to fancy, he half-expected it to turn to silver or diamonds or stars. He gazed at the wondrous vision beside his bed, had the odd, hushed sensation that he was witnessing something intemporal and precious. How long since she had allowed his touch in friendship? He could not recall.

~

                He took her hand, kissed it tenderly. “We won’t leave you, Gadget. Not until you’re well again.” A slight smile. “Maybe not even then.”

*                              *                              *

                Dale opened the door a crack and peered in. Gadget was still asleep, Chip yet faithfully at her side. Gadget sick. It seemed wrong, Gadget needing looked after.

~

                He sat dejectedly on the floor of his room, staring at the bottom bunk. Chip’s bunk. Where his bestest buddy hadn’t slept in three nights. They hadn’t been apart that long in.... ever, really. Even when they got on each other’s nerves, they were never separated for long. Chip just was. Only now, he wasn’t.

                A soft tapping on the door.

                “Come in,” he said with a sigh, not taking his eyes from the vacant bed.

                Soft footsteps. Soft arm around his shoulders. Soft voice. “You okay, Dale?”

                “Chip’s gone.” It seemed so obvious, but he didn’t know what else to say to describe how he felt.

                “He’ll be back. His note said he’d be back,” she reassured, giving him a quick squeeze.

                “But he’s never gone this long! What if somethin’ happened?”

                “Chip can take care of himself. He’s a Rescue Ranger, right? There’s not much more we can do, Dale; we've run out of places to search.” She sounded... defeated. “We just have to trust he knows what he’s doing and will come back as soon as he can. I’m sure he’s got a good reason. Chip always does... but I think he would want us to keep working on cases while he’s gone, don’t you?”

                His eyes brimmed with tears. “But... it’s not the same without him, Gadget! He... he’s my best friend!”

                “I know,” she whispered, pullling him close, holding him like a child as tears of worry spilled shamelessly over his fur. “He knows, too. He’ll be back...”

~

          Gadget took care of other people; other people didn’t take care of Gadget. She got sad sometimes, but... Dale blinked. It struck him as odd for the first time, that she had never shed a tear since Chip left. She usually cries as easy as me, he pondered, then shrugged and filed the curiosity away for later. He’d ask Chip about it, or maybe Monterey or Zipper. They’d know. He tiptoed the rest of the way in the room.

                “Hey Chip? Your turn to eat, and Monty doesn’t want me doing dishes so he sent me up here.”

                The detective chuckled. “Okay. She’s due for some more medicine in half an hour, make sure she gets it, okay?”

                Dale nodded. “You can count on me, Chipper.”

                A faint smile. “I know.”

               Dale did a double-take. “You... you do?”

                “You screw up a lot on the little stuff, but when it’s really important you always come through. We trust each other with our lives on cases. How much different is it to trust you with Gadget’s now?”

               He thought it over for a moment, grinned, and saluted. Chip grinned back, gave him a thumbs-up, and closed the door behind himself.

                Chip threaded his way through the hallways to the kitchen, following the scent of cream of chedar soup. It’s good to be home. He laughed inwardly. It’s even good to eat Monty’s cooking again. Still, it didn’t feel right without mysterious dodads or misplaced blueprints in unlikely places. He never found tools absentmindedly set on shelves or tables, and he'd yet to get hit with a plunger dart this week. More than that, there was none of the sunny brightness that announced Gadget’s presence. Headquarters looked like... well, a place where a bunch of detective vigalantes had set up housekeeping. It didn’t look like a home. There was too much predictability. He sighed as he pushed through the kitchen doors.

                “Whazzup, mate?” Monty greeted him.

                “Oh, I was just thinking about how even with Dale to counter the neatness factor, Headquarters just seems kind of... dark.”

                Zipper nodded forlorn agreement and flew another saucer over to the sink.

                “Well, mate, Gadget hasn’t lived here since you left. We tried ta help her out best we could but... well, she is yer second, ya know, so she set ‘erself up fer yer job ‘an hers. We got lucky an’ none of the cases was too strenuous, but still...   she took care of it all so quiet-like that it took me a bit ta realize how much it was she’s doin’, an’ by then there was no gettin’ her ta let go. Most I could do was find a few rough patches an’ smooth ‘em out afore she knew I was there. An’ then you showed up sick an’ you saw how that went...”

                Chip nodded sadly. “I just wish I could’ve gotten back sooner and saved all the trouble.”

                Monterey paused washing dishes, leaned against the counter. “Ya know I’m not one ta pry, Chipper, but.... where were you?”

                The detective hesitated, then slumped. “I suppose I may as well tell you; you’re closer to her than any of the rest of us.  I went to find Gadget’s aunt.”

                A stunned silence. A plate slipped from Monty’s nerveless fingers and shattered on the floor. Not even Zipper noticed. “Chipper!” the huge mouse breathed, eyes wide. He swallowed hard. “And... did you?”

                “Oh yes.” He rolled his eyes. “Charming woman.”

                “Why didja go alone? I mean, we’s Gadget’s family, too!”

                He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell her, get her upset over nothing. And... and I hoped maybe if I brought her aunt to justice Gadget might forgive me. Believe me, if I’d known what was coming I would’ve brought the rest of you and a few others while I was at it, plus maybe half of the S.A.P.S. officers.”

                “So, what happened?”

                “The long and short of it? I found her. Hunted down Gadget’s grandparents, actually -”

                “You mean....”

                “Yeah, she’s got living relatives. Fameous Broadway actors who still don’t think very highly of Gadget’s dad, by the way. Anyhow, I tracked Travinnia through them. Had to do a bit of globe-hopping -- seems she’s been on tour for a while -- but I eventually found her in Hawaii with her daughter Leuani.”

                Zipper’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.

                Monty nodded reflectively. “I seem ta remember somethin’ ‘bout Travinnia havin’ a daughter, now that I think ‘bout it. Explains a lot if that sheila’s Gadget’s cousin.”

                “Yeah. Anyway, I ran across Leuani before I remembered to watch out for her... and she was not happy to see me.  Her mom got the whole story out of her and, well.... like mother like daugher; I was lucky to get out of there with my life. At least they never found out the real reason I was there.”

                The housefly let out a low whistle.

                “Too right there, pally,” Monty agreed with his little buddy. “Not that you was all that alive when ya got home, Chipper.”

                Chip nodded somberly. “And it’s thanks to you all that I stayed that way.”

                The Aussie waved him off. “Gadget’s the one what done most o’ the work.”

                The detective shook his head in wonder. “I’m still not quite sure what all happened in there. It gets kind of fuzzy about half way through the flight back. By then I was probably just going by instinct and willpower.”

                “Well, it was somethin’ else, let me tell you....!

~

                “Monterey Jack!!!!” The voice sliced through the huge mouse’s dreams. Gadget’s voice, Wilec’s little girl, and she was in trouble. Monty was out of his hammock and in a defensive crouch before his eyes had even opened. In another half-moment his brain kicked in and he raced down the hall. The cry had come from the conference room, he was sure of it.

                Not two steps into the doorway Monterey stopped dead and rubbed his eyes. It was the look on Gadget’s face that convinced him it wasn’t a dream. She had the same look her father had worn when Sarah fell from the tower. Horrified, and slightly ill.  But mixed in was something else  -- a flicker of joy. Monty put all thought out of his mind as he rushed to kneel beside Chip. “Is he....?”

                She looked up with a helpless, lost expression. “Alive, but he’s very sick, and I can’t carry him, and -”

                He put strong hands on her shoulders; she calmed at the touch, but tears still shone in her eyes. “Gadget luv, it’ll be alright. Chip’s home, an’ whatever’s wrong we’ll fix ‘im up somehow, don’t you worry.”

                Gadget nodded mutely and stood as Monterey gently lifted Chip from the floor and began to make his way to the boys’ bedroom.

                A sleepy Dale met them in the hall. At the sight of them his eyes turned as big as wheels of gouda cheese. “Santa really did bring my wish!” he exclaimed with the hushed wonder of a small child.

                Monty would’ve agreed, but he had more important things on his mind. “Dale, go get cold water, a cloth, and a thermometer. Move! Gadget, run for Aletna. Zip,” he wasn’t sure when Zipper had joined him, but he could hear the slight hum of his wings not far off, “come with me!” He watched in satisfaction as the younger Rangers scurried off to carry out their appointed tasks. “Hang on, Chipper; help’s on the way.”

~

                Chip blinked in amazement. “Wow! I had no idea!”

                Monterey chuckled. “Oh, you really had us worried fer a bit there, mate. Made quite an entrance, you did!”

                Zip nodded.

                “But it sounds like you had everything under control there. When’d Gadget take over?”

                “As soon as Aletna bussled us out of the room."

~

                Monterey Jack quietly shut the door to the chipmunks’ room behind himself. It was all wrong; Chip was supposed to come home one day as if nothing had happened, as if he’d never left. He’d have a big grin on his face, or maybe scold Dale for watching too much T.V. and letting their room get all messy. Gadget would go back to being her old self, and things would be just as they’d always been. But now... Chip was unconscious, maybe near death, and hadn’t even had the chance to say hello when he’d come in. They hadn’t gotten to tell him how much he’d been missed. There were no hearty welcomes, only worried hearts.

                Gadget had an ink smudge across one cheek that Monty hadn’t noticed earlier... it only emphasized how tired and pale she looked. And lost, and alone, and vulernable. Zipper wore a frightened, worried expression. Dale sniffed a couple times, then burst into tears and wordlessly threw himself into Gadget’s arms. Reflexively she held him close, spoke in the quiet, comforting voice that came so naturally to her.

                “Hush, Dale, it’s all right. Chip’s home now, and Aletna will find out what’s wrong. He’ll be okay, don’t worry; Chip’s strong, and he wouldn’t leave us now that he’s just come back. You just wait... pretty soon he’ll be yelling at you for watching too much T.V. and insisting you clean up your room. He’ll get better, I promise...”

                Monty watched as the inventor’s eyes glowed with a motherly, protective light he knew well. Times like this, Gadget needed a purpose to keep her anchored. He was glad she’d found it.... he just hoped she wouldn’t get herself killed in the process.

~

                “Yeah, that sounds like our Gadget,” Chip had to admit.

                “Yup. After that she pretty much set up camp in your room and appointed herself head nurse."

~

                Monty softly tapped on the door to Chip’s room and opened it a crack. “Luv?”

                “Come in, Monterey,” he was answered, equally softly.

                With the lightest tread he could manage, the huge mouse crept to stand behind the bedside chair. He gently put a hand on sunny blonde hair. “How’re ya doin’?”

                “He’s sleeping.” She sounded so, so tired.

                He shook his head, knelt beside the chair. He gently cupped her chin in one hand and forced her to face him. “No, luv. I can see how Chipper’s doin’. I wanna know how you’re  holdin’ up.”

                She blinked, rubbed her eyes, looked away. “I’m all right.”

                “You’re exhausted,” he stated tactlessly, “and ye haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

                “What time is it now?” she asked tonelessly, not as if she really cared.

                “Ten or so.”

                “That’s not so bad.”

                “In the evenin’, Gadget. The sun’s gone down. Did you even notice yer in the dark? When’s the last time ye got forty winks?”

                “Oh, I dunno. Kind of lost track after a while, I guess.” She stiffled a yawn.

                He took her hands, pulled her up to stand. Her balance was a little off; she wavered and Monty caught her, held her close. She leaned against him, didn’t struggle. He sighed, stroked her hair. “Gadget luv, I know ye promised Dale Chip’d get better, but that don’t mean ye haveta do it all yerself. If ye won’t sleep, at least take time ta eat somethin’. Ye can’t expect ta keep goin’ without givin’ yer body anythin’ ta run on.”

                Chip tossed fretfully in his sleep. “Gadget?”

                Monty cursed inwardly as Gadget freed herself and dropped to kneel beside the bed. She’d been so relaxed, and her breathing so slow, he’d been almost certain she was asleep....

                “I’m here, Chip,” she said quietly, taking his hand as she used her other to reapply the cool compress. “I won’t leave you, Chip, so it looks like you’re just stuck with me. Whatever it was, it was only a dream...”

                As she chattered on, the Aussie noiselessly removed the chair and sat on the floor behind her. His strong, thick hands engulfed her shoulders; he expertly began to knead tense muscles. As Monty had expected, she was too preoccupied to protest, or even notice much. Before long, she was swaying in a sleepy attempt to keep upright. She tried to articulate some objection, but it died in incoherency.

                “Shhhh, Trie.” He tenderly closed her eyes and held a gentle but heavy hand over lowered lids. “Ye can’t fight it ferever, luv. Eventually nature’s gonna win. Jus’ lean back an’ trust ol’ Monty...” Monterey kept talking, low and hushed, his other hand working the tension from the back of her neck until at last he felt his best mate’s little girl go limp in his arms. Hesitantly he removed his hand. She didn’t so much as twitch.

                With an enormous sigh of relief Monterey Jack gathered her up and tiptoed down the hall to his room, set her lovingly in the hammock and pulled a blanket over her. Gadget’s own bed was probably turned up, and he hadn’t been willing to chance finding somebody to turn back he covers so he wouldn’t have to put her down. His huge hammock swayed slightly. She still had that ink smudge on her cheek. It all made her look so... small. She’s so light... she’s always been, but I was sure she used to weigh a little more than that.... He sighed again, leaned down to kiss her brow.

                She murmured something unintellagable.

                He watched her a long while before he brushed golden hair from her face, kissed her again, and crept softly from the room to watch over Chip.

~

                Chip chuckled slightly. “That was pretty clever, Monty. It’s a good thing she had you around to take care of her.”

                “Yeah, mate, but it only worked once. Most o’ the time she couldn’t be pried outta there with a crowbar. Even sweet reason didn’t help any.” Monterey Jack let out a frustrated, troubled sigh. “I can feel her slippin’ away, Chipper, an’ I don’t know how to call ‘er back so’s she’ll listen.”

                For once, the detective couldn’t think of a single thing to do.

*                              *                              *

                “No... Dad...” Gadget murmured fretfully in her sleep.

                “Shhhh,” Dale soothed her, resaturating the cool compress. He rubbed his eyes wearily. Two and a half days... At least she’d stopped trying to avoid her medicine... probably because she couldn’t make a good case against it. “I’m not sick” hadn’t stood long against a thermometer and Aletna’s report. Not that much of anything could stand against Aletna, Dale was beginning to believe. Occasionally Dale or Monty convinced Gadget to eat something... but mostly the game was to watch her sleep, play along with any hallucinations the fever stirred up, and keep her in bed. Even so, it had begun to take its toll on all of them.

                “No!” she cried, struggling to sit up. She blinked at her surroundings, disoriented, and wavered slightly.

               Dale pressed the cloth to her forehead. “Just a dream, Gadget. Not real.”

                “Not... real?” Frowning, Gadget mulled this over a bit. “Where is he?”

                His brow creased slightly with worry. “He’s... not here, Gadget.”

                “Dale...tell me where Dad is! Please,” she begged, strength ebbing.

                “Later,” he promised, brushing stray wisps of hair from her face.

                “Not later. I want... Dale, this is... Ranger HQ...”

                “Yeah...”

                Reality hit with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Gadget launched from the bed. And paused a moment by the dresser to steady herself.

                Dale grasped her shoulders gently but firmly, tried to steer her back to bed. “C’mon, Gadget, I’ll getcha a snack if that’s what you want...”

                “No.” She pulled away. “Have... to get... to my... workshop.” With obvious effort she started to the door.

                And was blocked by a very massive Monterey Jack.

                “An’ jus’ where do you think yer goin, young lady? ”

                She met him stare for stare. “To my workshop.”

                “All right, fine!” Monty shot in exasperation, more than tired of hearing this for the last two days. “See how far ye get!”

                “Thank you,” Gadget said very coolly, very levelly. And walked out the door. And made it to the bottom step of the flight of stairs. And grasped the railing hard, wavering.

                Monty, who had anticipated as much, caught her just as consciousness slipped through her grasp like a reflection on a still lake. Dale watched as, with much head-shaking at the whole affair, the eldest mouse snugged the youngest under her covers. “Dale me lad, I think it’s ‘bout time we had a look-see at what’s so important in her workshop.”

*                              *                              *

                “That’s it?” Dale wondered incredulously. “But -- it’s nothing but a few spare parts! Not even Gadget could make something fantastic out of that!”

                Zipper flew silently around the workshop, then faced the others, pantomiming switching stuff around.

                Chip took it in silently, frowning. “You’re right, Zipper. Looks like she re-organized half a dozen times. But... why?”

                “I think there’s somethin’ our little Gadget ain’t tellin’ us,” voiced Monterey. “She’s scared, hidin’ from somethin’.”

                The detective nodded. “It makes sense. She knows none of us will go in her workshop unless we have to. She’s never been like this before. What does she have to hide?”

                “I dunno, mates, but somebody’d better go watch her before she falls down the stairs this time.”

                “I’ll go,” Chip volunteered.

                Dale blocked his way. “But you just went! Besides, my turn’s not done yet!”

                The leader put a hand on his pal’s shoulder. “Dale, as a favor, can I have the rest of your turn, too? I hate to be selfish, but this might be the last time I can get that close to her. At least when she’s sleeping she’s not giving me the cold shoulder.”

                He considered a moment, then nodded. “Take care of her, Chip.”

                “Thanks, buddy. I won’t forget it.”

*                              *                              *

                Chip re-applied the cool compress for what seemed the hundredth time, and checked Gadget’s pulse for perhaps the thousandth. He couldn’t help it. It didn’t seem right that anyone’s hands should be so cold, that anyone should sleep so motionlessly. And -- though he would never put it in so many words  -- he was terrified of losing her, not just physically. The Gadget he had always known was a reasonable mouse who took care of herself, who smiled more often than not. But this... it was like she was on a kamikaze mission, determined to go down in the process... of what? There had been nothing of interest in her workshop. He had the odd sensation in the pit of his stomach that she was getting very tired -- despite her stubbornness as proof of the opposite -- and might not want to fight her illness anymore. He tried to make the thought leave, but it persisted.

                Chip could feel the steady thrum-thrum of life under his fingers, lulling him into a memory-wander...

~

                He fought his way to consciousness. He felt hot and cold all at once, and distantly supposed that vegetables must feel much the same way when they’re being freeze-dried. He struggled more. It was worse than fighting the current of a river. I don’t like turnips, he thought, and objectively wondered what it attached to before all thought floated away again. Someone was singing to him, he thought. Maybe. But he wasn’t sure who. Definately cold, but not him. Something else. He searched his memory banks for the instruction manual and reviewed the part on opening his eyes. They seemed to be malfunctioning. After much persuasion and a bribe of another nap, they agreed to obey. Grudgingly.

                It was dark anyway. There was some dim light coming from somewhere. He thought he could make out somebody’s form. Too small for Monty, too big for Zipper, and not quite right for Dale. “Gadget?” he tried. It felt like he hadn’t used his voice in years.

                “Shhhh....” a cool hand stroking his cheek fur. A pause. “Are you awake?”

                He took stock, couldn’t decide. “Maybe.”

                Another pause. “How do you feel?”

                Another inventory. Non-conclusive. Not positive, though. “Icky. Could be worse, though,” he added, reluctant to worry her.

                Another pause. “Can you sit up?”

                He asked various parts for permission, got no blatant rejections. “I... think so.”

                “Here.” So very gently she helped him up to lean against the headboard. “Do you know where you are?”

                Ponder, ponder, ponder. “Home... I think?”

                A quiet sigh... of relief? Hard to tell. “Yes, Chip. You’re home.” She put her hands on either side of his neck. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t care. Her touch was nice. She tilted his face so he was looking at her. Her eyes shone slightly in the scarce light. He supposed she must be able to see better than he could. She reached to the bedside table and pressed a glass into his hands. He drank some of it -- it tasted like some sort of cold tea. Slightly bitter. He wrinkled his nose, but didn’t complain. He handed the glass back, shivered slightly. She sat beside him on the bed, pulled him close for warmth. Chip vaguely supposed he must be dreaming, except he never would have put that tea in one of his dreams. He felt himself drifting off again and nestled down until he was curled up with his head on Gadget’s lap.

                There was a quiet clatter and something hard and round pressed to his chest. He opened his eyes with a question on his lips. Gadget stilled it with a finger. Chip placed his hand over hers, holding the stethescope to his heart. He looked up; she was smiling faintly, but she radiated waves of exhaustion. He placed the palm of one hand against her cheek. She was so warm... or maybe his hands were cold. She closed her eyes and sighed slightly, covering his hand with her own. Even tired, she looked so beautiful... His eyes drifted closed; he felt her softly kiss the lids before he spiraled down into unconsciousness again...

~

                The detective encased her hand with his. “Hang in there, Gadget. Please...”

                Gadget’s eyes fluttered open; the chipmunk snatched his hand away, but she did not seem to have noticed him. She sat up, rubbing the tatters of dreams from her eyes as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

                Chip prevented her from getting up.

                She blinked, startled to see him there. “Let go of me, Chip.”

                He shook his head. “If you don’t rest like Aletna says, you’re going to kill yourself. I won’t stand back and watch you do that.”

                “Stand wherever you please; I’m going to my workshop! Now -- let -- me -- go!”

                Gadget gasped in surprise; Chip nearly fell back at her retaliation. It took a minute, a hand gingerly pressed to his stinging cheek, to realize that his hand hurt just as much. He gazed at the offending hand, then at Gadget, her wide eyes filled with tears of disbelief. He had struck her! Their gazes held an eternal moment before he turned and stumbled from the room, looking distinctly ill.

                The inventor curled up on her bed, hoping sleep would rescue her from confusion. Even those painful dreams would be better than this...

                Monterey watched in stunned disbelief as Chip lurched past at a dead run, headed for the workshop. Panic alarms screaming in his head, the Aussie caught the sleeve of his teammate’s bomber jacket. “Chip, mate, what happened?!” His heart caught in his throat as Chip turned a tear-stained face to him.

                “I... hit her, Monty.” His tone brimmed with dazed shock. “I told her I wouldn’t stand back and watch while she got herself killed; she said I could stand wherever I wanted as long as I let her go, and I... I reached out and slapped her. I’ve lost her for good this time...”

                As he watched Chip stumble down the hall, Monty had the feeling that she had given as good as she’d gotten... but then, it probably didn’t matter to Chip at this point. The Australian crept to the ill mouse’s room and let himself in... she was sleeping. She looked so innocent; none of the walls she had built around herself showed. He tried to remember the last time she had been so gentle awake...

~

                Monterey Jack caught Gadget by an arm as she turned the handle to Chip’s bedroom door. “Wait a minute, luv.”

                She turned to face her friends. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in nights. “Hmmm?”

                “Ye can’t keep up like this, Gadget, shuttin’ us out. We want a turn at watchin’ Chip too.”

                “Yeah, we’re Chipper’s friends, too! It isn’t fair for you to be watchin’ him all the time,” Dale agreed.

                Zipper nodded decisively.

                The nurse smiled gently. “I know you want to help... and the best way you can do that is by taking care of headquarters.” She raised a hand to still protests. “I know what you’re thinking, but, boys, I don’t get sick as easily as you do. If you’re around him too much, the only thing that happens is that I’ll have to take care of two or three of you.”

                “What about you?” protested the chipmunk.

                She shrugged. “I’ve already been exposed enough that it doesn’t matter anymore. Please. As a favor...”

                The other three Rangers nodded reluctantly.

                “Thank you,” she whispered, gently kissing each on the brow before slipping noiselessly into Chip’s room...

~

                “What happened, luv?” he whispered. “What didja find that scaredja so bad?”

                Monterey’s silent watch continued for a long while before his charge woke.

                “Have to get to my workshop,” she muttered, trying to pull herself upright.

                “Why?” he asked, stopping her with a hand.

                She blinked, surprised. “Why? My invention. I have to -”

                “I’ve been there, luv. There’s nothing special yer workin’ on up there. Just a bunch-a spare parts.”

                The inventor’s eyes widened in panic; she tried to scramble from bed, but Monty held her firmly.

                “I got inta arguments with you over takin’ care o’ yerself while you was takin’ care o’ Chip.  Chip’s better now, an’ I ain’t gonna argue anymore.  Now I’ll tie you to that there bed if I hafta, but I’d rather not.”

                She looked away. “You don’t understand.”

                “Yer right. I don’t.” He heaved a sigh, sitting back. “I don’t understand, beginnin’ with why ye won’t give the lad the time o’ day! He loves you, Gadget.”

                “He doesn’t! If he did, he would’ve wanted me to play Juliet! He wouldn’t have tried to keep me from my parents!”

                “But, luv, see it from his side! All he had to go on was Dale’s dreams. He didn’t know yer parents. All he could think about was what would happen if they took you away and we lost you for good... If I hadn’t known better, I would’a done the same thing!”

                Gadget processed it for a moment, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

                “It doesn’t -?! Luv -”

                “I don’t want to hurt anymore, Monterey! I’m tired of having my heart broken! I just -- want -- it -- to -- stop!” She started up again.

                “Trieanne Namid Hackwrench!” he barked.

                Gadget froze in shock, distantly tried to reckon up how long it’d been since she heard her full given name....

                Monty seized the tactical advantage. “Yer actin’ like a stubborn, selfish, unreasonable little girl! Open yer eyes... yer not the only one what’s hurt... yer doin’ it to the rest of us, too! Chip’s sittin’ up in yer workshop bawlin’ his eyes out cause you won’t even look at him without bitin’ his head off!”

                “Better that than dead!” Gadget snapped. "I won’t be responsible for killing another one!”

                “You listen -!” He blinked. “Killin’ another one?”

                “That’s right.” The heat of a banked ember burned in her eyes. “You believe in curses, right, Monty?”

                “I guess so...”

                “Well, here I am, Monty. I’m a curse. I killed my mother, I killed my father, and if Chip gets close I’ll kill him too.” Her voice was so level, it made Monty shiver.

                “Wait jus’ a blumin’ minute, luv. What the blazes are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

                “I knew Mom wasn’t going to come back. If I had just tried harder, she would’ve stayed; she would’ve been safe. And Dad -” she turned away, crimson with shame and sorrow.

                The Australian gently turned her face to him with one hand, forced her to meet his gaze. “Listen ta me, luv,” he spoke softly. “Ye were three years old when yer mum died. There was nothin’ ye could do. Yer not the one what poisoned Sarah.”

                She pulled back fiercely. “Then what about Dad? I was old enough then. I was fifteen, nearly sixteen! I could’ve done something then!” Gadget pulled herself up, preparing for escape.

                Monty held her down almost roughly. “Trieanne, listen! There was nothin’ you could do!”

                “You don’t know that! You don’t know anything about it!”

                He drew a ragged breath... she was the only one in the world who knew, but he had never before dared ask.... All or nothin’... What’ve I got to lose, now? “Tell me.”

                “No!”

                He shook her slightly. “Trie, I’m his best mate! I deserve to know!”

                “You want to know? Fine! He got sick, just like Chip. I don’t even remember how many nights I was up with him... he even seemed to be getting better and the next thing I knew I was waking up and he...” she cut off, tears streaming down her face, continued in a broken voice. “I didn’t recognize the funny smell in the room, I was too upset to pay much attention, but when Darkness came in that night to take care of us... I knew. If I had just stayed up until he woke up, he would’ve been okay....” She gazed at him defiantly. “There. Are you happy now?”

                Monterey Jack couldn’t move for a long moment, marveling at the secret she had held so long, at all the pain his sweet little Gadget had endured alone... “Oh, luv...” he breathed, releasing her woodenly. He almost reached out to stroke her hair, but did not... he could see a frightened, lonely child in her eyes, just below a brittle layer of icy denial. If he touched her, he knew that layer... and her sanity... might well crack. It needed to melt quietly, willingly. He sat down hard on the bed. “Luv, there was nothin’ ye could’a done... Darkness was ruthless, he would’a found another time. It wasn’t you, luv... never you...” Hesitantly, very hesitantly, he reached out to brush the tears from her face. “Have ya ever thought, sometimes, that some things’re too good ta be here...?”

                Gadget could only stare, spellbound, held captive by the gentle touch.

                “Well, luv, yer parents were like that. They couldn’t be here long... but a’fore they left, they made somethin’ special, somethin’ beautiful.” He gently rested a hand on the top of her head. “A little bluebird, ta make the world a little happier. Somethin’ that was part o’ both of ‘em. An’ nothin’ that came from those two good people could ever be a curse. They wanted ye to be happy, an’ maybe, jus’ maybe, someday leave a little bit o’ you behind. But if ye keep on like yer goin’, bluebird, ye won’t be here for much longer, an’ wouldn’t it be a shame for the world to lose the last bit o’ Sarah an’ Wilec? An’ if ye won’t think o’ them an’ ye won’t think o’ Chip, think o’ me. Are ye gonna push me away, too? I seen two o’ me best mates buried, Trie; I don’t wanna add their daughter to the list. I don’t wanna lose you too.”

                The inventor’s head was bowed; her delicate frame shook with silent weeping. Monterey pulled her close; she clung to him, burying her face in the green cotton of his turtleneck.

                “Come on, luv. Atta girl. S’all right... shhhh...” he crooned, softly stroking her hair.

                “I’m sorry,” she choked out in a whisper. “I didn’t mean...”

                “I know ye didn’t, Trie. Yer just scared’s all... s’okay. As long as ye know now, that’s what’s important...”

                “I miss them so much...”

                “I miss them too, luv,” he whispered back; a drop of saltwater fell unnoticed on her spun-gold hair. “But yer never alone... they’ll always be with ye, s’long as ye remember them, they’ll always be there for ye... an’ I’ll always be here, too.” He took a deep breath, huffed it out. “Get some sleep, luv...”

                She raised a tear-streaked face to him. “I know I can’t have Dad, but...” a bit shyly, “you’re the next best thing.”

                He kissed the top of her head softly as she snuggled next to him, tried not to let tears thicken his voice. “That’s prob’ly ‘bout the nicest thing anyone’s ever said ta me, luv. Ya know, yer like the daughter I never had...”

                But the young mouse had already drifted off... ever-so-gently the Aussie tucked her in and settled in to watch her sleep... with a feather of a smile still on her face.

*                              *                              *

                “Monty? Monterey Jack!” The voice was hushed but insistent.

                “Hmm? Huh? Wha -?” he blinked sleepily, fighting through layers of dreams. Chip was shaking his shoulder. Monty dawned on his surroundings and winced guiltily.

                “It’s okay... I just checked on her; Gadget’s still got a fever, but she’s a little cooler now.”

                Monty nodded, head clearing the rest of the way... and took a good look at Chip.  The detective looked a good ten years older than he really was. He was still too thin from his brush with death, and dark circles shadowed his eyes; there was a tightness there that had never been. His normally upright carriage had slumped slightly, too, which alarmed Monterey most of all. “You okay, mate?”

                “Nothing a minor miracle couldn’t fix,” he chuckled slightly, caught his friend’s worried expression and waved it off. “I’ll be fine. You want to go grab breakfast? I can’t believe Gadget would wake up while you’re gone.”

                Monty nodded. “Yeah, maybe, but you ain’t leavin’ ‘till she does.”

                Chip’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Do you really think....”

                “Listen, me boy-o. This has gone on too long already. You two have some stuff ye need ta say, an’ it ain’t gonna get said if it don’t get said now.  I think I talked a bit o’ sense inta her last night. Now it’s time for you two ta clear the air.” He squeezed his young friend’s shoulder gently. “Good luck, mate.” And softly departed.

                The chipmunk knelt at her bedside, at a complete loss. He watched the sunlight play across her shining beauty, thought back to that night that seemed a lifetime ago, the night when he held her in his arms and let her go for eternity. Sometimes he still thought he could feel her cuddled next to him, soft and warm. He remembered all the times during his illness when he had awakened to her gentle touch, to her shadowed eyes and care-worn expression, muted by a kind smile. He remembered her dazzling smile the first time they’d met. He remembered her strength. He remembered her patience. He remembered her innocence. He buried his face in his arms and wept.

                A gentle hand removed his hat, stroked the back of his head. He looked up. Gadget sat on the edge of her bed; the inventor’s hair caught the sun’s backlighting, cast a holy radiance around her. There was something in her eyes he had never seen before, though: a soft, weary regret, peaceful-sad.

                “Oh, Chip,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry... I should’ve known you were only doing your best. I should have known you didn’t mean to hurt me...”

                “I didn’t, Gadget, that’s the last thing I ever wanted, to hurt you,” he spoke, fervently, the rapid confession of the penitent purging months of misunderstanding from their relationship. “I love you.” It came out in an agonized whisper; he held his breath and waited for her words to cut his heart, sear his soul, until it was all ashes to ashes, dust to dust... nothing left to hold, to hurt. He knew he would thank her for it, for the mercy of death. He closed his eyes, steeled himself for the killing stroke.

                Almost inaudibly, “I love you.”

                His heart fumbled, hadn’t expected to survive. He blinked in surprise, looked up at her. “You what? No, Gadget, you don’t understand! I don’t mean like a teammate or even a sister, I mean -” He cut off abruptly as her lips pressed to his. In utter shock he clung to her; she was as soft as he’d always imagined. She smelled faintly of warm salt-water. Or maybe it was him. She was thinner than he recalled. He only had a second to process the enormity of what was happening before she gently pulled away.

                “No, Chip. I love you.”

                There was an intensity in her expression, the look of one speaking a fundamental truth and praying others will recognize it. A silly, euphoric grin spread over his face. After a moment reality began to tug his sleeve and reluctantly he answered, though still a bit befuddled with twitterpation.

                “Ah, not that I’m complaining, but... a question?”

                She cocked her head slightly. “Yes?”

                “Um, what just happened? I mean, just last night.... well... you know...”

                She lowered her eyes. In a quiet voice, “I was scared, Chip. When you were gone all that time, I was worried, and mad at you for making me worry and leaving me to do everything on my own. I’d been upset with you for so long, it seems like, that I didn’t really know what else to be. But when you came back, and all the time you were sick, all I could think of was how glad I was that you were home safe, and how I didn’t know what I would do if you didn’t live through whatever it was you had, and-” She cut off, gazed at him through tears. “You know, right?”

                He nodded mutely, dumbfounded. Gadget’s crying! “Yeah. Same thing I was thinking the whole time you were sick.” Greatly daring, he hesitantly brushed her tears away with his fingertips; she gently caught his hand and kissed the palm. “But Gadget, why scared?”

                She took a deep breath. “Because everyone I love dies. Mom, Dad... it hurt too much, and I’d already gone through almost losing you once. I didn’t think I could do it again -- I didn’t want to do it again -- so I tried my hardest to make it all go away so I wouldn’t feel anything. If I didn’t love you, or at least didn’t admit to myself I did, I wouldn’t lose you -- or if I did, it wouldn’t hurt as much... is this making sense?”

                Chip’s eyes swirled with wonder at her logic. “In a way, sure, but Gadget, you can’t just -”

                Gadget pressed fingers to his lips. “I know that. Now. And I have Monty to thank for it.”

                The detective grinned crookedly. “Then I guess I have Monty to thank, too!”

                She laughed as she swung herself a bit unsteadily from the bed to stand; Chip rushed to steady her.

                “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

                She obeyed with alacrity as he pulled her close, one hand just below her shoulderblades, the other on the small of her back. “Relax.... here...” He felt her melt to him, arms twining ‘round his neck as her warm, moist breath announced the coming kiss...

*                              *                              *

                Monterey Jack smiled faintly and backed away from the door to Gadget’s room, well-pleased with his matchmaking abilities. About bloody time! Guess all they needed was a little push to get ‘em goin’. He didn’t need to hear more to know things were definitely on the mend. He whistled his way to the kitchen... a mood this good always sparked his culinary creative juices...

                One can only hope the Rangers were out of marshmallows and cheese.

GIGANTIC THANKS go to Jeff Perice for all the dialogue help. Couldn't have done it without you, my friend!