Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen someone else reflected?

Hour for Darkness

by Meghan Elizabeth Brunner

                Even through lidded eyes he saw the brilliant flash. One hippopotamus... Two hippopotami... Three hippopotami... he counted, waiting for the earth-shattering thunder. Seventeen hippopotami... Eighteen hippopotami... That’s weird; it always comes by eighteen with a flash like that. Curiosity overcoming terror, the chipmunk opened one eye, then, beholding the strange sight, quickly opened the other to get a better view.

                The mirror above his dresser reflected a blue orb. It wasn’t light, exactly, for it didn’t cast any shadows. He glanced around the room to where its origin should have been. There was nothing. He looked back at the mirror; it was still there. Intrigued, the pajama-clad Ranger jumped from his bunk and went to the mirror. “Beeahni,” he whispered, reaching out, spellbound. He had no ken what it meant. Lightning blazed past the full moon -- a curious sight amidst a thunderstorm -- beyond the reflected window, followed by deafening thunder. Dale gasped, whirling around.

                Before him stood a mouse in his thirties, eyes closed and head bowed, arms crossed. He looked vaguely like a yonger, thinner, slightly shorter Monterey Jack, but there was a little of Gadget in him, too. He wore a flight cap similar to Monty’s, a bomber jacket a bit like Chip’s but zipped and without the wool trim, and an aviator’s scarf that fluttered in a nonexistent breeze. He looked like he had fallen in a floursack.  That would be merely odd; his lack of substance made him downright alarming. He wasn’t translucent, but Dale doubted he would encounter anything if he reached out. Where it should have been obvious that mouse ended and darkness began was blurred, indefinitive... The darkness near him was a  luminescent grey, the rest of the room more abysmal. Nothing existed besides the mouse, Dale, and the mirror with the hole-in-the-darkness.

                The stranger looked up. The chipmunk took an uneasy step back when serious, matter-of-fact eyes focused their intense gaze on him. There was something slightly unreal about them... something Dale couldn’t put his finger on.

                “I’ve come for my daughter.”

                Dale gasped, eyes wide.

                From somewhere far off in the pit of darkness that had been Rescue Ranger Headquarters, a sweet, happy, familiar voice echoed off vast nothingness. “I’m coming!”

                “No,” the petrified Ranger whispered. “No!” At last he found his voice, and used every ounce of it. “NO!!!!”

                “I’m coming......”

                The chipmunk’s eyes snapped open. He was pressed against the dresser; water streamed from his fur to join the considerable puddle on the floor. A cross-looking Chip stood nearby with an empty glass. Monterey and Zipper were there, too, but none of this registered. Lightning flashed, shilouetting a figure by the window. The drenched rodent pointed, unable to speak. Everyone turned as lightning flashed again, but the form had vanished.

                “Are you all right?” Gadget asked gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.

                “Gadget!” he cried joyously, throwing his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could. He can’t  take you away. Not while I’m here to stop him.

                “It’s all right.” She hugged him back. “It was just a dream. You want to tell me about it?”

                He shook his head, not trusting himself to open his mouth without the whole story flooding out. Finally he managed, “Be careful.”

                “What? Dale, what are you -?”

                “Just promise me you’ll be careful!”

                Gadget didn’t understand, but his eyes were intent, pleading, his hands clasped tightly around hers. She had to agree to keep his peace of mind, or what little remained. “I promise. Come on, you were sleepwalking. Go back to bed, okay?” She pulled a chair up to the bunkbeds. Once he was up, Gadget stood on the seat to pull the covers snugly around him. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered, kissing him lightly on the forehead before stepping down and replacing the chair. She padded noiselessly from the room. Zip and Monty followed, closing the door behind them.

                “It was that dream again, wasn’t it?” Chip asked softly.

                “Yeah. Only worse.”

                “I guessed; you never screamed before.”

                “This time she called back. From a long way away. ‘I’m coming!’“

                Chip sighed in the darkness. “I told you not to watch that ghost film, Dale! Every time -”

                “I know,” Dale agreed miserably. “But- Waitaminute. Chip, the window’s open!”

                “Yeah, so?” The detective sounded about to drift off.

                “So I remember closing it right before I went to bed because it was storming, like it always does when I have these stupid dreams. And the window’s open, like it always is when I wake up.”

                 “Maybe you just think you closed it.”

                “No, ask Zipper. I asked him to come in, then pointed to the window and said ‘It’s closed,’ an’ he said ‘Right,’ an’ flew off lookin’ like he thought I was crazy.”

                 “Can’t imagine *yawn* why.”

                “Don’t you see? He was here! It wasn’t a dream this time!”

                Chip leaned over the edge of his bed and looked up to the terrified expression of his partner. “Dale, look. Ghosts don’t need to open windows. Some thunder probably shook it open. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll have Gadget look at it in the morning, okay?” He got up and closed the window.

                “Make me feel better if it wasn’t open to begin with,” he grumbled. Minutes later, he was asleep; the dreams never came twice of a night.

*                              *                              *

                Gadget softly shut her bedroom door, then sprawled across her bed to write more in a spiral-bound note­book.

                Sorry for the interruption... Dale was screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Turns out he was sleepwalking, and

Chip had to wake him up with a cup of water in his face. Not a pleasant way to wake up, but I think he was just happy to be awake. He made me promise to be careful, but wouldn’t tell me of what. He looked awfully frantic, so I agreed. Not that I wouldn’t have anyway. Strange, though... usually when Dale gets that panicked he tries to explain everything in five seconds. Not that he ever makes any sense, but it seems to ease his mind to say it. His unusual silence worries me... what’s going on? Only time will tell, I suppose. If he remembers by morning, maybe he’ll want to say something then.

                I still maintain that someone read my letters to you, but whoever it was hasn’t been back.

                She paused a moment and picked up a carrot stick from the tray of actual food (stuff not created by Monty) plundered from the fridge. Such raids were common around Headquarters, but Monterey never seemed to notice when something disappeared from the icebox. Gadget nibbled pensively at it, staring at the quote on the inside cover of her letters to her father. “A house divided against itself cannot withstand a storm.” How true. She picked up another carrot stick and thought back to that night.

                As always, she had finished brushing her hair and gone to the shelf she kept her notebooks on -- hidden in plain sight on the theory that no one would ever think to look there --, absently picked one out, found a pen, and curled up on her bed to write an account of the day’s events. Curiously, the notebook had been from many years ago. Puzzled, she had examined the shelf. The books were in reversed order!

                It made no sense. She hadn’t taken them all out, and certainly wouldn’t have put them back in reverse order if she had! Granted she was a bit absent-minded, but they’d been that way for years! She hated to think such things, but had one of the boys gone through her stuff? Dusting for fingerprints revealed nothing, making it all the more peculiar. Why trouble about wearing gloves and then not pay attention to the books’ order? She didn’t dust for fingerprints every night. So why do it unless the books were rearranged intentionally? What would be the reasoning behind making her suspicious? And if she was supposed to suspect something, why not leave the gloves off to give proof? Or at least plant someone else’s prints?

                Stop that! she commanded herself. The boys wouldn’t do something like that any more than they would read your letters. The comparison was a little shaky... she wanted to believe they hadn’t, but wanting does not reality make. In any event, she had locked them in a drawer. Locks could be gotten around, though, so she had pulled a hair from her brush, snapped it in two, and licked the shorter strand before pressing one end to the top drawer and one to the bottom, a trick long forgotten in origin. She hoped none of the others knew it. The strand would remain there until someone opened one of the drawers. So far no one had gone back. Once more she picked up her pen.

                I don’t know. Maybe I am imagining things. It was probably just Gila, that spirit who always steals pens and nails and stuff like that. (And my goggles. She’s especially fond of those.) She always seems to make off with the stuff I need most. Or maybe you were the one who went though them. You certainly have the right; they’re addressed to you, and I was hoping you’d read them eventually, anyway. But next time, let me know, okay?

*                              *                              *

                        Two hands, relatively small hands, riffled through some papers and placed five sheets on a desk of gloomy dark wood. Each paper boasted a name: Monterey Jack, Gadget, Chip, Dale, Z ipper.

*                              *                              *

                “You think maybe I should tell Gadget about my dream?” Dale asked Monty, Chip, and Zipper the next afternoon (morning for Dale, who had slept in). Monty, a spotless white apron over his green turtleneck and trenchcoat, was busy preparing “lunch” while the others sat around the table.

                “No,” three voices agreed firmly.

                He expected as much; they had made him swear silence the first time he related his dream. “But it’s different now. She’s in danger.”

                “From who, her dad?” Monty scoffed.

                “His ghost,” Dale corrected.

                The chef set down his mixing bowl and started gesturing broadly with the spoon. “Look, mate, ya didn’t know Gadget’s dad.  He loved Sarah an’ Gadget more than anythin’ else on Earth, an’ after Sarah died he loved his little girl even more, if it was possible. I seen the two of ‘em together. All Gadget had was her dad, an’ she was all Wilec had, too.”

                “I thought his name was Geegaw,” frowned Dale.

                Monty shrugged uncomfortably. “That was a nickname he got a year or so before we... uh... parted ways... in Zanzibar.”

                “Is ‘Gadget’ Gadget’s real name?” Chip asked, a little surprised at himself for not wondering sooner. The inventor was eccentric enough that he had just assumed... With Gadget things just were sometimes, and you didn’t bother to ask why. It had never occured to him that she might have been living by a nickname and never mentioned her real one.

                Monty attacked the batter with his spoon. “It’s what she calls herself, ain’t it?” Aye, Chipper, she got her pet name the same day ol’ Geegaw got his... they gave ‘em to each other. Gadget and Geegaw... that pair even closer than their names...

                Well, that was a non-answer. Chip frowned, but didn’t push the issue.

                Monty cleared his throat. “Anyhow, like I was sayin’, they wasn’t just family; they was best friends, too. He’d never do anythin’ what might hurt her.”

                Zipper pantomimed watching a movie, shaking like he was terrified, then pretended to wolf down massive quantities of food. He pointed at Dale.

                “Right you are, Zip me lad. An’ as long as there’s nothin’ ta worry ‘bout -- which there ain’t -- I won’t have you gettin’ my little Gadget all upset.”

                “Monty’s right,” Chip agreed. “She’s happier than she’s been since that whole mess with Hadrian, and I don’t think -”

                “Golly! You can smell that stuff all the way up to the workshop!” Gadget exclaimed as she swung herself onto one of the alphabet blocks that served as kitchen chairs.

                 Zipper gave a thumbs up and a questioning look to the other two, who snickered behind their hands. He was just kidding this time; Monty’s concoction actually smelled edible. Neither of the mice noticed.

                “Be ready in half a blink, luv.”

                “Great; I don’t have much time to spare. This is turning out to be a lot more work than I had anticipated. I told the rest of the Nut Squad I’d have to miss today’s day on the stage. It’s too bad; I was looking forward to it, but getting the Rangerwing back in the air is more urgent. There’ll always be other days to spend with the girls.”

                Chip’s curious nature raised a few questions about the Wing’s condition; Gadget never missed a day with her actress friends if she could help it. Experience, however, warned him not to ask. He wouldn’t receive an intelligible answer anyway.

                The meal passed in light conversation and astonished comments on Monterey’s (for once) edible food. After clean-up, the team split paths; Gadget to her workshop, Chip to the fifth precinct office to scare up a case or two, and Zipper and Monty “out.” Dale was left to his own resources for entertainment, but he paced the conference room floor instead of goofing off, pausing now and again to listen for his friend’s distraught commentary from the workshop directly above.

                I have to tell her. No, I promised the others I wouldn’t. I have to! Her life’s in danger! But what good would telling her do if we don’t know how to save her? Who would know? Who would know? Dale worked on wearing a hole in the floor a long while before the solution hit. Aletna! Gadget says she’s always workin’ with Tarot cards an’ fortune tellin’ an’ stuff! She’ll be on stage with the rest of the Nut Squad; they’ll help me! An’ Gadget won’t be there to hear. Proud of himself, the Hawaiian-clad chipmunk confidently strode out the door, certain that help awaited in the form of a tall flame-haired mouse.

                A long walk later, the Rescue Ranger bypassed the main entrance to the animals’ theatre; he knew it would be locked. Instead he searched out a more discreet door labeled CAST AND CREW ONLY, tested the knob, and slipped inside.

                Backstage looked different from the few times Dale had been there; there were no chairs for the actors and actresses to sit on while they awaited cues, no props or set pieces cluttering the space. Piano music and the sound of someone singing boomed from beyond the backdrop curtain.

... Have to get your wish, doesn’t matter how --

Anyway it doesn’t matter now.

It’s the last midnight, it’s the boom -- Splat!

Nothing but a vast midnight, everybody smashed flat

Nothing we can do... not exactly true:

We can always give her the boy....

No? No, of course what really matters is the blame

Somebody to blame.

Fine, if that’s the thing you enjoy: placing the blame

If that’s the aim give me the blame...

                Curiously he peeked around the curtain. On the other side, a mouse with flowing chestnut-brown hair gestured irately at invisible people. The piano’s volume increased as the actress’s voice rose in intensity:

...Oh, why bother? You’ll just do what you do!

It’s the last midnight, so good-bye, all!

Coming at you fast, midnight;

 soon you’ll see the sky fall!

                She flew across the stage and back and across and back... black dress and cape swooshing behind...

...It’s the last midnight, it’s the last verse.

Now before it’s past midnight,

I’m leaving you my last curse:

I’m leaving you alone; you can tend the garden:

It’s yours!

Separate and alone, everybody down on all fours....

                Stopped dead center,  raised her arms and face to the sky.

... All right, Mother, when?

                Dale’s heart ceased beating for a moment; when his mind cleared the actress was very nearly shouting:

...And the gloom

And the doom

And the boom...

                The floor unhesitatingly swallowed her up as she let out an ear-piercing shriek. Dale froze to the spot, wondering what had ever possessed him to come.

                Immediately the piano silenced, replaced by enthusiastic applause. The floor opened up, and the one who had dropped through dragged herself out to bow. She turned and caught sight of the eavesdropper.

                “Dale! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed in surprise.

                “Caprice... um... Nice act?”

                “Thanks, Dale. It’s from Into the Woods. If you think ‘Last Midnight’ was good, you should see these two at ‘Agony’! It’s hilarious!”

                “I’m sure you in your Zein: Princess of Battles outfit would keep his attention infinitely better than Kaley and I dressed  up like Princes,” a titan-haired mouse -- Aletna -- teased. Caprice blushed faintly but held her head high.

                “Thou needst not hide in the shadows. Come hither,” the pianist, a slightly plump mouse named Kaley, invited.

                Obediently Dale stepped onto the stage but hung back, out of his element. “Well, I was going to ask you something, but if now’s not a good time...”

                “As good as any,” Aletna decided. “What can we do for you?”

                “It about a dream I had... I think it’s from a ghost,” he blurted out before he lost his nerve and left.

                Aletna frowned. “It’s possible, but there’s only one way to find out. Dale, don’t tell me anything about your dream because I want you to believe we’re not playing a joke on you. Caprice, Kaley -”

                “On our way,” Caprice cut her off as she and the raven-haired mouse went backstage.

                “Why? What’re ya gonna do?”

                “Use my Ouiji board to ask an explanation from the spirits,” she answered simply.

                The other two soon returned, the shorter bearing a flat box, a flashlight, and some tape while the other hauled out a chair, a mouse-sized ruler, and some twine.

                “What’re ya doin’?”

                “We got to create ‘da mood,’” Caprice explained in her best imitation of The Little Mermaid’s Sebastian the Crab as she and the other two hastily tied the flashlight to one end of the ruler and taped the other end to the back of the chair. Aletna removed the Ouija board from its box and placed it under the flashlight while Kaley dimmed the lights. The two black-clad mice sat cross-legged with the board between them.

                “Caprice, what are you doing?” queried Dale shakily. The tiny flashlight provided the only illumination.

                “She’s my student,” Aletna explained. “Caprice knows almost as much about the otherworldly as I do.”

                “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” the youngest actress blushed as she and her mentor gingerly placed their fingertips on a wooden planchette.

                “We request aid for this chipmunk’s troubles,” the psychic spoke. “Does anyone hear us?”

                The planchette slid to Yes

                “Can you assist us in answering his questions?”

                WEWILLDOOURBEST

                It was slow going, as if the entity couldn’t find the letters.

                “We will do our best,” Kaley translated, studying a notebook in her hand.

                “More than one?” the pupil frowned. “That’s never happened before.”

                “Why’d ya write it down?” Dale queried.

                “Not all spirits are great spellers; sometimes we need to look back at it,” Aletna shrugged. “Ask a question.”

                “Um... okay.” He looked at the ceiling. “What’s ‘Beeahni’ mean?”

                SPIRITOFLIGHT

                “Spirit of Light.”

                The chipmunk paled in the darkness. Fitting... too fitting... “I don’t know what else to ask.”

                “What was your dream about?”

                “No, Caprice! You know we can’t know that.”

                “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Sorry. Well, asking for messages always works.”

                “Okay. Any messages for me?”

                Yes

                “How many?” Aletna intervened.

                1

                “Begin when you’re ready,” she instructed.

                TELLHER

                “Tell her. What?” Kaley asked.

                LOOKOUT

                “Look out...”

                TROU

                “Is it just me, or is it taking longer and longer for whoever this is to get around the board?” Caprice observed.

                BLE

                “... trouble...”

                FO

                “They are getting farther apart. They must be having difficulty.”

                R

                “... for...”

                It wandered around, not pausing.

                “Contact’s failing,” Aletna frowned. “Why? It’s never -”

                In a last burst of energy, the planchette shot about the board, leaving Kaleerit hardly time to write down the letters.

                IMCOMINGIMCOMINGIMCOMINGFORM

                Abruptly it rocketed to the word printed across the bottom of the board:

                Goodbye

                “What’d it say?! What’d it say?!” cried Dale, wanting desperately for Kaley to tell him something other than what he knew it was.

                “I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming form,” she spoke, then glanced at the bottom of the board, where the wooden triangle had abruptly dropped. “Form? Perchance a misspelling of  from?”

                “A possibility,” Aletna acknowledged. “They were going fast.”

                “Why just ‘I’ if there are two of them?” Caprice puzzled. “And coming? What do they (or he or she or whatever) mean by that? Coming how? From where? The message didn’t finish.”

                “Coming when? Why?! Tell me!!” the Rescue Ranger yelled at the inanimate board, leaping to his feet.

                An incredible peal of thunder drowned every sound. The flashlight disconnected from its supports and crashed down; shattered pieces scattered across the floor. Everyone jumped back with a startled yelp.

                “Must have been an actor or actress; they sure have a flare for the dramatic,” Caprice noted when Aletna brought up the lights. She then saw Dale, pale and rigid, staring wide-eyed beyond her to some unseen horror. “Hey, Dale! It’s all right! Kaley’s getting a broom, all right? It won’t take long to clean up. It was just some spirit getting the point across that he or she didn’t want to say any more. Maybe they were just joking. There are pranksters in the netherworld just like anywhere else.”

                The lone male nodded, trembling slightly.

                “It sounds like a storm out there,” Aletna noted. “Would you like to stay until it lets up?”

                “Storm?” When the thought finally registered, he sprang to his feet. “Thank you! I have to go home!” He sprinted out the door.

                Outside, the wind picked up in preparation for yet another storm, but Dale hardly noticed as he ran full-tilt back to Headquarters. The scenery sped by... his mind only registered it as how far he had to go. In a record time for the distance between the theatre and Ranger HQ on foot, Dale slammed the door behind himself, panting hard. “Chi-i-i-ip!” he cried, racing to his friend’s study.

                The detective sat bolt upright from the wing-backed chair he reserved for the reading of his favorite stories. A worn book tumbled to the floor, forgotten. “What? Dale, what is it? What happened?!”

                Now that he had found Chip, Dale realized telling him wasn’t such a good idea. “Um, nothing.”

                A scowl spread across Chip’s fedora-shaded face. “You come in here screaming like the world’s about to end for nothing?!”

                “Yeah. Sorry, Chipper. Have you seen Gadget around?”

                “No, and she won’t be down for dinner; Monty says she grabbed something from the fridge and plans to eat while she works,” he answered irritably, recovering his book from the floor and settling into a comfortable position once more. Before he resumed reading, Chip cast a hard look at his partner. “But don’t you dare scare her like that; she could be working with dangerous tools or something. I don’t want her to get hurt. Although if she was working with plunger darts, it’d serve you right to get one in the face.”

                Dale was too preoccupied to classify his buddy’s last remark as an insult. Just as he turned to leave, he caught sight of a shadowy figure peering through the window. “Chip, look!”

                “What now?” His eyes followed the other’s finger to the darkness outside. “It’s gonna storm again. So?”

                “No, Chip, there’s a- hey, where did he go?”

                “I give up, Dale, where? I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be looking at!”

                “The guy outside the window, who else?”

                “There’s no one there, dummy, just your imagination playing tricks on you again.”

                Dale sighed in weary resignation. No matter how hard he tried to prove something was amiss, it inevitably backfired. Arguing only made it worse. “Yeah, I guess so. Well, see ya, Chipper.”

                Before the leather-clad rodent could respond, a clap of thunder rocked the heavens and something toppled from Chip’s desk. Its owner immediately got up to replace the object. “Aw, darn!”

                “What is it, Chip?” He peeked over his friend’s shoulder. Five Rescue Rangers smiled at him from within the silver border, but a fissure in the glass slightly distorted one image -- Gadget’s. He gasped.

                “I’ll have to get Gadget to cut me a new piece of glass for this when she’s finished work on the Rangerwing.” The detective put it in its rightful place. Dale’s petrified look met him when he turned. “Hey, Dale, take it easy, okay? It’s just a picture.”

                “But the crack... it’s -” he said softly, reaching out to touch it, but when his fingers came almost close enough another roar of thunder shook the tree and the photo keeled forward. Dale had just enough time to snatch his hand away.

                “Just a coincidence,” Chip assured him, gently leading him out. “Go read your comic books, okay? They always make you feel better.”

                “Okay, Chipper,” he assented as the door closed behind him. Still shaken, the chipmunk restlessly paced the halls of headquarters in search of Gadget’s salvation.

                Dinner passed uneasily. The lack of Gadget’s cheerful presence always took a little spark from the mood, but it was more than that. Dale jumped at the slightest noise, and Chip spent the entire time scowling into his plate (whether because of Dale or the “food” even he didn’t know). Monterey Jack and Zipper tried some small talk to no avail. An eternity later everyone took their dishes to the sink and gratefully retreated to solitude except for the two “best mates,” who opted to clean up together.

                For the thousandth time the goof-off made his rounds, searching vainly for an answer. As he passed the kitchen, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. The smell of dinner still wafted from cracks in the door; he hurried to escape it. Pew! Monty’s cooking could keep anyone away! The thought gave him pause. Even...? A slow smile spreading across his face, Dale turned back and knocked thrice on the kitchen door.

*                              *                              *

                        Fingers, not extraordinary fingers, tapped a desk of gloomy dark wood. They ceased a moment, and one unextraordinary index finger ran down a calendar until it came to a date that suited it. The hand moved from a deathly black marker to a blood red one, undecided, and finally circled the date in black and filled the box with red. The hand replaced the markers, well proud of itself, and contemplated its work.

*                              *                              *

                Lightning rent the sky, then abandoned the lacerated heavens to crash together. Inside the Rangers’ mailbox-hanger, Gadget hardly noticed. Fixing the Rangerwing required too much concentration to allow for cognizance of the petty disturbance. It was a wonder she could concentrate at all, much less with such complete absorption; rain created an increadible racket on the exposed portion of the tin structure.

                Gadget mumbled distractedly under the control panel. At length she pulled herself out and stared from the odd-looking part in her hand to the plane and back before diving in again. “I’m sure it must go somewhere. I mean, it came out of the plane, after all. There should be somewhere for it to be put back in. Why is it the plane always seems to shrink every time I take parts out?! And then the others always look so uneasy when they get in, like it’s my fault I always end up with parts left over! If I had known it would be so much more difficult to land the plane without it, I certainly would have tried harder to find a place for this thing!”

                The electricity chose that moment to go out. Startled, the inventor jumped and smacked her head solidly on the underside of the control panel. “Ow!”

                Rubbing her head, she resurfaced with a frown. Gadget climbed to the floor and unconsciously flattened against her creation. Thunder shook the tree to its roots. Arms extended, Gadget attempted to find the hanger’s door without injuring herself. A button on her battery-powered door opener allowed exit; outside, an identical button secured her creation within. The late-night worker gasped as forked lightning illuminated an India ink sky. The front door suddenly seemed impossibly far away.

                Shielding her face from torrential rain and flying hair, Gadget leaned into the wind and walked blindly up the well-known path, now an opponant.  The wood was slick, and one wrong step could send her plummeting to the ground far below. At long last her hand found the knob and twisted it, letting her in as another bolt of lightning streaked the sky. Throwing all her weight against the door to close it, she sagged against the solid wood frame with a relieved sigh. I made it. Alive.

                A hand rested on the survivor’s shoulder, another cut her off in mid-scream. “Shhh!” a voice hissed. Then, feeling her stiffen with shock, the owner of the hands attempted to speak, but before uttering a word the person was face-down on the floor and Gadget held one of her captive’s arms dangerously near to breaking.

                “Who are you?” she demanded, sounding fierce and unafraid.

                “It’s me, Gadget! Chip!”

                The inventor wanted to laugh or cry -- or both. Shakily she helped him up. “Sorry, Chip. I thought -”

                “I know. It’s all this garbage about someone lurking outside the windows that Dale’s all worked up about.”

                “He has been extremely solicitous the past few weeks.”

                “He’s even worse today.”

                “I’ll have to talk to him,” she told herself. Then, “Are you all right?”

                “Yeah.” He massaged his shoulder a little. “Where’d you learn that stuff, Gadget?!”

                She shrugged. “Dad taught me a long time ago. Said he wan’t about to have a helpless faerie-tale princess for a daughter; if I was going to go out adventuring with him I had to be able to hold my own.”

                “Looks like the training paid off!” he said with a grin. No one had ever bested him that quickly before -- his respect for her jumped a couple notches.  “I didn’t mean to scare you like that; I just didn’t want you to wake Monty. I was about to go out to the hanger and ask if you wanted to help me ‘liberate’ a new batch of his cheese and marshmallow surprise. While you were out there, our resident chef was in the kitchen.”

                “But we just had it not long ago! I thought we’d be safe for at least another week or so!”

                “We would have, but Dale asked him to make more.”

                “He what?! Whose side is he on, anyway?!”

                “Shhh!” Chip’s finger shot to his lips. They both held their breath a minute, listening. When there came no sound, the chipmunk ventured to speak again. “Well, it’s storming out again, and that’s when he usually gets those nightmares of his. He thought some of Monty’s cooking would protect him.”

                “Well, I’d stay away if I was a nightmare and confronted with Monty’s cooking! Especially that cheese and marshmallow stuff,” she grimaced.

                “Unfortunately, he didn’t take it all, and even the stuff he did take won’t be eaten. We’ve gotta get rid of it before we have to eat it.”

                “Well, someone’s got to do it. Let’s get to it and finish before someone finds us.”

*                              *                              *

                        A hand, a self-confident hand, penned something neatly onto a sheet of paper. Two words, two dashes, two more words. Simple, but oh, so effective! One hand triumphantly slammed the cap on a pen the other held. The hand holding the pen squeezed it as one would squeeze a dagger. Then, with exceeding care, it placed the pen on a desk of gloomy dark wood.

*                              *                              *

                Something half-concealed by grass caught Monterey Jack’s attention. He bent down to pick it up, turned the little wooden vial over in his hands. Rough block letters marred the surface. IOCANE.

                It took a fraction of a second for realization to hit home; his eyes went wide. “Sarah...” he whispered, looking up without seeing, then back at the vial, transfixed.

                Something inside him snapped, and he looked up, recognizing his surroundings this time. Wilec knelt, his back to Monty, but the Australian knew he held Sarah in his arms. “I’ll go get some blankets,” he volunteered hastily, running to the plane faster than possible. He knew what would happen. He knew, he knew... he could do nothing to prevent it. He ran, not wanting to see, to hear, to know...  

                He searched the plane, looking for something he had already found, trying desperately to shut out his best friends’ words. This was their moment, their last moment together, he had no right to know, he didn’t want to know... and yet he turned to see her cradled in her love’s arms, his hand pressing hers to his heart. Even from a distance Monterey saw the foggy look in her eyes, the exhaustion in her smile, the harsh contrast of  Wilec’s dark leather jacket with the pallor of her countenance...

                She closed her eyes. Moments later her hand slipped from beneath his. Monty stood paralyzed, blankets held in shaking hands. Through what felt like a hazy dream, Wilec’s voice came painfully clear.

                “Sarah? Dove, are you with me? Sarah?!”

                Monty turned, dropping the blankets. He covered his ears to block out what he knew would come. The despairing wail of a broken heart cut through his flimsy defense.

                “No!!”

                Softer, from Monterey Jack, “Please, no...”

~

                A dark version of the world gradually came into focus, distorted as if underwater. The largest Ranger took a while to dawn to his surroundings. His room, slightly wavy. He cleared tears from his eyes. So quiet, so dark, not a sound in the house.

            “NO!!!!”

                The terrified scream startled him so badly that Monty fell topsy-turvy from his hammock. More alarming still, the sound of shattering glass. By the time he reached its source, Chip and Dale’s bedroom, Gadget was beside Dale, comforting him. Chip stood with feet shoulder-width apart and arms spread-eagled, covered in marshmallow cheese surprise and looking thoroughly disgusted. A few daggers of silvered glass adorned the mirror above the boys’ dresser; the rest of the shards covered the floor.

                “What happened, mates?”

                “Dale had another nightmare and threw a bowl at the mirror,” Gadget informed him calmly. “It rebounded and ended up all over Chip. Monty, get my high-powered vacuum. Zip, show him how to run it, okay? Chip, why don’t you go clean yourself up? I’m going to take Dale down to the kitchen and get him some cocoa.”

                The lights flickered out again just before they could carry on, producing a groan from all the Rangers. The haunted rodent stiffened; Gadget squeezed his hand comfortingly and confidently led him down the corridor.

                Minutes later, Gadget served her friend several cookies and a steaming mug of cocoa (with pleanty of marshmallows on top) by candlelight. Dale drank as the inventor seated herself beside him. She put her hand over his and smiled warmly, the special smile only she possessed. “Want to talk about it?”

                He shook his head and stuffed a cookie in his mouth to keep himself from talking. Not that it ever deterred him, but with any luck she wouldn’t be able to interpret.

                She frowned slightly in concern. “You’re sure? It might help.”

                I want to tell you everything, keep you safe from him, his mind spoke, but he forced himself to silence. The candle’s dancing flame cast patterns of light and darkness over her face, made her hair shine even more than usual, accentuated the sparkle in her eyes. So beautiful... so naieve. So easily taken away by someone she trusted but shouldn’t. He knew he had to protect her at any cost, and that meant not saying anything. She wouldn’t believe him. He almost told her he was sure, but the candle blinked out.

                “Don’t panic, Dale. I’ll just relight it.” The match gave brief illumination, but went out in less than a second. So did the second, and the third. “Funny, I don’t feel a draft.”

                A brief radiance shot through the window, throwing Gadget’s silhouette against the wall. The newest part of his dream flashed through Dale’s mind, and he lept up, a second thought occurring to him. What if that mysterious someone was on the other side of the glass? “Forget the candle,” he suggested, gently pushing her away.

                “You’re right. Flashlights work better anyway.”

                As she confidently strode to the drawer and began rummaging, Dale couldn’t help but admire her; so assured, even in the darkness. Would she be if she knew?

                “Ah! Found it!”

                Click.

                Nothing.

                A few more clicks, rapidly, then the sound of someone forcefully smacking plastic. “The batteries must be dead.”

                His mind immediately took her last word out of context, and panic welled within him. His head snapped up. Was that a bluish glow in one of the pots?

                A window blew open.

                Not now! Oh, not now!

                Gadget went to close it, peering into the storm a moment. A blinding flash of light gave Dale her location. Her silhouette cast itself once more across the wall.

                You can’t have her! Spurred by fear, he hurled himself across the room, upsetting his chair. He yanked his teammate from the window, slammed it closed, and dragged the alarmed young lady down the hall.

                “Dale, what are you -?!”

                The figure, in the hall window!

                His mind raced. Figure ahead, and wherever there was a window. Beeahni behind, and wherever there was a mirror or something of the like. Most rooms possessed both. Where to go?  Where to go??  In a fog of desperation he kept running, Gadget in tow. There must be somewhere, somewhere...

                Like a diabetic spying chocolate, Dale found his refuge. The closet! He flung the door wide, pushed Gadget in, squeezed in himself, and slammed the door. If he gets her, he has to face me, first! Then, his bravery flagging a moment, I can’t do this alone! I must. For Gadget, I must!

                “Dale, what are we doing in a closet?” She gently laid a hand on his shoulder, innocent, unsuspecting...

                In front of him... a metal dustpan! A blue orb appeared, grew brighter, brighter, brighter...

   The door banged open. A sheet of white light blotted out all else, enveloped him...

   Dale jumped back, forcing Gadget against the rear wall. He screamed, a terrified wordless shriek.

   All was darkness.

*                              *                              *

        “No!” The agonized wail lasted a lifetime, an eternity, and more.

                A meaty hand clapped over his mouth. “Take a breath, mate, ‘fore ya pass out again!”

                The voice... That voice! Monterey Jack! Dale opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light. Electricity. Yes. Electricity caused light. The conference room... that’s where he was, sitting bolt upright on the couch. Slowly Monty removed his hand. The chipmunk did not scream. He wanted to laugh with relief, but shock held him stiffly immobile.

                “Dale?” A soft voice.

                Two small hands, warm, reassuring, clasped his. He looked down. Brown hands. His hands. White hands. Not Chip’s. He looked up. Sunny blonde hair, concerned blue eyes. Such beautiful blue eyes... Gadget!  The thought struck like lightning; he threw himself at her, holding her close.

                “Why don’t we all camp out in the conference room tonight?” the soft voice suggested, and a few others agreed. But Dale didn’t hear; he was too preoccupied with his one thought, filling his mind to capacity. She’s alive. Gadget’s alive. I saved her.

*                              *                              *

                        The hands, quick hands, carefully folded a piece of paper into thirds, making sharp creases as they pressed the folds hard against a desk of dark gloomy wood. They slipped it into an envelope and sealed the envelope precisely. The owner grinned at the envelope for a time, then kissed it ironically.

                “With love,” a voice spoke, softly.

*                              *                              *

                A colorfully dressed chipmunk sauntered into the conference room. He almost flopped down on the sofa to watch TV when something by the door caught his eye. Curiously he went to examine it.

                “An envelope. Mail must’ve come. Wonder if it’s for me.” He turned it over to reveal the blank front and pondered a moment. “Well, it doesn’t say it’s not for me...” Dale checked to see if anyone was a-round, then ripped open the envelope, pulled out the paper, and tossed the envelope aside. He unfolded the paper to expose words written in angry red ink.

I’m coming -- Watch out!

                His eyes dilated in terror. Gadget’s dad sent it! It must be his handwriting! He started to run for one of his friends, then stopped short. Waitaminute. They don’t believe me about my dreams. They might think I went through Gadget’s stuff and faked the note so I wouldn’t look stupid about my nightmares.

                A soft hissing sound, cotton on rubber. He stuffed the note in his pocket just as Gadget landed at the slide’s bottom.

                “‘Morning, Dale! Whatcha- Hey, Dale? You all right?” she tried, going to him.

                He nodded vigorously.

                “You’re sure? You look like you just saw a ghost!”

                Or read a letter from one... “Yeah. You just scared me’s all.”

                “Oh. Sorry.”

                “S’okay.”

                “Listen, why don’t you watch a little TV, all right? You’ve been pretty jumpy lately, and it might help you relax,” she offered, leading him to the sofa.

                “TV’s good.” Yes, yes, just so she doesn’t know...

                “Great.” She switched on the set. “I’ll be in my workshop if you need me.”

                Dale nodded, already zoning out, Gadget was happy to see. She quietly snuck up the stairs.

            Click.

                “Oh, Johnny, we shall be together forever!”

                “Yes, Jennie, forever...”

                Dale wrinkled his nose in disgust. A kissing movie! Eew-yuck!

            Click.

                “You love me, I love you, we’ll make lots of money, too...”

                Dale’s mind recoiled at the saccharine song. AAAGH! BLARNIE THE BLUE BRONTASAURUS! CHANGE IT! CHANGE IT!

            Click. Click.

                “Blarnie is a brontasaur from our imagination; his income rivals CEOs of major corporations!”

                Is this doofus on every chanel? This is almost scarier than my dream!

            ClickClickClickClick!

                “... and here’s Hal with the weather. Hal?”

                “Thanks, Stan. You know, it looks like a great night for trick-or-treating with the kiddies. Cool, crisp, not a cloud in the sky so you’ll be sure to see that full moon tonight! It should really set a nice mood for the events planned. Amy, why don’t you tell us about them.”

                “Well, Hal, there’s some spectacular haunted houses...”

                A flash of lightning blazed its path past a full moon...

            “I’m coming!”

                Dale’s eyes widened as he jumped to his feet, comprehending. He raced to Chip’s study and glared at the space for October 31. Samhain. Full moon. No! He sprinted to Gadget’s room, snatched her father’s picture from her nightstand, scowled at it threateningly.

                “You’re not gonna get her! Not while I’m alive to stop you!”

                An observation tugged at the back of his mind, made him peer at it more closely. Something had... changed?

                A picture can’t change, dummy! It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. He frowned out the window.

                A face looked back.

                The photo slipped from nerveless hands.

*                              *                              *

                Gadget’s head snapped up, startled from her reverie by the sound of shattering glass. Without thinking she threw the door open and fired her plunger gun at the first thing she saw.

                An unsuspecting chipmunk got it full in the face.

                “Dale! I’m sorry. What are you doing in here?” she queried as her friend yanked the dart from his face.

                “Well, I... uh... you see...” he stammered, looking guilty.

                By happenstance she glanced down a moment, casually, but immediately returned her gaze to the floor when recognition set in. The drawer was open, exposing several not-so-ordinary notebooks. And there on the floor, amidst a thousand shards of glass, lay her father. Tears of disbelief burned her eyes as she crouched to retrieve it, then drew back, sharply.

                “You’re hurt!” Even without being here, he hurt her!

                “Of course I’m hurt!” she snapped, glaring, hardly aware of the shooting pain in her right hand. “Did you think I wouldn’t be? I hoped it wasn’t... I can’t believe -”

                “It isn’t what you think! I saw a guy in your window, and I -”

                “So that’s what all this was!”

                “Yes! Yes!” he agreed readily.

                “Making up stories so you can -”

                “No! No! Gadget, it isn’t -”

                “Out! Get out of my room!”

                “But -”

                “Now!”

                Dale knew better than to disobey. That fierce light in her eyes only flared against the bad guys -- and Chip that one time -- and he had always been glad those fires didn’t burn because of him. Though he wasn’t bright by any standards, Dale had a remarkable sense of self-preservation.

                Gadget’s hands clenched into enraged fists of their own accord, and she almost cried out. Coming back to her senses, she gazed at the injured hand. I’d better bandage that. Then I’ll get a broom and dustpan to sweep this glass up before I step in it. And after that... I hope the paper in my notebook is made of as-bestos because I have a scathing letter to write!

*                              *                              *

                        Two hands, painstakingly careful hands, slid a rubber band from some rolled up paper and unfurled the former trees on a desk of gloomy dark wood. They traced ink marks on the paper with great familiarity. Sa-tisfied, the hands briskly re-rolled the paper and snapped the rubber band into place, then gingerly set the paper on a shelf. A place for everything... and everything in its place.

*                              *                              *

                “Hey, mate! What’s wrong?” Monterey asked as he entered the conference room with the two other boys; Dale looked shaken.

                “Uh-oh. What’d ya blow up?” Chip sighed, crossing his arms.

                “I didn’t- Well, Gadget, kinda -”

                The leader’s heart skipped about three beats. “What?!”

                “I mean, she kinda blew up at me when I broke her dad’s picture. I didn’t mean to break it; I just went in her room to tell him he wouldn’t get her if I could help it, and then I saw that face in the window again, and I dropped it, and I opened her bottom drawer to throw the glass inside so she wouldn’t step on it, but she came rushing in with her plunger gun and got me in the face with it, and then she saw the picture, and she got all mad, and -”

                Chip groaned. “She’s probably locked herself in her room. Monty, go talk to her, will ya?”

                “Right-o.”

                Zip placed the backs of his hands together and pushed them apart, buzzing.

                “Good idea, Zip. Maybe we could go on sky patrol and leave Dale here if he swears on his honor as a Rescue Ranger that he won’t so much as set foot in Gadget’s room or workshop, no matter what,” Chip thought aloud, the last part pointedly directed at his partner.

                “I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!” Dale vowed eagerly.

                Gadget entered with the musclemouse behind her and stared levelly at Dale. “Sorry, Chip, but I’m not going anywhere if he’s going to be home alone,” she informed him in a carefully measured voice.

                The accused shifted uneasily under his accuser’s piercing stare.

                “He won’t touch yer stuff, luv,” Monty stepped in. “‘Cause I’ll know if he did, and he’ll have me to answer to.”

                Reluctantly she nodded. “Okay. I trust you, Monterey. Thank you.”

                Zip pointed to the leader, grabbed an invisible wheel in front of him, flew a couple tight circles, then pointed to Gadget and painted an upset expression on his face.

                She turned her gaze to Chip. It wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t friendly, either. “I think I’m okay to fly, but... whatever.”

                Dale watched through the front window as Gadget’s favorite craft took to the skies, dwindled, and disappeared. He let the curtain fall closed and pulled the note from his pocket. Its message hadn’t changed.

                After staring at it for a good minute and a half, an idea began to take shape. I’m always in the dreams where he shows up, so if I’m not around, Gadget’s not in any danger. What better place to go on Samhain night than a real haunted house! And if I see any ghosts, I’ll tell them to tell Wilec to leave her alone. His mind made up, Dale wrote a brief note so the others wouldn’t get mad, grabbed a land vehicle, and sped off.

                Above, dark clouds began to eclipse the stars.

*                              *                              *

                        A pair of hands, perceptive hands, pulled back the blind. One stroked the glass, well pleased by what the transparent solid displayed. The hand withdrew, and the other left the blind to clatter shut. The hands caressed a desk of gloomy dark wood.

*                              *                              *

                Wind gusted, ruthlessly attempting to strip the trees of their leaves and branches. Its howls provided an eerie soundtrack to the pictureless movie broadcast across the heavens; flashes of black occasionally marred the stark white light. Above the mistral’s roar boomed thunder’s resounding percussion, a cacophony only Thor could create. Heavy drops of rain with scarcely space for air between them applauded against any available surface, begging for more. Nature intended to oblige.

                “We have to land!” Gadget yelled over the clamor. “I can hardly hold her steady; the wind’ll blow us into something if we don’t get hit by lightning first!”

                “I know!” Chip shouted back from his station as pilot. He wasn’t doing any of the flying; Gadget possessed far more experience and natural talent in that department. He scanned the vicinity for somewhere sheltered to land. Headquarters wasn’t far away, but making it there would be tricky; the Rangerwing’s little engines struggled just to hold ground. An especially brilliant sheet of light scalded the heavens, outlining the world in perfect detail.

                Gadget’s eyes widened with surprise and shock as the right engine failed. She banked the steering wheel hard to the right to keep from crashing. “Hold on, everyone!” she cried as they spiraled toward the old a-bandoned house Naltrissa and White Shadow had sheltered in. Miraculously, she managed to get to the house’s lee before the remaining engine gave out.

                The plane and its four screaming occupants crashed through an attic window in a spray of glass, bounced a few times on the hardwood floor, almost rolled over, and finally, mercifully, skidded to a stop.

                Gadget sagged against the back of her seat, shaking with relief and exhaustion.

                “Ace’s bit o’ flyin’, there. You all right, luv?” Monterey asked gently, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

                “Just happy to be alive,” she replied unsteadily, running a hand through drenched hair. She loved thunderstorms and flying was one of her greatest passions... but then, she liked cheese and marshmallows, too -- just not together. “What now?”

                “We find something to dry off with,” Chip voiced, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. All four Rangers were soaked and getting colder by the moment.

                “And a kerosene lamp for a little heat,” Monty added, holding the smallest Ranger close. Zipper shook violently and didn’t pay much attention.

                “Right,” Gadget agreed. “Let’s go.”

*                              *                              *

                The red-nosed chipmunk timidly peeked around the edge of the door. Seeing no threat within, he quietly stepped across the threshold. Although the door had been disguised as part of the wall, the room was little different from the others. Lightning cast it into stark black-and-white; hulking monsters lurked about. Dale’s heart pounded, though he knew they were only white sheets draped over old Victorian furniture -- the sort designed more for show than comfort. Unlike the previous rooms, the window was either open or broken; curtains, sheets over furniture, and drapings on the canopy bed fluttered, phantom hands reaching out to grab unwary small animals. Dale decided to explore somewhere more hospitible. This was a secret room, and didn’t secret rooms always have ghosts? He knew one ghost he wasn’t keen on running into.

                Before he could turn, an especially strong gust of wind threw the sheet from one form. The covering slumped to the floor in a heap. It exposed a floor-length mirror.  Fragments of the song he had heard Caprice sing spun crazily through his head, hollow and eerie.

It’s the last midnight, it’s the last verse

*                              *                              *

                Gadget sleepily appraised her surroundings, struggling to figure out her location. It took a while of staring blankly about, but the answer finally came.

                This bedroom was the first room she, Chip, Monty, and Zipper had entered. The furnitures’ draperies were effective towels; an old book with a padded leather cover made a comfortable spot to bask in the soft glow from a kaerosene lamp. Zipper soon stopped shaking; he warmed as easily as he chilled. Monterey held out his hand, and Gadget scooted closer. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, sighing with contentment as he put his arm around her shoulders, letting herself gently slide into the peaceful realm of dreams. The blonde-haired mouse didn’t know how long she’d been out, but now the others marked their lack of consciousness by soft (for once) snoring. The house had a hushed aura about it, and the mood reached into their slumber.

                She had no reason for wakefulness; peace, warmth and security permeated the yellow-orange bathed atmosphere. Yet something compelled her to seek out something... missing.

                Gadget had no idea where she was going as she slipped from under Monty’s arm, careful not to wake him, but she knew she couldn’t stay. Taking one of two flashlights nearby, the youngest Ranger climbed down the nightstand’s ornate woodwork and tiptoed out the door.

*                              *                              *

                Dale covered his eyes, not wanting to see. It was happening again... all over again... and this time it was real!

Nothing but a vast midnight

                “No, it’s a dream. Chip says it’s only a dream,” he told himself. “I’m going to look in the mirror and see me and not a funny light.” He uncovered his eyes. An orb of blue non-light, non-darkness hovered before him. He knew it was sourceless without having to look.

It’s the last midnight

                Beeahni!

*                              *                              *

                Gadget crept down the hall, the flashlight’s beam paving her way. How exciting to have an unseen force as a guide! Thunder beating through the floorboards accentuated the tingling waves running through her, making her tremble with anticipation. Such a wonderful, incredible, overwhelming sensation... Oh, for it to last forever! It washed over her, filling her with the sheer delight of the sourceless, nameless beauty until she wanted to fall to her knees and weep with joy. Something fantastic was about to happen... An invisible Something beckoned her without words. She had to respond... had to... and wanted desparately to answer in the glorious language the Something spoke, but could only cry out, “I’m coming!” Again, to release some of the glorious freedom before her heart burst, “I’m coming!”

*                              *                              *

                “I said, I don’t see a funny blue light!” Dale repeated, closing his eyes and opening them to erase the image. The ethereal sphere persisted in its bizarre existence.

Oh, why bother? You’ll just do what you do!

                Okay. That doesn’t mean anything. As long as I don’t turn around, he can’t come. Even determination born from willpower and fear can’t overpower reflexes, though, and so the chipmunk whipped around when lightning rived the night sky and thunder murderously healed it. He covered his eyes.

It’s the last midnight, so good-bye, all!

                Too late. He saw. It was the same image, down to the scarf fluttering with winds from the netherworld; gusts in this one had abruptly ceased upon his arrival. The apparition looked up. Their eyes locked.

                “I’ve come for my daughter.”

Coming at you fast, midnight

                Then Dale remembered one important thing: Gadget isn’t here. He started to whoop in triumph, but something stopped him.

                “I’m coming!”

                Unthinkable! How could she possibly be there? How? How?? How??

                “No,” the petrified Ranger whispered. “No!”

soon you’ll see the sky fall!

                At last he found his voice, and used every ounce of it. “NO!!!!”

                “I’m coming!”

                A stream of clear, bright light pierced a blackness darker than a Vampyre’s cloak. A shadow appeared in it, the shadow of a young lady with flowing hair and graceful figure made taller by the beam’s distorting shaft. Her hand delicately rested against the doorframe.

                Dale had thought his dreams were bad, but as he looked from the orb, suddenly closer to the mirror’s surface, to the ghost he so feared, now smiling instead of somber, to the silhouette thrown across dusty wooden floorboards, he realized this was infinitely worse. There was no escape. He couldn’t wake up. It wasn’t a dream. This... was real!

*                              *                              *

                Chip cried out inarticulately, sitting bolt upright from an exhausted slumber. Did I really hear...? Nah! Must be my imagination from all the times Dale relived his nightmare. Still, those voices sounded awfully real... Just to be sure, he rose and walked around to where Gadget had been sleeping in Monterey’s arms.

                She was gone!

                The detective’s blood ran cold, his logical mode taking charge to prevent panic. “Monty! Zipper! Get up! Hurry!” he yelled, clambering down the night table. “Gadget’s in trouble!” He hoped they heard him; there was no time to waste if they refused to wake up. It didn’t matter that the inventor and the leader had hardly spoken since he blew up at her that night in her workshop. He still loved her, and he had to prevent a disaster. No matter what the price.

 *                             *                              *

                Gadget peered into the blackest blackness she had ever witnessed. It gobbled the end of her flashlight’s ray like a Jabberwocky. This was her destination. The ecstasy she hadn’t thought could be stronger had increased; it made her so dizzy that she wasn’t sure she could walk the distance her flashlight -- lying just outside the door -- illuminated. It wasn’t even far; mouse-sized flashlights don’t cover human-sized distances well. She could only see dusty floorboards directly ahead and the unfathomable pitch covering everything else.

                At once her vision sharpened. There were chairs with draperies, and a bed, and a window... nothing extraordinary there. But... a mirror reflecting a bluish ball of absence of darkness without an origin? That was odd. Odder still, her father stood before it! He was whiter than the sheets over the furniture had been when newly-purchased, though frightfully insubstantial, but there was no mistaking his identity. He had the same smile, the same look in his eyes, the same soundless language about him. Even more special, the look of a great secret to impart, the look he had always worn when about to teach her something. Even when some things became frustratingly hard to remember, that remained clear in her mind. Oh, all those times she wished, and now...! She didn’t doubt, she didn’t question, she didn’t wonder, she just loved.

                The room seemed filled with gelatin, making getting to her father agonizingly difficult. She persisted.

                Closer.

Now before it’s past

                He reached out for her, palm up, inviting.

                Still closer.

midnight

                She reached to him.

I’m leaving you my last

                Yet closer.

curse:

                “Come to the mirror, Gadget.”

                Ever closer.

I’m leaving you alone

                Dale’s fright turned him into a lawn-jocky with fright. One thought raced through his mind. Why can’t I be Chip? He could do something!

SEPARATE AND ALONE

                Oh, I wish Chip was here!

                Somewhere in the shadows, a clock , long untended yet dutiful, began its laborious preparatory wind-up.

*                              *                              *

                The fedora-capped chipmunk raced blindly down the hall -- raced against time. Heavy footsteps   -- Monty’s -- and a slight trilling -- Zipper -- sounded behind him, but he dared not wait. In matters of life and death there’s no time to let teammates catch up. He might not be as strong as Monterey or have the same influence over Gadget, but he would do what he could. He didn’t know exactly what, but it would be brilliant.

                A flashlight shone at the end of the hall.

*                              *                              *

 Nothing we can do

                Through his terror, Dale saw the shadow linger for an eternal moment before springing.

not exactly true

                The world jumped from slow motion to hyperspeed as the form yanked Gadget away from her father and pinned her to a nearby wall, hands above her head and feet immobilized by her captor’s. It all happened too fast for her to identify her opponent; the inventor’s first clue was his voice. “No, Gadget!”

what really matters is the blame

                “Chip! Let go! Let me go right now!” She struggled with every scrap of energy she possessed, but the harder she tried the more firmly he pressed her against the wall.

                “No! I won’t let you do this!”

Somebody to blame

                The prisoner realized fighting wouldn’t do any good.  The only way out was to inflict physical pain, which she could not bring herself to do. Her eyes welled with tears of frustration, hurt, and rage. All those years of wishing finally paid off. Her father was there, she was there, it wasn’t a dream, but still something had to bar her way to happiness! “You can’t do this, Chip!” she cried, tears of despair gliding unhindered down her face. “What do you have against Dad? What do you have against me?”

Fine, if that’s the thing you enjoy

                Before Chip could open his mouth to protest, Gadget plunged ahead.

PLACING THE BLAME

                “I couldn’t have my parents before, but I could be Juliet, and you didn’t want me to do that. Now all my wishes are finally coming true, and you’re trying to stop me again! You’re the only thing standing between me and happiness, Chip! Please, please, let me go!”

If that’s the aim give me the blame

                “Gadget, don’t you realize what’ll happen if you touch that mirror? We’re friends, Gadget! I can’t let him do that!”

                “A real friend would trust me!”

Have to get your wish

                “I do trust you! I just don’t trust him; he’s got you under some sort of spell! You can’t trust him either.”

                “If I can’t trust my own father, I can’t trust anyone.”

                “You can trust me,” he said softly.

                “I only trust friends, and if you keep me from the one person I love more than anyone, you’re no friend of mine!”

doesn’t matter how --

                Chip stood firm. He didn’t care if it cost him what little favor he had left with his teammate, so long as he kept her alive. “I am your friend! That’s why I won’t let him take you!”

                “But he won’t! Why can’t you see that, Chip?!” she demanded, struggling to break free.

                A powerful hand gripped Chip’s wrists, forcing him release his hold on Gadget, and pulled him away. “Let her go, mate.”

Anyway it doesn’t matter now

                The instant she gained liberation, Gadget shot the large mouse a grateful look and dashed past her father, who had spent the past minute or so frustrated at his inability to aid his daughter. She sprinted for the mirror. The clock sang “Ave Maria” in a weird counterpoint.

And the

                Closer.

                Before the leader could cry out, her hand reached for the mirror. Her tears sparkled in what had become an eerie glow.

 gloom

                Closer still.

                The blue orb grew to her size, the hazy outline of a mouse within it. She smiled in complete rapture.

And the

                A bit more...

                As the inventor’s fingertips connected with the glass, the winds of space and time burst full force into the room. The mirror’s surface clouded, swirled.

DOOM

                Even through the uproar Chip caught sight of his love’s form, rigid with shock, still touching the mirror. “Gadget!” Monty’s suddenly loose grip allowed him to rip himself free, only to sprawl prostrate on the ground. “No!!!”

And the boom

                The looking-glass erupted in light more brilliant than a thousand suns on new-fallen snow, rendering everything invisible. The only sound above the chaos was Gadget’s piercing scream...

                Abruptly, it stopped. The wind halted, Gadget’s voice silenced, the light extinguished. Everything still, silent as a tomb, and saturated with horrible penetrating darkness.

  dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong. dong.

*                              *                              *

                Gadget staggered backwards unsteadily. The intoxicating furor had increased tenfold upon touching the looking-glass and risen from there until she couldn’t still her own cries. She pulled in every scrap she could contain and more of this glorious thing, so wonderful it made breathing agony, so incredible the ecstasy must stop the beating of her heart, made her wonder if it already had... A million birds in song, a land awash in rainbow’s light... Sweeter than infinite clover, more exhilarating than riding the wind... And in a fraction of a second something had ripped it away. Instantly she had stopped screaming. The shock of its disappearance stunned her so badly she couldn’t even recognize the voices in the darkness around her. She wondered if her feet were still on the ground; she felt so weightless. Things sounded distant and yet so clear... The floor seemed to fall away beneath her. She felt her hold on reality slip. Someone put an arm around her to provide support.

                “She’s so pale!”

                “Cold, too; her hands’re ‘bout as warm as the Arctic.”

                “I didn’t count on this. If she had waited for me I could’ve avoided it.”

                “Gadget, look at me.”

                “We’d better get her to bed before she faints.”

                The inventor realized she’d better speak up in her own defense before she ended up carried off. Not that it would be objectionable; she didn’t feel too great. But she desperately wanted to know what was going on, so physical concerns would have to wait. “No. It’s okay. I’ll be all right.” I just need a second to make this nonexistent world stop spinning.

                It took a bit of intense concentration, but the blackness dissipated a little by virtue of soft radiance from the mirror. At first she groggily perceived that she was staring into it, but a minute’s observation found the reflection false. The other’s hair was mid-back length instead of falling to her waist, bangs brushed back with the rest of her tresses instead of in an unruly tuft. A pencil behind one ear replaced goggles, and the clothes were a light blue high-necked jumpsuit with a cream-colored sweater over it. And, too, the face was a trifle thinner, the cheekbones more prominent.

                “Mom?!”

                “Right here, sweetheart.”

                Gadget just stood there a moment. Over most of her lifetime she’d come up with a lengthy list of things she wanted to ask her mother, but the only question her still-foggy mind could form was, “What happened?”

                “You touched the mirror, bluebird, and I didn’t have enough time to shield you from the side effects,” a gentle voice offered, and she finally located its source: a mouse slightly older than the other, with soft coal-black eyes and a tassel of honey-colored fur sneaking out from under a flight cap.

                “Dad.”

                He nodded. “You all right, kiddo?”

                “I’m fantastic,” she smiled tiredly. “My dreams finally came true.”

                “Well, I’m pretty thirsty,” Monty voiced loudly. “How ‘bout you, mates?”

                “Me too,” Zip agreed quickly. “Chip? Dale?”

                “Wha- what happened?” asked a woozy voice, then came a sharp gasp. “They’re here!”

                “They’re friends,” the little fly assured him.

                “You passed out when Gadget touched the mirror,” Chip elucidated.

                “And now we’re gonna get a drink, right Zip?” Monty repeated.

                “Right. Right, Chip?”

                “Well -” he hesitated, glancing at the family reunion near the mirror.

                “Right, Chip?” the largest mouse enforced.

                “Right,” he sighed. “C’mon, Dale.” Without waiting for a response, the detective trudged out the door, partner in tow.

                “‘Bye, Wilec. Nice to meet you, Sarah?” Zipper tried.

                They smiled and waved, and he took his leave.

                The only one remaining gently released Gadget started to follow, but she stopped him.

                “Monterey?”

                He turned. “Yeah?”

                “Thanks,” Wilec smiled.

                “For everything,” his wife amended. “For taking care of  Wilec, and Trie -- Gadget.”

                The younger inventor nodded confirmation.

                He shrugged. “S’nothin’. Glad ta help. You two was always a couple ‘o the best mates I ever had. Nice ta see ya again, Sarah luv. An’ you, Wilec.”

                “You too,” they chorused.

                He started off, then turned once more. “Wilec? About that cheesebread in Zanzibar...”

                “Aw, that? Forget it,” he waved the thought off. “I thought you knew I forgave you when Gadget said I left you the Screaming Eagle.”

                “Thanks, mate,” he grinned. “Well, good-bye.”

                “See you, Monterey.”

                “‘Bye, Monty.”

                The door closed after him.

                Gadget stared at her parents an awestruck time before she finally managed to get words out. “How- how are you here? Why are you here? Why didn’t you come sooner?!”

                “Any special order you want those answered in?” her father chuckled.

                “No,” she beamed. “Actually, I don’t really care. I’m just glad you are here!”

                “You care,” Sarah smiled. “I remember you when you were little, always asking questions. And you could never get to sleep unless you understood.”

                “In fact, I remember one time you woke us up at two in the morning to ask why the moon wasn’t out when the stars were,” Wilec recalled, taking his love’s hand as they all sat down.

                Gadget blushed. “I did?”

                “You did,” the other two agreed.

                The youngest reached out to take her parents’ hands, but despite their solid -- if slightly faded -- appearances, her hand passed through thin air.

                “Trianne -”

                “No, it’s okay, Mom. You’re ghosts. I can’t touch you. I understand. In any event, it’s better than nothing.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Why haven’t I seen you before if you can visit?”

                “You have,” Sarah told her gently.

                “I don’t remember it,” the inventor frowned, trying to recall.

                “That doesn’t surprise me. You were really sick,” the pilot explained.

                “The only time I was sick... it was about a month after you...”

                He nodded. “You’ve only come down with something three times. Once when you found out you’d never see your mother again, again after I got back from Zanzibar and you thought Monty wouldn’t come visit anymore, and the last time when I -”

                “I guess I just don’t get sick very much,” she cut him off; it hurt enough that she had lost him. It would be infinitely worse to hear him say it. And it’s my fault he’s gone... She almost appologized for her lack of vigilance for those few hours that had cost him his life, but her mother spoke before she had the chance.

                “You took it hardest the last time,” the blonde put in. “You gave up on life, and it scared us. You believed in the possibility enough for us to appear, so we talked you through it the best we could. After that, you must have remembered enough to scare you into convincing yourself ghosts don’t exist. If you don’t believe enough, you won’t see us.”

                Gadget mentally kicked herself. All that time, I could have- If I’d just believed.... Telling herself firmly that past was past and there was no use crying over spilled milk, she returned her attention to the present. “I don’t understand why I had to touch the mirror, though, or why Dad was white at first, or why you were trapped in that blue light on the other side of the mirror...”

                “I was white at first because what you saw was sorta like a holographic image. I sent a picture of myself through the mirror asking you to touch it, because if you believed enough to touch it, then you believed enough for us to come through. If you touched the mirror, I would replace the hologram, but your mom had to step through. That’s why you saw one light instead of two.”

                “I came as a light because I thought it would be easier on Dale than looking in the mirror and seeing what he might think was you. Besides,” she smiled, “when we were looking for names to give you before you were born, we found one that meant ‘Spirit of Light.’ We liked the meaning, but ‘Beeahni’ sounded too exotic. It’s what your father called me sometimes.”

                “My dove is a spirit of light. So are you, bluebird.”

                Gadget looked momentarily puzzled. “I never understood why you call me bluebird, Dad.”

                “It’s what we called you before we knew if you were a boy or a girl because you made us both so happy,” he explained.

                “The bluebird of happiness,” she mused. “Dove and bluebird... What happens if I have a baby someday?”

                “Cross that bridge when you come to it,” he laughed.

                She blushed, then a fact caught her mind. “Dale saw you?”

                “In his dreams.”

                “Dad, are you saying that all those nightmares he had -”

                “We had to let you know we were coming, sweetheart, and how,” Sarah calmed her. “You, Chip, and Zipper didn’t believe in ghosts, and Monterey hardly ever remembers his dreams when he wakes. Dale was the only one left, but he perceived it the wrong way. We tried not to frighten him, but it didn’t work.”

                “It doesn’t matter how you put it, Mom; as long as he knew who either of you were, he would’ve gotten scared. Oh, I have so much to tell you about!”

                “We know,” Wilec smiled.

                “You do?” Her eyebrows shot up.

                “Of course! A parent’s gotta watch out for his little girl.”

                “Even if she is old enough to take care of herself,” the mother added.

                “So you did see me play Juliet!”

                “You were fantastic, bluebird. You did your mom and me proud.”

                “The actresses on our side could never hold a candle to you.”

                “They act where you are, Mom?”

                “Of course,” she beamed. “I’ve even been in a couple Shakespeare directed himself! Of course, all the performers were animals...”

                “Acted under Shakespeare?! Kaley would be so envious!”

                “Ah, yes. I remember Kaley. One of the Sisters of the Stage,” the adventurer laughed as he brought to mind the odd assortment of actresses whose title Caprice had changed to “Nut Squad” because it was faster to say.

                “She and Aletna haven’t changed much. Caprice did, but she was still pretty young last time I saw her. Say ‘hi’ everyone for me next time you four have a costume party, okay?”

                “No problem.” She paused a moment. “I don’t think I’ll be in a play anytime soon, though.”

                “Hadrian?” Wilec guessed.

                She nodded wordlessly, eyes downcast.

                “We have to admit helping that one along a little bit,” he confessed.

                Her eyes widened as she looked at her father, shocked. “Dad! You and Mom -”

                “Hadrian drugged you on his own,” Sarah clarified. “We can make... suggestions to the living sometimes, so we suggested Alastair ask Tem for something to drink. We knew he’d go to you, and we knew you’d give him the Coo-Coo Cola from your poison vial. We made sure Aletna refilled it, though, too. If he didn’t go over the deep end, what he and Hadrian did would have remained a secret. We couldn’t let you marry someone like that. I wish there had been an easier way.”

                “I left myself open for it,” she shrugged; only the slight tremor in her voice gave her away. “I counted on history repeating itself, and it didn’t. I let myself get swept up in the mood of the moment I met him, and every moment after that. I suppose it’s like the saying goes: ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.’”

                “Don’t lose heart just because you were wrong about Hadrian. If I had given up after the first time I fell out of love -- no, was thrown out of love -”

                “You got burned, too, Mom?”

                She nodded grimly. “Much the same way you did. I lost my heart to a smooth-talking actor, my co-star in Othello.”

                “He was the Moor?”

                “More fitting than Romeo; I discovered later he only wanted to marry me because I was the daughter of a famous actor and actress. Unfortunately, my parents wanted me to marry him even after they found out... they thought he was handsome and talented. So I left Broadway and joined up with what Caprice named the ‘Nut Squad’ when she came. I only spoke with Mom and Dad once after that, when they found out I was engaged to your father. They tried to talk me out of it, but I wouldn’t listen, so they disowned me.”

                Gadget’s eyes widened. “That’s awful!”

                “It’s beside the point. The point is, if I had given up on love, I never would’ve married, or had you. There’s someone out there who’s right for you. Open your eyes, and your heart. Your someone is waiting,” the dove counseled.

                “And closer than you think,” Wilec added too softly to be heard.

                “Thanks,” she smiled. Then to switch the topic, “Now, what about my third question?”

                “Why we came? More than just to say ‘Hi,’ I’m afraid,” he answered grimly. “You’re in danger. You and your friends.”

                “How? Things’ve been quiet lately.”

                “We don’t know the specifics,” replied the actress, “but there’s someone who plans to break into Headquarters tonight while you’re all asleep and... send everyone on an eternal vacation to join us.”

                “Who? Why?”

                “Your mother and I don’t know.”

                Gadget frowned slightly; her father apparently didn’t know, but... Sarah was studying the floor, her face a mask. Although she never gambled, Gadget would have bet money that her mother knew exactly who it was. And didn’t intend to share the information. But why?

                The older woman abruptly spoke, “Be careful when you face him tonight. And you have to do it tonight, because we won’t be able to talk to you like this again for a long time.”

                “You aren’t going to leave now, are you?”

                “Soon.” Sarah stared with slightly unfocused eyes at a place slightly above and behind her daughter. “Very soon, I think.”

                Sudden fear stabbed at Gadget’s heart. All the times she had wished for just five more minutes with them, to say good-bye... and now she couldn’t. She had received her five minutes and much more, but now that they would fade into oblivion before her eyes... She couldn’t bear the thought of losing them again. “Take me with you,” she pleaded. “Please, take me with you.”

                The parents exchanged a Look. “Bluebird, honey...” Wilec began, instinctively reaching out to her. His hand passed through hers.

                “You can, can’t you?”

                “We can’t stop you from coming with,” Sarah replied carefully. “Know that we love you with all our hearts, but we don’t want you to come.”

                “Gadget, your life on this side isn’t over. Think of all the people you’ve helped, all the people you can still help. Think of the other Rangers -- you’ve saved them a lot, too, and I know they couldn’t get along without you. We’re so proud of you, Gadget -- everything you are and everything you’ve done. Nothing can ever change that,” the pilot beamed.

                “The choice is yours, and we’ll stand behind you whatever you choose, but time on your side is so short, and you’ll have eternity with us someday. Remember: once you make your decision, there’s no turning back. Whichever you choose, it’s permanent,” the mother cautioned.

                “You’ll be back?” the inventor tried hopefully.

                “Once a year,” Wilec agreed.

                “On Samhain.”

                “Sing for me,” she pleaded. “Like when I was a little girl.”

                “As you wish,” she smiled, winked at her husband. Her beautiful, elfin voice played games with the acoustics until she was accompanying herself...

Hush, my darling, don’t cry,

Hush, my darling, no tears.

In my arms, peacefully lie,

Wish away all your fears.

Now dreams so sweet,

Like stars shine bright,

In dreams, we meet,

In dark, you’re my light.

We will never part,

Forever, my heart.

Now, my bluebird, find peace,

Now, my bluebird, find light.

Let your hope never cease,

Take comfort in the night.

My bluebird will sing

More clear than the moon.

Lift up and take wing;

Let all hear your tune.

Rainbows in the sky,

They never say good-bye...

                As the clock struck one, the forms faded into obscurity. “I love you,” Gadget whispered.

                Two voices, faint, dreamlike.

                “I love you, Gadget.” Her father.

                “I love you, bluebird.” Her mother.

                Gone.

                Gadget removed a small crystal from her pocket. She remembered the day Sarah had given it to her; it was the last time she had seen her mother. She played the memory over every morning and again at night, taking special care to never forget the moment. Rainbows in the sky, they never say good-bye... “No good-byes, then. I’ll see you next year. I love you both.” She pressed the treasure to her heart, closed her eyes as a solitary tear slid down one cheek. “Welcome to the Rescue Rangers.”

                The abyss was less light-consuming than when she had discovered it, yet its immensity multiplied a hundredfold with the departure of her parents. The slow, ghostly, forlorn ticking of a grandfather clock did nothing to fill the void.

                Monterey Jack appeared beside Gadget, put one arm around her. He pulled her close for comfort if she needed to cry, but the youngest Ranger knew no more tears would follow the first. Not this time.

*                              *                              *

                        A hand, a business-like hand, patted a desk of gloomy dark wood affectionately, then polished at it unconsciously, thinking. It traced a yin-yang, and crossed out the white half. Determination entered the hand, and it turned a doorknob. It opened a door. It shut the door.

                        The desk of gloomy dark wood found itself alone.

*                              *                              *

                Monterey Jack stared intently into the pitch-black behind his eyelids, waiting for something, anything. A sound, a scent, a faint light... yet things remained nerve-rackingly ordinary. ... Wait! What was that?

                The Ranger pricked his ears to the slight scraping and refrained from opening his eyes. There, the window opening... a soft, almost inaudible, landing on the wooden floor... soft breathing... getting closer...

                Monty rolled over to face his attacker, snoring loudly. Even after such a long life of adventuring, there was still nothing more exciting than the anticipation of overcoming a foe, especially one that thought they had the upper hand.

                ... the sound of a bottle being overturned to saturate a cloth... a funny smell... getting closer...

                With one swift movement and a mighty yell, the largest Ranger sprang from his hammock and pounced on the figure. Seconds later the lights blazed on to clearly display Monterey pinning a black-clad form to the ground. In one hand, one murderous hand, the stranger held a knife. A bottle lay shattered on the floor, five cloths nearby.

                At nearly twice the other’s weight, Monty clearly overpowered his opponent. Still, he couldn’t stay like that forever, and the second he let up that blade would become a serious threat. Gadget quickly appraised the situation and rushed to lend assistance.

                “Careful, luv.”

                “I will, Monty.” She snatched up the chemical-soaked cloth and pressed it over the enemy’s nose and mouth. After a few moments the hand holding the knife surrendered the weapon. Gadget could see why; with the bottle’s contents all over the floor she was beginning to feel a little light-headed, too, but refused to either leave or lose consciousness before someone dealt with the dagger. Chip assumed the duty, and she gratefully put as much distance between herself and the stench as possible.

                I recognize that smell... she puzzled, frowning. But from where?

                Monterey carried the prisoner to a chair and securely bound him, then removed the mask. “Well? Anybody know ‘im?”

                Unanimous disagreement.

                It took a while, but the mystery rodent -- a mouse -- finally regained consciousness. Despite his disadvantageous position, he stared coldly, threateningly, at the others.

                “Who are you?” demanded Gadget harshly.

                “You can’t make me talk, girlie,” he sneered.

                The others raised their eyebrows to Chip, standing at the ready with a bowl of leftover marshmallow-cheese surprise. “He’s asking for it, isn’t he?”

                A chorus of a “Yep,” two “Yeah”s, and one “Yes” met his ears.

                “Death first!” he barked.

                It took a while to persuade him, but eventually the hoodlum came around to the others’ way of thinking.

                “Ready to talk?” Monterey asked.

                He nodded fervently, gasping for breath.

                “What’s your name?” Dale questioned.

                “It’s of no consequence.”

                “Oh, really?” Chip countered, readying another spoonful of torture.

                “Okay, okay. If it makes you happy, I’m known as Darkness.”

                “What are you doing here?” Monty pressed.

                “I need rescuing.”

                “Wrong!” Chip declared gleefully, ready to force-feed him more of the vile concoction.

                “Okay. I’m here to dispose of all five of you. While you slept, I was going to chloroform a rag and leave it over your faces, so you’d asphyxiate without ever knowing you were in danger.”

                “That’s downright cowardly!” Monterey Jack spat.

                “It’s effective. The problem with the others is they’re too proud. Their victims have to suffer. That’s why they never win. I prefer simplicity. Do the job, and get it done right.” His eyes glazed over as he outlined his own superiority.

                “My techniques are nothing short of genius. I showed myself to Dale, so if someone saw me, he or she would have thought me a product of hearing Dale’s stories too often.  I studied you on cases -- discreetly, so you wouldn’t know. Another error most of my compatriots make: they don’t know who they’re dealing with.  Dale panics easily, so I played off his fear, which played off Gadget’s sympathy, and Chip’s irritability.  And making it look like Dale had read your diaries, Gadget?  Such an intelligent plan that I amaze even myself! Just the three of you would create a big enough rift in the team that everyone would be too busy accusing each other to watch their backs. As they say, ‘A house divided against itself cannot withstand a storm.’ Sound familiar, Gadget?”

                Her eyes widened in comprehension. “You -!” She made a mental note to apologize for yelling at Dale.

                He didn’t even pause. “You know, I even planned to get rid of you in a specific order? Monterey Jack first; he’s strongest, and hardest to defeat in hand-to-hand combat if someone should happen upon me. Chip next; he’s the leader. Then Gadget because she has technology behind her. Then Dale; he panics easily, but he’s bigger than Zipper. No offense, little one, but you could never defeat my genius!”

                “I did! I found out!” Zip called triumphantly without thinking. It still hit a nerve when someone equated his size with his importance. Shame overcame him when he realized what he had done, and he glanced apologetically at Gadget.

                She nodded understanding. “It’s true. He did.”

                The others chimed in, backing them up.

                “A fly? A fly beat me?! No! No!! No!!” Insane with rage and humiliation, he strained against his bonds until he collapsed with exhaustion and lay panting. After a bit, he regained his composure. “A minor set-back. Nothing you can do will hold me for long, and you wouldn’t dare hurt me. Gadget wouldn’t let you, would she? No. She’s too much like her mother for that.”

                “My... mother?”

                “Oh, yes! Knew her quite well, in fact; we were engaged once -”

                “Othello!”

                “-I even said good-bye to her right before she made her exit in the most famous play of all! Your father, too.”   

                Chip looked at him oddly. “Othello’s pretty famous, but I wouldn’t say it’s the most famous play of all...” he mused. “And you said your dad only ever did Romeo and Juliet, Gadget.”

                “Oh, my dearest... life...” Gadget murmured faintly, turning nearly as white as her father had been. She sank to her knees. Memories tickled at the back of her mind; she pushed them away.

                “Gadget? You okay?” Zip querried anxiously, but she did not hear.

   In the stillness her words, though scarcely a whisper, thundered off the walls. “‘Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’”

                “Luv, you mean...”

                The orphan spoke with a curious calm. Monty recognized that calm from once, so long ago... “Life, Monterey... Shakespeare made the equation in nearly all his plays.” Then, just as softly... “He killed my mother.” She looked up at her friend. “He killed my father.”

                 Sarah Haley... Wilec! Ye tried messin’ with me, an’ that was bad enough. But ye hurt people I care ‘bout. Now it’s personal! Something inside the Aussie snapped. He lunged at the villain, but was brought up by Gadget’s sharp command.

                “No, Monty!”

                He stared in astonishment. “But luv, he -”

                “I want to know why.”

                Monterey Jack stepped back. They was me best mates, me adventurin’ partners, but they was her mum an’ dad, so she’s got first claim. After she’s done, then he’s mine.

                “I didn’t kill your mother, if you must know... your Aunt Travinia wanted that pleasure for herself. I only helped make it possible. My wife was ruthless. I like that in a woman.”

                Shocked at the revalation, everyone spoke at once.

                Monty: “She was the one who-”

                Chip: “Aunt Travinia?”

                Zipper: “But -”

                Dale: “If she was your -”

                Gadget: “That would make you my -”  

                Darkness smiled. “Uncle. Dearest niece Trieanne, I hadn’t planned to meet you at all before your funeral, but the pleasure is all someone else’s, I’m sure.”

                “Trieanne?!” chorused the two chipmunks, shocked.

                Gadget didn’t hear. “Uncle Bob,” she spoke woodenly.

                “Bob?!” Dale hooted. “The so-called greatest villain in the universe is some guy named Bob?!”

                Chip swatted him upside the head with his fedorra at the same time their foe snapped, “Darkness!”

                Gadget noticed none of it. “Why? My mother... my father... why?” The memories refused to be put off. That scent -- stronger than it had been then, but the same -- burst full into her mind, pulling vivid images with it. “Chloroform...” she murmured, eyes wide, and at once she knew. She knew. The silence of the years burst from her heart; she lept to her feet with the explosion Monterey Jack had forseen... “Why, you son-of-a-human?!”

                Chip, Dale, and Zipper stared in awe-struck silence. The dirtiest thing Gadget had ever said was probably darn or shoot.

                “Why?” he asked innocently, not understanding the question.

                “Yes why! I can’t even imagine what it’s like to have people of my blood alive anymore, and you don’t bat an eye before murdering your relatives. I’d still have my parents if not for you! And I--want--you--to--tell--me--why!” she cried, seizing his collar. 

                He shrugged, nonplused at a hysterical female. “Travinia was envious of the attention your mother got from your grandparents. As for your father... I knew once you got older he’d be out galavanting around doing good deeds again, and I didn’t want him to get in any Lightkiller’s way.”

                The orphan’s fingers went numb; she stiffly released him and stepped back. Just because Mom was born... just because Dad might return to adventuring... just because they were good people...

                “Luv, if yer not gonna -”

                She controlled herself with effort. “No, Monterey, I’m not going to do anything. Neither are you.” She looked up to see Johnnie O’Brie standing in the doorway with half a dozen SAPS behind him. “He is a criminal, just like any other criminal we arrest. That he has hurt us personally is of no consequence. Johnnie will be taking him to Alcatraz and placing him in maximum security and he will be doing it very soon before I forget what I have just said.”

                Recognizing that his friend was dangerously near the breaking point, the officer’s only reply was an, “Aye, Miss Gadget,” as he and his fellow SAPS removed the offender with alacrity. Chair and all.

                Gadget watched them depart with all the expression of a cloaked mirror.

                The instant Darkness was gone, Monterey pulled the silently weeping Trieanne into a fierce embrace. He could not think of her as Gadget, not right now. She was the little girl who had wept for her mother, the wounded child he should have been there for when her father died. And the brave young woman who had lost both parents twice of a night, yet found the courage to see justice -- not revenge -- done. He felt as if he held a stranger. He felt as if he held his daughter. “Ah, luv,” he whispered, trying (and failing) to hold back tears of his own. “Yer parents would be so proud o’ ya. Yer better than I am. I woulda had his... never mind that. It’s over now. Yer mum an’ dad can have some peace.”

                Chip’s heart ached for his love; he longed to reach out, dry her tears, but knew she would not thank him for it. He turned away, could not bear anyone to see the saltwater escaping his eyes. Zipper sniffled quietly, not heeding the dampness of his own cheeks. Dale stared, dumbstruck, at the two mice.

                “My family...” the inventor whispered brokenly between gasps for breath. If I’d kept her home... if I’d stayed awake a little longer... Mom... Dad... If only I’d - Gadget’s heart screamed, but no one heard. “Just because.... and now...”

                “I know,” the huge mouse whispered into Trieanne’s hair. “I know.”

EPILOGUE

ale shifted his position as the heavens waged war on Rescue Ranger Headquarters. Curious as to the time, he opened his eyes to look at the alarm clock on the dresser. 12:00 the digital readout announced. Dale rolled over, snuggling under the warm quilt, glad for its comfort on such a cold, potentially scary night, and closed his eyes. Below him he could hear Chip snoring softly, a reassuring sound. No harm could come to him at home. Not now. As he fell asleep, one thought aimlessly wandered around his mind. 12:00. Hour for Darkness.

Aletna, Kaleerit, Caprice, Sarah Haley, and Hadrian, are copyright 1993 Meghan Brunner. Darkness and Travinia are copyright 1994 Meghan Brunner. Johnnie O’Brie and the SAPS are copyright 1993 Jeffrey Pierce, used with permission. (Thanks, Jeff!) All other characters copyright Disney and used without permission. All events and characters contained herein are purely fictitional, but only to those with a limited imagination. ;)