Little Ranger Blue

Colors of Love pt. 2 of many

by Meghan Elizabeth Brunner

                Gadget sighed.  “No. I’ve been avoiding them all for a week.  I think Monty knows something’s... well, different, at least. Chip I don’t think’s got a clue, and I don’t even know where to start -- I mean, he thinks I love him. Pass the hammer please. Thanks.”

                Caprice, sitting on the workshop table, handed over the requested tool and gazed intently at the blonde inventor, who had plopped down on an alphabet block stool, rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands.

                “I mean, I do, like a brother, maybe. Dale’s like the kid brother I never had -- I always felt like that about him. With Chip, it’s different, and I thought for a while....”

                “You don’t necessarily have to feel the same about all your siblings. Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it can’t all be the same.”

                Gadget pondered that for a moment. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Huh. I’d never thought about it like that before. It’s just that... everyone kept saying Chip loved me so much, and it did hurt when he left, so I supposed then I should love him too. But when I really thought about it...” She shrugged. And sighed again, looking slightly defeated. “I remember how I felt after Hadrian. I... Chip’s a good person. I don’t want to make anyone feel like that, espeically not him. When all he did was love me. But I can’t look at him now without knowing...”

                “Without knowing....?”

                “That I don’t. That I’ve been lying to us both. That I wouldn’t mind living with him forever, but not as his wife. I... I don’t love him. Not Like That.”

                Caprice’s sympathetic expression took on an impish glint. “Like what?”

                Gadget caught the sparkle, blushed only slightly, and stood. “Like.... This.” And kissed the petite brunette with all her skill.

                “Gadget! Caprice! Monty sent me to tell you that lunch is-” Chip pushed the slightly-ajar workshop door open and stepped inside. And stopped dead, a stunned look of confusion and disbelief on his face before it abruptly went blank. But not before the two females whipped around, wearing expressions of surprise and dread. “... ready.” Chip let out a nervous laugh. “Practicing for your next play, right? Tell me that was a stage kiss.”

                He knew by the look in their eyes it wasn’t. He felt his world tip sharply, and his heart, stomach, spleen, and several other vital organs dropped into his toes with a sickening rush.

                Gadget closed her eyes -- those beautiful, blue eyes -- and took a deep, shaking breath. “Um, Chip, could I talk to you for a minute?” The words came out so fast they nearly tripped over each other, but to the detective they seemed stretched over infinity. He grabbed his senses, forced himself to speak.

                “Ah, sure, Gadget, um....”

                “I- I think maybe I should....” Caprice stammered, shooting looks between the two. Gadget nodded minutely. “Um, yeah... I’ll just be- ah, excuse me....” She slipped past Chip and silently padded down the hallway. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

                Chip tried desparately to look non-chalant. “Um, look, Gadget, do you want to tell me-”

                She held up her hand. His speech halted, not so much by the gesture as by her refusal to look at him.

                “Chip. I... I love her, Chip.”

                I love you, Chip. The memory echoed in his ears. Suddenly it all seemed very far off. Happening to some other chipmunk. That day, when he’d first kissed her, when she’d kissed him, that was real. The haunted, pained espression in her eyes, that was not. “You love me.”

                “Yes, but that’s.... different.”

                “Different.”

                “Different.” Gadget, who had seldom in her life lacked for words, struggled to latch on to anything.

                A long paused reigned. “Different how?” Chip finally managed. He could see the tears shining in her eyes. Beautiful blue eyes.

                “Caprice-” Her pale countenance suffused with a delicate pink.

                She’s even pretter when she’s blushing, the thought echoed distantly.

                Gadget pressed her hand over her heart. “She holds a part of me that no one... has ever... touched before. When I look at her-”

                “Don’t-” Chip cut her off. “Don’t say it.... I... think I already know... it’s how I feel when I look at you.” His mind reeled. He’d never considered, never- “Why? When? How? Wasn’t I-”

                “I don’t know. I mean, I thought, but I wasn’t, not really, and then -” Gadget could hardly talk, she was trying so hard not to cry.

                Chip leaned back against the wall for support. “How long?”

                She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

                “What do you mean you don’t know?!” he cried.

                “I just don’t!”

                “How can you not?!”

                “Do you remember the first time you knew for sure?!”

                “Yes!” he yelled. “It was the very first second I looked at you!”

                “Well, I didn’t have that luxury!” she snapped. “No one ever told me that maybe one day I’d grow up and fall in love with a woman!”

                “Grow up and fall in love with a woman.” The words hit Chip harder than a  physical blow.  So was he just part of her childhood? The prelude to the real thing? A stage she'd outgrown? He couldn’t bring himself to ask -- he wasn’t sure he could stand to hear her say the answer. It was hard enough to believe, Gadget and Caprice -

                “I wondered about that.”

                Gadget’s attention snapped up to focus on the robust Australian mouse filling her doorway. Monterey Jack looked down at Chip. Chip didn’t so much as twitch. Gadget followed Monty’s gaze, and the look of absolute despair on Chip’s face pierced her soul.

                “Excuse me,” she whispered, squeezing past Monterey Jack and pattering quickly down the hall.

                “Uh, mate...” Monty started, resting a substantial hand on his friend’s shoulder.  He hesitated, at a loss, tried a different tactic.  “You know, it could be worse.  Could be a bloke like Hadrian.  I mean, if Gadget’s a dyke, then it’s hardly your fault, boy-o, if she just doesn’t swing that way.....”

                “Not now, Monty,” Chip choked out, face averted. “I think I need to get some air.” He pushed himself off the wall and strode out the door, rapidly down the hall. Monty thought he heard him mutter, “Didn’t really expect it’d last.”

                They both knew he was lying.

*                              *                              *

                Caprice sat curled in the back seat of the Rangerwing, rocking slightly, staring into space. This was it, then, and Gadget hadn’t even gotten to choose her own ground. She wondered what would happen. Not in the room. That she didn’t want to imagine. She supposed she must be a coward, but that look in Gadget’s eyes... Caprice sighed. Been there, done that. But what would happen to the Rescue Rangers? To her friends. To the woman she loved, who loved these people as family.

                She heard the front door bang open and sat up abruptly, ready to vacate her spot. But the person framed in the doorway....

                “Gadget?”

                The tear-streaked face raised at the sound of the beloved voice; with a strangled sob Gadget launched herself onto the wing, over the craft’s wall, and into Caprice’s arms, weeping bitterly.

                “Oh, Lady,” the brunette actress whispered, holding her friend close. Sympathetic tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Shhh, shhh.... it’s okay, it’ll be all right, everything’ll work out....”

                “I- I never- wanted to- to hurt- him,” she gasped out.

                She’d never be able to explain why, but something made Caprice look up. Chip stood stock still in the doorway. He remained motionless for the space of heartbeats, then turned and went back inside.

                Caprice released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding, began softly stroking her sweetheart’s hair.

                “I know, love, I know...”

*                              *                              *

                Monty sighed morosely. He thought of them all as his children. He couldn’t help it -- besides being old enough to have fathered them, he had seen so much more of the world... True, he had the closest bond with Gadget -- she was his best mate’s daughter, and it was his duty to watch out for her. As if he wouldn’t have anyway. He loved her like his own. Love. Well, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

                He had to admit he wasn’t really surprised. Some part of him had suspected. He’d been around the block a few times. He’d met others who swung that way -- that lad in Tipperary, for example, or the lass from Sri Lanka, or- That part of it didn’t bother him, and Caprice was a sweet enough lass, and perhaps a better match than Chip.

                Chip. That was the problem. Monterey Jack regretted every nudge he’d ever made to get them together. Poor Chip. Gadget had likely never suspected the extent of the chipmunk’s love. Perhaps better for her. She was taking it hard enough.

                Monterey opened the front door a crack -- albeit a wide crack -- and took a step outside. Love’s supposed to make people happy, he mused, beholding the tableau before him. Caprice sat in the Rangerwing’s back seat, rocking slightly, staring into space, singing cradle songs. Gadget slept, her head pillowed on the brunette’s lap. Despite the small, gentle hand stroking her hair, she still sniffled occasionally in her dreams Poor luv. He cleared his throat.

                Caprice focused, smiled weakly. “Hey, Monty. Come to read me the riot act for stealing Chipper’s girl?” she joked.

                “Nah.” He hoisted himself up to sit on the wing. “Never known Gadget to go where she didn’t want to be. Not like that.”

                “You think he knows that?”

                Monty rubbed the back of his neck. “He thinks right now his world just ended, but he’ll be okay.” He shrugged. “Love’s like that. Once me pally gets used to the idea, maybe finds himself another sheila...”

                Caprice sighed, closing her eyes, and leaned back against the brown plastic hull of the Wing. “Gadget loves you all like family. I suppose some crazy part of me hoped I -” She broke off.

                “Could be part of that?” Monty supplied.

                The actress nodded with a sickly grin. “Dumb, huh? I kinda doubt I endeared myself to anyone today.” She gazed down at her sleeping love and her expression softened. “Still, if it would go easier for her, I’d gladly be the scapegoat.”

                “It wouldn’t. She loves you.”

                “She loves me.” Such a look of quiet wonder on her face! “You know, I never knew Wilec very well. Sarah... she thought of me as a daughter, I think, but Wilec... her father means a lot to her. I wonder if he’d approve?”

                Monty considered solemnly. “I think he would, luv. Ye make his daughter happy. That would be enough for ol’ Geegaw. ‘E knew a thing or two ‘bout the ways ‘o love, ya know.”

                Caprice smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Monty.”

                “Anytime.”

*                              *                              *

                Dale looked up abruptly as his bedroom door slammed shut. He hadn’t heard it open, but he sure heard Chip stomp across the room and throw himself on the bottom bunk.  Dale put down his comic and leaned over the edge of his bed, peering upside-down at Chip. The detective was sprawled on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes. He looked like hell on toast, Dale observed, borrowing a phrase from Caprice.

                “Are you okay?”

                “Oh, yeah. Just great. Couldn’t be better.”

                Dale was pretty sure this was sarcasm.  “Any reason you’re so happy?” he deadpanned.

                Chip moved his arm slightly to gaze unreadably at his long-time friend. “I will never understand women.”

                Dale was pretty sure this was out of his league. Not that that stopped him.  “Yeah. Foxy confuses me sometimes, and I can never understand all that techno-talk Gadget spouts off. Uh... is this a romance sort of thing, a Gadget-being-Gadget sort of thing, or a girls in general sort of thing?”

                “Yes.”

                Dale considered.  Well... there were ways to combine the three, he decided. “Funny, I sorta thought you understood all that.”

                “Funny, so did I.”

                “I mean... you’re goin’ out with her an’ all... sort of...”

                “Correction: I was ‘going out’ with her.”

                Dale noted the past tense. His jaw dropped in astonishment. “She dumped you?!”

                “Thank you, O King of Observation and Lord of Tact.”

                Dale let it slide. He supposed Chip had a right to feel a little irratable at the moment. “Why?”

                There was a really long pause.

                “Chip?”

                “She’s a dyke.”

                Dale tried really hard to figure out what sort of chemical experiment had caused her to transform into a structure capable of holding back water.... even his vivid imagination failed.  “Um.... I don’t think that’s possible, Chip.”

                “Neither did I.”

                “I mean, maybe if Winnefred got a hold of her... she turned me into a frog, but that’s a pretty witch-y thing to do. I don’t see why she’d -”

                Chip’s mind finally managed to latch onto Dale’s train of logic and follow it a few feet. “No, Dale. Dyke. She’s gay.”

                Dale quirked an eyebrow. “I suppose it takes all sorts, although I wouldn’t be very happy to be turned into a dyke.”

                Chip almost laughed despite himself. “Queer.”

                “Well, I always thought she was a little odd, but-”

                Chip tried again. “Lesbian.”

                An utterly blank look.

                “She’s in love with Caprice.”

                Sudden comprehension crawled across Dale’s face. “Oh!! I’d thought she’d done some sort of chemical somethin’ an’ -”

                “Oh, there’s chemistry there, but not the kind you’re thinking of,” he said with a sardonic grin.

                “Well, at least she picked somebody nice this time,” Dale offered helpfully.

                “It would be easier to hate somebody who wasn’t,” Chip grumbled. “I liked Caprice. Why?”

                Dale chewed his underlip. “Um... ‘cause she’s cute an’ funny an’ neat to be around?”

                Chip sighed. “No, I mean why would Gadget leave me for another woman?”

                Dale considered, finally shrugged. “Well, wouldn’t you rather be with a girl? At least she didn’t leave you for a guy. That’d be really hard to figure out.”

                Chip covered his eyes again and wished it was really all that simple.

*                              *                              *

                The ceiling fan of the fifth precint office provided a wonderful view of the goings-on of the police office.  Spenelli munched a pink-glazed chocolate doughnut as he read over reports.  Kirby and Muldoon returned from late-night patrol, yawning and swapping stories with a raven-haired officer who readied for her shift on the beat.  Clerks and underlings fetched information, answered phones, routed calls, put people on “ignore”, and generally kept the place running smoothly.

                For the first time in his life, Chip didn’t care.  He gazed vacantly to where Detective Drake’s desk had been, at the spot Plato had sat many-a-time for lunch, or to talk to two young, carefree chipmunks eager for adventure.  Chip hadn’t known her then.  There, that was the spot Plato’d gifted them the officer’s badge number 123 that still hung in the conference room.  He had known her then, and already loved her.

                He wished he could talk to Plato -- the old police dog always had a patient, wise explanation for whatever his troubles.  Chip had consulted him a couple times on this case or that, after they’d formed the Rangers, and Plato never made him feel stupid for needing to ask.  Plato had expressed his pride of the work Chip and the others did, which made the detective happier than he would readily admit.  But Plato was off with his human visiting some of Drake’s relatives, and would be for another couple weeks.

                A couple weeks.  Without Gadget, that was an eternity.

                Chip sighed.  He thought he might die of the pain.  Oh, he knew he wouldn’t.  Long experience told him that.  It would be easier, though, and part of him wished he could.

                But no, he would carry on as he always did.  “Life isn’t always peanuts and cashews,” his father used to tell him, “and when a rotten apple falls off a tree and hits you on the head, you just learn to look up next time.”  The saying had never really made sense to him, not the last part anyway, and it still didn’t.  Maybe it applied to some things, like walking into obvious traps on cases, but love?  How could you see an invisible apple before it hit you?  He certainly hadn’t known when he followed Monty to that old wrecked-up plane to ask his buddy Geegaw for a ride that he would meet instead the pilot’s lovely daughter and fall hopelessly in love with her.  He certainly hadn’t known that morning after Gadget’s illness, when she said she loved him, that it would all turn out like this.

                He closed his eyes, rubbed them sleepily.  He’d been plagued with nightmares when he slept at all.  He was a wreck and knew it, and so had retreated to this well-known, safe place.  .  .  but, still, he saw the spot right over there where Gadget had poked her head through the mousehole to ask for some help with whatever invention she’d stayed home to work on that particular day.  Even when he closed his eyes, and especially then, he saw the warmth of her smile, that twinkle in her eyes, remembered what she felt like in his arms, the way she smelled just slightly of machine oil and grease and her.

                Chip was in the middle of indulging in a bout of some serious self-pity.

                So why was it the laugh he heard was not Gadget’s, and blue eyes faded into rich brown, silky blonde hair darkened to jet, and creamy fur became the color of a toasted marshmallow?

                For the first time in three nights, Chip slept untroubled.

*                              *                              *

                “So, what do you think, Zip?” Dale asked over a box of popcorn and the late movie one night.

                Zip waved his hand, inviting elaboration.

                “The whole Gadget-Caprice-Chip thing.”

                He shrugged.  A pause, then he put O-shaped hands on his head, made motions as if he was braiding his (non-existant) hair, pointed to the left, to the right, and hugged himself, then spread his arms wide.  He then mimed putting on a hat, hugged himself, and put the O-shaped hands on his head again before spreading his arms wide.  He indicated himself and Dale, then shrugged, chittering all the while.

                “Yeah, it’s a mess, and I don’t know what to do, either.”  Dale sighed.

                Zip described a large gut and a moustache, pointed off toward the kitchen, and shrugged again, still chittering.

                “I hope so, Zip.  Because if Monty doesn’t know what to do, we’re all in big trouble.”

*                              *                              *

                It was, Gadget decided, the most excrutiating meal she’d ever had to endure.  Though, she reflected, she’d thought the same about the past week’s worth of meals. Chip had deftly managed to avoid being in the same room with her since the incident in the workshop-- a remarkable feat considering the size of their tree.  But Monterey Jack had finally had enough of it and demanded that everyone show up for dinner.  The inventor suspected he’d nearly had to bodily drag the detective to the table.  Mostly because he’d almost had to do it with her as well.  Every time.  And so, for a week’s worth of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, they all sat there, eyes fastened to plates, listening to the sound of their own chewing echoing loud in their ears, and Dale’s attempt at witty humor... which even to Dale sounded a little shrill and forced.  Gadget sneaked a look up at Chip and noticed that he’d just been pushing the food around on his plate, and suddenly lost her own appetite.  This was all her fault.  If she just could’ve loved him, none of them would have to go through any of this, least of all him.  She folded her hands in her lap and stared tearfully at her dinner plate.

                The Aussie watched all of this with mounting frustration.  He’d hoped just getting them in the same room would improve matters a little -- after the innitial awkwardness, anyhow.  This was getting rediculous -- and worse, causing pain for Chipper and his little Gadget.  It was time to pull out the secret weapon.  He hated to do it, but he hated watching this continue even more.  He rose from the table.  Four sets of hopeful eyes lifted to him, anticipating a release from this horrible bondage.  He cleared his throat.

                “Dale, Zipper, you can go.”

                The chipmunk and the fly rose gratefully, hurried their dishes to the sink, and nearly dashed from the room -- though not without backwards, sympathetic looks at their comrades, who were too busy staring at the table to notice.

                “Chipper, come here.”

                Slowly, dragging his feet, he did so.  And stared at the floor.

                “Gadget?”

                She approached as well, peered up at Chip from under lowered lashes.  He refused to meet her eyes.  She felt another bit of her heart crumble.  These people were the only family she had -- why did this all have to be so difficult?

                “It has come to my attention,” Monterey Jack began, “that you two have a few cards you need to lay out on the table.

                Chip snorted.

                Gadget was silent.

                “An’ it has also come to my attention,” he continued, “that neither of you seem to be capable of doing it on your own.”

                The silence stretched.  Guilty as charged.  Chip shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

                “So, as the only one present who could get away with it, I’ve decided to do somethin’ about this.”

                Two sets of eyes -- one blue, one brown -- looked warily up at him.

                “Gadget, give me your hand.”

                Her tiny white paw slipped into his.

                “Chipper?”

                He held his out.

                Firmly, Monty placed hers in his.

                They both looked up and caught gazes, startled at the contact.  Gadget squeezed her friend’s hand gently.

                It was just as Monterey had planned.  They were too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else, especially not him fastening a mouse-sized pair of handcuffs around their extended wrists.  Though once the cold metal contacted unsuspecting fur, they both let out startled exclamations and looked down, then up at him with accusing glares.

                “What’s the big idea?” Chip demanded.

                Monty just grinned, stroking his moustache as he twirled a set of tiny keys.  “Forcin’ you two to work together, or at least sit down and talk about whatever ya need to get out.  Because, let me tell you, I have the only set of keys, an’ those things ain’t comin’ off until you can prove to me that you’re ready to behave like reasonable, grown rodents.”  With that, he strolled from the room, leaving his two mates aghast behind him.

                A minute of stretched silence followed.

                Monty’s voice came from down the corridor, “An’ I’d advise you two to talk it out, because sooner or later one of you is gonna have to use the second door down the hall and on the left.  It’s gonna be a whole lot more embarassin’ tryin’ to figure a way around that one than having a civilized conversation.  And I don’t intend to make exceptions.”

                Two sets of eyes widened at the realization.

                Gadget burst into a fit of helpless giggles.

                Chip scowled.  “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

                “He’s right, you know,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes.  “We just finished dinner, and the laws of nature state that what goes in...”

                “Must come out,” Chip finished with a wry grin.  “I don’t suppose you could pick the lock with your tail?”

                “I could.”  Her expression turned pensive.  “But I don’t think I want to.”

                Chip rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  “Yeah, he’d just come up with something worse.”

                She shook her head.  “That isn’t why.”

                His eyebrows shot up.  “It isn’t?”

                “No.  Because he’s right about more than his threat.  We do need to talk.  And you’ve been avoiding me.”

                “When somebody tells me what you’re supposed to tell your ex-girlfriend after she’s left you for another woman, I’ll quit avoiding you.”

                She thought a minute.  “What do you miss most?”

                “Cuddling.  Kissing.  Knowing somebody loves me.”  He looked dead into her eyes.

                “But Chip, you can do those things with some other girl,” she reasoned.

                “But she won’t be you,” he protested.  “Gadget, I don’t want to lose you!”

                “And I don’t want to lose you, Chip, but I think I already have.”

                “You’re the one that dumped me!” he cried.

                “And I’m sorry for the pain that causes you,” she replied softly, “but how would it be better for me to stay with you if my heart isn’t in it?  Chip, I do love you.”

                “Funny way of showing it,” he muttered.

                “But I’m not in love with you.  You know what I miss most?  My friend.  The island in the storm when everyone else resorted to shrill emotional outbursts.  The one I play board games with and share my life with.”

                “But you’ve got Caprice for that now,” he noted bitterly.

                “True.  I do those things with her,” Gadget admitted.  Then, taking his hands, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore, Chip.  We lived together a long time before we were ever dating.  I miss those times.  Something’s broken, Chip, and I don’t know how to fix it by myself.”

                He looked up at her, blue eyes pooling with tears, and loved her as much as he ever had.  He thought maybe he always would.  She was bright, and beautiful, and charming, and compassionate, and all the other little things he loved about her.  .  .  and he knew he could never have her as he wanted her.  But to never look in those beautiful blue eyes again, to never be able to call her friend.  .  .  that would be worse.  Far, far, far worse.  She was right.  Something precious between them had broken.  And more than anything else, he wanted it back.

                “It can never be the same,” he said, hesitantly.

                “Of course not,” she said.  “Nothing can ever be the same after it’s broken.  You have to glue it back together, or scrap it and start on something entirely new.  But it’ll be stronger, and just as beautiful, if we want it to be.”

                Chip nodded.  “It won’t be easy,” he warned.

                She laughed unsteadily.  “Was it ever?”

                He smiled crookedly.  “True.”  The detective took a deep breath and prepared himself for the next casefile of his life.  “Suppose if we’re just really stuborn and hang on tight, it’ll work?”

                “I’m not giving up,” Gadget promised, throwing herself at Chip in a fierce hug, as tears of relief won liberation.

                “Me either.”  He held her close, thinking, in a way, of that horrible night before Opening Night, of how his life would never be the same.  Thinking of all the fun they’d had together -- of all the fun they would still have.  Thinking how lucky he was to call her friend.  “Me either.”

                There was a time he’d bid farewell to that friendship.  But this time.  .  .

                He didn’t let go.