Chip opened the door to the kitchen as he
was about to go back into the living room. At that moment, Gadget had planned
on entering the kitchen, so their eyes met. When they looked at each other,
however, all they saw was sadness and anger, expressed in ears and tails.
They both knew what they wanted, and they both knew that it would never
happen now, ever. And they *both* knew whose decision it had been for that.
They unlocked their gaze one moment later, and went by their way. Just
as Chip left the kitchen, he heard the door knocking, so he went to answer.
When he opened the door, a gorgeous female chipmunk kissed him square on
the right cheek, with her tail quivering again. However, Chip noticed that
it was a very light kiss this time, not anything like what he received
the other day—
"Hello, sugar," said Clarice, now clad
in a long light-orange dress. Her voice was sweet and cheery. "Is Dale
here?"
"Sure. Come in and sit down, and I'll go
get him." Clarice entered and Chip closed the door. He led her to the couch
and she sat down, and then he went to look for Dale. As he entered the
hallway, he noticed that there was a light on at the very end. He padded
toward the storage room, which was originally supposed to be the Oakmonts'
room. The door was open, so he entered and was very much surprised to find
*Dale* inside. He was just standing there, ears straight, among all the
stacked boxes and bags, looking at the window, apparently lost in thought.
Apparently, because one moment later, he turned and saw a very surprised
Chip behind him, who asked,
"Dale, what are *you* doing in here? I
thought you never wanted to come in—"
"Well, Chip, I was rememberin' a suggestion
the psychologist gave me, and I decided to follow it and face my trauma
again. I guess it was about time I stopped actin' stupid and just come
in here. This is just a room now. It could have been Foxy's and mine, but
it's not. Still, it makes a great storage room, doesn't it? We've needed
one for a while now…" He trailed off again. Chip's reaction at this statement
would have been one of bonking, but for some reason, it was just not in
him now. Also, he was more concerned with something else that Dale said.
He lowered his ears,
"Dale, you *haven't* been acting stupid.
We all understood if you did not want to come in here. We all know how
difficult it was for you—"
"Yes, it was. And—thanks for understandin'.
But I suppose I also have to stop thinkin' of what happened—or what *could*
have been…" That was easier said than done, and they both knew that. And
in order to do so, Dale needed to get his mind off this and on to something
else:
"Dale, someone's here to see you."
"I know. Clarice is here." Chip stood back
for a moment.
"H-how did you know *that*?" Dale turned
fully and replied,
"I can smell her perfume a mile away."
Here, Chip expected Dale to say that with a smile, but again, he did not
smile. And again, it simply wasn't in him anymore to even *try* bonking
him—
Fear then pounced on him again as he saw
Dale *pad with difficulty* past him and into the hallway. He was practically
limping! He was *dying*…
Clarice looked up when she heard Dale shuffling.
"Hello, sugar!" she greeted jovially, ears
up and tail quivering.
"Hello, Clarice," he said, mechanically
again, bursting her bubble once more, as her ears laid flat and her tail
stopped moving. "What brings you here?" Clarice almost felt like slapping
him silly, but she controlled herself.
"Um, well, Dale, I'm performing again tonight,
and I was wondering if you and your friends would like to come?"
"I'll have to check with my boss." Dale
then turned and looked at Chip, who was now behind him, "Mr. Maplewood,
do we have any cases tonight?" Chip was a trifle shocked when his best
friend addressed him so formally. Dale was dying, *and* he was already
dead at the same time. As for his question, Chip wanted to go and look
for Foxglove—
Dale was not looking at him.
Dale was looking at *Clarice* again.
And *she* was looking straight back at
him—
Did Dale's tail twitch just now?
"Well, no Dale, we don't have any cases
tonight. Unless Clarice can give us another tip?" She blinked for a moment,
and replied,
"What? Oh—um, no, Chip, I haven't heard
of any more trades going down." Dale then asked,
"Clarice, how did you know about the trade
Capone was going to do? I mean—*you* don't use drugs, do you?" A coy smile
came on her face, bringing her ears up again, as she replied,
"You know I wouldn't touch that stuff with
a ten-foot pole, darling, but unfortunately there are plenty of creepy
mammals who'll offer anything to anyone who's loaded like I am. Also, being
a celebrity *does* unfortunately bring you in contact with the animal underworld.
You wouldn't *believe* the stuff I heard—just *heard*, mind you—back in
Vegas. So, I decided to use my knowledge for something useful and help
score another point for the good guys."
"And we scored a BIG hit against Capone
and his thugs!" exclaimed Dale, but still without any smile or tail movement.
"We owe you one, Clarice. Thanks." Clarice lowered her ears and was about
to start blushing at this complement, but Dale's tone was dead enough to
make even Gallagher put away his watermelons.
"Y-your welcome," she replied, with her
coyness abruptly cut off. But there was something else. Chip saw that Dale
was *about* to crack a smile, not to mention he was staring *very* intently
at Clarice's face. Maybe they wouldn't need to look for Foxglove tonight.
Maybe—
Another female had come back for *Dale*?
"Well, Clarice, since we don't have a case
tonight, I suppose we can all go and see you perform again. But—are you
busy right now?"
"Now? No, rehearsals just finished an hour
ago."
"Would you like a tour of Rescue Ranger
Headquarters? You know, see what we've done and built, like the way you've
taken us to see what *you've* done." Clarice thought for a moment, and
replied,
"Sure, honey, I'd love to have a tour of
your place!"
"Great! Dale, please take Ms. Tamiassara
on a tour of the tree house." Dale suddenly turned to Chip. He *knew* exactly
why he had asked him to do that, and he was *not* pleased in any way.
"Yes, *Mister* Maplewood," he growled.
Also, the look Dale gave him actually made Chip lower his ears and shiver.
With stiff ears and tail, Dale then took Clarice's paw, helped her stand,
and led her into the hangar. As they left, Chip wondered if this had been
a wise move. But Dale *needed* another reason to live! He didn't have to
marry Clarice tomorrow, but at least, maybe he would like to *see* her
tomorrow, because she would *come back* tomorrow, maybe—
Another knock on the door interrupted his
train of thought. And he was quite surprised when he opened and saw—
"Otis!!" he hissed, stiffening up, padding
outside and closing the door. The last thing Dale needed now was to see
another bat, and a *male* one at that. "What are you doing here?!" Otis
yawned lightly for a moment, because it was still early evening. He swallowed
another yawn and replied,
"Yaaa—sorry, Chip. This is kinda an emergency.
Foxglove's not feeling well." Chip wanted to scream at this, but he kept
his jaw clamped. He whispered, knowing Otis would have no problem with
that,
"Foxglove??!! Do you know where she is??
What happened to her??!!" Otis proceeded to explain what had happened to
Foxglove since the tragic night. Chip gasped when he heard that she had
been at The Nutshell when Dale sang that song. And his heart sank when
he heard what the doctors had told Otis: the same thing that was happening
to Dale was happening to *Foxglove*.
"Foxglove is *dying*," he concluded.
"*Dale* is dying," added Chip. Now it was
Otis' turn to have his ears droop and his heart sunk as he heard Dale's
side of the tragedy. While he knew that Foxglove had been madly in love
with the chipmunk, he never realised just *how* much it had been the other
way around. And he knew now that Foxglove would never be his. Dale and
Foxglove were meant to be together, or, at least, they were supposed to
be good friends.
"The psychologist suggested that those
two should try to reconcile, or at least part on friendlier terms. Were
you told the same thing?"
"Almost," replied Chip. "But Dale refuses
to go back to her, *or* find someone else!"
"Foxy's refused as well. What do we do
now?" Chip covered his eyes and tried to think. Think, think, think—
"Wait here," he said. He then dashed back
inside…
"And this is the storage room. Originally
this was supposed to be Foxy and mine's, but—we had a change of plans.
Still, I'm glad we made good use of it." Clarice was torn between being
with the most handsome chipmunk in the world and hearing the most monotone
description of a detective agency. She wanted to kiss him and slap some
sense into him at the same time. Hmm, that *might* work—
"Dale," she said, trying to sound as comforting
as possible, "I'm sorry for everything that happened. You didn't deserve—"
"Clarice," he interrupted. He was actually
beginning to think that he *did* deserve it, after all the goof-ups he
did, "Don't be sorry. It wasn't your fault. And—it's over—and it'll never
happen again." Compassion and tenderness then filled Clarice's eyes, and
she drooped her ears and tail,
"Dale, darling, please don't say that.
I understand if it was hell for both of you, but—you're cheating yourself
out of something wonderful! The pain—comes with it—I know—but it's better
than not loving at all—" Dale then looked into her eyes, with pain showing
in his eyes, ears, and tail again,
"Clarice, I know what you're implyin',
and I *do* want to love. And I'll always love Foxy, Gadget, *and* you,
but—I *can't*—it's for the sake of the Rescue Rangers—and future generations."
Confusion now jumped on her face.
"What?" Dale sighed,
"It's a long story. But what happened to
me—and Foxy—is *not* the first time that it's happened to someone from
my family. The Oakmonts are under a curse, and it must be broken *now*.
Maybe you don't believe in curses or that type of stuff, but we've had
contact with the supernatural side of things. Trust me, I *know* what I'm
talkin' about." Clarice was about to ask something else when Chip entered.
"Clarice, we'd love to go to The Nutshell
tonight…"
Dale, Monterey, and Zipper were sitting
by themselves at a table in front of the stage.
"Looks like Gadget found plenty of things
to fix backstage," said Dale, "they're sure takin' their time." Monterey
kept glancing at the door, and appeared to be a tad nervous.
"Ah, you know Gadget, mate. She wants everythin'
workin' just fine or she won't be able to sleep at night. And you know
Chipper's 'urrying 'er along."
Backstage, Gadget *was* working on the sound
set-up, but that was not the main reason why she was there. She, Chip,
and Clarice were waiting, and discussing the plan.
"You've got the lyrics?" asked Chip, with
nervous ears and tail.
"Right here." Clarice handed him a folded
paper, which he opened and read. One minute later, Clarice asked him, also
with nervous ears and tail, "And *that* is going to bring them back together?"
She couldn't help but feel afraid. When Chip told her that Dale was dying,
she immediately offered to help him in anyway possible.
"Music is powerful," he explained. "Foxglove
was here when Dale sang his song, and according to Otis, she almost jumped
at him. If you can coax them the right way, through music, they may either
reconcile, or at least be friends again." Clarice was quite torn by this
plan. The only way she could save the love of her life was to sing a song
that would make him fall in love again—with someone else. And she more
than anyone knew the power of music, so it had been up to *her* to choose
the one song that would be perfect for the occasion. Then again, there
was the chance that they would simply be just friends again, and *then*
she would give him, just him, *another* song she had *already* chosen—
"All set," said Gadget, coming up to them.
"The air conditioning is aimed at a right angle relative to Dale's position
and Foxglove's path to his table. He shouldn't be able to detect her until
the last moment. Also, your sound system is now 23.43% more efficient.
The rest of the band is ready as well."
"Good," said Chip, with his tail twitching
nervously. "Otis should be here any moment now."
Monterey and Zipper kept glancing at the
door. With all the animals that were padding about, it was a trifle difficult
to identify who was entering and exiting. Male squirrel entering, nope.
Female chinchilla exiting, nope. Male mouse entering with female shrew,
nope—
"Monty, are you expectin' someone?"
"Uh? What? Oh, no, Dale, I'm jus'—um—I
thought I saw me Pop come in 'ere." Zipper slapped his face when he heard
that response.
"I thought your dad was in Alaska right
now."
"Well—um—like I said, I *thought* 'e came—"
Two chiropterids, male and female, entering.
Monterey nodded at Zipper, who then flew
off backstage.
"He got impatient, too?" asked Dale. "What's
goin' on?"
"Nothin', mate. 'e prob'ly jus' went to
see what was the 'old-up."
"Are you okay, sis?" asked Otis, with nervous
ears and tail himself, unlike his sister.
"Well, I'm a bit nervous. This place didn't
exactly give me a great first impression. Still, the doctor said I *had*
to face my fears, right?"
"Yes. And remember, this is just a restaurant.
That a bad thing happened here, well, so it did, but we shouldn't let that
stop us from getting some great grasshoppers!"
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Um, Otis,
why do you keep padding backwards in front of me and blocking my sonar?"
"I am? Uhh—" Otis turned for a moment to
give the place a quick scan. Then, he heard Monterey just in front of him.
He then suddenly stopped and whirled Foxglove around so her back was toward
Dale's table.
"What?" she asked, quite annoyed. Otis
pretended to scan in front of him, when he was actually nodding to Monterey.
"Monty, where are *you* goin' now?" asked
Dale. The Aussie kept glancing back and forth from Otis to the stage. He
replied with nervous ears and tail,
"Uh, the little mouse's room. Be right
back." Monterey then made a hasty exit to the backstage door, just as the
lights dimmed again.
*Hey, the bathroom isn't _that_ way!* thought
Dale.
"They're here," said Zipper, as he flew
into the backstage area, followed shortly by Monterey.
"Excellent. Gadget, prepare the lights!"
replied Chip. "Clarice, get ready!"
"Otis!!" she hissed.
"Um, sorry, sis, I thought I heard a 'shell'
in front of us. But never mind. Our table is right here. Er…excuse me,
I have to go to the bathroom." Otis was slowly leading Foxglove to Dale's
table without letting her scan it. He whirled her again and sat her down
on Dale's left before she could figure out what was happening, and then
he ran off backstage.
Foxglove was about to protest, when her
sonar detected a disturbingly familiar arm and paw resting on the table.
Dale was about to tell the couple that
suddenly appeared behind him that this table was already taken, when he
suddenly sniffed a disturbingly familiar scent emanating from his left.
They both froze again, while their hearts
raced.
Sitting a mere two centimetres from each
other, was the love of each other's lives.
So close, and so far away.
Both of them desperately wanted to embrace
each other and press their muzzles together, but every muscle in their
bodies was locked in place. They couldn't even turn to look at each other,
but instead kept on staring straight ahead to the stage, because they *knew*
that if they looked at each other they would lose control, much the same
way Dale lost it when he finally brought himself to look at her eyes on
that wonderful night one year ago—
All they could do now was breathe slowly
and deeply, letting each other's scents fill their olfactory bulbs and
invoke memories, pleasant and painful, happy and sad, wonderful and tragic—
But all ears and tails remained immobile.
Finally, it was the male who spoke.
"H-hello—Miss Foxglove…" he stuttered.
*OUCH!!!!!!* thought the female. That was
the second time he had addressed her in that manner. And that politeness
was hurting her more than he could ever imagine. His voice was still hoarse,
pained, monotone, devoid of life————*dead*?
"Hello——Mr. Oakmont." She couldn't bring
herself to say his name to his face. She couldn't even bring herself to
wave her wing at him, much less coax him with her *long* eyelashes. Dale,
meanwhile, also noticed that Foxglove sounded tired, almost as if she was
about to sleep. He decided to snap out of whatever was pushing him down,
and tried again,
"Uh…hi, Foxy. Whatcha been up to?"
"Oh, you know…stuff." It was the exact
same greeting they used when Foxglove came back to the tree last year.
But back then, it was spontaneous, coy, even somewhat embarrassing for
Dale, but now, it was cold, mechanical, pained, lifeless—*dead*…
Clarice, who had been watching this from
just behind the curtain, commented,
"I'm going to need a *jackhammer* to break
*that* ice!"
"You *have* a jackhammer," replied Gadget.
"I've just read the song, and it sounds like it should work with no problems—"
Chip, Monterey, and Zipper gasped at this statement. While they knew that
Gadget's inventions had the small quirk of breaking down practically any
time Gadget said the NP words, this was the first time they heard her apply
those words to someone else's plan.
"What?" asked Otis and Gadget, the former
wondering if the others thought she said something tremendously rude, from
the way the rodents had their ears and tails.
"Let's just say we're now hoping against
hope that this plan works," replied Zipper. Then, under his breath, he
added, "And we're now hoping that Gadget didn't just jinx the whole thing."
The stage lights turned on and the emcee
padded out from stage left. The batmaid and chipmunk looked/echosounded
up at him and the band that was also assembling on stage: a female shrew
on keyboards, two male mice on guitars, a male gopher on bass, a female
rat on drums, and a male and female canaries on back-up vocals.
"Welcome once again, males and females,
to The Nutshell! Once again tonight, we have the lovely Clarice Tamiassara,
who will be performing a special selection of songs dedicated to all you
wonderful couples out there." Dale and Foxglove suddenly stiffened. *THAT*
was the reason why they were brought here! "So, without any further delay,
here she is……Clarice!!" The chipmunkmaid padded slowly from the stage right
to the main microphone as the audience clapped and whistled, except for
one certain rodent and chiropterid. It was the first time Foxglove heard
and saw her. "That's Clarice," said Dale, mechanically, "she's an old friend
of me and Chip. She came for a visit shortly after—everythin'…"
"Hello, again, all you wonderful mammals
and such!" she began, though without as much joviality as before, and taking
the microphone from the stand. "Thank you once again for coming. Tonight,
I want to sing a special song that I want to dedicate to all the couples
that are here, but especially," she glanced down and looked at Dale and
Foxglove. The batmaid *was* beautiful, but she seemed kind of sad, tired,
*pained*——quickly, she looked straight ahead at no one in particular, "To
a *certain* couple." She placed the microphone back on its stand and added,
"You know who you are." At this point, Dale wanted to find Chip and repeatedly
connect his jaw with his fist, while Foxglove wanted to find Otis and give
him the worst insult she could come up with:
"You're mean."
The music began. It was a slow song, mellow
sounding, depressing almost. Clarice laid her ears back, and sang,
"*I've gotta take a little time,
A little time to think things over.
I'd better read between the lines
In case I need it when I'm older.*" A crescendo
filled their ears as she added,
"*……oohhhh—WO-ho!!*" Dale and Foxglove
just looked/echosounded at her.
"*This mountain I must climb
Feels like the world upon my shoulders.*"
Both winced at this. Their shoulders *did* feel heavy.
"*Through the clouds I see love shine.*"
For everyone else, maybe. But not for them. They had already decided.
"*It keeps me warm as life grows colder.*"
Once again, a memory slapped their faces, a memory of what Foxglove told
Dale last year in that steeple. Pain once again filled their hearts and
throats, and their ears and tails reflected that. Clarice continued,
"*In my life!
There's been _heartache_ and pain!*" And
it was true, Clarice had also felt what they felt.
"*I don't know
If I can _face_ it again!*" Actually, *she*
could. And both Dale and Foxglove *knew* that *they*, could, too. But they
had already decided…
"*_Can't_ stop now! I've travelled so far,*"
From Las Vegas, from a life of obscurity, from a life of clowning around—
"*To change-this-lone-ly life——*" But their
lives had *already* changed! And for the better, too…right? Lonely? Maybe—maybe—
The rest of the performers chorused with
Clarice:
"*I want to know what love is!*" Odd, they
*already* knew what it was, and knew so *perfectly*.
"*I want you to show me——!!!*" Dale stiffened
again. Was she referring to Foxglove showing him her love, or *herself*
showing him her love, or *him* showing either of them?
"*I want to feel what love is!*" Clarice
was now staring at Dale again, who actually began to sweat at this point.
Foxglove, meanwhile, was reminded of the last words that she said to Dale
before she left. To *feel* her love for him…
"*I know you can show me——!!!" Foxglove
suddenly noticed that Clarice was staring at the love of her life. For
a moment, she felt like—doing something to her—but—but she knew she couldn't.
Dale was no longer hers. She had no right to feel jealous. Clarice ended
the chorus with a calculated moan,
"*Heyyoohhh…!!!…oooo—*" The music continued,
and the couple on the front table looked/echosounded down at their arm/wing
for a moment. Their hearts were getting "holey" again. Clarice glanced
at them, and continued,
"*I'm gonna take a little time,
A little time to look around me.*" They
had taken time to look as well. Not much had turned up, except some annoying
arthritis. The back-up singers oo'ed for a moment, and Clarice continued,
"*I've got nowhere left to hide.*" No.
They couldn't hide from each other, as much as they tried.
"*It looks like love has finally found
me.*" They stiffened again. Were they *truly* meant to be together? Were
they just kidding each other by letting each other go? Or—was Clarice referring
to herself and Dale? Or Foxglove and Otis?
"*In—my—life!*" She was more insistent now,
"*There's been _heartache_ and pain!*"
On all three of them now. Unbearable pain again…
"*I don't know
If I can _face_ it again!*" They couldn't.
It was too horrible, too painful to even be described…
"*Can't stop now! I've travelled so far,
To change-this-lone-ly life——*" *To change
_your_ life, Darling. To change it for good, to make you feel love, from
whoever you choose!* Dale and Foxglove continued looking/echosounding at
the table, as the song chorused again.
"*I want to know what love is!*" *Foxy,
I _do_ want us to get back together…*
"*I want you to show me——!!!*" *Cute Stuff,
please, show me that you still love me…somehow…please…*
"*I want to feel what love is!*" *Foxy,
I _want_ to feel your love again…*
"*I know you can show me—!!*" *Dale, I
want you in my wings again, but—but—* Clarice then pitched her voice higher,
and stiffened her ears and tail, still insisting,
"*I want to _know_ what love is!*" *Odd,*
she thought, *they aren't moving at all.*
"*I want you to _show_ me——!!!*" *Something's
wrong. They aren't even looking at _me_*!
"*And I wanna feel,*" she added.
"*I want to _feel_ what love is—!*" She
extended a paw to them and cried,
"*I know—!!*"
"*I know you can show meee———!!*" Still
nothing. This would require drastic measures. Clarice continued,
"*Let's talk about love:*" She removed the
microphone from its stand again, and padded off the stage while the singers
chorused without her,
"*I want to know what love is!*" She placed
a paw on their table and sang,
"*_Love_ that you feel innnnside—*" Yes.
The pain in their chests was a sign of *true* love. And they would *always*
feel it, because they had decided…
"*I want you to show me——!!!*" Still nothing.
She padded around them, near Foxglove, knowing that the next line would
be sarcastic.
"*I'm feeling so much _love_!*" *More like
tension*, she thought, moving behind them.
"*I want to feel what love is!*" Dale closed
his eyes for a moment, and for an instant, he saw the batmaid of his dreams.
No. He would never be worthy of her. Especially now.
"*Ooh, you just can't _hide_!*" *I can't
hide from you, Cute Stuff. Your sonar profile is always in my ears! You're
always with me, and it's driving me crazy!*
"*I know you can show meee————!!*" Clarice
moved to another table, apparently giving the patrons a good show. She
called out,
"*Haaaaaah…wo!!!*" and joined the singers
again,
"*I want to know what love is!*" Dale and
Foxglove were breathing faster, not being able to get enough of each other's
scents. This song would have to stop soon.
"*Let's talk about love…!…ohhh…*" added
the male canary. Talk. Yes, they needed to talk.
"*I know you can show me—!*" Show? Show
how sick they've got? To finally show each other *why* they can't get back
together, even if they tried? Clarice continued,
"*I wanna feel…*" She let the singers continue
while she continued pushing,
"*I want to feel what love is!*" *Dale,
Foxglove, can't you see what we're trying to do here?*
"*And I wanna feel it too—
And I know, and I know—*" *We're trying
to save your LIVES, consarn it!!!* She joined the last line,
"*I know you can show me—!*" The gopher
suddenly added,
"*Coming back for you—!!*" A male mouse
squeaked,
"*YEAAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!*" This sudden burst
caused Dale and Foxglove to shiver. It was pressing at them, *pushing*
them to initiate some sort of discussion, to talk of something that needed
to be put to rest—*buried*—once and for all—
"*Ohhh…*" sighed Clarice, as she went back
on stage again. The singers chorused alone as she set herself up again.
"*I want to know what love is!*" She chattered
at them,
"*_I_ wanna know-ow-ow!!*" She was in pain
as well. Pained in seeing two wonderful mammals in such a depressing act
of self-destruction. She let the others continue,
"*I want you to show me—!*" One last chance,
"*And I wanna know, I wanna know, I wanna
know—!*" *Dale, Foxglove, don't you want fulfilment? Don't you want to
LIVE? _Please_, I beg of you, just look up at each other!!*
"*I want to feel what love is!*" the others
chimed. *This isn't working! They're already dead!*
"*And *I* wanna feel———!*"
"*I know you can show me—!*"
The music faded, and stopped. Dale and Foxglove
would have sighed with relief, but the tension was still there. Their breathing
patterns *were* slowing down, but all their muscles were still locked in
place. Clarice looked at them,
"We'll take a little break now. Be right
back." The performers left to stage right, and Clarice went to talk to
the other Rangers. She drooped her ears and tail and cried,
"Chip, Gadget, I'm sorry! It didn't work!
They—"
"They're just fine," said Otis. "Throughout
the song, I heard them shuffling just a little bit. You got to them, trust
me."
"We were worried there for a minute, too,"
added Zipper. "But Otis kept an ear open on them."
"Hey! They are starting to talk again!"
he whispered.
"Do you want me to sing another song? Just
to coax them a little more?"
"Not yet," said Chip. "We'll let this sink
in for a minute."
The chiropterid and the rodent were still
looking/echosounding at the table, with black holes in their chests once
more. Their ears were up, but stiff, as were their tails. The song *had*
got to them, and it was time for them to talk, whether they liked it or
not. The batmaid began, though not by conscious choice.
"*Dale—*" her voice cracked again, "I've—I've
missed you…"
"I—suppose I've missed you as well, Foxy."
She had trouble continuing,
"Dale—I—I—keep—*dreaming* about you———about
*us*——you know…" He stiffened for a moment.
"Well, Foxy, um, every night, uh, I have
the same dream with you as well." A small pause as Foxglove realised just
how much *he* was going through as well.
"It's driving you crazy, isn't it?"
"I—I try not to let it get to me. After
all, you're livin' with the *bats* now, right?"
"Y—yes."
"Have—um, you found any of your family?"
She took a breath, and replied,
"No. All of my family is dead. And no animal
knows what their names were."
"Oh, sorry to hear that." For some reason,
yet another part of Dale died at this point. Since Foxglove never knew
her parents, she never knew her last name. He *wanted* her to have *his*
name, a precious gift that would be given to her the moment she said "I
do", but now, she was forever rootless. His name would never be hers now.
And while Foxglove knew Dale meant what he said, it held no comforting
value whatsoever. Maybe it was the *way* he was speaking—
"How did your parents take this?" she asked.
"In shock. But it was Chip who took it
the hardest, but he's calmed down now." Both remained quiet for a while,
wishing to know what to say next. Dale then decided to apologise, "Foxy,
I'm—"
"It's all right, Dale," she interrupted.
"You—you made the right decision. I have found the bats again, and they
helped me find a job as an interpreter. I'm—I'm out of danger, like you
wanted." Dale sighed in slight relief. His parting wish had been fulfilled,
but at a *very* high cost: their *lives*. Then, he decided to get to the
bottom of this present predicament,
"Did the bats set you up for this?"
"Yes."
"The guys were in it too, I suppose. They
care about us, but—but—they just don't know…" Another pause, as the horrible
memory ran through their heads again.
"Dale…" she trailed off.
"Yes?"
"Dale—you play the bass wonderfully." It
took only one moment for him to realise what she was talking about.
"You—you were here the other night? But—how
did you know—"
"I didn't. My, um, friends brought me here,
and I entered just as you started singing." Dale sat quietly now, looking
at the table, ashamed of himself.
"I—I didn't see you. I'm s—"
"Don't be. It was a beautiful song. And—what
have *you* been up to?" Dale sighed,
"The usual. We've been fightin' crime and
solvin' cases—"
"I also noticed you've been pumping up."
True, from what her sonar was able to pick up the other night, *and* by
the way she was madly echosounding at his left arm, she had noticed.
"Y-yes, I have. I've changed—plenty of
things after you left. I—I'm no longer a Goof-up." Yes, the Goof-up was
dead, as was the Comedian and the Clown. But there was something else he
needed to tell her, and he wasn't sure how to break it to her. "Um, Foxy?"
"Yes?"
"Remember all those cases I told you about,
when I went to outer space—twice—and I ate all that chocolate in the jungle——when
I nearly drowned in a sewer——when I found that meteorite——and the times
I got zapped by Freddie and some aliens?" As far as she was concerned,
*he* was the hero of all those cases. But now, she had the feeling that
something else came along with being a hero.
"Y-yes…"
"Well, um, I think that all of that is
catchin' up to me now." Foxglove's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't sure
what he meant by that, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. But
something inside her pushed her to ask,
"Dale—are—are you all right?" He sighed,
"N-no. I—haven't been feelin' too well
lately—I thought it was because I quit all the goofin'-up, but—the doctor
didn't think so. I'm havin' trouble workin' out. But it's nothin' serious."
Foxglove sighed in relief. At least he didn't develop a terminal disease
or anything. "Foxy?"
"Y-yes?"
"It-it's not serious," he insisted, "but—I'm
glad you weren't here to see me like that, with all my medication. You—wouldn't
have liked it. You—you're much better off bein' where you are. I—I know
now—that—that we made the right choice."
A pipistrell stiffened backstage.
"Well, Dale, if it makes any difference,
I haven't been feeling too well either, I suppose. I kinda get sore when
I fly. I suppose—" she choked for a moment, "—I suppose that you wouldn't
have liked to hear—er—see me like that, either." He was suddenly gripped
with terror. She was sick, too? It may not have been his fault, but seeing
her ill, that—that—
"Will you be okay?" he asked.
"Yes, I think—" They hushed again. Supposedly,
it was adding up.
"Foxy, I really *do* want to feel you lovin'
me, but—not in this condition. It's not fair to you." She winced at this,
and so did Otis. They were breaking up again.
"It's not fair to you either," she replied.
"I suppose it *was* better that we called it off before this came on to
us."
"Foxy, I want the best for you. I'm not
the best, and I'll never be. I'll just have to stick to my job now, and
do what I can. I—we—I think we did right." She thought for a moment, wanting
to cry. But she couldn't cry.
"You *were* perfect for me, Dale, but—*you*
know yourself better—I guess. I know I'm not perfect either, so I guess
it wouldn't have been fair to you, either." Silence again. *Foxglove, you
were the most perfect female in this universe!* She echosounded at the
ceiling, and also looked at it with pained eyes. "You did right, Dale.
Don't hate yourself because of it." He looked up a trifle, and replied,
"I don't. I—just had to kill the Clown
that was hurtin' us all. It wasn't easy, but—the team is better off without
him. And—I know you are too." What? He killed the Clown? The Comedian?
The one who made her laugh all those times? Did another part of herself
die just now?
"You killed the 'Clown'?"
"I had to. Everythin' he ever did only
caused trouble for us—for you. I quit all the jokes and stupid comments
and the foolin' around. The Clown, the Comedian, and the Goof-up are dead.
Segoleh is dead. I changed my name to Dale Hastahah Oakmont." The chiropterid
winced, and even gasped slightly upon hearing about the new personality,
of which neither she nor the Dale she fell in love with had a part of.
Half of herself suddenly vanished into thin air, half of herself was suddenly
DEAD— "I've studied cookin', mechanics, stealth, and detection, and—I've
become better, I think, but—even if you were still with us, you'd still
be in grave danger. I don't want you to live like that. You deserve a lot
more than what I could give you." The batmaid shivered. He was letting
her go again.
"Dale, I—" For a moment, as she tried to
recover, she thought she heard her life flash before her ears, as if she
was actually dying—
No.
She was *alive*; maybe not so well, but
*alive*. And as he had let her go, she now needed to let *him* go, so he
could live as well. She stumbled, "—thank you for thinking of me like that.
And—on my own—I've developed my language talents a bit more. You helped
me—" another crack, "—by setting me free." It seemed that all their blood
drained from their torsos at this point as they shivered again. It all
sounded so logical, and yet—
"Foxy, I was hopin' very much that you
would find someone of your family. You've seen how Gadget gets every time
she thinks of her parents. I—really—*really*—didn't want that to happen
to you anymore. I——*I* wanted you to have my parents for your own, so you
wouldn't have to talk to tombstones like Gadget——erm, have you done that?"
She sighed,
"No. But now that you mention it, I might,
just as soon as I find out where my parent's graves are. But it's not all
that bad, Dale. I've been adopted by——another family——and—I now have a
brother and sister—sort of." Dale sighed in relief. She *had* found something
better.
"Enjoy your new life and your new family,
Foxy. You deserve to. You helped us for a while, and now you can live life
free of danger." She wanted to kiss him so badly, but that robotic tone
of his was practically repelling her, not to mention that new *name*…
"Keep rescuing others, Dale. Keep working
out. You are very valuable to the Rangers. You are a great friend."
"Let me know if you find someone else.
I'll be happy if you love someone who can give you all you deserve." *Dale,
_no one_ could give me more than you!*
"I'll let you know. And—thanks, Dale—for
everything. " This was it. The final conclusion. All was settled, and there
were no doubts about it. It was perfectly logical. And Dale's chest was
about to implode with every word Foxglove said. They sat quietly again,
and a few moments later, the batmaid pondered,
"They would have made a lovely couple,
don't you think?"
"Chip and Gadget?"
"Dale and Foxglove." The sciurid sighed.
Once more his mind explored what *could* have been.
"Yes," he replied. "They would have been
a wonderful couple. They had a lot goin' for them———well, *she* did, at
least. He constantly felt worthless and insignificant. He felt he could
do very little as a Rescue Ranger—until she came along. She believed in
him, she *came back* to him, and he got his confidence back, even to the
point of wantin' to develop both the Detective *and* the Comedian. But
if he had done that, it would have brought to them very—*very* bad things
later on."
"She loved the Comedian, and else everything
about himself, whether it dealt with the Rangers or not. He also helped
her confidence by believing in *her*, and helping her leave a life of crime,
and by finally returning her love. She wanted to also be a Detective and
Comedian, to be one with him—[sigh]—it's so sad they had to die." Another
bat and a chipmunkmaid froze in fear.
"They were good mammals. They always tried
to help others. We'll always miss them——but now—we must move on." They
hushed one more time, and a minute later, Foxglove concluded,
"Dale, thanks for everything. Thanks for
loving me, and rescuing me. Thanks for taking me back, and—and—thanks—for
setting me free." He sighed again, and also concluded,
"Thanks for lovin' me. Thanks for comin'
back. Thanks for understandin'. Thanks for not hatin' me or gettin' angry
with me. And thanks—for helpin' me see what was wrong with me." She did
not reply for a moment, but finally, the chiropterid slowly stood. Her
joints ached again, for some reason. The medication must be wearing off.
"Thanks—Dale—and—and—good-bye."
The black holes suddenly disappeared.
And both the rodent and the chiropterid
stopped feeling anything, good *or* bad.
Otis and Clarice didn't know whether to
cheer or cry or to wag or stiffen their tails or to raise or lower their
ears. They appeared to have parted again on friendly terms, but it just
looked and sounded so horrible watching and hearing them part like that.
"Good-bye, Foxglove," was all he could
say. With difficulty, the batmaid left the club, leaving the chipmunk by
himself. Backstage, two chipmunks, two mice, a fly, and a bat did not know
if they had succeeded or failed…