Clarice braced herself as she entered the kitchen, expecting his explosive temper. Instead, she was somewhat surprised to see a very saddened, very troubled chipmunk. Chip took a seat at the table, gesturing sharply for her to do the same.

Clarice broke the silence. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

Chip snorted softly, looking away. A solitary tear ran down his cheek. "Yeah?" he whispered. "For what?"

Clarice was startled and let down her guard. She had wanted him to yell at her, to tell her how disappointed he was in her, to tell her to go to—

Chip interrupted her thoughts by pushing his chair back abruptly and pacing about the floor. "Clarice, I know I pushed you away. I know that I could get . . . crazy sometimes." He turned and stared into her liquid eyes. "But I never thought . . . ." He trailed off, unable to finish.

Clarice took a shuddering breath. She had run through this conversation thousands of times in her mind, but never thought that she would be able to actually have it. "Chip, please, you need to understand. I was just so tired of touring. I mean, Hawaii was fantastic, but—"

"But?" Chip spat. "Clarice, Hawaii was ours, if you remember." He turned his back. "I should never have asked you to marry me."

Clarice dropped her gaze. "No, Chip. I just . . ."

"Shouldn't have said yes?"

"Yes—no!" She shook her head, confused. "Chip, I . . . I don't know what came over me. I really did want to marry you." She paused, steeling herself. "Your temper, though." She gave a short, almost sarcastic laugh. "I mean, I was just talking with Max."

Chip turned around slowly, clenching his teeth. "Yeah. First, you were talking to him. Next thing I know, Dale finds you and him . . . well," he smirked, "in a compromising position."

Clarice shook her head frantically. "Chip, I don't know what you heard, but that's really not what happened."

Chip raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me my best friend lied to me? Clarice, I know Dale was jealous, but you can't honestly believe that I'll trust you on this one."

Clarice threw her hands up in frustration. "Max was asking me if I would headline at his new club in Los Angeles. I don't know what Dale saw, but I never did anything with Max to hurt you."

Now Chip's eyes were fiery. "You left, Clarice. You never even took the time to explain yourself. Our manager had to tell me that you were gone. That was proof enough." Chip took off his hat and flung it on the floor in anger. He was too livid to shed tears.

Clarice's eyes widened in shock. "Chip—I was told that you two were already back on the mainland." She stood and uncertainly walked closer to him. "I promise, Chip. I would have told you, but . . . I thought you were already gone."

Chip could only stare at her. "You've got to be kidding me," he stuttered. He stared her in the eye, but she never wavered. "You—you're telling the truth," he whispered.

Clarice was now about to explode with anger of her own. "Of course I am!" she seethed. "You seriously thought I would leave my own fiancé and run off with some two-bit manager?" She reigned in her anger and turned away from Chip to lean on the window sill and stare moodily out into the snowy park.

Chip nearly stumbled over to the table to sit in his chair again. Thoughts tumbled around in his disturbed brain. His mind returned to a time many years in the past.

"Hey, guys, watch me!"

Clarice and Chip laughed merrily as Dale waved to them from the surf, then proceeded to perform a painful looking belly flop. The late afternoon sun washed over them as they lay on the warm sand.

Clarice stretched before rising from her sunbathing. "Well hon, I've gotta go get ready for tonight." Brushing sand from her fur, she surveyed the tropical paradise. "Gosh, this place never ceases to amaze me."

"What do you mean?" Chip asked lazily. He was still basking in the warm sun, admiring the vision of Clarice in her bikini.

Clarice giggled and swatted him with her towel when she noticed his ogling gaze. "Hawaii, of course. It's just so gorgeous." She wrapped her towel around her as she continued to drink in her surroundings. Snapping herself out of her reverie, she gave Chip a wink, blew him a kiss, and headed back toward the hotel to prepare for the evening's show.

Chip watched her as she left. He couldn't have been happier. Four months ago, Clarice had "chosen" him to be her steady beau. He squelched the guilty thoughts that surfaced whenever he remembered the start of their relationship. He and Dale felt they both had a chance to be with Clarice, but when Clarice had agreed to date Chip exclusively, Dale had almost lost it. Dale wouldn't talk to Chip for two weeks, nearly ruining their long time friendship. Clarice had finally patched things up by reasoning with Dale. Chip never knew what she said; all he knew was that Dale began acting "normal" again . . . well, as normal as Dale could act.

The sun's rays spread across the horizon in a splash of brilliant color as it began to set. Chip's thoughts were only on Clarice. Their relationship had been a whirlwind; their nights consisted of singing, playing, and dancing, either professionally or recreationally. Days consisted of rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. The couple didn't have much alone time, but it didn't matter to Chip. The delight that filled his heart when she sang along with him and Dale, the pride that overwhelmed him when he saw how other men reacted to her . . . combined with the fact that he knew she was his. It was all so wonderful. He was working on controlling his temper, although it was very difficult. He still lashed out at Dale from time to time, a habit that clearly annoyed Clarice. Only one time did he really get angry with Clarice, and he regretted it to this day. Tears were his weakness; Chip could beat himself up worse than anyone else when tears were shed. He tried to be a "tough guy," but after his anger wore off, so did the image.

Drops of salt water in his face disrupted his thoughts. Dale was standing over him, wringing wet from the surf. "Hey, Chipper, ready to head back? I'm getting' tired fightin' the waves."

Chip gave him a wry smile before reluctantly leaving the warm sand. "Yeah, I guess so." He collected his beach gear and began walking with Dale. He became lost in his thoughts again until Dale nudged him with an elbow.

"What's on your mind, buddy?"

Chip couldn't help but grin, raising Dale's suspicion meter. Chip looked around, making sure no one was within earshot. "Can you keep a secret?" he whispered.

Dale chuckled. "Of course! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Chip took a deep breath and spoke cautiously, careful to keep his voice low. "I'm—I'm going to ask Clarice to marry me."

Dale stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

Chip stopped too, a bit worried at Dale's reaction. "Well, yeah," he said slowly. He furrowed his brow. "Is—is that ok?"

Dale's face then creased into a huge, buck-toothed grin. "Definitely, pal! Wowie zowie . . . congratulations!" He wrapped Chip in a bear hug. Chip hugged him back, relieved that Dale wasn't angry. Chip pulled out of the hug and his face became serious.

"Dale, will you be my best man? If she says yes, anyway."

Dale slapped Chip on the back so hard that Chip almost fell over. "Yeah! Oh, boy, do I get to wear my tux?"

Chip laughed to himself at Dale's exuberance and tried not to wince at the thought of Dale's striped tux jacket and polka dotted bow tie. "Uh, maybe we should ask Clarice. If she says yes," he added again.

The duo began walking again. Dale scratched his head. "Why do you keep saying that?"

Chip turned to Dale, confused. "Saying what?"

"If."

Chip shrugged. "Well . . . I'm nervous." Dale gave him an "oh, come on" look, but they walked the rest of the way to their hotel in relative silence.

Chip blinked, coming out of his trance. He stared blankly at Clarice, who had since retrieved his fedora from the floor. She chewed her bottom lip as she turned the battered hat in her hands, inspecting the small, neatly repaired tears in the stiff fabric. Her eyes finally locked with Chip's. Clarice cautiously held out the treasured item. Chip slowly took the hat, but laid it carefully on the table instead of returning it to his head. Clarice turned back to the snowy park scene in the window.

"I don't know you anymore, Chip," she murmured. "Your life is totally different now. Do you even still play?"

Chip shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I don't really have time anymore." Feeling drained and still confused, he sat back down at the table and toyed with his beloved fedora. "I've—I've got more important things to do now."

Clarice nodded. "I see." She cleared her throat. "I kept all the newspaper articles about you."

Chip raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"

She nodded, a smile starting to curve her lips. "Everything from the headlines to the captions. I must say, Chip, I'm . . . surprised."

"Surprised?"

Snow began falling again while Clarice answered. "I never thought you'd be a detective. I knew you were the serious type, but I suppose it never struck me that you would . . . ." She trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Risk my life for others?"

Clarice winced involuntarily. She sighed and turned to face Chip, tears glistening, but not falling. "Chip, I couldn't believe all those times . . . all those times that you were almost . . . taken away."

Chip tore his gaze away from Clarice's sorrow-filled eyes. "Clarice, I'm a Rescue Ranger now. Everyone in this team has an understanding that we'll do whatever it takes to finish a case." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. "Danger is sometimes going to be part of it." He forced himself to look back into her eyes. "I know I've changed, Clarice. I just hope it's for the better."

Clarice held his gaze. "I'd like to find out." She blinked, unsure if the words had actually escaped her lips. Judging from Chip's reaction, though, they most definitely had.

Chip could not hold back the few tears that slid down his cheeks. He shook his head slowly. "Clarice, I—" He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands. "I just don't know what to do right now." He gritted his teeth; Chip was never one to admit indecision. He took hold of his emotions and, with great effort, stopped his tears. "Look," he sighed, "let's just go back in there and work on this case. We need to talk about this kind of thing . . . later."

Clarice nodded. She watched him warily as he held open the kitchen door that led back into the main seating area.

Gadget, Monty, and Zipper looked up in surprise as the pair walked in. Monty winked at Clarice, sufficiently unnerving Chip. He knew it wasn't a romantic gesture, but he honestly wanted Monty on his side when it came to any possible disputes; of course, though, Monty was a true guardian of the "fairer sex."

Gadget and Zipper did their best to smile graciously at the pair while noticing the reddened eyes and disheveled appearances of both their comrade and client. Zipper caught the eye of Chip, who discretely nodded. Gadget, exchanging glances with Zipper, delicately cleared her throat. "Well," she asked cheerily, "where do we start?"

Chip assumed his familiar authoritarian air. "Zipper, please get Dale. We're off to the Acorn Club." Taking an uneasy breath, he murmured, "Rescue Rangers, away . . . ."