"It's A Wonderful Life, Mr. Maplewood"
Author's Note; This story is sort of an alternative version to my other fic, "What's Past is Past." It was too friggin' depressing, even for me who thrives on angst. So, I know it's after Christmas but this was the quickest I was able to post this fic. It is a Christmas story, mainly about second chances. It might not make much sense if you haven't read my other CDRR fic, but it should stand on its own okay.
I wanted to get this story out around Christmas, which should let you know what my schedule has been like, since this is my first opportunity to post this, and I should be working on a take-home test instead. Rotten computers.
Disclaimer; Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers are property of the Walt Disney Company, 1989-1991. I do not take credit for any of the characters and I am not making any money off of this fic. I just have too much time on my hands.
Also, "Its A Wonderful Life" is property of Liberty Films, I'm just borrowing the title, without profit, once again.
Chip watched Gadget put her arms around Foxglove and the little bat shook with grief, silently at first, then with louder and louder sobs.
Gadget looked up at Chip entreatingly, her crystal-blue eyes full of tears. But Chip couldn't move, couldn't react.
Foxglove's and Gadget's grief seamed hysterical and theatric to him, with his own pain like a boulder-weight on his chest.
He hated himself for feeling that way, but the crushing emotion had worn him down through the years. He had nothing more to give.
Chip's stony expression only made Foxglove's sobs escalate and Chip sucked in his breath when her eyes finally met his, looking over Gadget's shoulder. Fierce, uncompromising fury was there, and blame.
She blamed him. An unspoken 'why!' screamed inside Chip's head and it echoed, filling him from head to toe.
He couldn't escape from it. It felt like the small cozy cave that was Foxglove's home was spinning and shaking. Foxglove's sobs just kept getting louder, raspier until they didn't even sound like crying but a chest-rattling cough.
Cough?
Chip heard the sound, felt the pain and the guilt and he knew he would drown here, in this white fog enveloping him, blinding and suffocating him.
"NO!"
"Chip!" He heard Gadget cry, her voice filled with urgency.
"Chip! Chip! Chip! Can you hear me?"
Slowly, very, very slowly, Chip woke up.
He felt sticky with sweat and his heart was racing, his mind still trapped in a nightmare.
He shook his head to try and come to his senses but…there, there it was again. That sound, that rasping cough.
He hadn't been dreaming!
"Chip?" That voice…
Chip heart skipped two beats, it wasn't Gadget's but, someone else who was dear to him.
More hacking coughs and the door to Chip and Dale's shared bedroom creaked open.
Chip jumped off the top bunk and instinctively went to the small table loaded with medication, a pitcher of water, comic books and candy bar wrappers, the last item Chip pointedly ignored for the patient's sake.
More coughing echoed in the room.
"Hang on, Dale." Chip said softly, wondering at the wave of joy inside of him, mixed with sweet relief.
"Chip?" A tousled blonde head peeked in, Gadget's blue eyes squinting against the early morning sunlight pouring through the open window. "Do you need any help?"
A large shadow was right behind the slight mouse and a booming voice sounded out. "Ey, pally, gonna survive 'ere?"
"Sure." another voice, weak, rasped out from the bottom bunk. "Sorry I woke everybody up, couldn't stop myself anymore."
"Oh, Dale! You're still sick, it's all right!" Gadget said quietly and looked at Chip again, who smiled slightly and shook his head.
"I've got it." He said, gently propping his best friend up and helping him drink, then handing him some cough syrup.
"But Chip," Gadget started, "you've done it since, well, golly Chip, you're exhausted!" she finished, concern on her lovely face even as she turned to glare at Monterey who had stomped back down the hall, grumbling irritably. Chip heard him banging around in the kitchen.
There was a whisper.
"What Dale?" Chip leaned in and smiled, patting his friend's arm. "Monty!" he yelled.
"Oy!"
"Dale wants some strawberry flapjacks, without the cheese this time!"
Gadget finally smiled.
More grumbling from the kitchen, then a bellowed "Does the invalid need anythin' else!"
Dale rasped, "No!" just as Chip shouted, "OJ Monty! Lot's of it, same as it's been every day, and bring in some vitamins!"
It was Dale's turn to grumble but it was light-hearted.
"Chip?" Gadget was beside him now and Dale was leaning back into his pillow. Chip nodded at Gadget but didn't move from his friend's side. His paws were shaking badly, he noticed. "I'm fine."
"You sure, Chipper?" Dale asked, his voice hoarse and weak. Chip looked at him, he couldn't stop shaking, it had moved from his paws to his entire body. What was wrong with him? Was he that relieved? Why?
"Yeah, I'm…" but he choked on the word. His best friend looked tired and very thin but he was alive.
Dale was gradually getting better, but it was a slow, difficult battle. Still, he'd made it, even when no one thought he would. For a few terrible days and nights, they'd all prepared themselves for the worst, especially Chip.
But Dale had fought hard for his life. Chip's happy-go-lucky, easy-going, fun-loving friend had gone through hell, a kind of torture that Chip could never know.
And he'd won. There was no grave, no wasted years, no emptiness, no year after year of pain and regret.
Hot tears began pouring down Chip's face, the dream he'd had was still so vivid.
Dale looked at him, wide-eyed and Gadget grasped his shoulder in understanding.
"I'm fine, really." Chip finally gasped out, "It was, just, just a dream. Guess I'm a little, uh, tired, talking care of this walnut head." Chip said the last fondly, gripping Dale's paw.
Gadget smiled, leaned over and kissed Dale's forehead. Chip just watched, surprised at his lack of envy. He felt like a light of understanding had been turned on inside of him.
"If you're sure, er, you're all right?" Gadget looked intensely at Chip.
Chip stared back at her, seeing a future of possibilities, free from angry words and regret. He then looked at Dale, weak but recovering stronger from his experience.
He was here, he was alive. Chip wondered when he'd last felt this happy and thankful.
"Fine. More than fine, actually."
Gadget smiled sweetly at him, leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. She blushed, surprised at herself and backed out of the room, ducking her head.
Chip, dazed, rubbed his cheek where she'd kissed it. He heard a chuckle and raised an eyebrow at Dale who was unabashedly grinning at him.
"What are you so happy about?" Chip asked, pulling up a nearby chair and trying to force the memories of sleepless nights and helplessness, watching Dale fight for every breath.
"That my extended vacation is 'bout over." Dale answered. "Getting' up today, I think I'm attached to this bed, I've been layin' here so long."
Chip felt a rush of alarm. "Oh no you're not!" He said in his bossiest voice. "You're not going anywhere until the Doc says its okay." As he spoke he tucked Dale's covers tightly around him, frightened that his would overexert himself and become sick again.
"Aw, Chip!" Dale whined.
"Dale! I'm de-" Chip cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut. No, not that word, anything but that word. "Completely serious about this. You've gotta take it easy or, or I'll knock you out, or something." Chip finished crossly, trying to hide his anxiety.
Dale scowled now and folded his arms, his own temper shortened by restlessness and days of feeling poorly. "Since when are you the boss of me?"
Chip felt his own temper flare up but he forcefully pushed it down. "Since saving your ungrateful life, that's when, this is for your own good, Dale."
Dale glared at him for a minute, then looked away. "Yeah, I owe you for that I guess." He grinned at his friend. "Thanks, buddy. I would have said it earlier but…"
"No Dale," Chip's chest felt tight, he already regretted his sharp words. "I didn't save you, you did it yourself. You, you, I, thank you." Chip grabbed Dale in a tight hug.
Dale, surprised, returned it wondering at his best friend's behavior. "Thank you, thank you." Chip said over and over.
"It's okay Chipper." Dale said softly, "it's over."
"Yeah it, it is." Chip slowly released his friend and wiped his cheeks.
"Although, I don't remember getting outta that ice-box of Fat Cat's. Guess I'm a better Rescue Ranger than I thought."
Chip chuckled and rubbed Dale's hair fondly.
"Breakfast is served, boyo!" Monty came bursting in with a huge plate of pancakes. A wonderful smell wafted through the room.
"Monterey!" Chip gasped at the mountain of food. "He can't eat all of that!"
"Speak for yourself." Dale said gleefully, grabbing a napkin, spoon and fork. "Oh, thanks Zip!" The fly was hovering close, barely staying up under the weight of a huge glass of orange juice.
He saluted Dale and buzzed back across the room to land on Monty's shoulder.
The large mouse was still arguing with Chip. "Too much? Wadda mean too much, listen Chippa, I-"
"He's recovering, Monty, not some trophy for you to stuff and hang up on the wall!"
Dale shook his head at the pair's arguing and began digging in.
