Disclaimer: I don't own Paw Patrol or any of the canon characters. Paw Patrol belongs to Spinmaster and Keith Chapman.
Chapter 1: Feeling Guilty for Different Reasons
Salty spray pelted the chocolate lab as the orange hovercraft flew over the choppy seas. The roar of the monstrous fans droned out the cries of seagulls in the background. It was another typical rescue, although one of these days, that purse chicken was going to be dead meat. Especially with people like Alex who thought it would be cool to attach a chicken to a kite to make it fly.
"Zuma, launch your buoy now!" instructed Ryder.
"Arf, Buoy!" The orange striped life ring launched out of the hovercraft's hull at a blistering fast speed. Unfortunately, it landed a bit to the right of the target, which was in the wrong spot to catch the incoming chicken. Zuma tried to reposition the hovercraft, but there was no time. In a blur, he saw Ryder's jet ski fly in front of him, sending a wave straight at his face. After clearing his eyes from the blinding water, Zuma spotted Chickaletta falling from Ryder's hand. Ryder had managed to catch the chicken with a backhand grab, but he couldn't hang on in the 15-foot swells. Zuma watched the scene unfold, still frozen in hesitation. Suddenly, he saw a blue streak jump into the ocean. Coming back to his senses, Zuma realized the danger in front of him.
"Frick… Chase, what are you doing jumping into 15-foot seas," Zuma thought as he prepared to dive in.
"Arf, Scuba!" Zuma barked, scanning the ocean in front of him. He spotted Chickaletta floating on Chase's life jacket.
"Chase, where are you!" Zuma jumped into the ravaging waters, the pressure pushing back on his body as he broke the surface. Quickly searching the depths, he spotted the shepherd frantically trying to swim up, but only managing to get caught in the strong undercurrent. This time, Zuma couldn't screw up; otherwise, Chase would drown.
Zuma activated the jets on his pup pack, sending him flying through the ocean, grabbing Chase as he sped past. They were both sent to the surface in a matter of a couple seconds.
Chase gasped for breath as the two pups surfaced. Removing his regulator bone, Zuma wanted to tell off Chase for jumping into high seas without a life jacket. However, he knew that his mistake contributed as much to this harrowing situation as the shepherd's bold move. He decided to say nothing for now.
Speaking of a bold move, it seemed as if the purse chicken had yet again miraculously survived a perilous situation. The two pups managed to haul the unscathed chicken into Zuma's hovercraft just as Ryder pulled up beside them.
"Chase, are you alright to drive your boat to shore?" Ryder asked in concern.
"Yeah, I'm good. Fortunately, Zuma rescued me before I took in any water," Chase added, trying to sound positive about Zuma's performance.
"Nice work pups, both of you. Zuma, drop off Chickaletta at the shoreline and then follow us back to the lookout," Ryder instructed.
Cruising towards shore, Zuma eyed the chicken with a suspicious glance. Chickaletta simply looked back at Zuma with that same blank stare and clucked as if nothing happened. If this chicken could talk, he didn't know how he would explain his mistake. He especially didn't know what to tell Chase when he got back to the Lookout. Ryder and Chase seemed satisfied, but it was probably all just an act in the name of professionalism on the job. He'd probably get told off for his mistake; at least that's what the chocolate lab could reason. There was no other reasonable explanation: it was all his fault. If he had just made that buoy launch accurate enough, there wouldn't be all this drama.
Parking his hovercraft onshore, Zuma delivered Chickaletta to an overly ecstatic Mayor Goodway.
"Oh, thank you thank you thank you Paw Patrol. Ryder, Chase, Zuma you saved my precious chickie-wickie! Oh how I can't thank you enough."
Except this time, Mayor Goodway's praise didn't resonate with Zuma. Two creatures almost died, and it was his fault for this situation. That's all the lab could think of right now.
Attempting to nap off the early wake-up call from the emergency this morning, Rocky rustled around his bed. Even though he wasn't needed for the rescue, there was the lasting adrenaline rush from the call, and the possibility that he could get called in later. However, the sound of trucks and a the drone of a familiar hovercraft stirred the mixed breed out of a semi-awake slumber state. Rocky peeked his head outside the puphouse to watch the rescuers arrive back from their daring mission. He watched Zuma disembark his hovercraft, but seeming very disdainful in the process.
He was sad; the mixed knew that much.
"He's not usually sad, I wonder if something bad happened," Rocky pondered. Also watching the rescuers arrive was Skye, who was standing in the threshold of her puphouse, eyeing the returning pups with concern. Suddenly, she looked straight at Rocky with an expression that didn't come lightly for the mixed breed.
She gave the you-should-talk-to-him look to Rocky, implying that he would be the best one to help Zuma. However, for Rocky, this look triggered a different feeling, one rooted from a past that he wanted to put behind him.
*Flashback*
"Hey Wyder, can we talk to the new pup?" asked Zuma excitedly, wagging his tail.
"Yeah, sure, you guys should get to know him. But maybe we should just start one at a time; he does look like quite a shy pup," Ryder suggested.
"He didn't even say anything the whole way home," Chase noted, building onto Ryder's case.
"They're already talking about how shy I am," Rocky pondered. "This is not going to be fun having to talk to these pups that I've never met before. Can't I just go inside by myself?"
Seeing that the pups were gathering around the front entrance, going inside unnoticed was seeming like an unlikely option right now. Instead, he tried to think of something more positive.
"Just think about relaxing on the beach, feeling the water lap over my paws...wait, no no no, I hate water." Rocky needed to think about something else to take his mind of the pressure of having a social interaction with this vivacious chocolate labrador, but he wasn't having much success.
"This isn't working," Rocky concluded, feeling like he should try and prepare for this conversation as much as possible instead of distracting himself.
"His name's Zuma, right? He's gonna get a bad impression if I mess up his name now." Rocky tried to confirm this information in his mind, but it only made him more worried about if he was wrong. To the mixed breed, it felt like there was a whole audience of pups staring at him like he was about to perform on-stage. But he was only being watched by Zuma right now. Yes, his name was definitely Zuma. But he didn't know what to say, or if he wanted to say anything at all right now.
"Frick, I'm already screwing this up," thought Rocky, "He probably thinks that I'm some sort of shy freak."
Breaking the silence, the lab trotted up to the mixed breed and spoke:
"Wocky, that's youw name, wight?" Zuma asked.
Rocky nodded.
"Do you want to come play with us?"
Rocky cringed with hesitation. The chocolate lab picked up on his uncertainty, but he was determined to get him to say something.
"Why don't you want to hang out with us?"
Rocky shrugged.
"Just say something dude," Zuma was beginning to get frustrated.
"Um, I'll just get going. This was a mistake. Goodbye."
Rocky turned around and walked away. This was the easier course of action for him, to retreat into the safety of oneself, alone and without the looming expectations of a social interaction. If it meant leaving this chocolate labrador and his friends, then so be it. Rocky didn't really even know them that long anyway, so leaving was going to be fairly easy.
"Wait, Wocky. You can't just leave us like that. I don't want to have to say goodbye after I just met you."
That last sentence made Rocky freeze. Or maybe it was the delivery of the remark; a feeling of utter desperation evident in the lab's tone. There couldn't be a more pointed statement than that, and Rocky would be hard-pressed to explain his feelings, especially under pressure. Emotions were coursing through his fur. Fear, apprehension, regret, sadness… There was only one thing he could do, and that was hide. Rocky sprinted to his "puphouse" (that's what the pups called their sleeping quarters) and slammed the metal door. The clang of metal on metal was much louder than Rocky anticipated, and it made him cringe. This was only a temporary reaction as he was now embraced in the comfort of solitude. He wasn't going to face the other pups, not today. Still alert to his surroundings, the mixed breed listened to the muffled conversation outside.
"Well, he didn't leave." That voice sounded like the Cockapoo talking. He could tell by the enthusiastic, upbeat tone of her voice, though it wasn't the same level of enthusiasm as before.
Sigh
That was the chocolate lab, there's no questioning that. The way he sighed sounded like…sadness?
What had he done to that puppy to make him so sad? He wasn't going to go out there to find out, but he felt guilty all the same. Rocky didn't know what to do, how to remedy this situation. He wished that he could actually tell the lab what he was feeling. But he would be judged by the pups for sure, and that was not an option. He just wanted to be free from people worrying about him, noticing how shy he was. He just wanted to tell Zuma that he was…Rocky.
*End Flashback*
"I don't think I'm the best person to talk to Zuma right now, if that's what you were implying by your look," Rocky spoke, looking directly at Skye.
"Oh, well, I just thought that you would want to comfort him since you are his best friend," replied Skye casually. The Cockapoo failed to realize how difficult this might be for a socially awkward pup like Rocky.
"Um, I think I'll wait. He might be mad if I talk to him now," Rocky said, dismissing the potential uncomfortable conversation.
"Oh, okay then," Skye gave a rather casual smile and turned around to walk inside her puphouse. Rocky did the same.
"Some best friend he is," Skye muttered, not intending for it to be heard.
Rocky's sharp hearing made him instantly turn around, seeming terrified by Skye's offhand comment. Instantly realizing her mistake, Skye looked on with horror as she tried to explain:
"No, Rocky, that's not what I meant, please, don't take it the wrong way. I can make this better." Skye pleaded with the mixed breed.
It was already too late, as she could only watch the mixed breed run inside his puphouse, probably about to cry. It was at that moment that Skye knew that she made things worse.
A/N:
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story. I know that Rocky isn't this shy in the show and that I'm veering a bit off of canon for Rocky's character. I'll explain the inspiration for Rocky's character in a later author's note. Anyways, see ya in the next chapter!
-PawsomeHamster