Disclaimer: I do not own Chip N Dale's Rescue Rangers; they are used here must humbly and without permission. Also, I do not own Godzilla, TV Guide, James Bond, The Sound of Music, the SciFi Channel, or any other persons, shows, or objects contained herein that I cannot currently remember. For another list of things I do not own, please see the credits. Sophia Marskov and Jules Crissen are my own creations; please ask if for some reason you want to use them, though I'm not sure why you would. This story is purely the work of my imagination; any resemblance to other fanfics is completely coincidental. Enjoy!

"A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."

-Proverbs 18:24 (King James Version)

BOC42 proudly presents her first full-length Rescue Ranger fanfic:


Chapter 1

Godzilla vs. The Rescue Rangers

"Everybody ready?" called Dale jubilantly from the television set.

To my left, Chip rolled his eyes. "Ready as we'll ever be," he droned loudly and sat down slowly on the couch next to me.

Thanks to Dale, we were doomed to spend the entire night watching old Godzilla movies on the SciFi station.

"Dale, pally, do you really think we havta watch all five movies?" asked Monterey Jack from the other side of the couch. "I mean, if yeh've seen one munster movie, yeh've seen 'em all, right?" He stretched out and Zipper settled on his shoulder.

Dale seized the remote from the table and cranked up the volume as Godzilla: King of the Monsters' credits rolled. "Are you ca-razy! These are some of the best movies ever made!" And with that as the explanation for our suffering, he plopped down on a cushion and began shoveling popcorn into his mouth. I raised an eyebrow and looked up at the screen.

The first movie was okay. At least Raymond Burr spoke English, which was more than I could say for most of the actors. In my opinion, Godzilla himself seemed more articulate than most of them. "I didn't know the movies were dubbed," I murmured to Chip, who was sitting next to me.

"I didn't know these movies were legal," he moaned. He had his arms crossed across his chest and was glaring at the screen as if it had done him a personal wrong.

And hour and forty minutes lather there was a brief respite during which Dale ran to the kitchen to get ice cream. Monterey cracked his neck. "Not too bad, 'eh?" he asked.

"Terrible," complained Chip. "I don't see why we should have to watch these dumb movies with Dale."

"Well, we said we would," I injected, trying to calm Chip down. He looked awfully annoyed. "And after all, you made the rule that we'd support each other."

Chip looked at me. "And Dale turned that into meaning we'd watch scifi movies with him."I just smiled. "You don't like them either, Gadget," he argued.

I shook my head, but kept my smile firmly in place. Chip kept eye contact with me for a few more seconds before breaking down. "I know, I know," he heaved, sagging back into the couch.

"You know it means a lot to him, Chip," I said, and scooted closer to him. As I knew he would, Chip perked up a bit.

Dale came zooming back into the room."Did I miss anything?" he asked, worried.

"Not a thing, Dale," Chip said civilly. I patted his shoulder quickly, then pretended to be engrossed by the credits to Son of Godzilla.

The second movie was terrible, just as Chip predicted. We struggled through it, all of us in a semi-circle behind Dale, hardly looking at the screen. For a few minutes I thought Godzilla's son was cute, but the dubbing rapidly became unbearable, and I stopped making an effort to follow the storyline. Come to think of it, I stopped making an effort to stay awake...


Someone was snoring. Comfortable and drowsy, I opened my eyes. It was Dale. He was out cold on his stomach on the floor, drooling into his cushion. Beside him was the remote, with Zipper fast asleep on top of it. After hours of the television being on, and falling asleep to its noise, the silence was cloying.

"Ah now, tha's the ticket. Jes' give the Brie 'ere..." Monterey Jack muttered, and I heard him stretch, just out of my peripheral vision. I smiled, snuggling into my blanket and burrowing deep into the pillow...leather. Why can I smell leather? I wondered idly, and turned. Opening my eyes, I came to the sudden realization that it wasn't a pillow I was sleeping on. It was Chip.

I pulled away and looked at his calm, relaxed face. He was leaned up against the arm of the couch, the tiniest of smiles on his face. On cue, my cheeks became hotter than spinning drill bit...I'd fallen asleep on his shoulder. Of all the cliche things that could happen during a movie.

Half-asleep still, my exhaustion gradually served to put out some of my embarrassment, and I relaxed into his shoulder, mind wandering back my dream. As I washed away on the tides of sleep, I felt his hand come up around my shoulder, and smiled.



Dale's hollering woke me up so fast that I literally jumped off the couch with my eyes still closed.

"What? What?" I panted, feeling the world spin.

Dale was staring at me like I was a traitor. In seconds, his eyes turned to Chip, who was still groggy. He prepared himself to jump.

"No, Dale!" I said, getting in front of him.

"What? Huh?" Chip mumbled looked blearily up at Dale, whom I was holding back with both arms.

Dale glowered at him. "You little..." His frustration built up to a dull roar, and he yanked himself away from me and launched himself into Chip. Chip was still half-asleep and unprepared for a fight.

"Hey! Hey!" I shouted, trying to muscle my way in between them. It was no use. Chip had come to his senses enough to see that Dale wanted to fight, and neither of them ever gave up an opportunity to wrestle each other. Even if I was quite literally in the middle of them.

"'Ey now, that's enough!" came Monterey's commanding roar. He bustled in from the kitchen, reached over the couch, and picked the two squabbling chipmunks up by the scruff of their necks'. "Start the mornin' out fightin'; that's whatcha get fer stayin' up all night!" he shouted, and set them down quite stiffly on opposite sides of me.

"It's not my fault!" wailed Dale, pointing at Chip. "It was him!"

"Me?" Chip shot back, his fists barred, "You're the one who jumped me like a maniac! I wasn't doing anything!"

"Yes you were! You were-"

The boys prepared to spring again. "Boys!" I shouted, putting a paw on each of their chests. I couldn't take it any more. I doubted Chip had any idea what he was being accused off, but he was ready to fight anyway. That was one of his habits I couldn't stand. He could be so mature and sensible sometimes, but one word from Dale and he started acting like a child. He was going to have to kick that habit.

I grabbed Dale's shoulders and steered him away. "Don't! I hate it when you two fight, and you do it over the dumbest things!"

"But...but..." blubbered Dale, still trying to get at Chip.

"No 'buts!' You two need to grow up!" I shot a glare in Chip's direction as I said it. I wasn't angry at him, but I had been dying to tell him to grow up every time he and Dale started fighting for years now. It just happened to come out then. At a very bad time.

Chip's face fell. Confusion clouded his demeanor, but he took a deep breath and came over to Dale, extending a paw. "Sorry, Dale," he said.

I watched them carefully. For once, Chip's apology seemed heartfelt and sincere, not just an attempt to goad Dale any more.

Dale seemed quite taken aback at the proffered truce, but shook on it anyway. "Betcha don't even know what you did," he grumbled as Chip left the room for the kitchen.

"All the more reason for you to not get mad at him for it," I snipped, striding past him and into the kitchen.

Chip was waiting just inside the door. "Why is Dale mad at me? What did I do, Gadget?"

I considered telling him I had no clue, but then decided against it. "I fell asleep on your shoulder," I said as I walked past him to peruse the contents of the fridge. I had to keep my frustration with the boys at the fore to keep my voice steady as I was starting to feel very giddy and lightheaded over it. "Apparently he wasn't very happy about it," I added.

"You...you...oh," he finished weakly. "That would explain it." I heard him swallow. "Sorry."

The chill from the fridge was cooling my cheeks. "For what?" I asked, rummaging blindly through Monty's assortment of cheeses.

"For fighting. We do it too much, I guess."

I glanced up to find him hovering over the fridge door, looking as nervous as I felt. "Yes, you do," I said. Chip backed away as I closed the door. I mastered myself and smiled at him. "But you're sorry, so you'll stop," I said simply and left the room, feeling deliciously agitated and giddy.