A/N: This story starts the same as "Lost and Found" but changes after Skye's flashback.

Are you ready for some drama? My original intent was to have Skye, Rocky, and Zuma have flashbacks to when they first came to Paw Patrol while they deal with the possibility that they might loose a member, but only Zuma's ended up that way. So, this is kind of random and all over the place. If a chapter suddenly disappears in this, its because this chapter was removed to be used elsewhere in a better manner.

Takes place between "New Missions and Old Fears" and "Lost and Found."

Ryder slouches on the bench, either hand resting on the backs of the pups at his side. Marshall, on Ryder's left, sniffs and rubs his nose with a paw. Chase, on the right, stares straight ahead. It is late in the day, and the park they sat in was empty.

"What now, Ryder?" Chase finally asks, watching the sky turn pink.

"I don't know, Chase," Ryder says with a sigh. "We have lost a pup. What can we do? Can Paw Patrol continue? Would anyone trust us to help them when we couldn't help one of our own?"

Marshall twitchs, and tears begin streaming down his face. "I'm sorry."

Ryder turns to him. "For what?"

"If only I had know what to do," Marshall whines. "If I knew how to take care of injuries, I wouldn't have had to leave, and I could have been there to help you two."

"It's not your fault," Chase says. "If anything, it's mine. I should've checked the mine better, not been so focused on playing."

Ryder abruptly stands and turns to face the pups. "Now you listen to me, you two. It is neither of your faults, got it? Geo knew what he was getting into, and he sacrificed himself when he saw that both of us couldn't have gotten out." Ryder pauses to take a deep breath. "What we need to do now, is decide whether or not Paw Patrol will go on."

"But, there's only two of us," Chase says. "Three if we count you. What can we do with so few?"

Ryder sighs and sits back down. "I don't know. Maybe we should just forget about it."

"What?!" comes an outraged yelp from a bush nearby.

Before any of the three can respond, a small cockapoo jumps out and confronts them. She stares at them for a moment, expression flickering from awe to disbelief.

"Um… who are you?" Ryder finally asks when it becomes clear the pup isn't going to talk first.

"My name's Skye." The pup's expression finally settles on amazement. "I heard about the Paw Patrol back home, and came to meet them in person. Er, pup-to-pups-and-person."

"You've… heard about us?" Ryder says slowly.

"Yep! Genius boy and his three best canines set out to form youngest ever rescue team," Skye says with an excited yip. "It was, like, sooooo inspiring! See, I'm trying to make my own gear!" Skye turns to display what looks suspiciously like an old toy airplane strapped to her back. "I'm, uh… not very good at building," Skye admits sheepishly.

Ryder can't help but chuckle as he knees to inspect Skye's "wings." "Well, it's a start. I tried to make a mini jetpack for Marshall, but he's a bit too large for it. Maybe in a few years, I can make something stronger. Hey, would you like it?"

Skye gasps and sits down. "You really mean it?"

"Sure. It's not like we'll ever need it…" Ryder rubs the back of his head.

"Because you are ending Paw Patrol?" At Ryder, Chase, and Marshall's surprised looks, Skye shifts her paws. "I may have overheard."

Ryder nods. "You are right, though. This is the end of Paw Patrol."

"But why?!" Skye wails.

"Because Paw Patrol was obviously not meant to be," Chase says with a hint of a growl.

"You can't let one bad mission stop you," Skye says. "I read what happened in the newspaper and I'm sorry, but do you really think Geo would want you to just quit?"

Chase leaps to the ground and thrusts himself in Skye's face, actually growling now. "What do you know about Geo?! What do you know about losing someone so close, he is practically a brother to you?!"

"Chase!" Ryder jumps to his feet and pulls away Chase.

Skye eyes them solemnly, apparently unaffected by Chase's reaction. "I lost my brother, my birth brother. He always wanted to fly, and tried to build things that let him fly. One day, while he was experimenting, he got trapped halfway up a cliff. The ground above was too unstable for a full-size helicopter, so they tried climbing." Skye's head drops. "But it took too long… he couldn't hold on long enough."

Chase's eyes widen. "I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean…"

Skye lifts her head to give him a small smile. "It's okay, you didn't know. What I am trying to tell you, is that I didn't let my brother's accident scare me away from flying. If anything, it made me want to fly more, so that if anyone was ever in the same type of position, I will be able to help."

The group stared at each other in silence for a bit before Marshall, who had been quiet since Skye's appearance, spoke up.

"Skye is right. Geo would be mad if we quit after what he did to protect Ryder," Marshall said, standing. "We can't change the past, but we can be prepared for the future. I resolve to continue as a firedog, but learn about medicine as well."

Chase and Ryder feel their resolve rise. However, the affect of Marshall's speech was somewhat lost as he went to climb off the bench, only to tumble into Skye. The smaller pup leaped out of the way.

"Me, too," Chase says firmly. "Ryder?"

"I don't think I could stop inventing if I wanted to," Ryder says, with a chuckle.

"Not just as our inventor," Chase said. "I mean as our leader."

"Leader? But… but that was Geo's job," Ryder shifts uncertainly.

"And he always said you had potential to lead," Marshall says as he stands.

"Geo was the number one pup, but you were always meant to be number one of Paw Patrol, Ryder, sir," Chase says.

Ryder chuckles. "Sir, huh?"

"Oh, oh!" Skye gives an excited backflip, making the others laugh. "Can I join the Paw Patrol, please? I could be your air rescue pup!"

Ryder cocks his head. "Are you sure. It's a big job, and you're a little pup."

Skye puffs up her chest. "Didn't Geo always say, 'No job is too big, and no pup is too small?'"

"You're right," Ryder says with a soft smile. "He sure did."

Skye ran outside when she heard the others pulling up. She had put every single blanket and pillow in the Lookout on the main floor in a giant nest, and hoped that her efforts would help. But as she reached outside and saw the others, all thoughts vanished from her mind.

Zuma was screaming. Marshall all but threw himself from the driver's seat in his rush to open the ambulance doors.

"She's s-stopped bweathing!" Zuma wailed, shaking Wisp.

Marshall put a paw on Wisp's chest. "Oh, no, something is blocking her throat. Ryder!"

Ryder rushed over, leaving Chase to climb down from his ATV alone. Skye ran over to Chase, steadying him as they went back to Wisp.

Ryder had moved Wisp to the ground, and was holding her in an upright position. Zuma crouched at his side, eyes wide. At Marshall's command, Ryder gave Wisp a firm pat on the back. She jerked, but still wouldn't breathe.

"Harder!" Marshall prompted. He was holding Wisp's head up, and eyeing her worriedly.

Ryder screwed his eyes shut and gave her a hard smack. Skye winced at the sound, but Wisp coughed and sticky phlegm flew out. She took a deep, shaky breath and Skye let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Get her inside," Marshall said, voice cracking slightly.

Ryder nodded and hoisted up the pup. Zuma leaped up and followed at his heels as he walked into the Lookout, Marshall leading the way. Chase followed them slowly. Skye was about to as well, but heard a vehicle pulling up and turned.

Rocky stopped his truck and leaped down. He was smiling, but his happy expression vanished when he saw Skye.

"What happened? Where's Wisp?"

Skye swallowed before answering. "We found her. She's inside, but… she's really sick."

"Wow!" Rocky whispers, watching from the bushes as the brown-haired boy tinkers with his ATV.

The mutt creeps closer, then winces as he steps on a twig. Ryder lifts his head to glance around, but shrugs after a moment and goes back to work.

"Ryder!"

Rocky flinches and huddles deeper into the bushes, but the German Shepherd, dalmation, and cockapoo don't notice as him as they run up to Ryder.

"Chase, Marshall, Skye, what's up?" Ryder asks, standing up from his work.

"My police car won't drive," Chase says.

"Skye's and my Pup Packs aren't working right, either," Marshall adds. "My hose keeps popping out to spray me, and Skye's jetpack keeps making barrel rolls."

"It's kind of fun," Skye admits. "But I'm getting dizzy."

Ryder sighs. "Two years, and I'm still working out the bugs on those." He glances at the tall, almost futuristic tower they stood at the base of. "I'm almost afraid to start up the electronics in the Lookout."

"Especially after last time," Chase says with a shudder. "My ears are still ringing from the explosion."

"Well, no time like the present," Ryder says. "Marshall, Skye, leave your Pup Packs here. I'll fix Chase's car first, then work on those."

The pups nod and drop their packs before running after Ryder.

Rocky slowly emerges from the bushes. He eyes the abandoned packs and tools scattered on the ground. He glances one last time around to make sure the Paw Patrol wasn't returning, then ran over.

"I can fix these," Rocky whispers gleefully.

An hour later, Rocky is waiting back in the bushes when the Paw Patrol returns to the packs.

"Okay, Marshall, show me what your Pup Pack's been doing," Ryder says.

Marshall nods and puts on his pack. "Watch. Whenever I do this…"

Marshall raises a paw to smack the side of the pack. He flinches and closes his eyes, but nothing happens. After a moment, he opens his eyes.

"Huh?"

Marshall taps the side of the pack a couple times before shrugging.

"Weird." Ryder turns to Skye. "How about yours?"

Skye tries out her jetpack. Like Marshall, her pack is working perfectly!

Rocky laughs silently that his efforts worked. While the chances are rare, he loves to work on electronics and gadgets.

When Skye lands after a seamless flight, Ryder takes her Pup Pack. "That's strange that they would start working like that. Hey, was this here before?"

When Ryder points, Rocky stifles the urge to groan. His very dirty paws had left a large pawprint on the top of the pack.

"Hey, there is one on Marshall's, too." Chase points to the back of Marshall's pack.

Rocky drops his face into his paws. Great, now he'd really messed it up! A moment later, Rocky's self scolding is interrupted by a sniffing. He lifts his head to see Chase sniff Marshall's pack, then Skye's.

"There's a scent I don't recognize on these." Chase lifts his nose to smell the air. "Whoever it was, is close."

Ryder stands and looks around. Rocky tries to press himself lower into the dirt. What if Ryder would be mad at him messing with the gadgets? It's not like he would damage or steal them, but Rocky didn't know what to think of the boy or team of pups he had spotted pulling a kitten out of the tree earlier that day.

"Hello?" Ryder calls. "It's okay, come on out."

Rocky presses his ears to his head. The boys sounds so nice, maybe it wouldn't hurt if he introduced himself?

No. Rocky gives himself a mental headshake. People he had come across in his travels always acted nice, until confronted with a dirty, mixed breed stray.

Rocky decides to stay put, barely breathing until Ryder gave up and herded the pups inside. Once the group was gone, Rocky finally stood. He stretched out his stiff muscles and crept away, making sure to keep behind cover.

"No more," Rocky thinks. "I should leave tomorrow, before I get found out."

The next day came, and Rocky's resolve to leave weakened. He just had to see some more of Ryder's gadgets! Maybe he had some old stuff he didn't use and had thrown away! Rocky loved finding "junk" in the trash, and being able to fix them up or use them in other ways.

Shaking his head at himself, but helpless against his own wishes, Rocky left the tiny shelter he had made in the woods to head over to the Lookout, where he took up the same hiding place as the previous day.

No one was out yet that morning, but Rocky was willing to wait.

After an hour, his patience was rewarded as Marshall -wearing his Paw Patrol gear- and Skye came running out. Skye is holding a Frisbee, but just as she prepared to throw, Marshall trips over a stick in the grass.

"Woah!" Marshall yelped.

He twists awkwardly as he falls, landing on his Pup Pack with a loud crunch before tumbling head over paws several times. When he finally stops, he is on his back, paws splayed in the air.

Skye stares at Marshall for a moment before running over. "Marshall, are you okay?"

"I'm good!" Marshall stands, then winces. "Mostly. Ow. I think I sprained my paw."

Skye leans back a bit. "And busted your pack."

Marshall moans. "Not again!"

Skye shakes her head. She helps Marshall take off his broken pack, then supports him as he limps back inside.

Rocky stares after them. What luck, three Pup Packs to fix in two days! Grinning to himself, Rocky sneaks over to the abandoned pack, which is luckily near the bush cover. He sits down and takes off the pouch he brought with him this time. The pouch holds tools he has found while traveling.

Pulling the pack closer so that he only has to have his front half in the open, Rocky starts working. He is soon so engrossed with his tinkering that he completely forgets to keep an eye on his surroundings.

About fifteen minutes later, Rocky finishes up. He pushes his tools back into the bush, then takes care to wipe off his pawprints this time. Nodding in satisfaction, Rocky pushes the pack away.

Then a black-spotted paw lays across the top and a voice says, "Wow, thanks!"

Rocky jerks his head up in shock. Standing in front of him is Marshall! Behind him, a short distance away, Ryder stands with the other two pups. Rocky freezes, unsure of what to do.

"Are you okay?" Marshalls asks after a moment.

Rocky flinches and backs away. "I'm so sorry."

Marshall cocks his head. "About what?"

"I didn't mean to touch your pack, but it was broken and I love fixing things, and it was just so tempting!" Rocky says quickly, not even pausing for breath. He ends with a whimper he can't hold back, "Please don't be mad."

"Um…" Marshall's head tips the other way. "I'm not mad."

Rocky's ears prick forward. "You… you mean it?"

"Of course! Why would I be mad about you fixing my pack?"

Rocky starts to answer, but catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Chase was coming closer!

Marshall sees that Rocky's attention is elsewhere, and turns. "Chase, you were supposed to stay back."

Rocky whips his head back to Marshall. "You planned this?!"

"Well, yeah." Marshall shrugs as he turns back. "We knew you were hiding from us yesterday, and didn't think you would be willing to just come to us on your own. We were curious."

"About me?"

Marshall nods. "Yep. Only Ryder has ever been able to fix our packs until now."

Rocky smiles in hesitant pride. "I like to work with my paws."

"Who taught you?" Ryder asks. He has come closer, but Rocky is less frightened of him now.

"I taught myself. Sometimes it's necessary for survival," Rocky explains.

"Survival? Don't you have an owner?" Marshall asks.

"No. I was born on the streets of a big city," Rocky says. "I've always dreamed of having an owner, but who would want a scruffy mutt?"

Rocky states it matter-of-the-factly, but the Paw Patrol responds in shock.

"Who cares what you look like? You're so smart!" Ryder exclaims. He's now at Marshall's side.

Rocky shrugs. "No one's ever tried to figure out what I was like before."

Ryder sits so that he is now at Rocky's level. "How would you like to help me at the Lookout? You could have your own puphouse and as many broken gadgets as you could wish for." He chuckles ruefully at the last part.

Rocky blinks. "You mean… a home?"

"Only if you want to stay."

Rocky tackles Ryder before he can think about what he's doing. He starts licking the boy's face, exclaiming between licks, "Yes! Oh, yes! I would love it very much!"

Rocky hurried into the Lookout behind Skye. At the door, he froze at the chaos inside.

Wisp was hunched up on a beanbag, body shaking in a round of coughing. Ryder was trying to get her upright, but her coughs would jerk her out of his grasp. Marshall ran around with medicines in his mouth, sometimes tripping and dropping the bottles in his rush. Chase was trying to hold Zuma back, but the tired pup was no matter for the desperate Zuma.

Rocky shook off his shock. He said to Skye, "See if you can help Marshall. I'll help Chase."

Rocky hurried over to Chase and Zuma, arriving just as the latter broke free. Rocky tackled him before he could get far, and pinned him down.

"Let go, Wocky! I need to-"

"You need to calm down, dude!" Rocky said, refusing to let Zuma up. "Marshall knows what he is doing."

"But Wisp needs me!" Zuma pleaded.

Rocky shook his head. "Don't make me let Chase sit on you."

Chase looked offended at the thought, but Zuma finally stilled. Once he was sure that Zuma wouldn't run off, Rocky climbed off of him. Zuma sat up slowly.

"It's going to be fine, Zuma," Rocky said soothingly. "Marshall will fix her up, and she will be back to normal in no time, okay?"

At that second, there was a shout from Ryder.

"Marshall!"

The contents of Marshall's mouth clattered to the ground as he rushed over to Ryder and Wisp. They huddled over Wisp for a moment, then the sound of Wisp's coughing filled the room.

"Okay, she's breathing again," Marshall said in relief as he stepped back.

"Isn't thewe something we can do?" Zuma whimpered.

Rocky was about to say no, but saw a desperation in Zuma's eyes. He realized that Zuma wouldn't be content to just sit around and wait; he needed to do something.

"We can fix up a nest for her," Rocky suggested.

Zuma stared at him. "What?"

"Wisp will need a good, comfortable nest to get her the rest she needs to recover." Rocky looked around at the blankets and pillows scattered across the floor. "And I think we have everything we need right here."

Zuma turned his head in Wisp's direction. For a moment, Rocky was afraid Zuma wouldn't accept the distraction. But then, Zuma nodded and stood.

"Okay. Let's make Wisp the best nest evew!"

Zuma sits on the seashore, eyes closed and breathing in the salty air. A gentle breeze bushes his ears, making them flop around.

After a few moments, shouting from nearby draws his attention. He opens his eyes and sees four pups running toward the water. A human boy follows behind them, carrying a basket and umbrella.

Of the running pups, the German Shepherd is the fastest. The dalmation and cockapoo are next, laughing. The last, a gray mixed breed, seems hesitant to follow, but soon grins and races forward. He is far behind, but then the dalmation trips and tumbles spectacularly, taking out the cockapoo and German Shepherd and allowing the mix ahead.

Just as the gray mix reaches the water's edge, he lunges and lands on a small rowboat bobbing in the waves. He turns as the others catch up.

"No one said I had to be in the water!" the mix exclaims, causing Zuma to realize they had been racing.

Zuma gives a small sigh as he watches the pups kid each other about who really won. He wants to join in the game, but is too shy to speak up. Instead, he silently watches as the pups go deeper into the waves. Chase -Zuma had learned their names through listening- pushes the boat with the mix.

Zuma frowns and stands. Why is Rocky letting him do that? It sounded like the mix either didn't like water or couldn't swim. He didn't even have any sort of flotation device with him!

Although he is still nervous, Zuma pads into the water and swims into deeper water. He keeps distance between him and the pups, but keeps a close eye on Rocky.

After a while, Zuma admits he might have been worrying too much. Chase is keeping a close eye on his friend as he peers into the water from the dry boat. If Rocky was to fall, Chase is right there to catch him.

Zuma turns back to shore, then pauses. As long as he's already in the water, he might as well swim so more, right?

Needing no more prompting, Zuma ducks under the water and paddles among the colorful fish swirling around him paws. He smiles at the playful fish and cheerfully waves his paws. He floats for a moment, reveling in the calming presence of the ocean, before his lungs press him to the surface.

He bursts through the water's surface, throwing splatters of water that glisten in the sunlight. He watches them fall, the smile never leaving his face.

Then screaming pierces the air.

"Ah! Chase, help!"

"Rocky!"

Zume whips around. Rocky and the boat is rapidly being pulled out to the ocean! His friends swim frantically after him, but are helpless as he gets further away.

"A riptide!" Zuma realizes.

Without a moment of hesitation, Zuma throws himself forward. He's like a fish in the water, instinctively slipping in and out of currents to speed his swimming. Within seconds, Zuma feels the edges of the riptide tugging at his paws. He pauses to turn to Rocky's friends, who had watched him speed past with gaping jaws.

"Stay back! If the tide catches you too, you won't get back alone," Zuma tells them, carefully choosing his words.

Marshall opens his mouth to protest, but Chase holds up a paw to stop him.

"Okay. Just, please, get our friend back," he says solemnly.

Zuma nods and throws himself into the tide. At once he is jerked along, briefly sinking underwater before thrusting his head back into air. Treading to stay afloat, Zuma realizes that he is being pulled along backwards.

"Help!"

Zuma's head jerks around. The voice is coming from way to close! As if… Zuma winces just before he slams back-first into the rowboat.

The air rushes out of Zuma's lungs, and he just barely has the presence of mind to tip his head back as he gasps for air.

"Wha? Hey!"

Paws grab under Zuma's legs and tug upward. Grunting with effort, Zuma manages to twist his body and hook a paw over the boat's edge. With both pups' effort, Zuma is pulled into the boat. He sinks to the floor, still panting.

"Are you okay?"

Zuma lifts his head to see Rocky watching him. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Besides being surrounded by wet, sure. What are you doing here?"

Zuma sits up. "I came to get you. Can you swim?"

"Um… no, is that a problem?"

Zuma doesn't respond; his head is pounding from hitting the boat, and he doesn't want to think up a clear answer. Instead, he stands and goes to the front of the boat. He's startled to find water streaming up through a small hole. He peeks over the edge, and sees the boat has lodged on some sort of coral reef.

"How long do you think it will hold?" Rocky asks, coming up beside Zuma.

The boat shifts, and the stream of water gets larger. Zuma sees Rocky step back from the growing pool.

"Not long," Zuma says. He squints at the distant shore. He knows that he could swim that distance on a good day, but his back and head hurts and he will have to help Rocky.

"If it can hold for just a few minutes, Skye can get her copter and pick us up," Rocky says.

The boats shudders and starts to drift sideways.

"No time. Swim that way." Zuma points to the left, parallel with the shore. "Once out of the tide, it will be easy to get to land."

Rocky cocks his head at Zuma, who ignores him. He is aware of his odd, stilted speech, but can't let his secret out or take the time to think up a better way to say it.

"Can't we just-" Rocky starts.

The boat turns completely. With a crack, a huge split opens in the boat. They are out of time!

"Apologies," Zuma says.

He grabs Rocky and throws him into the water before leaping in himself.

Rocky is screaming and splashing, eyes wild and beyond reason. It's all Zuma can do to keep out of range of Rocky's flailing, never mind swim!

"Swim!" Zuma screams. "Unless you want to die, swim!"

Rocky's expression flickers and his thrashing slows. Zuma lifts a paw to point, and Rocky mutely turns his body in that direction. His swimming is messy and slow, but the pups manage to maneuver out of the riptide.

"Stay close," Zuma says as he slips into a current moving toward shore.

The pair drifts for a bit, letting the current do the work, for which Zuma is greatly thankful. Rocky's already looking tired, and Zuma knows that shock or hypothermia in the cold water is always a concern.

When he senses the current turning, Zuma reluctantly leads Rocky out and the pair have to swim for themselves.

Zuma lifts his head to see how far they have to go. He holds back a moan. They are swimming much to slowly!

"Can you speed up?" Zuma asks.

Rocky, panting and barely paddling, whines. He blinks heavily. His breathing stutters, then, to Zuma's horror, his paws still.

"No, swim!" Zuma shrieks, wretching his body around.

"I… can't..."

All fight drains from Rocky's body, and he slowly sinks beneath the surface.

"No, no!"

Zuma dives underwater before Rocky can sink far. He wraps his paws around Rocky and kicks back to the surface.

"Swim!" Zuma cries as he struggles to keep them both above the water.

"Let me go," Rocky says tiredly. "You can't support us both."

"No, so swim already!"

Rocky only sighs and presses his paws against Zuma's chest, a weak attempt to push away. Sensing Rocky only wants to give up, Zuma clings tighter to him, using only his hind paws to tread water.

"It's just the shock," Zuma says, trying to keep afloat. "You have to fight."

Rocky gives a little sob. "I can't swim."

"But you made it halfway to land! You can do it. You need to do it."

Rocky looks at Zuma blankly for a moment before resolve hardens his eyes. "Okay. Just point me in the right direction."

Zuma nods and releases him. The pups swim side-by-side, slower than Zuma would have preferred, but at least they were swimming.

When Zuma lifted his head again to check their progress, they were maybe fifty yards from shore. He can see Chase, Marshall, and the boy looking across the water, but Zuma and Rocky are coming from a different direction and haven't been spotted yet.

"Close!" He pants out.

Rocky only grunts in response. The water is rougher near shore, and the mix is having trouble navigating. Zuma pauses to help guide him, when a rogue wave hits Rocky full in the face as his mouth opens for a breath!

The mix splutters and gasps, losing the tedious hold he had on calm. He begins to thrash again, accidently ducking under water.

He doesn't rise again.

"No!" Zuma howls, forcing his tired body under the water.

Rocky is sinking faster than last time, air bubbles rising from his gaping mouth. Zuma grabs a paw, but Rocky jerks away. He points to Zuma, then up. Zuma stubbornly shakes his head and makes another grab for Rocky. He finally manages to snag Rocky's scruff from behind, but they are now deep, deep underwater.

Zuma turns his head up. His head pounds, and his lungs ache for air that isn't there. Rocky is dead weight in his paws. They are sinking, too deep to get to air in time. Zuma's eyes slump closed, his mouth starting to open, his desperation for air winning over the knowledge that there is no air.

Something closes on his waist. Zuma's mouth clamps fully shut, his eyes snapping open.

Chase is floating in front of him. In his mouth is a harness like the one he had just clipped to Zuma. Chase ducks down and attaches the second harness to Rocky, then tugs on the rope attached to the harness.

Immediately, the rope goes taut, and Zuma feels himself being pulled up. In seconds, he is pulled from the water and suspended in open air. He opens his mouth to suck in air, almost choking. A moment later, he is laid on soft sand and the rope goes slack.

Zuma lays for a moment, still gasping, before remembering Rocky. He bolts upright. He notices Marshall and the boy running toward him, but he forgets them in the next second.

Rocky is laying still, too still. His open eyes stare blankly at nothing. Water trickles from his open mouth.

"No!" Zuma shoves Rocky from his stomach to his side and starts pounding his back. "I didn't almost kill myself to have you die now. Bweathe, Wocky, bweathe!" Zuma's forgotten to watch his words, but can't bring himself to care. "Come on, stay with me, Wocky."

Marshall arrives at his side, followed soon by Chase, then Skye after she lands her pink copter nearby. The boy stands in front of them. None of them move, only watch as Zuma works.

"You can do it, bweathe!" Zuma gives Rocky the hardest whack yet.

Rocky flinches. His mouth twitches, then a flood of water gushes out. A shudder runs through his body, and he takes a deep breath.

"Good, that's it. You'we okay," Zuma says, voice lowering.

"You… you saved me," Rocky gasps out after he catches his breath.

Zuma sinks to the sand beside Rocky. "Yeah, well, don't make me do it again. I don't think I could swim that faw again."

The boy crouches at Rocky's side, then turns to Zuma. "I'm Ryder. Thank you so much, pup. You must be exhausted. Where is your family?"

Zuma sighs, eyes starting to drift shut. "Dunno. No one... wants a pup who can't… talk wight."

"What?"

Zuma lifts a paw to wave vaguely. "No big deal. Been on my own for a while. Don't have a home… or family."

Arms scoop up Zuma gently. Zuma, feeling exhaustion pulling at him, drags his eyes open.

Ryder is holding him, his head turned as he says words Zuma doesn't have the energy to decipher. Then he is walking, and whispering softly into his ear.

"You do now."

Zuma tucked himself into the blanket nest beside Wisp, never taking his worried eyes off her.

The nest had been built so that her upper body was propped up to help her breathing, but she still rasped and staggered over the simple act. The sound was almost painful for Zuma to listen to.

"You will be fine," Zuma whispered.

He laid his head beside Wisp's with a tired sigh. It had been a long five hours. Wisp had stopped breathing nearly every half hour, throwing everyone into a panic. They would get her breathing again and slowly calm down, only to have the process repeat itself.

For the last hour, Wisp had been breathing constantly, if unsteadily, so Marshall had sent everyone to bed. Skye and Rocky -asleep on their paws- had gone willingly enough, but Marshall had had to actually drag Chase to his doghouse and lock him in, which Ryder didn't even know was possible. They had called Mr. Porter, asking him to keep Rubble for the night so the young pup didn't have to see Wisp in distress. Ryder had pulled a sleeping bag into the room, and was sleeping on the floor. Zuma had insisted on staying, and Marshall allowed him under the condition that he actually slept. The dalmation was currently watching the monitor he had attached to Wisp to watch her vitals, apparently ignoring his own orders.

"You awe going to get bettew," Zuma whispered, causing Marshall to glance at him.

"Did you say something?"

"Talking to Wisp." Zuma flushed in embarrassment, but Marshall just nodded.

"Good. She might not look like she can hear you, but I think she can."

Zuma lifted his head. "Weally?"

"Every time you talk to her, her vitals have steadied for a bit. Whatever you are saying to her must be working."

Zuma smiled at the thought and curled closer to Wisp, letting their fur brush. He pressed his muzzle against her ear, murmuring so only Wisp could hear.

"I'm hewe with you, and I will make sure nothing evew happens to you." Zuma closes his eyes and gently noses her sweaty fur. "I love you, Wisp."

A/N: A love confession? That wasn't in the original plan. -consults script, then shrugs and tosses it away- Whatever. It was bound to happen eventually.

Forget canon ages... Currently Ryder is 14, Wisp and the original three are 13( Skye just barely), Rocky and Zuma are 12, and Rubble is 10.

What did you think? Too much drama? Should I scrap this whole chapter?