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Undertow	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 11341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise. I do not own its characters, basic premise or settings.

Chapter List
- 1-1/?
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
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- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
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- 23
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"So this is different than our regular submersive combat trainin', Skippa?" Private thought he knew all there was to holding the breath underwater, but it appeared he was wrong. From being over the moon about his romance to seeing a bad moon rising took only a moment. It was going to be one of those days when he felt inferior to all his teammates, he could tell. The lesson would take hold if he could concentrate on the last Lunacorns show starring Princess Self-Respectra and how she dealt like a boss with body shape issues. He recalled the life lesson Be easy in your skin and felt better.
Kowalski surfed a wave of nostalgia as he regarded Private. The bird whom he'd seen hatch was fully adult, bloomed in a relationship and was a topnotch commando, to boot. The baby fuzz of innocence on body and mind had departed forever. He brought himself to reality with an effort. It was time to instruct and he placed himself in Skipper's easy reach to Private's curious look. He produced his clipboard and drew rapidly on it as Skipper wrapped a companionable flipper around the junior team member's shoulders. They were all three so close together that Kowalski observed Private growing uneasy with shy looks downward. Well, the lesson called for closeness and it certainly was not as intimate as demonstrating rescue breathing, so the young bird would need to deal. He harrumphed and flourished the finished program under Private's beak.
"These show the progression of our lesson's sitches, Private. See?"
Private beheld eight small sketches of various familiar scenes. He nodded and traced their path in a clockwise fashion. "Like this, then?"
"Yes, we'll tour the zoo, our home, and nearby Manhattan, plus a surprise for you, Private. That's the theme, right, Skipper?"
Skipper made a pouty face that he usually reserved for his and Private's alone times. Private didn't know what to make of the way that Kowalski's eyes gleamed in memory and was about to ask when Skipper grumbled, "Aw, Kowalski! You were supposed to make him guess! You ruined it!" He crossed his flippers, uncrossed them and then took Private's head between them. "Forget what he said and figure it out on your own, 'kay?" His voice got that husky tone, again a personal thing between them that was on display in front of Kowalski. Something unpleasant roiled in Private's gut, and he pushed it down.
Skipper nuzzled the edge of Private's beak before gently edging him to the side to make room for Kowalski. Private threw an uncertain look at his love and his love's lieutenant. They seemed eager to present this lesson for some reason.
"It's better than regular training, it's outstanding, young Private. I don't know why we haven't done this demonstration before. Kowalski, take over." Skipper pushed down the memories of nearly drowning in Shanghai Bay. Blowhole's mindjacker stole memories of his training in the technique, which was yet another reason to hate the fiend.
Kowalski put on his professorial face and passed his clipboard to Private. He prepared himself to teach, centering himself as he had since the beginning of his lieutenancy. Manfredi and Johnson, oh if only they had been able to use this technique to save their lives ... perhaps they did to give themselves extra minutes of life before the tsunami sucked them under to steal them away from their secured place as Skipper's favorites ... "Ahem. Onward, Private. Let's get with the program. Watch and learn. Follow along as best you can."
Kowalski gripped Skipper by the elbows, entering his commander's personal space by a factor of one half. Skipper dropped his usual aware look for a blank expression and Kowalski followed a moment later, swaying on his feet, left right left right left right now in.
Skipper began as was his practice.
"Hommmmmmmayohbeebeebeeommmmmmoohoohoooooohahhhhh."
So, 'home' remained their theme this time and Kowalski wouldn't need to deal with a last minute changeup. A good start, and then he tempered his lyrical baritone to press on in a subdued fashion, holding Skipper's elbows as lightly as Kitka had when Kowalski chanced to see them waltz together. "Ibbleibbleibblehehehehehehohohohoh."
They built a rhythm as only two penguins could, creating circular breathing patterns of nonsense vocalizations, simulaneously working in control and release, throats pulsing as Skipper tilted his beak to Kowalski's greater height submissively.
If Private didn't know better after his last physical, he'd say he had ulcers because his stomach burned to see the two of them in this pose.
Kowalski bent over, his flippers guiding Skipper like Skipper had guided Kitka in their dance. Between them was a continuous growl, a base undertone that fluttered primally as a susurrus of wave and ocean wind.
Private couldn't tell where the growl originated; it was from either or both or from something he could not name. He leaned in. I've never seen them this close. Look how they're swayin' together, rockin' like we did on the poor dyin' horse. And their breathin', it's like they are one penguin! Can I ever do this? And who with? After a glance at the program's outline on Kowalski's clipboard, he pictured the scenarios painted by two communing penguins as they composed a narrative off the cuff. Or was it something they had sung in tandem before Private had become aware of the way of a penguin with a penguin? He pushed aside speculation and studied the scrawly yet identifiable poses of the two older birds.
Private sniffed. Kowalski thought he was so good at bloody everything, well Marlene could give him lessons in sketching.
IOIOIOIOIO
Down the Museum of Natural History's steps:
raprapraprap
IOIOIOIOIO
Skipper broke the theme with a flashback for effect, and then the two birds alternated phrases as their song built to a duet. Private broke the serious aspect with a wink at Skipper when he recognized the course of flashbacked events. Skipper paid no mind.
Soaring from the cliff top of their Antarctica home onto the wine-dark sea when they first met Private:
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt
IOIOIOIOIO
Alice slopping along with smelt slipsliding around in her food bucket:
shshshshshshshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
IOIOIOIOIO
Their habitat at noontime after the bucket upended over their island:
unchcccunchunchunchunchomnomnom
IOIOIOIOIO
The weapons lab with Hans firing laser gun and then neutrino blaster after some weapon-they-never-found-out-the-name-for:
pkeeeyuuupkeeeeyuuuuuuyuuuuyuuuu
IOIOIOIOIO
On top of the zoo clock:
laticklatockopopopodinggggdongggg
IOIOIOIOIOIO
Trooping down the steps to their lair:
clipclopclipclopswishswishswishclompmince
IOIOIOIOIO
Now the lesson built intensity. Private's own breathing picked up the pace, his fledgling technique only barely keeping him from hypoxia. He swayed with them, feeling his diaphragm shudder with strain. Two minutes, or was it three now? He watched closely, seeing how they focused completely on each other, in the mutual bond of being of like ages and of taking command. Well, he had commanded, too, but it was only for the one Winky Factory mission. The two of them produced a continuous tone by breathing in through the nose and at the same time pushing air out through the beaks. The technique was more difficult than it appeared.
Come to think of it, Kowalski and Skipper disagreed more than he'd ever thought commander and lieutenant ought to. Skipper's command style generally allowed little leeway and Private was okay with that. Had Kowalski and Skipper been closer at one time so that Kowalski felt spoiled, in a sense, by his commander's individual attention and so dared to talk back frequently now? What had happened between them when they both tied one on with Gammel Dansk? Was there --- Private faltered at a rumbling brain fart --- experimenting by Kowalski and his superior officer?
Private's mind stuttered to life again. A breathing exercise lesson, he could understand; their intimate song, he could not. It was going someplace where he chose to neither wander nor wonder today and so he tucked it away to think about later.
He could live with that.
IOIOIOIOIO
Skipper entered his lieutenant's personal space by one more third. He was using Kowalski's mouth as a resonating chamber, his beak nearly kissing Kowalski's, his eyes closed in concentration as he swayed in perfect synchrony with his second. Next, Kowalski blew through the corner of Skipper's beak to ruffle the fine drift of white feathers there, turning this lesson into one of mutual need and use.
I shouldn't be seeing this, Private thought. The pace increased, the sounds deeper, almost a moan. He couldn't tell whose turn it was, the theme of home, our HQ shuttling back and forth between them. Home. Our HQ. Where we are happy together. He stopped following then, stockstill and panting, and made himself watch and learn as two birds communed in perfect harmony. It seemed to take forever for the lesson, and yet here was the last segment.
IOIOIOIOIO
Our shared quarters at midnight when everyone is sleeping.
ohoooohohohohesssessssunghunghunghugnnnnnahhhhhhahhhah
Private homed in on the final sequence on the program because he sensed that these events took place before he was really aware of subtleties and subtexts. He caught his breath, shook his head, and again mimicked his two elders at a respectful distance, swaying and breathing in their wake as best he could.
This was going to give him a sore throat, he just knew it.
Rico's presence pinged upon his awareness and he whirled. There Rico was, poking his head through the fish plaque door and grinning, shaking his head in wonder, and then he saw what Private was doing. Marlene and he entered the lair. Rico gave a jaunty flipper up and continued towards the lab, saying something to Marlene who observed the goings on more soberly. Marlene's regard lingered on Skipper and then she swept away at Rico's side, back to laughing at something or other as they closed the lab door behind them.
Private turned once more to his friends. Rico and Marlene's interloping must have jarred their concentration or perhaps they came to a natural climax of the lesson, for they were fitted together like two opposing spoons, Skipper's forehead on Kowalski's collarbone and Kowalski's flipper snugging his leader's back. They hugged before parting with a hearty laugh.
Private knew the lesson was complete. He chuckled a little at himself, because to admit that their non-melodic tunes deepened his melancholy would serve no purpose. Skipper, bless him, would not understand this any more than he did himself. He spent a moment being thankful for that. There were times when he preferred to keep his sensitivities to himself. Having a foible known to the team and having to talk about it did not help the weakness go away. It was more like reliving events.
"Erm. Uh. So it's like a game?"
The two commandos senior to him began together, as if still team teaching. "No, babe, it's singing, you see --- "
"Private, the Inuit technique comes from the farthest tundras of --- "
"Remember when we kept it up for hours, Kowalski, when we were, uh, that time, I mean --- " Skipper stopped suddenly and clapped Kowalski on the back. "You finish the lesson, mi terroncito de azúcar." He bent forward a little to rearrange his belly feathers, twisting and smoothing that which had gotten infinitesimally out of order. Kowalski mirrored his skipper's motions. This bred a pause, a diagnostic of their relationship past and present that sizzled between them to Private's newly matured, discerning view, and then Kowalski cleared his throat to continue the lesson.
"I think that circular throat-singing is the best translation from the Inuit. It's a technique, Private, for simply holding your breath longer to reach the surface. Capturing air in the lungs and then the mouth and nasal passages lets you stay alive longer, and that's the name of the game, right?"
Skipper sobered. "Survival is the first rule." Private didn't need to be a mind reader to know that he was remembering nearly drowning in Shanghai Bay.
"You two really enjoyed your game, didn't you?" Private was appreciative, he was, but as the lesson wore on, they had more or less forgotten about him, he could tell. That was all right. They were leaders of varying strengths and he was not. He had to get away, to think about what he had learned from them. "You'll find me in my bunk. Thank you for the lesson, Skippa. And K'walski."
He smiled as if nothing had changed between them, and perhaps it hadn't where it counted.
IOIOIOIOIO
- 23
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- 25
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Undertow