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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/?
- 8-8/?
- 9-9/?
- 10-10/?
- 11-11/?
- 12-12/?
- 13-13/?
- 14-14/?
- 15-15/?
- 16-16/?
- 17-17/?
- 18-18/?
- 19-19/?
- 20-20/?
- 21-21/?
- 22-22/?
- 23-23/?
- 24-24/?
- 25-25/?
- 26-26/?
- 27-27/?
- 28-28/?
- 29-29/?
- 30-30/?
- 31-31/?
- 32-32/?
- 33-33/?
- 34-34/?
- 35-35/?
- 36-36/?
- 37-37/?
- 38-38/?
- 39-39/?
- 40-40/?
- 41-41/?
- 42-42/?
- 43-43/?
- 44-44/?
- 45-45/?
- 46-46/?
- 47-47/?
- 48-48/?
- 49-49/?
- 50-50/?
- 51-51/?
- 52-52/?
- 53-53/?
- 54-54/?
- 55-55/?
- 56-56/?
- 57-57/?
- 58-58/?
- 59-59/?
- 60-60/?
- 61-61/?
- 62-62/?
- 63-63/?
- 64-64/?
- 65-65/?
- 66-66/?
- 67-67/?
- 68-68/?
- 69-69/?
- 70-70/?
- 71-71/?
- 72-72/?
- 73-73/?
- 74-74/?
- 75-75/?
- 76-76/?
- 77-77/?
- 78-78/?
- 79-79/?
- 80-80/?
- 81-81/?
- 82-82/?
- 83-83/?
- 84-84/?
- 85-85/?
- 86-86/?
- 87-87/?
- 88-88/?
- 89-89/?
- 90-90/?
- 91-91/?
- 92-92/?
- 93-93/?
- 94-94/?
- 95-95/?
- 96-96/?
- 97-97/?
- 98-97/?
- 99-99/?
- 100-100/?
- 101-101/?
- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
- 105-105/?
- 106-106/?
- 107-107/?
- 108-108/?
- 109-109/?
- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 57
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- 59
"Wot's my name?"
"Private."
"Wot's my rank?"
"Private First Class."
"Wot's my secret hidden shame?"
"I think I know it now."
"I think you do, too."
They drew apart with a shudder. The shadows lengthened and Skipper sat up first. Private couldn't manage it just yet.
Skipper paced, already segueing from pleasure mode into duty mode. Private milked one more moment of afterglow under the sky, psyched himself up for swimming, and arose wobble-legged.
"You okay, babe?"
Private appreciated the steadying grasp. "Wot do you think?"
"I think I hurt you."
"Naw, you didn't."
"Sure?"
"Skippa, it was no more than I could handle." And so it was. Aches diminished as Private matched Skipper's strides step for step, pacing clockwise to his love's counter-clockwise, swinging his thighs, twisting his neck, rolling his shoulders.
"Excelente."
"Beat you home!" Private patted the tips of his flippers together, grinning and sidling towards the mighty Mohawk.
"Not yet." Skipper plotzed once more, to Private's surprise. The commander sifted gritty beach sand through his flippers, piling some in heaps and heaping some in piles. He was quiet.
Too quiet.
"We'll be late, Skippa. K'walski and Rico will worry."
"I don't think so. Let's not hurry today, babe." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Slow and steady wins the race, but we're not racing. We're being mindful."
On the sticky blanket that they'd litter the island with forever, Private sat down, too. He remained puzzled as Skipper sifted broken freshwater mussel shells through batch after batch of coarse sand. As Private watched, the jagged shells grew into a collection as Skipper raised each to eye level, squinting at the shapes.
"Ah. Gracias a Dios."
He held up a freshwater pearl, peach in color and dimpled to perfection. It was tiny but completely appropriate as a souvenir. A connoisseur would have graded it semi-baroque, lightly spotted with acceptable nacre, but to two little penguins, it was just pretty.
Private figured it to be a souvenir to replace the dismissed thimble, but he really couldn't second guess his love today as he could on some occasions. Skipper gestured and Private opened the backpack, pressing the pearl into the crevice where Marlene had placed the Christmas cracker. Skipper rose, looked around Upper Pepper Island, and wiped his eyes.
"Skippa?"
"Let's explore, eh?" As a departure from convention, Skipper waited for an answer.
"Very well." As a departure from convention, Private led the way. He meandered through grass towards a largish pile of rocks to play King of the Hill on. As he gained momentum into a trot, he thought that Skipper allowed him to win, but when he looked back from the top of the rocks, he changed his mind. Skipper hiked, not bulled his way, nor strode, nor even walked. It was a measured pace, thoughtful and slow. When he gained the top, he stood, flippers akimbo, and surveyed the island.
"A nice little place to call home." Skipper shaded his eyes from slanting late afternoon sun. "There's fish of some kind in the Mohawk, freshwater fish but oh well. I say again, this could be home."
Huh? "If you like rustic and you know, Skippa, I thought you didn't."
"Pshaw, Private, a good commando adapts to all terrain and" - he cupped his flippers over his eyes to look between the rock crevices at his feet - "uh oh."
Private peeked. "Uh oh."
Snakes lay too many to count in a ball eight feet beneath their feet in the rays filtering through the rockpile. Eastern diamondback rattlesnakes, the heaviest venomous snake in all the Americas, rested during their hibernation. In a few days it would turn spring, the earth would warm, and cranky rattlesnakes would jerk awake to their metaphorical alarm clocks, smack them against a rock, and head to the woods for easy sustenance. Private suspected rats, mice and - he gulped - birds.
Skipper gave the silent signal for Routine Four, Scout Ahead I'll Catch Up Later. Private tippytoed down the jumbled rocks, holding his breath until he reached a patch of oatgrass ten feet from the base of the pile. His heart jumped in his chest when he realized that Skipper had perched atop the rocks to guard his blind side on the descent before he himself left danger behind. In a move that thrilled Private to his core, a whirling mid-air somersault placed Skipper at the base of the rocks and he cantered to Private's side, wide-eyed.
"Wow. Just wow."
"They were asleep, but yeah, wow, Skippa!"
They turned for the river before another pitfall could delay their odyssey.
"Let's go home." Skipper somersaulted into the ripples. Private aced a double pike dive and before they reached Cohoes Falls, all the sand, oyster juice, and spunk left their feathers to gleam slick as always. Rather than hopping down the rocks at the Falls in the early evening, they lent drama to the sunset as they BASE jumped down 90 feet as the Mohawk kissed the Hudson. They progressed steadily towards Central Park Zoo. Neither Private nor Skipper so much as glanced at where Gacy served his time. They both porpoised in front of the spot where he might be looking out a cell window and could envy their freedom as his utter failure to continue his criminal career would gall him. It was dark by then and he probably wouldn't see them, but still.
In the end, it took as long to reach home as it did to reach Howe Caverns. The shortened time resulting from heading downstream rather than upstream they used in loving each other into a stupor.
Skipper and Private were okay with that.
When the clock ticked 11:59 p.m. on Monday, March 19, they hopped down the hatch to a frenzied welcome from their teammates. Manly vigor imbued the wild laughter echoing in their dank home while backslaps and cheek nuzzles abounded.
"Cancel search party, Rico! We'll make do with a welcome home party!" crowed Kowalski, hugging Skipper tightly.
Rico looked at his love from over Private's shoulder, who embraced the demo expert fiercely. Private squeezed extra hard as a finale and Rico spewed thirteen Christmas crackers from his wonder gut.
"Hrrrruphahyahpartay!"
"Is that where Marlene got hers?" wondered Skipper, tackling Kowalski down to the floor for a vicious headfeather ruffling as Kowalski purred.
"Huh? 'Eenie?" answered Rico, wide-eyed. His eyes turned as honest a true blue as Private's. Generally, they stayed a blue-green. "Dunno'Kippaaah."
"Aw, never mind, let's celebrate." Skipper passed the crackers around and they pulled to simultaneous poppoppops over the course of two minutes. There were two helpings of herring that needed devouring before bedtime, though. Private gobbled faster than anyone had ever seen him, the delicious fish disappearing down a young gullet.
Private blushed at the questioning looks. "I guess I'm peckish from all the, er, exercise."
"Mmhmm, as good an excuse as any." Skipper turned from their all purpose table. "Debriefing, gentlemen?"
The rush from the sweet head feather ruffling had faded to turn Kowalski into a blissed out lump. "Don't you want to rest up first, sir? It's after midnight."
The atmosphere hung in that middle of the night feel, unmistakable to penguins above or below the equator. "You're right," Skipper said. "It'll wait until morning. C'mon, Private, beat you to bed!"
"Not if I beat you first!"
With yawns overriding chuckles, the four commandos settled down, two to a bunk.
IOIOIOIOIO
"Bye, Faux Skippa! Bye, Faux Me!" Private placed the blow up dolly and the fuzzy version of himself behind their revolving door, clicked the icon for 'storage,' and pushed the button. There was a whir and then the door revolved to show a smooth front. He bent over Hello Kitty to spread what was left of their kit on the floor.
Kowalski clicked his abacus. "Ending inventory status sit rep, Private?"
"No blankets left, well we wound up with two, long story, and then I absolutely would not stick them inside Hello Kitty in the state they got to - "
"Really." Kowalski kept the wink at bay with great effort.
"Really! You should have been there, oh, never mind. We used up anchovies and oysters and candles and glow sticks and um, we kept that other thing that Marlene gave us for the trip and a dollop of her, er, stuff that was left, um yeah we kept maglites, Gammel booze, your smartphone, and a horsetail flyswatter, see?"
Private waved the iruke before he grinned cheesily. He made a great show of shuttling the smartphone to his friend before shoving something behind his back, sidling to his bunk, and sticking it under his pillow.
Kowalski was improving at leaving well enough alone, but he couldn't resist a teasing, "Candles?" as he patted his smartphone fondly.
"It was romantic, you should have been - never mind. We had a wallopin' good time, K'walski, even if Frances Alberta and her weird friend showed up and Skippa didn't get his thimble. We got tulips instead."
"I'm not going to ask about tulips, Frances Alberta, or her weird friend. It's enough to see the smiles on your faces," Kowalski said as he bussed Private's cheek.
Private kissed each of Kowalski's cheeks a la the French method and then they rubbed beak tips gently. Kowalski sought Rico's eye. Rico nodded, his face split in a grin.
"Kippaaaah, zoonews."
Skipper looked up as his thoroughly relaxed face tightened into what they all recognized: morning briefing alertness. "Very well. Lay it on me."
Rico and Kowalski obeyed.
IOIOIOIOIO
"The spider monkeys did what?" Skipper thought hard, tapping the tip of his beak. "Why?"
Kowalski hung his head. "Based on lack of intel due to lack of common language plus pure orneriness on their part, I don't know, sir. There was no albino among them, so it couldn't have been the White Widow stirring their pot. I'm certain that Buck has her in handcuffs by now."
Kowalski couldn't possibly believe in the White Widow. Buck Rockgut's whackadoo spider monkey nemesis existed only in the addled aged agent's paranoid think melon. "Based on her whole lack of existence, I'd say it was not her, too."
Some starch dribbled back into Kowalski's spine. "A stopped clock is right twice a day, Skipper."
"Buck's clock needed a double A battery replacement a long time ago."
The four of them sighed as one. As morale officer, Private felt his services necessary. "Wot about the blimp, K'walski? We're quite ready to watch a movie, right, fellows? I'll get out the vidcam!"
Any starch in Kowalski's spine turned to watery sludge. "I, er, forgot to videocam it. Preliminary intel said the blimp would hang around until Monday but it left Sunday directly after the Half Marathon. From Thursday to Sunday I had plenty of chances and, well, forgot." The spine straightened anyway. "Ready for disciplinary fish slap, sir. I did not keep my promise to you and the private."
After all the events of the past five days settled into priority slots in Skipper's brain, it was easy to solve this glitch in team synergy. "Breathe."
Kowalski unclenched his gut muscles and breathed as his shoulders relaxed.
"Now again."
Kowalski assayed another deep breath while the tightness left his face.
"Sir?"
"Now give me three pushups."
Kowalski's brow threatened to crawl up to his occiput. "Three?"
"That's all this is worth, amigo. Three."
Kowalski made them one-flippered pushups to salve his conscience.
"Good. Now forget about it and listen to what Private and I saw and did on Operation: Spelunker Bunker Younker, um, redacted for privacy reasons. Rico, wipe away that leer or I'll do it for you."
"Sowwy."
Half an hour later, Kowalski left adulthood behind as he cheered like lead girl on the Twist and Shout Diamonds championship cheerleading team finals. "Circular throat singing for the win! Plus you witnessed pollucite do its thing! Plus Frances Alberta got her tailfeathers kicked! Yeah, baby!"
Somber statements had their place in the world of morale officiating, Kowalski supposed, but Private's words still took him by surprise. "We'd have drowned all alone down there if not for circular throat singin', K'walski."
"Hup up up up, moving right along," Skipper said after a pointed look at Private, "what else happened in our absence?"
Kowalski's and Rico's expressions flashed between happiness and gloom. "My experiment both failed and succeeded, Skipper, because Marlene needed our help and the experiment gave up its, er, existence to aid us aiding her."
"Say again? You mean the wiggly green thing?"
"The very same."
"It grew a, a, soul?"
Overkill was usually Kowalski's thing so it surprised the scientist to hear the edgy words. "I wouldn't go that far and the whole episode may have been coincidental, I mean to say - "
Rico broke in. "Weeeeeiirrrdfuzzdieded."
"We may never know the full extent of its sapience, because the female principle is beyond my understanding." Kowalski brightened. "But then, I don't need to understand everything, sir."
"You scare me, Kowalski, and not for the first time. Huh. So is Marlene okay?"
"She seems so, sir."
"'Eeniekay."
Kowalski waited until Skipper's and Private's expressions blanked to neutrality before easing into the most shocking news. "I've saved the most shocking news for last. Brace yourselves."
There it was to steady Kowalski's nerves: Skipper's cool assessment of his team's readiness for action, the flicker of curiosity, the familiar look of pure pre-mission steeliness. "Shoot."
"Alice is pregnant."
"Wot? How?"
"Who did it?"
"Whyyyyyyy?" moaned Rico.
Kowalski spun a bead on his abacus, huffing at Rico's reply before tackling the debrief. "We spied on a gathering this morning of key personnel at the apartment over the café to give you a full report, sir. Alice, Doc, Maurice The Zookeeper, and three unknown females played odd games, made baby bonnets out of toilet tissue, and consumed punch and cake for a, and I quote, 'baby shower.' Humans fuss about the strangest things. At any rate, here's the intel: Alice will live in the apartment before and after her delivery date in June or July."
Skipper sounded stunned. "Our Alice from my zoo. No father attended? That's raw. I wouldn't wish abandonment on anyone, even her. Maybe he had to work?"
"There's no known father because she acquired a baby through artificial insemination."
Private executed a full body shiver. "Ew! K'walski, just, just ew! Wot was she thinkin'?"
Kowalski kept most of his feelings out of his answer. "She thought that having children is natural, that she hadn't anyone in her life to make her a mother, and that she was ready to support and l-love a kid. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out." He shuttled the bead back and forth until he caught himself. "No offense."
"None taken, compadre, right, Private?" Skipper plowed his way to equanimity. "Okay, so now we know and we'll deal. In a way, it's easier to keep tabs on her and hey, she'll be busier than a one-legged bird at an ass kicking party."
IOIOIOIOIO
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Undertow