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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/?
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- 26-26/?
- 27-27/?
- 28-28/?
- 29-29/?
- 30-30/?
- 31-31/?
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- 40-40/?
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- 50-50/?
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- 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
- 84
- 85
- 86
Skipper vaulted over the penguin habitat fence to arrive on the faux floe just as Kowalski's head popped through the hatch. "Mayday, Mayday! Men, we need a mission," he began before anyone could speak. "I've scouted the zoo and Central Park since before dawn. Nothing seems wrong, but I know I speak for all of us when I say that that cannot be the truth. Options, mi segundo?"
"Aye, sir, it is indeed Mayday, so may I suggest Team Building Week as an option?" Kowalski produced his clipboard, his expression carefully neutral.
To Rico's sigh of relief, Skipper replied, "That's not until autumn and what would I have to look forward to in life if not that?"
Private's mumble got the response he likely hoped it would. "I mean, seguro, outside of being a parent. That goes without saying, team," Skipper amended.
Private stroked the egg that consumed his mind, body and heart. "Good save, honey."
Rico blurted, "TeachTacticorSallyorPrimmieorDonaldor - "
"Don't strain your vocal cords on our list of names, Rico," stated Kowalski. "Sir, my big sugar cube speaks truth. The later egg state means hyper sensitivity to what we impart through the shell - "
"Half a tick, I feel somethin'." Private did that routine he was so good at. He parted the curtains of his brood pouch and rippled the muscles atop his feet. The egg rotated as if on a revolving microwave plate, an apt comparison if you thought about it. "Anythin' different?"
Skipper leaned in. "A pip!" he exclaimed. The smallest chip in the creamy surface of his egg appeared to reveal a glimpse of soft yellow-orange beak, motionless in its protective coating.
Kowalski leaned in. "Hello, young one! Welcome to the world!"
Rico leaned in. "Boyrgrrl?"
"Hard to tell from just the beaktip, Rico." Kowalski's baritone turned breathless with awe.
"I can't stand it! Somebody fetch a mirror, quick-like!" Private's urge to dance with joy must have burned within him but he contented himself with bobbling up and down. The egg emitted no sound or smell.
Rico flashed down the hatch to bring a mirror rather than upchuck one. Kowalski knew his love must be truly flabbergasted to have forgotten he could, indeed, produce a simple object like a mirror without moving more than his gut muscles.
The scientist wiped away tears. "Sir, may I approach with my - your - egg so they may meet for the first time?"
Skipper nodded, too overwhelmed to reply.
Kowalski trod close to Private and the two locked eyes. "If I may, Private?"
"Of course, K'walski."
And then somehow Rico was there with a mirror to stand on Private's right side, Kowalski's left, as the two bumped bellies and swayed backwards to allow the two eggs to kiss. Private and Kowalski nudged Rico's shoulders to guide the angle of the mirror and at last they nodded.
"Perfect," they breathed together. Kowalski could have sworn he heard angels sing. "Absolutely perfect."
Timeless moments passed as Skipper stood on Private's left side, Kowalski's right. With a burst of channeling Doctor Phil, Kowalski could see that his commander separated himself from his men, even Private, in his mind. There before him lay his two children touching shells, existing because of him.
He sobbed and Kowalski couldn't hold back any longer himself.
Everyone sobbed.
Private regained his composure first. "They're on their way to where we can hold 'em."
Rico cried longest. A rattle, baby bonnet and Binky bubbled one-two-three from his gut to be whisked away by Skipper. He pitched them like Justin Verlander to join Faux Skipper in the farthest corner of the lair. The bonnet landed most appropriately.
"Let's, let's head topside because I'm about to bust! Go team go!" roared Skipper.
Alice appeared five minutes later, treading at a slow pace across the bricks before she leaned heavily onto the fence rail. She threw the penguins a skeptical glance.
"All right, you four, settle down."
Four unreadable little penguin faces peered back at her.
"Yeah, you heard me."
Private whispered out of the corner of his beak, "Skippa, she can't glom onto our speech, righto?"
Kowalski broke in as the voice of reason. "Of course not. The Doolittle Code is pure bunkum."
"Ahgrommtzmebbe," offered Rico with a doubtful expression. His voice remained hoarse from crying and Alice took note.
"Criminiddley, don't tell me one of you is sick. Do I have to get the pink medicine again? You're the spewing bird 'cause I remember your scar."
Rico shuddered and Kowalski stepped up to bolster his love because Rico had pillow talked once that not being able to upchuck vital ordnance for hours deprived him of his value on the team and scared the living shit out of him, too. He had mumbled into Kowalski's chest feathers that if he had died that day as he fully expected to, then he never would have had Kowalski to love him as more than a team member. Rico forgot that Kowalski and he shared egg duty that night as he smooshed the two of them together in a fierce hug, testing their thongs severely. The cushioned inserts saved the eggs. The memory of the hug pushed comforting words into Kowalski's beak and he opened it to set them free.
"Rico, hear me. Alice cannot never no way ever understand us nohow. That's a given."
Rico didn't nod or speak for the longest time until Private prodded his ample gut as befitted his unspoken role as Morale Officer. "Rico, do you trust K'walski?"
"Ahuh."
"I do, too."
Kowalski made a self-deprecating bow before he observed Skipper listen, head cocked, with likely half an earhole. The team leader sized up the pregnant zookeeper with a particular look that shriveled his team when he wanted it to. "She's bluffing, boys. There's no braaping way she can understand us."
Ten minutes passed as Alice's stink-eye shrank to a scowl and then a grimace as she rubbed her back before leaning down to undo her boots. She stood on one foot and then the other to take them off, dangling them by their laces. "It's my break time, you birds. Keep it clean."
Regarding her pregnant pace towards her office, Private said, "That was me awhile back, waddlin' barefoot and pregnant. Cor lummy, I'm ever so glad to be a bird."
"I'm glad you're a bird, too, Private. I'd never call a human babe." Moods swung upwards after Alice departed and the four of them held flippers.
"By Vandegriff's medals, every one of us deserves a medal for coming through this!" burst out Skipper. He broke holding Kowalski's left flipper and Private's right one to clasp his own flippers over each shoulder in turn in a prizefighter's victory gesture.
Kowalski couldn't disagree. "We've come through a lot together," he said as dispassionately as Science demanded. "Perhaps the Big Boss will see fit to bestow - "
"Bosh," sniffed Private. "We did our duty, all part of the job. When one receives a medal, one has sacrificed somethin' or other, like a, a, leg or eyeball or somethin', in the line of duty. Wot we get are these adorable eggs. Speakin' of which, it's time to switch out eggcarryin' duty, righto, Skippa?"
Kowalski detected a hint of drama on his Drama-Llama Sensor when Skipper muttered, "You've earned your gullibility medal and now it's always duty with you, Private. What have I created?"
Created, thought Kowalski, created, created, created ... oh. The internal Drama-Llama Sensor buzzed again only this time it was Kowalski who created drama. "Sir, there might be a teensy weensy problem with the eggs, I'm not sure. Phil and I watched YouTube videos of chicken eggs and they peeped after pipping. Our pipped egg has not peeped one little peep. I'm worried."
IOIOIOIOIO
Skipper tore his glance from Private, who was rubbing their egg as if to comfort it about leaving his hyper-sensitive care to deliver it to Skipper's less-sensitive, inattentive, coarse - he stopped his inner voice with his usual discipline. "Huh, what's that, Science Boy? Chickies peep after they hatch - "
"No, sir, before they hatch, they peep after pipping. Our pipped egg has not let out one peep," he repeated and Skipper recognized rising hysteria when he heard it. Kowalski's voice gained altitude to the falsetto he deployed in their barbershop rendition of Earth Angel for the Thanksgiving Talent Show. Skipper took note.
The commander peered between Private's legs at the pip, tiny as it was. Could a penguin chick peep while still confined as if in a gulag cell? Was Kowalski right to worry? If they broke their baby out of the shell too soon, wouldn't that be against Mama Nature?
Kowalski's breathing quickened as the voice rose to full falsetto. "No peep, sir! No peep!"
Rico approached, brow quirked. "Ahgrommtzwurried." Good Gadfrey, the hysteria spread to Rico, too? The two lovers lay their heads on each other's shoulder and it was up to Skipper to defuse this boo hoo bomb.
Kowalski's voice broke. "No peep, why is there no peep, give me my peep, little one! Please!"
"Kowalski."
"Please!"
"Kowalski!"
"No peep, sir, no peep!"
"Kowalski!" The slap rocked Kowalski and for good measure, Rico, as Skipper launched one of his best. Two for one reprimand, that seemed nearly acceptable and then he laid the third element of correction on the two team mates.
"We ain't chickens."
IOIOIOIOIO
Private backed away slowly from the fracas. He took in Kowalski's astonishment, Rico's gobsmacked look and Skipper's determination to render calm to his command. He, Private, would refuse to be disciplined and if Skipper turned to him with flipper raised, he'd run away because the slap might trip him to endanger the darling egg.
Then Private caught Skipper's minute slump of shoulder, the slight relaxation of expression, and he'd think of a third thing later. Skippa needs me, thought Private. Skippa needs me, Skippaneedsme, Skippaneedsme, Skippaneedsme and the portmanteau word sounded just like what his love said hammered in his head most of the time: Protectprotectprotect. Skippa, thought Private, wot have you created?
IOIOIOIOIO
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Undertow