Chapter Text
“I’m not sure how Cecil and Brick even managed to escape prison, considering how easily they seemed to get caught.” Private commented as they made their way back to HQ after busting the pair of chronic criminals. For whatever reason, the two thought they could make it big by poaching merchandise at the docks and selling it. Fortunately, they were annoying at their worst and an inconvenience at their best. They’d left the pair tied up and dropped a tip to the NYPD, staying just long enough to see the flashing lights before leaving.
Skipper chuckled. It was hard to be in a bad mood even if the potential intel that Alice had sent their way had been a bust."Even idiots get lucky sometimes, Private.”
“Isn't that a little mean to say?”
“It's only mean if it's not true,” Skipper rolled his eyes, “I mean, we've seen it many times before with Julien.”
Now it was Rico who rolled his eyes, but he made a noise of protest anyway since Julien wasn’t even present to defend himself.
“Okay, fine, poor example, but we have seen it before. Right, Kowalski?”
“I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with you, Skipper.” Kowalski had been waiting to get pulled into the conversation. “There's no such thing as luck and even if there was, intelligence would not be a contributing factor.”
“You might be right on that one given that I've never seen you have much luck.”
Kowalski looked at his commanding officer flatly. “Alas, all of my misfortune can be scientifically explained.”
“Oh really so why haven't you gotten lucky lately?”
Private rolled his eyes at the banter between his superior officers, blocking out Kowalski’s indignant sputtering and Rico’s mad cackle. He normally didn't take part in the teasing that went on, often finding it to be more mean than funny. That was something that Skipper always called him out on saying that he was too soft or that he needed to get over his overly sensitive sensitivities. It wasn’t worth the energy to explain that it was more that he wasn't exactly comfortable trying to rib his fellow teammates. He didn't have the same relationship with Skipper that Kowalski and Rico had. They had known him longer and had long since proven themselves. Even if he had been on the team for years now it hadn't been long enough to earn some of the same privileges that the other two had.
As the bickering continued ahead of him, Private couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He turned expecting to see someone behind them, but it was oddly empty for a night in New York City, which might be the actual detail to be worried about. Still he couldn’t help but scan the area, looking for anything out of place and yet there was nothing.
“Skipper’s paranoia must be rubbing off on me,” Private mumbled to himself as he stared at the darkened corners of a nearby alley. He could have sworn there was something there and almost unconsciously took a step toward it.
“Private, what’s got you so distracted?” Skipper finally noticed Private lagging behind which prompted the younger man to jog to catch up.
As he reached the others it was clear that their previous banter had faded which a part of him was grateful for, except it meant their full attention was on him.
“Sorry,” Private hesitated, a part of him worried that he'd be the butt of the joke if he said he thought he saw something. “I don’t know, I just got this weird feeling leaving the docks.”
“It’s probably just the storm that has you keyed up,” Kowalski offered. “Humans are incredibly sensitive to shifts in the atmosphere. Even the slightest change in the light and static electricity from distant thunder and lightning can trigger a sense that something is wrong.”
Almost as if the universe wanted to assure Private of the possibility that his paranoia was explained by the impending store there was an ominous rumble overhead.
“I suppose that makes sense.”
“All right, double time, before we're looking at swimming the rest of the way.” Skipper barked and they broke out into a light jog opting for silence the remainder of their journey home.
The first few drops had just started to fall when they reached HQ and the door had hardly closed when the downpour hit.
“Looks like we made good timing boys,” Skipper’s voice was nearly lost within the crack of thunder that shook the building. “This is some serious hot cocoa weather. Rico?”
“On it!”
As Rico disappeared into the kitchen, Kowalski came to stand by Private to peer out the window. He let out a low whistle, the flash from above briefly lighting up the whole street. The rain was coming down with such intensity that it was hard to see through it. "I really would have liked to see how Brick and Cecil were going to move that merchandise in this.”
Another flash followed and for a moment Private swore he could make out a small figure at the corner of the street across the building. He turned to ask if Kowalski saw it too, but the man had already left muttering something about preferring coffee since he probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight.
“I just feel bad for anyone who got caught in this,” Private voiced his concern. That strange gut feeling that they had been followed hadn't faded. If anything it had grown stronger, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Skipper couldn't help but roll his eyes “I'll never understand how you turned out to be such a bleeding heart. I mean it's a hell of a storm but as soon as it passes everything will dry out and be good as new. Honestly, I'm more worried that we'll lose power, even with the generator it's a pain in the ass.”
Things settled from there, with a mutual unspoken agreement that they weren't going to bed anytime soon even if it was already late. A combination of the storm and post-mission adrenaline still thrumming in their veins.
Instead they grabbed their respective mugs of hot chocolate, even Kowalski, (although he'd put up a decent fight against Rico when the man told him he wasn't going to put up with an overly caffeinated mad scientist) and claimed their spaces for the night. Honestly, despite the unsettled feeling Private couldn't quite shake, it was turning into a nice evening. Rico had tossed the remote at him, preferring his sketchbook over any television. Occasionally their attention would drift to Skipper and Kowalski’s attempts to play chess.
Private had just pulled up the latest episode of the Lunacorns when a frantic knock sounded at the door shattering the cozy peace they had just established. Skipper snapped into action first, looking at Rico with a silent question that was answered with a slow shake of the head as the man set down his sketchbook.
That eliminated the visitor from being Julien and from the tense line of Skipper’s body, Marlene was also out. Skipper signaled them to be ready for anything. Yet, once he opened the door they all froze, the fight leaving their bodies.
None of them were prepared to see a young girl, clearing in her teens on their doorstep, pale blonde hair utterly drenched and looking as though she hadn't had a proper meal in weeks.
“You're the Penguins right?”She asked, then wiped at her face with the sleeve of her soaked jacket, it was impossible to tell if it was tears or rain that she was trying to clear. She swallowed and met Skipper’s hard gaze, her dark eyes determined even as her body trembled. “My dad told me if anything happened to him, to find the Penguins. That they would help.”