Author: Timeless Tragedy
Rating: K+
Words: 409
Written: January 1st, 2015
Characters: Skipper, Kowalski, Rico, Private
Warnings: Humanized
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dreamworks and their characters. Author owns nothing but the vague plot of the drabble.

"His glasses, Private. He needs those things, or he can't see."

"Yes, Skippah. I'm on it."

"Come on, soldier, don't let me down. Open those pretty blues for me."

It hurt. Every part of his body seemed to burn or ache or pulse with pain. Every beat of his heart seemed to make it worse as he struggled to obey the command. It was all he had to do, all he needed was to obey the simple command to just open his eyes. He could focus on everything else after. Just focus on breathing and complying with Skipper's demands. Actually completing the act seemed to make his head throb more.

"That's it, atta boy. Thought we lost you there for a minute, had us worried! Shoulda known you'd pull through. Private'll be along with your glasses any second now, and you'll be right as rain."

He didn't try to respond. Instead, he waited as his eyes slowly focused on the rich sapphire ones of his commanding officer. The rest of the soldier's face was too blurred, too hard for him to make out, but at least he was sure it was, in fact, Skipper and not someone else. His head hurt. Even trying to look around hurt. His eyes slid closed.

"No, don't do that, soldier. Eyes on me. That's right, good man."

He could hear someone beyond Skipper, their feet scuffing the concrete nervously as they were unneeded in the current situation. There were no other sounds, excluding Skipper's breathing and Private's hurried footsteps as he searched for the wayward spectacles. His own heartbeat seemed louder than the noises his teammates made.

"I've got them, Skippah!"

"Bring them here, we need to get him back on his feet, ASAP."

The cold frame of his glasses touching his cheeks made him shudder as one of his fellow soldiers carefully slid them back into place. The world seemed less blurry, and the stout commander's mouth clearly curled into a grin. He tried not to whimper as the headache spread to his eyes and he thought this isn't normal.

"Help me get him up. Careful now, we need the man alive."

"Why isn't he talking? It's beginning to scare me, sir…"

"Walski…?"

It was the third voice that made him try to use his own, fighting against the pain that spiked through his throat. He barely managed to whisper, "Rico… You came..."

"Come on men, it's time to get Kowalski home."