Set after Santa left Madagascar in "Merry Madagascar". This oneshot is based on a background where none of the penguins, other than Private, had fallen in love before.

Disclaimer: For all I did not create, to their respective owners.

"Absence from who we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair." ~William Cowper

"We'll always have Madagascar!"

Private's last words rang in the air as the sleigh disappeared in a shower of sparks. Behind him, the lemur king was screaming about the naughty list at the top of his voice, but it was all lost on the young penguin. He heard nothing as he stared at the dawning sky, the bright sparkles still glowing in his eyes. He did not see the blazing sun peeking from the horizon, or the rich colours of sunrise, even though his face was turned to the daybreak. Instead, he saw Cupid gazing at him regretfully for the last time before being pulled away to her place in the reins. He heard her soft accented voice whispering in his ear, her final words to him echoing in his mind:

Farewell, Private.

Farewell. Goodbye. It sounded like the end, the end of something that would never come back. He felt numb. He had just begun to know her, first charmed by her looks and then impressed by her courage of standing up to her teammates, or more precisely, her leader. Private could hardly imagine contradicting Skipper. Especially when she had been arguing against a belief that she had grown up with. He had been first drawn to her by her beauty, but now he realized that there was more to her than that.

But almost as soon as they met, they were parted. Cupid had been reluctant to go, but Private insisted that she'll regret not staying with Santa. Now he wondered if he should have said that. He did want the best for Cupid, but what if the reindeer was unhappy?

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision; he never thought it through. Not that he had the time; for the sleigh was going fast. But he had simply relied on his instinct, and fully trusted his gut to do what is right. He had let it form the words and perform the actions.

But were they the right ones? He didn't know how Cupid felt, but he felt as if there was something missing inside him. It was as if she had taken a piece of him along with her and left him with a dull ache and a intense longing. A longing for her to come back. He felt broken, lost, empty. As if there was a hole in his chest. Of course, it wouldn't matter so much if he knew that Cupid was happy. But he could still see her torn expression as the sleigh rose from the ground, the disappointment in her eyes, the sorrow etched in her features… She had wanted to stay. Her hooves in his flippers. It seemed as if she was trying to hold on to him, to get the most out of the little time they had left. And then her duty had pulled her away, the reins strapped around her body tugging her towards the sky. He could still feel her hooves scraping against his flippers, almost desperately trying to cling on. He had tried curling his sleek appendages around her feet, but the attempt was fruitless. It didn't work. She was gone.

Skipper watched as Private let out a broken sigh and lowered his head. That North Polar's departure must really have hit hard if it reduced the cheerful youngster he knew to this defeated penguin. He had never thought that the reindeer meant so much to him. After all, he had only just met her a couple of hours ago. But apparently…

Skipper rubbed his beak. Maybe a little distraction would help. If they were back in the zoo, he would've assigned Private to some kind of task, probably maintenance, but since they were out here, thousands of miles away from their HQ, that would not work. He nearly referred to Kowalski for options, but realized that such a request would not be appropriate right now. If work was not at hand, then maybe that party the hippo suggested would do as a substitute for diversion. He waddled up to Private.

"Come on, soldier. It's Christmas. The psychotic lemurs are hosting a party on this sunny island." There was a slight pause. "I wonder how they're going to do it without snow."

Skipper meant to sound light-hearted, but the words came out gruff and commanding. Private, however, didn't seem to notice the tone, for there was no change in his expression. He simply responded to his leader without turning his head:

"You can go first. I'll catch up."

His voice was flat and monotonous, devoid of any emotion. There was no life in the words, no spirit in the syllables. It sounded so unlike Private that Skipper nearly thought that he was talking to someone else.

The leader turned around and studied his youngest teammate. He was staring into the distance, his face blank and his eyes empty. His features matched his voice. Lifeless and emotionless. Skipper frowned, a part of him wanting to slap the penguin hard and bring back the old Private. But he knew that brutality wouldn't work. So instead of grabbing hold of Private's shoulders and shaking him until he nearly fell, Skipper replied in his usual brusque manner:

"Duly noted."

He hopped off the rock and left the penguin alone to think. The leader nodded at his other two men, who were waiting for his orders.

"Come on, boys. Let's go check out what the locals have done for the festival." He mentioned nothing about Private.

Rico let out a squawk in reply and bounded ahead. Kowalski gazed at his leader thoughtfully before inclining his head and following the flat-headed penguin without a word. Skipper felt as if something was missing, even though the responses from each penguin was the same as usual. He had expected something else in the answers…

Of course. Skipper mentally slapped himself when he realized what was absent. If Private had been going along with them and known that someone was left behind, he would immediately ask about them with a concerned tone. Now that Private wasn't here, the replies felt insufficient. The lack of innocent questions and caring apprehension was like a missing jigsaw piece in Skipper's mind. Kowalski's silent obedience and Rico's excited grunts did nothing to cover the hole, as normal as it was. Private probably just needs a few minutes to himself. The leaving was quite sudden. Skipper convinced himself, as the trio arrived at the site of the party.

It turned out that he was wrong.

The party was currently rolling, and everything was nearly ready. It had been at least half an hour since Skipper had left Private standing on the rock, yet he was nowhere to be seen. Skipper had already done two perimeter checks - solo - but saw no one other than one of the elder lemurs.

He glanced at Kowalski and Rico. The taller penguin was inspecting the 'ice rink', as if checking for dangers or uneven lumps on the surface of the grass. His flipper twitched as if he wanted to scribble something down in his clipboard. Rico was devouring a pile of fruits, masses gone in seconds. Skipper only hoped that it wasn't poisonous. Apparently, everything was peaceful. For now. That was all he needed.

He slipped out. Nobody noticed he left.

He easily slid and leapt around the trees and plants, back-flipping over patches of nettle and swerving around bushes. The taste of the sea on the breeze led him to the beach, and although it was not usually a director he would use, he trusted the wind to guide him. As he sprung from a branch and landed silently on the sand, he saw Private, silhouetted against the sunlight. He was still on the rock, silently facing the horizon.

Something inside Skipper twisted as he stared at the shadow of the young penguin. He knew Private was unhappy about being separated from that North Polar, but he never thought it would crush him so much that he would gaze, unmoving, at the same place for such a long time. He had thought it had been just a brief infatuation, a fleeting romance that ended almost as soon as it started. But apparently, in the few short hours Private had known the North Polar, it had gone deeper than that. Skipper was not one for love; emotions weren't his strength and he did not understand romance, but he knew that this wasn't simply a first-sight enchantment. And he now realized that the leaving of that North Polar had struck something deep inside of Private. Something that he didn't understand.

Skipper had always hated the North Polars, along with the other penguins. And he had a right to. History proved that. Everyone knew that Santa used to be based in the South Pole before they came along. Everything had been fine; Santa had been content with Antarctica, and the South Pole was rewarded for their hard work to help the Christmas man. Years passed peacefully, and every year Christmas was a joy for everyone. It never lacked the peace and happiness of the season. Then those Northerners turned up. Turned up and stole everything from them.

They never expected it. The North Polars came with the stealth of night, and snatched everything away. It wasn't just Santa they took; they took the South Polar's pride and cheated them of their hard work. They took the glory, the spotlight, the appreciation. They took what the South Polars had slaved for. They took everything. Everything.

Antarctica was no longer important. It was just a barren land of ice where hardly anyone lived. The memories of Santa in the South Pole faded rapidly in the years after like a passing dream, and soon the South Pole was pushed off into the background. Pushed off and forgotten.

But the South Polars never forgot. Never forgot what Antarctica used to be, never forgot what the North Polars had done. And those reindeers still had the nerve to mock them and sneer down at them like they were a bad show. It set Skipper's blood on fire. Private had also received the taunts and scorn, yet he was still captivated by that North Polar. Skipper didn't understand why. But it wasn't going to stop him from console the young penguin.

Skipper shuffled towards Private's shadow, clearly sounding his arrival. Private didn't seem to react at all. Even as the leader joined him on the stone, Private did not move a muscle. A few awkward seconds passed as the two penguins sat side by side, before Skipper spoke.

"You said you would catch up with us."

"Yes, sir." Private replied softly. It was as flat as it was before.

"You took a long time."

Silence.

Skipper's sentence hung in the air, waiting for an explanation. But Private said nothing, and only stared ahead of him unseeingly. No voices touched the quietness for an extended period of time, and the only sound that could be heard was the crashing of waves against the land. Silence filled Skipper's ears, and for a second, he felt like an inferior, like a new recruit who knew nothing and needed to be taught. In a sense, it was true. He knew nothing about feelings, and his ignorance in that area was more profound than he let on. In his mind, emotion was a weakness, a chink in the armor that enemies target at. So he pushed them away. And the worst of them all was love.

Love blinds you from sense and makes you reckless. It clouds your mind and distracts you. It drives you to sacrifice for absolutely no reason, and pushes away rationality. It was a major flaw. With love, you can easily be defeated and forced onto your back in one second flat. With love, you can easily be compelled to insanity when you need a cool, collected head. With love, you have handed a dangerous weapon to your enemies. You have made yourself vulnerable.

Yet why did Private submit to it so willingly without a fight? True, it might be hard to suppress, but Skipper sensed no internal conflict when he watched his teammate fall for the North Polar. He seemed to have all but forgotten about the cold war between the two Polars, and readily surrendered to the female reindeer. It made no sense.

"It's not her fault."

Skipper nearly leapt instinctively into his defensive position at the sound of Private's voice. It was so sudden, so unexpected. An abrupt jarring back into reality from his thoughts just when he began to sink into the silence.

"What do you mean?"

For the first time since the sleigh left, Private drew his gaze away from the sky and turned to Skipper. His bright blue eyes were serious, and Skipper was sure that he had never seen Private so solemn.

"I know that the North Polars took a lot from us all those years ago. I know that it is hard to forgive them for that. But it wasn't Cupid's fault that it happened."

Skipper was so astonished -he wasn't sure whether it was the depth of Private's words or the unexpected direction of the conversation which shocked him- that the anger that usually arose at the mention of the North Polars did not appear. The surprise must have shown, for Private went on explaining.

"She wasn't there; she didn't do it. She might not have even wanted to do it." He let out a weary sigh. "And when we were about to fight each other back there by the sleigh… she looked shocked at her leader's command. She didn't form a fighting pose like the rest of the reindeers. She didn't want to fight us."

Skipper frowned, combing his memories for the fact that Private just mentioned. He drew up with a blank. He obviously had overlooked something that Private saw.

"And afterwards, when we crash-landed and the lead reindeer accused us of ruining Christmas, she stood up for us."

Skipper remembered that. True, he had been a little surprised that a North Polar would support them, but after all, what she spoke was the truth. The leader of the herd had lied right through his teeth.

"It's more than the words she said. She rebutted her leader, and risked her place in the team. When she's supposed to hate us."

Private's words hit hard. It made Skipper rethink. Maybe Private did have a reason for loving that reindeer. True, Skipper was still unable to see the reindeer as Private saw her, but his intense hate for them had lowered, if only slightly, at Private's statement. Maybe that particular reindeer was different… He definitely needed to have a think about it. Going against your teammates when you're the follower is not easy. Skipper knew that from when he was young and a mere rookie.

"She's not as bad as you think."

Private's comment connected with a memory in the leader's mind. His own words to Private came back to him.

She may look like a tall glass of water, but she'll spit you out like a cup of bad eggnog!

Guilt rose within him. His words had been harsh, and he had slapped Private when the young penguin might not have deserved it. Perhaps he shouldn't have lashed out so hard.

"You know, if it wasn't for her, we would have all crashed into the sea. We were falling fast, and I couldn't hold up the weight of the sleigh and fly at the same time by myself. I panicked. And from the beach, she was shouting at me to think happy thoughts. It cleared my mind and I was able to pull the last stretch to land before I ran out of sparkly stuff." Private paused. "Though it wasn't the best landing."

"Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing." Skipper repeated what he had said to the hippo a few hours ago in the Canadian town.

Private smiled. It wasn't a large smile, but it was a smile nevertheless. Normally, Skipper would not have noticed; Kowalski was the one who rarely smiled, but today, being able to pull a smile from Private was a great achievement.

"Thanks, Skippah." Private's gaze turned back to the ocean. The smile faded as a sigh left his beak not for the first time in the past hour. Skipper's eyes narrowed at the breath that shouldn't have been exhaled.

"Lighten up, soldier." he ordered. "It's Christmas. No one should be down."

Private looked down and swallowed, unable to meet his leader's eyes.

"Goodbyes are difficult," he muttered.

Skipper nodded in understanding and sympathy. His life had also been of many greetings and partings.

"I know, but your path would cross with that reindeer's again one day."

Private's eyes snapped to his leader, barely disguised hope lighting his gaze.

"Are you sure?"

It was Skipper's turn to smile.

"Yes, young Private. I'm sure." A brief silence fell upon the two penguins, as the words sinked in. It was more comfortable than the last, and this time, Skipper was the first one to break it.

"Come on, soldier; let's go to that mad party. Kowalski and Rico would be wondering where we've disappeared to. I promised I would try out the new rink, although how I'm expected to skate on banana peels instead of blades is beyond me."

Private grinned, and for a second, the old cheerful Private was back.

"Sure, Skippah. Don't worry, I'll go with you."

The leader smiled at the young penguin and jumped off the rock. He started waddling towards the forest. Behind him, Private hesitated for a second and glanced back to where he last saw Cupid.

Farewell, Cupid. He thought as he gazed at the sky. Until we meet again.

He hopped off the stone and followed his leader into the greenery.

Farewell.

"Don't be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetime, is certain for those who are friends." ~Richard Bach