"Antonio, where are you going?!" Marlene asked, more than a hint of worry in her voice.
"To see the Penguins, as you call them," he replied, his tone indicated that he hadn't calmed much since their argument, only a few hours ago, "I think a serious conversation with their leader is long overdue."
"Antonio, you can't change the way we feel," Marlene pleaded, "I love him."
"I guess you have never heard of Stockholm syndrome, Marlene," Antonio snapped, "you don't really love him."
Of all the things Antonio had said, that still haunted her to this day. She'd almost succeeded in pushing it to some obscure corner of her mind, but seeing it mentioned under 'Notes for Further Investigation' seemed to give the poorly thought out statement more weight.
"What do you mean, do you love him?" Kowalski asked, slightly stunned. Of course she loved Skipper.
"You guys held me, cut off from reality, for two weeks. After that, I spent six hours having to listen to Clemson brag to himself, and another hour hanging from a crane," Marlene replied.
"I don't…" Kowalski had to say, it certainly was plausible. More than plausible, all the facts seemed to point in that direction, "Didn't you say you intended to ask him out before all of that happened?"
"I was going to ask him out because I thought he was cute and, at the time, a nice guy," Marlene answered, not afraid to express what was the obvious truth, "I don't know – if I hadn't listened to your meeting – if a casual interest still would have become something more."
"I guess it's hard to tell," Kowalski's brain raced to find another possible explanation, or at least something to make the theory a little less watertight, "Although, you only ever saw Skipper three times while you were considered a liability, and only on one of those was he mildly threatening you."
"Mildly?!" Marlene exclaimed. She'd always considered the experience one of the worst in her life, "What do you guys call extremely?"
"You do not want to know," Kowalski answered, "However, the rest of us you saw almost every day."
Marlene considered the new information. It was obvious Kowalski was just looking for any way to exonerate Skipper, but like most of his arguments, he did have a point. She had to say, she was glad her fears had not been confirmed, "I guess you're right. If your logic holds, I should have fallen for you, Private or Rico."
"Though Private is a bit young," Kowalski mused, "However, I think you knew, at least a few days into it that we weren't going to hurt you."
"I still have my doubts about Rico."
"We all have our doubts about Rico," Kowalski concurred, "Well, I'm pretty certain I've settled your doubts about your love for Skipper," the scientist examined the neat piles he had sorted the documents and folder's into during the conversation, "that reminds me, I still have to complete my research on the alarm systems before I can investigate Blowhole's safe. My date with Doris is in," Kowalski checked his watch, "9 hours 32 minutes 17 seconds, which is the perfect opportunity."
"I hate that guy."
"You do?" Kowalski scoffed, "He's the only thing standing between me and the love of my life."
Suddenly the two froze at the sound of a door slamming. Marlene immediately jumped up, intending to greet the newcomer, who was doubtless her husband.
"Put the files back first," Kowalski hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back before she could reach the door handle, "Skipper's not going to like you going through them." Marlene immediately began to replace the files. She'd just shut the drawer of the filing cabinet when the door opened.
The first thing Skipper noticed the moment he woke was the smell of frying bacon. There was something wrong with the feel of the bed as well. It was too smooth. He opened his eyes and looked around. This certainly wasn't his room. Still, this wasn't the first time he'd woken up in a strange place.
He stood up, though a wave of dizziness and slight nausea forced him to remain seated. He didn't remember having any drinks last night, though mackerel knows he needed them. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember last night, and his discomfort was certainly not consistent with the splitting headache of a hangover. He didn't remember anything after…
"Good morning, sir," The door opened, and a smartly dressed butler entered, placing the clothes he'd worn the day before on a chair across from his bed, freshly laundered and pressed, "M'lady inquires as to whether you will be joining her for breakfast. She wishes me to inform you, that Anatole has prepared your favourite breakfast: pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, and strong black coffee containing six slices of fugu sashimi." The servant noticeably grimaced at the mention of coffee containing fish, "she seemed to imply that this information would probably have significant impact on your decision."
"Wait, just who's this 'm'lady'?" Skipper demanded. He was used to waking up in strange places, but not waking up in strange places where stuck up butlers, who seemed to be unaware of the concept of knocking, tempted him with pancakes.
"Why, Miss Kitka Romanov, sir," The man replied, showing a ghost of a surprised expression at the question.
"And, how did I get here?"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Well, was I teleported?"
"No sir, you and Miss Romanov arrived together late last night."
"Where did we go?"
"I have no idea, sir."
Then suddenly a new fear gripped his heart, "And after we got here…"
"Certainly not, sir," The butler replied with conviction, "your behaviour was like that of two old school chums who'd returned from an intriguing lecture." Well, he certainly had a strange idea of fun, was the thought that quickly replaced his panic.
"Right, tell Kitka I'll join her in a couple of minutes, but she'd better have some answers."
"Will that be all, sir?"
"Yeah." The butler left the room, closing the door behind him. Immediately, skipper once again tried to stand, this time determined not to let the dizziness win. The battle to remain upright over, he checked the room for bugs, cameras, and hidden traps before getting dressed (the pyjama's certainly weren't his) and trying to find his way to the dining room.
"I want some answers," were the first words that left his lips as he took his seat at one of the antique chairs around the breakfast table.
"Answers? Didn't I tell you what you wanted to know?" she replied calmly, pouring syrup over her pancakes.
"Well that's the last thing I remember, coming to you," Skipper countered with unwarranted venom, though Kitka was the type who had to be nipped in the bud before they tried anything, "I certainly don't remember your answer."
"So what, exactly, is the last thing you remember?" Kitka asked, still seemingly unfazed by Skipper's menacing tone, "Maybe I can fill you in?"
"We met for coffee. I wanted to know if what Manfridi and Johnson said was true," Skipper answered, as he eyed the pancakes cautiously, "You were the only person I was in touch with at the time of the incident who wasn't directly involved."
"They aren't poisoned, darling," Kitka reached across the table; eating a forkful of the pancakes herself to confirm this, "Well, I believe I told you that their story was…" she paused for dramatic effect, "correct."
"Why should I believe you?" Skipper asked, taking a sip of his coffee. He needed the caffeine more than he cared about the potentially lethal fish. He was surprised he wasn't more, well um… surprised by the news, but he felt as if he'd heard it before, which he had, and was simply going over the information. His whole mind felt numb, "Why didn't you tell me what had happened, if we kept in touch back then? And none of that explains why I don't remember anything after I met you for coffee, and how I woke up here."
"Well, you were naturally startled by the news," Kitka answered soothingly, "and you were certainly in no state to return to the team. So we went down to The Lemurs for a couple of drinks, narrowly avoided Julian King who was shouting that zombie secret agents are returning from the grave to update our phones operating systems, and then came home. As for why I didn't tell you about your involuntary change of employer, I was out of the game, and I didn't have to do anything reckless make it out. Telling you what was really going on, well that would get LEOPARDSEAL on my case, and then I could say good bye to my early retirement," skipper glared at her, "alright, so you were working for 'the enemy' but you were a whole lot happier than you were at Penguin. Who was I to spoil it?"
"And this would be why I said we should see other people," skipper stated, almost in a monotone, "I was working for the enemy! What do I care if I'm happy, I was an agent of LEOPARDSEAL! That just isn't…" and now the information hit him like a ton of bricks. Young Private a LEOPARDSEAL agent? It just didn't make sense. And Marlene? "Is this just a trick to get me to leave Marlene?" Now there was a possible motive. He wouldn't put it past Kitka to try to her luck at manipulation.
"No. Like I said, I'm quite happy if you just keep living life, pretending you never heard this." Kitka replied, though her tone was slightly hurt, "you came to me." Skipper stood up from the table.
"Thanks for the pancakes, Kitka," Skipper finished his coffee, and then headed off down the hallway that looked like it travelled in the direction of the exit.
By now, skipper was riding the elevator to his apartment. Realising this he had the sudden urge to jump out at the next floor and run down the stairs and away from the HQ as fast as he possibly could. But he couldn't do that. He had the kind of problems that, if you ran, they'd run after you twice as fast. He'd run from Manfridi and Johnson, from his team, and from Kitka. He was still struggling to comprehend the news, yes, but he had to face reality.
However, one doubt kept lingering in his mind: if he was working for LEOPARDSEAL, then why had he done almost nothing in the past year remotely resembling a mission. Well, the only thing he could think of, and now that Kitka, who on matters like this he could trust, had confirmed Manfridi and Johnson's story, was that Kowalski and Rico had wanted out as much as him, and had escaped the control of LEOPARDSEAL in the burning building. At least, he wanted to believe that, but he couldn't take the chance it was just his mind desperately searching for some way to trust his team. He had to remain cautious, and certainly alone.
He opened the door, and the first sound that reached his ears was laughter, which he quickly recognised as Marlene's and Kowalski's. The voices were muffled as they came from his study at the end of the hall. Wait, why were they in there?
"…have fallen for you..." Marlene sighed.
For a few seconds the conversation descended into barely audible noise.
"…Well, I'm pretty certain I've settled your doubts about your love for Skipper…" A voice he was pretty sure was Kowalski's emerged from the noise.
"Tuna, I hate that guy."
"You do? He's the only thing standing between me and the love of my life."
Skipper slammed the door of the apartment louder than he intended. There was a slight shuffling sound in the study as he walked towards it. He opened the door.
Marlene stood stiffly by the filing cabinet, looking incredibly guilty. Kowalski was more relaxed, but then for them, lying was just as natural as telling the truth. Nowadays, it actually seemed to be easier.
"Skipper!" Marlene gushed, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around him, "Where have you been? We were all so worried?"
"Apparently," Skipper answered with a note of suspicion in his voice. He eyed the two with equal caution.
"Where were you?" She asked, slightly puzzled by his tone.
"I stayed the night in one of the safe houses," Skipper replied, his own ease at convincing his oldest friends only proving his point, "The case was starting to get to me and I needed time to digest the information."
"Next time, just tell me," She chided, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, "Private was so worried, he spent a good couple of hours looking for you." At this, if Skipper had any suspicions as to her guilt being merely circumstantial, these were immediately quashed. She just took his barely believable, oldest excuse in the book explanation and moved on, all but celebrating his absence? Didn't she care enough to at least be slightly suspicious?
"I think you'd better tell Rico you're back," Kowalski added, "You know how he gets when you just disappear."
"Yes, I guess I should," Skipper walked stiffly from the apartment. He was going to have to do a full search for bugs and possible enemy data storage areas. He had no doubts as to his 'team's' and even Marlene's alliances, but he still needed more data before he could act. He needed to find out their contacts, handler(s), how many other agents there were in similar positions to him, and how much was left of Rico's mind, the answer to that question determining whether it was worth taking Rico with him when he left, which he certainly was.
