Rico awoke to the soft sounds of rain hitting the roof of a building. He knew he wasn't in the base—the rain wasn't ping-pinging off the food bowl over the entrance—and he stirred, trying to see through the darkness. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought he was back underground in Blowhole's lair, that Manfredi and Johnson were waiting in the shadows with more instruments of torture, but then lightning flashed through a window, illuminating the room he was in.

He breathed out; it was the vet's office, and while it had many tools, they were tools of healing and help, not torture. Shifting his body, he recognized the heaviness that came with being tranqued. His head was fuzzy, and he began to sit up slowly, feeling the weight slipping off of his limbs as the drug was worked out of his body.

When he was upright, he leaned against the cage, taking deep breaths. It wasn't his first time with a tranquilizer dart, and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. Stuff like that came with the 'crazy'. He sat there until the world stopped spinning, letting his mind flow in and out of the post-drug haze as it wanted.

After fifteen minutes had passed, according to the clock across the room, the last vestiges of the drug were wearing off, and Rico turned his mind toward the fog that surrounded the reason he was in the vet's office. From the stiffness of his limbs, he figured he'd had an 'episode'. That was a bit strange. He hadn't had an episode in a couple of years. Something must have triggered it. But what?

He puzzled over it, a dark feeling in the back of his mind. He didn't want to know, but experience told him that he needed to figure it out or there would be a repeat episode. Rico was glad to be alone. His instincts told him that being with his team was part of the reason he'd melted down. Closing eyes, he breathed, willing himself to go into the fog, to retrieve the memory that lay hidden in its depths.

"Manfredi and Johnson!" Skipper's voice echoed, and Rico snapped his eyes open, swallowing bile.

That was it. Something about saving those two. Tears threatened to spill from the penguin's blue eyes. He didn't want to think of them at all, let alone saving them. They didn't need to be saved. They had never been captured in the first place. They had willingly joined Blowhole's ranks, eager for power and prestige. They were the dolphin's maniacal helpers, keen for blood and mayhem. Rico knew that desire well, but he fought it, not wanting to become like those two traitors.

The rain sound amplified suddenly, and Rico blinked away the tears to see the window open. Private's face peeked over, looking around cautiously before he signaled the all-clear. In several precise, quick movements, the rest of his team was standing there, rain rolling off of their waterproof feathers and plopping onto the floor. They slid over to him, popping up onto the table in another calculated move.

They were all concerned about him, that much was obvious. Private was the most open with his emotions, as usual, and he reached a flipper in to grab his. Kowalski and Skipper were more reserved, but the relief was plain in their expressions when Rico inched closer to them, a tired smile curving his beak. He was too sore, too tired to have much of a reaction for them, but his heart soared with joy at their concern and love for him, no matter how they showed it.

"Are you okay, Rico?" Private asked, his wide, innocent eyes peering intently at the crazed penguin.

"Tired," he sighed in his own tongue.

"Of course you're tired," Private said compassionately. He paused. "I forgot that you have seizures. Kowalski and Skipper had to remind me," he said, looking down at their flippers.

"I don't have them anymore. Or…I didn't until today." Rico shrugged one shoulder, trying to play it off.

Private's expression was hesitant as if he had more questions, but his sidelong glance at his commanding officers informed Rico that they probably wouldn't approve. Skipper read a different signal, and he and Kowalski stepped forward.

"You'll be fine, soldier," he said, nodding firmly. "And once you're better, I'll give you our plan."

"Plan?"

Private translated, and Kowalski answered. "It's not done yet. We don't have much intelligence on where Manfredi and Johnson are being held, so it's mostly a reconnaissance mission to begin with."

Rico's smile disappeared, his jaw set with anger and fear. Private was watching him closely. The young penguin was so much more aware of the nuances of emotion that each of his teammates displayed than either Skipper or Kowalski, and as his beak clamped shut, Rico knew he'd caught something in his expression that betrayed his anxiety. Meeting Private's gaze straight on, he shook his head almost imperceptibly, trying to convey Don't ask! without a word. Private's eyes widened a bit, but he nodded, a tiny movement that neither of their commanding officers noticed, too intent on expanding on the meager plan.

"Ask Skipper to get me some fresh water. Tell him my throat is dry and I'm a bit dizzy," Rico whispered. "And ask Kowalski to get some tools to take my temperature. Tell him I feel warm."

Private relayed the questions, and both officers stopped planning immediately. Kowalski slid over to look through the tools, and Skipper headed for the sink. They had maybe a minute of privacy, and Rico leaned over to whisper again.

"You know something's wrong."

"I saw things when you started screaming," Private hissed, glancing over at the other penguins. Skipper was placing the bowl in the sink, and Kowalski was still searching for a tool.

"Have you mentioned it to them?" Private shook his head, and Rico nodded grimly. "Don't. If you saw some of what I think you did, they won't be happy. They can't blame me for the memories, because it was Kowalski's fault the brain thing went wrong. But if you want me to explain them, it would be a bad idea for them to know. They've ordered me to keep you in the dark. It's not right, I don't agree, I'm not going to obey them. Keep quiet. Now turn around and tell them I'm lightheaded."

Private turned to see Kowalski climbing up behind him, taking the bowl of water from Skipper. With a deft movement, the scientific penguin opened the cage and gently set the bowl in front of Rico.

"What's he saying?" Skipper asked.

"He's lightheaded," Private replied.

Kowalski held up a tool and passed it over Rico's forehead. "Hm, a little warm. Help him get a drink, Private," he ordered.

Private held up the bowl, and Rico took several big gulps, tilting his head back to help the swallowing process. That was an instinct that Private never dealt with. Neither did Skipper or Kowalski. It was no doubt from their zoo upbringing.

"Better?" Kowalski asked.

Rico nodded, yawning a real yawn. He was so heavy and tired, and he blinked stupidly. Everything was sliding in and out of focus. The next few minutes of poking and prodding from Kowalski were noticed only in hindsight. Rico was so very tired, and it was only the click of the door closing that jolted him back to reality. He sat up, shaking his head.

"What?"

Private turned as the other two jumped off the table. "We're heading back to base. You'll be okay. Kowalski says so."

"Well if Kowalski says it, it must be true," Rico said. He curled up and faded into sleep as the window thunked close.

Private stayed at the window for several moments, staring at the sleeping form of the resident crazy penguin. For the first time, he wondered if Rico truly was crazy. Yes, there were moments of violence in Rico's life, but they came at appropriate times and in appropriate ways. The other animals all thought that Rico was unstable and crazy, but there was something in his eyes, there had always been something in his eyes, that spoke of love and kindness. Private was never afraid of Rico, no matter what he did. Rico would never hurt him.

"Private?" Skipper asked, hopping up beside him.

"I want him to be okay," Private whimpered. "I can't lose him. I can't lose anybody else."

There was a long pause. "What do you mean, Private?" Kowalski asked from the ground.

Private turned to look first at Skipper then at Kowalski. In their eyes, he saw concern, but there was something else. Wariness. A secret. Rico's words hit him with the force of a truck. His commanding officers, his family, were keeping secrets from him. And he knew what it was about. It had to be the one topic that they always breezed over, the one that Private had asked about again and again in his childhood, the question that still burned inside his heart, the one that they would never answer.

They didn't want him to hurt. Private knew that. He knew that they loved him and wanted to protect him, but at that moment, he felt so betrayed. Turning back to look at Rico, he let the tears fall as a single image from the flurry he'd received that afternoon solidified in his head.

He could see the blood gleaming in the moonlight, and two still figures lying on the ground, unmoving. Kowalski checked their pulses then turned to shake his head at Skipper. Rico, for he was Rico, stared at the dead bodies of two civilians, a male and a female. Disgust welled inside of him as he recognized the wounds in their bodies. Beak wounds. Claw wounds. They had been killed wild style. The egg was gone, stolen along with Manfredi and Johnson. Or, Rico thought, by them. He didn't trust them. He never had. They reminded him of his father.

Unsure if his mistrust was well-placed, he said nothing as they began to plan to get the egg back from Blowhole. This was personal now. Lita and Pol hadn't deserved to die like that. They would get that egg back, come heaven or high water. That chick didn't deserve to be kidnapped before it was even born, and Rico was going to leave a trail of fire and blood in his wake to get that child back.

"Private?" Skipper asked, hesitant. "What do you mean?"

Private looked at his commanding officer through his tears, and he said nothing. He simply turned and jumped down, passing Kowalski as he headed back to their base. The young penguin could feel their eyes on him, tracking each movement, as they had every day of his life. And for the first time in his life, he resented it.