I'll Be Home for Christmas

Somewhere in Norway, Exact Location Classified, 500 hours

Skipper slipped behind a dark brick building, outlined sharp against the street lights. The snow here was over a foot deep, up to his head, where not shoveled away. The little shops were dazzling with lights, Christmas trees outside every one. Norway really was a nice place to celebrate Christmas.

He pulled out his tape recorder. "Skipper's log," he whispered. "I have arrived in Norway for a solo mission regarding a certain escaped puffin. It's December 22nd… Almost Christmas. I had to leave right in the middle of the night, despite promising Private we'd hang the stockings today." He happened to look down and saw that the cassette inside wasn't the usual tape. It was red and green. "What in the name of smoked candy canes?" He pushed play, and the tape began playing Christmas music.

I'll Be Home for Christmas, you can Count on Me, Please have Snow and Mistletoe, and Presents on the Tree

Skipper frowned and turned it off, thoughts turning to his clueless team back in New York. The last time he went on a solo mission… He'd make it back in time for Christmas, he was sure. It was silly to worry about that.

"Skipper's log, even though I don't really have a log anymore," he continued, "still no sign of Hans, but he's close… I can feel it."

"Ha ha!" Hans jumped out of the snow with flair. "Did you see that? I got the perfect timing!"

"Yes, yes you do," Skipper said with an eye roll, assuming a fighting stance.

"Merry Christmas, by the way, my frenemy. I wish we could roast chestnuts over a fire, but I have a feeling you are here to try and stop me!" Hans held up his flippers in a defensive stance. "In which case, I must stop you from stopping me, you know."

"Well, I guess," Skipper replied. "Not really sure what it is I'm stopping you from doing, but you're going back to Hoboken, where villainous scum like you belong! Hi-yah!" He launched and delivered a sharp kick to the face, sending the puffin reeling backwards. Hans was back on his feet in a jiffy, and the two of them were soon entangled in a swirl of flippers and feet. Hans knocked the tape recorder across the floor, starting the music again.

Christmas Eve will find Me, where the Lovelight Gleams, I'll be Home for Christmas, if Only in my Dreams

A twinge stung Skipper's heart. What if this time he didn't win? What if the team had to spend this Christmas without him? He thought of the note he had left them— short and devoid of details.

Distracted, Skipper failed to notice Hans' move, and soon found himself on his back, the puffin pinning his arms to the ground.

"Aw, poor, poor, Skipper. Looks like he is going to miss Christmas this year." Hans gave a smug smile.

I'll Be Home for Christmas, you can Count on Me

"Not likely," Skipper retorted, swinging his body sideways and getting his legs under Hans, kicking him off and standing up. He parried with his flippers when Hans attacked again, and got him a wing hold. "What are you doing in Norway?"

"Okay, okay, do you have to be so rough about it?" Hans' voice slipped into a whine. "I was only trying to experience some of the traditions of my old home!"

"Huh?" Skipper let his hold relax slightly. Well, that was anticlimactic. "Really?"

"Yes! You know Norway has similar traditions to Denmark. It is the next best thing!" Hans sniffled. "And now I will not be celebrating Christmas anywhere but Hoboken!"

Please have Snow and Mistletoe, and Presents on the Tree

Skipper gave an exasperated sigh. Why did Hans have to be so pathetic when he got upset? He was actually starting to sympathize. "I still think you have some sort of evil plan."

"What sort of evil plan could I possibly carry out in Norway?"

"Good point." Skipper loosened his hold a little more. "But villains aren't known for their honesty."

Hans sighed. "Fine. I knew you would not believe me, Skipper. I guess it is imaginary Christmas for Hans again this year."

Christmas Eve will Find Me, where the Lovelight gleams, I'll be Home for Christmas, if Only in my Dreams

Skipper wavered. He could understand the homesickness. "Alright, alright," he sighed, letting Hans go. "But this is special goodwill, because it's Christmas. Don't get used to it. As soon as the season's over, I'm taking you back to Hoboken." He picked up the tape recorder. The song was playing its last notes. He switched it off before it could change to another.

"Thank you, Skipper!" Hans gave him a hug, and Skipper raised an eyebrow.

"Uh… you're welcome. Well, I'll, uh, be going now. Merry Christmas." Skipper turned away. The snow had started falling again.

"Wait!" Hans called. Skipper turned back around. "We could do the roasting chestnuts thing I mentioned as a hypothetical earlier. And make it not a hypothetical, you know."

"Thanks for the offer," Skipper smiled, "but I have home traditions I don't want to miss either."


Hours and hours later, Skipper slipped back into the Central Park Zoo. It had grown dark again, and all was quiet. He reached the penguin habitat and jumped down the hatch, expecting to see three sleeping penguins. Instead, Private, Rico, and Kowalski were pacing around the table, and excited grins spread on their faces upon seeing him.

"Skippah!" Private cried. They gave their commander a group hug.

"So, did you put that puffin back where he belongs?" Kowalski asked.

"Not exactly," Skipper said with a shrug. "Exact details are… classified."

"I don't care, I'm just glad you're back." Private gave him another hug.

"Where the lovelight gleams," Skipper murmured to himself.

"What was that, Skippah?"

"Nothing, Private. Now how's about we hang those stockings?"