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

Sometimes, reality is worse than the most terrifying nightmare.

"How could I have done this?"

Marlene drew her knees up to her chest and buried her face into her own fur, uncontrollable sobs starting to rack her body. There was a horrible wrenching within her, something being twisted out of shape, and she felt empty and overflowing with emotions at the same time.

"How?"

Drops of salty liquid trickled down her sleek coat, collecting at her elbows before the gravity pulled it down to the ground. Her fur was soaked with the tears that flowed like flooding rivers from her eyes. But she hardly noticed as she stared unseeingly ahead, her mind pulled back to her memories.

She could still remember Private's terrified scream, Kowalski's clipboard clattering on the stone as he dropped it in shock, Rico's frozen silence… She could still remember Skipper's flipper clinging on to her paw, life depending on that simple lock of appendages… Her own words; they had been determined and confident (no, that wasn't right; she had forced herself to sound that way, because really, all she could feel was fear)… Skipper's stern expression only barely touched by a hint of alarm that he was dangling so high up… Everything spinning around her (So much depended on her, yet she couldn't think at all)… Time bending, seconds and milliseconds twirling in an offbeat dance… Her own heartbeat pounding in her ears (she could hear the blood rushing in her veins)… Everything silent and motionless, breaths held as the cruciality of the moment dawned on the racing minds…

And then… The slip.

Her throat closed up at the memory, and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to will the image away.

She couldn't.

"Skipper!"

Everything was in slow motion, the fall seeming impossibly long. She could hear a piercing shriek (she later realized that it came from her own vocal cords) and a gasp close to her ear. She never found out which of the other penguins made that noise. It didn't matter. She could only watch, paralyzed, as the leader penguin's black and white form tumbled in the air, spinning out of control (oh, such irony; for Skipper was always in control) before hitting the ground below.

She could hear the thud; the impact was that large. She could hear it from her position up on the tower, over ten feet above. There was also that sickening crunch (it was a broken bone, something Marlene would've usually been horrified over but right now, it was hardly anything compared to his other injuries), and the otter could see his right flipper was twisted so horribly that she couldn't look at it without cringing. But the worst of all was the fact that he wasn't moving.

She had all but fell down after him in her haste to reach him. She probably would've if it hadn't been Kowalski half-gripping her paw as she slid down the stone. She had reached the ground and scrambled to Skipper's side, her lungs barely functioning as she begged everything she knew for the penguin to be alive.

When she reached the fallen body and took a close look at it, she completely forgot how to breathe.

It was still. So still.

"No!"

Her fists clenched even now. Her own cry echoed in her ears.

"No!"

Kowalski had pushed her aside, telling her something in a firm, level tone and bending over the fallen penguin (he probably said he was going to check Skipper over, but she didn't catch any of his words. It was hard enough to burst out in tears there and then). She had wondered how he could be so calm about everything, and take control perfectly. It was still a mystery; but she knew it wasn't because he didn't care. When she had managed to push away her own emotions enough to think and see clearly, she noticed that the tall penguin's eyes were filled with pain and concern. Although his movements were controlled and smooth, Marlene could see his deep anxiety piercing through his eyes (It hurt her even more to realize just how deep it penetrated).

Even when Kowalski announced that Skipper was still alive, the pain shone through his tranquil gaze. Marlene was about to cry with relief with the statement, but the emotions in the depths of the lieutenant's eyes stopped the tide of consolation short, like a barrier that appeared out of nowhere.

It was then she knew that although the leader was alive, he was not alright.

Marlene knew how close the penguins were; they rarely separated for anything. The toll Skipper's fall must of taken to them… It must be worse than she could imagine. She had never been this close to anyone before, and to lose them would be unthinkable. If she was devastated about it, how would Skipper's teammates feel? Broken beyond imagination. This was proven when she heard anguished cries from Private and his screams of denial. Upon hearing those heartbroken sobs and desperate words, her own tears flowed faster.

Oh, why couldn't she have held on longer? Why couldn't she have gripped Skipper tighter? If it had been a few seconds more, the other penguins might've had enough time to come over and help haul Skipper back to safety. But no, she just had to let go and let Skipper plummet to his doom. She just had to have her paw slip and leave the leading penguin with nothing to help battle the forces of gravity. She just had to…

She curled around herself tighter, unable to bear the guilt and pain. It was all her fault. If it wasn't for her, Skipper would probably barking at his team by now, ordering them on a training exercise or a mission. If it wasn't for her, Private wouldn't have been crying his eyes out right now. If it wasn't for her, the agony in Kowalski's eyes wouldn't have been there. If it wasn't for her, everything would be just fine.

It was slowly crushing her inside; her own grief and the knowledge that she was to blame for all of this, was pulling her down into a cold darkness. She was slowly sinking into this nightmare, and everything was an icy black silence. Her own sobs faded into nothing, replaced by a ringing absence of sound. Her vision was greeted by shadows, and her heart felt as if had been ripped out and the raw wound exposed to bitter frost. Everything felt numb, frozen. (She knew it shouldn't be like this, but she just couldn't bring herself to do anything.)

Her thoughts repeated dully within her head, like a replaying monotone clip. All the pain, the anger, the despair… it gave way to a flat comprehension.

It's all my fault.

It's all my fault.

It's all my fault.

She was being engulfed by a chilly blackness that seeped into her like a November mist. Cold, damp and impossible to drive out. She made a few feeble attempts to battle the ever-growing depression, but it never faltered in its steady advance. She felt cold, so cold… (It felt like the end of nothing, but she couldn't care less. She couldn't feel anything. Anything. Something tells her that she should be frightened, but she just feels so tired. Numb.)

So cold.

"Marlene."

What was that voice? It sounded odd and faraway, like a floating dream. It had a queer echoing quality to it, for she could hear it rebounding within her head. She was sure she heard it before.

"Marlene?"

The tone had changed slightly, but it was still the same word. It sounded familiar. Mar-leen. Did she know that word? It rolled around in her head like a spinning ball, and she wearily tried to make sense of it.

"Marlene?"

Yes, yes. She knew that word. It was her name. Her name.

Why was the voice repeating it so many times? Was she supposed to do something? She couldn't remember.

"Marlene!"

The voice is shouting now, but it still sounded so distant. What did it expect her to do? She just feels so tired. So cold inside.

Something brushes against her, that wasn't the ground she was sitting on or the wall she was leaning on. It gripped somewhere near her head. What was that part called? Oh yes. The shoulder.

The pressure was increasing, it was squeezing her. What did it want? She just wanted to be left alone.

Suddenly, her whole body was shook. Her vision tipped and everything swayed. Her tail slapped harshly on the floor.

"MARLENE!"

Marlene jerked, and her eyes came into focus. The movement yanked her out of the gloom she had been submerged in just moments ago. She blinked for a few seconds, momentarily dazed, before she saw who had been shaking her.

Wide blue eyes, framed by white feathers, gazed at her with fearful apprehension. Private. It was Private.

"Marlene?"

"Private?" she murmured.

Relief flooded the young penguin's eyes at her response. He let out a sigh, and his tense form eased slightly.

"What's the matter?" she rasped.

"You're… you're…" He dropped his gaze to the floor, and Marlene could feel the muscles in the flipper on her shoulder tighten. He looked back up, tears shimmering in his eyes. "I nearly thought you're dead or something. When I called to you, you just looked at me as if you weren't really seeing me. Your eyes… they were so… so empty. It scared me. It was like seeing a breathing corpse."

Another pang of guilt struck the otter. She had done enough by letting Skipper fall. Now she was terrifying young Private.

"I'm okay." Her voice sounded hoarse and dry as she provided her automatic reply. It was an outright lie; even a blind infant could see (or hear) that she had been crying. Her eyes were probably swollen and red and her fur was itching with the salty crusts of dried tears. But she was too distracted by Private's words to fight her habit for honesty.

It was like seeing a breathing corpse.

How would he know how a breathing corpse looked like? How would he know how a corpse looked like? Marlene could bet a whole bucket of oysters that Private never watched a horror movie, and she knew that he had never seen someone die before his eyes, so how could he compare her with a dead body? Unless…

"Private. How's Skipper?"

Marlene stared at the penguin, the intense focus of her gaze powerful enough to burn a hole through a block of metal. She didn't want to know the answer; she feared for the worst; but she knew that she had to know. Even with her heart in her throat and her breath trapped halfway up her airways in dread, she was desperate for the response. Private didn't look as grieved as Marlene would've expected for him to be, but how else could he have seen a corpse? True, when she last saw Skipper, dragged back to the penguins' home by Kowalski and Rico, he had been breathing, but who knew what could've happened between now and then? She was not Kowalski, but even she knew there were possibilities that the leader was no longer alive.

Private stared back at her, and the two simply gazed at each other for a few seconds before the young penguin finally said:

"That's why I came. Come, follow me."

Marlene could barely feel herself as she entered the cool night and slipped through to the penguins' habitat. Her limbs felt as if they were functioning by themselves, for her mind was frozen. She felt as if she was immobilized within, and she couldn't sense anything as she squeezed beneath the bars. She could only remember that the cold iron usually grazed painfully against her back when she entered the habitat, but tonight, her sense of touch seemed to have deadened.

As was everything else. She only saw Private's monochromatic figure flash in front of her eyes as they travelled the short distance between the two habitats, even though she knew there were trees and stones and water around them. She only heard her own heartbeats and abnormally loud breathing even though she knew that the wind was rustling through the trees. She only tasted her own salty tears, even though she knew the lemurs had a pile of fruit barely a few feet away that carried a strong smell.

She wasn't even sure exactly how she got in the underground base, but she remembered her feet touching the stone ground, and a muffled thud as Private landed beside her. Then all her concentration was on the table in the middle of base.

Kowalski had his back to her, and was blocking most of her view from the table. Rico was beside him, regurgitating a metal object that she remembered seeing at a visit to the zoo veterinarian. This meant that she couldn't see what, or more precisely, who, was on the table. Although she could pretty much guess it.

She cautiously took a step towards the table.

What if he's not moving?

The other foot joined the first.

What if he's not breathing?

Another step.

What if he's not alive?

She nearly stopped dead at that thought.

No, how dare you think that way. Skipper's strong. He can survive anything.

She managed to tread a few more inches closer before doubt clouded her mind again.

But is the fall too much?

This time, she did stop. She swallowed painfully as she stood almost directly behind Kowalski. One more step, and the answer would be in front of her. The answer; raw, coarse and unrefined. Not softened by the tongue of a friend; not smoothed by the toned-down recollection of another; not sweetened by a touch of fantasy. Just the plain harsh reality.

Either that, or a flight through the heaven of relief. Neither presented itself to be the most likely. She would just have to see for herself. It didn't sound preferable, but there was not other choice. She would just have to see for herself.

And she did.

Skipper lay on the table in front of her, his eyes closed and his body motionless. His features lost none of its seriousness, and his eyebrows were still set in its normal frown-like way, but they weren't moving. His flippers hung limp either side of him, and his head was slack. Everything about him seemed lifeless.

Marlene felt lightheaded, dizzy, as she stared at the leader penguin.

It couldn't be.

"Marlene?"

Blue eyes, clouded with drowsiness but shining with the familiar determined fire. Blinking into hers. Blue eyes, narrowed in its instinctual wariness that relaxed with recognition. Gazing at her. Blue eyes, so painfully familiar, but nearly impossible…

"Skipper?"

"Who do you think it is? Abraham Lincoln?" At Skipper's response, Marlene burst into tears, crying and laughing at the same time. He was alive.

He was alive.

She couldn't believe it.

"You're alive," she choked out, wanting to hug Skipper tightly yet holding back. She settled with hugging herself instead.

The leader penguin was obviously confused by her reaction.

"Kowalski? What happened?" he addressed his lieutenant, who was standing next to him silently.

The tall penguin cleared his throat and glanced at Marlene before replying.

"Well, you suffered from a fall from the clock tower, and was knocked unconscious. I'm afraid your current condition is rather serious, sir."

Marlene froze, Kowalski's words jarring her back from her internal celebration. Everything started falling back to the cold darkness.

"Serious?" she managed to whisper.

Kowalski nodded.

A voice behind Marlene spoke:

"Is Skippah going to be alright? I mean, you were still running tests when I left. You said it would tell. So, now can you tell if Skippah is going to be alright?"

Private's unspoken implication hung in the air. Everyone in the room, albeit perhaps Skipper, knew what the young penguin meant.

Was Skipper going to live?

Eyes were fixed on the scientist, and it was a miracle that Kowalski's feathers weren't burnt yet by the force of the emotions directed at him. He raised his head and gazed around in his calm detached manner, seemingly unfazed by the fierce stares or the life-depending results.

He opened his beak. One word came out.

"Yes."

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

This time, Marlene couldn't restrain herself. She threw herself on Skipper, and embraced him so tightly that she was sure that it caused some breathing difficulties. Her mistake wasn't going to cost Skipper his life. He was going to be alright. Only when she released her tight hold on the penguin did she noticed the wide grins of all the penguins around her.

For the first time since Skipper fell from the tower, a smile broke out on Marlene's face.

Sometimes, reality is worse than the most terrifying nightmare. But sometimes, the miracles are more wonderful than the most glorious dream.

This can be interpreted as a close friendship bond between Marlene and Skipper, or something more. It is up to you to decide which one you want it to be.