Pitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatter... said the raindrops as they made contact with the roof of the HQ. That, and the tick-tocking of the clock, were the only sounds that filled the air. Kowalski and Rico sat at the table in silence, occasionally exchanging glances. Skipper leaned against a nearby wall staring out the window, even though there was nothing to see but the blueness of the water in their pond. He had made some coffee and was holding a mugfull, but he hadn't drinken any of it and had allowed it to get cold. None of them had said a single word since they'd returned.

Kowalski and Rico exchanged another glance. Though they did not speak, they knew they were wondering the same thing: When was Skipper going to realize his mistake? Kowalski developed a lump in his throat and he coughed lightly to try and clear it, causing Skipper to flinch. His attention immediately went to the hatch in hopes that Private had returned. His eyes shifted to Kowalski when he spoke.

"Sorry, Skipper. That was just me."

The corners of Skipper's beak fell in disappointment and his gaze returned to the clear blue behind the glass.

"Skipper, if you want to go after him, no one would blame you." Kowalski finally said.

For a moment, Skipper remanied silent, but it was hard to tell if it was because he was considering his answer or if he had even heard Kowalski's question in the first place. Finally, he answered. "No. He'll be back soon. Probably any minute now."

"Skipper, now, you and I both know that that's not true.-"

"He's fine. And he'll soon realize his mistake. He's obviously capable of taking care of himself and doesn't need us. End of discussion." Finally, he took a sip of his coffee and frowned at its temperature.

Kowalski took a deep, frustrated breath and approached Skipper and turned him around by his shoulder so Skipper and he were face to face. "Skipper, this is where I draw the line. Who knows what Private is going through right now? He could...what if he's caught? Or-Or gets lost? He's just a boy! You're telling me you're just gonna sit back and do nothing?! That's not the Skipper I know." He finished folding his flippers. Skipper wanted to respond, but was unsure of how to. Kowalski, heart pounding, continued. "Skipper, are you really gonna let your ego and stubborn nauture get in the way of doing what's right? I know deep down, some part of you knows that Private needs us right now. That Private needs you right now."

There was another awkward silence. Longer this time.

"Fine. Then I guess Rico and I will go look for him ourselves." Kowalski turned and started for the hatch, Rico followed. But the sound of Skipper's voice stopped them.

"Wait." He spoke up softly. Kowalski and Rico turned to him as he gently set his cup on the table and waddled over to them. He came to a stop just inches from them. "With all due respect, I'd like to take point." He said meeting each of their gazes. Kowalski and Rico exchanged a glance, then turned back and saluted their leader with a smile.

Normally, Skipper would return the salute, but Kowalski had given him something to think about. If he hadn't been so stubborn...if he'd just have listened to Private...If anything happened to him, he wouldn't know how to live with himself. He didn't feel as though he deserved a salute. He just nodded and pressed on.

*********************************************************

So this is what pure guilt feels like. As if your heart had just twisted into a ball, draining it of its blood, then falling into the pit of your stomach, weighing you down and causing your thoughts to focus on one thing: Making sure it's not too late before you can make things right again.

They'd been searching for almost an hour and couldn't find a trace of Private. The storm wasn't helping. Skipper recalled the last time Private snuck away to help the Amarillo Kid 'borrow' the famous Westchester Putter. He told Private to add some sneakaway drills to his training resumé because of the trail he left for them to follow. In the weeks that followed, Skipper was sure to do just that. It certainly paid off, and Skipper cursed himself. He wasn't sure how to feel. Aside from the guilt, he was worried that something might happen to Private. He was proud that Private had such guts and bravery to defy his orders to help a friend, yet annoyed that he had succeeded in getting away without a trace. He was also furious...with himself. He let this happen. And if something did happen to him, it'd be his fault. And it was turture to think that if something did happen to him, he'd of never gotten the chance to apologize to him. Private's theory may have been a little unbelieveable, unlikely, even. But not impossible. And he wasn't incompetent. He was a wonderful soldier. No... Skipper thought to himself. He is a wonderful soldier. He couldn't think of him in past tense, not as long as the feeling in his gut told him he was okay. He looked up at the clouds. Please, if there is a God, give me the chance to tell him that. Even though I don't deserve it.

"Skipper?"

Skipper flinched at the sound of Kowalski's voice.

"Are you alright?" He asked through worried eyes.

Skipper looked away as he nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just keep moving." He answered.

Kowalski hesitated, but said it anyway. "You're a lot alike, you know. You and Private, I mean."

"What are you talking about?" Skipper asked peering around a corner.

"He learned a lot from you. And during your argument, it was as if you were arguing with a mirror."

Skipper thought about their argument. When he did, he realized that Kowalski was more right than he realized. Whenever Skipper crossed his flippers, Private did the same. If he raised his voice, Private matched his volume. And vice-versa. When Private pointed at him, Skipper pointed an angry flipper back at him. The thought made Skipper feel worse. Private was turning into a little Skipper. A better one than himself in his own opinion.

*********************************************************

"Incompetent...how dare he call me incompetent..." Private muttered to himself as he waddled through New York in search of Leonard.

He'd searched the streets that were closest to the zoo and found nothing. He searched the park-nothing. Worry began to mix in with the anger that remained burning in his cheeks. As afraid as the thought made him, he only had one option.

He had to go to the junkyard.

If Leonard was there, there's a chance that he could save him. If he wasn't, then he'd have to keep searching the streets of New York and try to find him before someone else did.

It didn't seem to take as long to reach the junkyard last time. Maybe it was the fact that they took the car. Or the fact that they didn't know how dangerous that place was before. Private's little webbed feet seemed to have a mind of their own. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, his feet gradually began to drag through the water that pooled on the sidewalk.

He started to wonder what Skipper was doing right now. Probably laughing at me... Private thought. I'll show you, Skipper. I'll prove you wrong. He promised himself. He was so deep in thought that he didn't realize that he'd arrived at the junkyard.

He slowly approached the gates; his heart started beating faster...beads of sweat gathered at his forehead, at the back of his neck, at the palms of his flippers...a lump formed in his throat. He slapped himself.

"Come on, you nancycat!" He muttered to himself. "You are not afraid. You are not afraid." He told himself. He took a deep breath and peered into the junkyard.

From what he could see so far, it was empty. He took another breath and entered. The rain poured down on him from above. the clouds roared and cracked. The mud beneath his feet pushed between his toes with each step. The rain made it nearly impossible to see nor hear. He stayed close to the piles of junk, trying to stay hidden. He peered around a corner. He saw no one. He was about to go on when a voice behind him caused him to turn on his heel, getting into combat position.

"Looking for someone?" The voice said.

Private's eyes widened when he saw who owned the voice.

"You?!?"

*********************************************************

One Hour and Seventeen Minutes Ago...

Drip...drip...drip...drip...drip...

Slowly, Leonard opened his eyes. His vision was blurred slightly and he rubbed his eyes. His surroundings were unfamiliar, and damp. There was some sort of large rusty canopy-like thing overhead, acting as an umbrella, keeping him dry...for the most part.

Drip...

Leonard shook his head and ran his paw though his fur to clear it of the rusty water that was dripping on him from the crack of the rusty sheet of metal from above. Just as he was getting to his feet, a voice was heard to his left and he turned.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Leonard turned to meet the face to the voice. "Who are you?" He asked a crease forming between his eyes.

"Who I am is none of your concern."

"Well, considering I have no idea where I am or how I got here, I'd say it is my concern." Leonard protested crossing his arms.

"Don't know where you are? Look around, teddy bear."

Leonard wasn't sure if he should take his eyes off of her, unsure of what she could do if he did, but he did anyway. He looked at his surroundings beyond the canopy. This place did look familiar...his face fell in realization.

He was in the junkyard. It looked different soaked in rain, and during the day.

"Why did you bring me here?" He asked turning back to her.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"And if I try to leave?"

She just smiled...an evil smile that sent a chill down Leonard's spine.

At least he thought that was a chill.

The smell of fresh blood and flesh that suddenly filled his nostrils and the constant air that moved up and down his back changed that. He closed his eyes and let his arms fall to his sides with a sigh.

"I'm sure you remember Killer?"

Leonard, now angry, opened his eyes slightly. "How could I forget?" He replied. "But what do you have against me? What have I ever don't to you?"

"You? Nothing. But those penguins should be here to rescue you any time now. Then I will have satisfying revenge."

"So you're gonna use me just to get to them?"

"Well, when Killer and I met-long story short-we made a deal. I'd help him get to you if he'd deal with a couple of enemies of mine. He'd get five meals, I'd have my revenge. It seemed like a fair trade. And everything went just as planned. Now we wait."

A little over an hour had passed. Leonard started to think that they weren't coming for him. That they all thought he was crazy. Maybe it was for the best. Whoever this chick was obviously had it out for the penguins for some reason. And with Killer at her side, she was bound to have the advantage. That's when she came back from scouting the zoo and told he and Killer that Private had just come into the junkyard. Leonard's heart plummeted.

Private came back for him.

Killer pushed Leonard forward and the three of them crept around the junk and through the muddy dirt of the junkyard. Rain poured from overhead. Finally, he saw Private ahead, peering around a corner. He wanted to call out to him, but Killer put his paw over his mouth.

"Make a single noise and I'll kill you and your friend on the spot." He hissed into his ear. When they got close enough, she spoke up.

"Looking for someone?"

Private whipped around and his face fell in shock.

"You?!?"