After a very long year, I have gotten myself together to create the companion to An Artist's Agonized Addictions and I am really thinking about writing two more pieces for Skipper and Private, of course getting them started and finished is really the issue.

Anyway, Penguins of Madagascar isn't mine but enjoy my versions of them.

Sorely Sought Scientist's Sanity

"Stop making a mess stop making it worse, Stop living a lie just to kill a curse" ~ Parabelle

The man fought his urge to groan and then promptly beat his head against the wall as he laid awake in his bunk. Sleep seemed like such an unnecessary need, he could be spending his time in the lab, instead of wasting it by being asleep or he would be asleep if he could actually fall asleep. Unfortunately, his mind never seemed to stop, always running, looking for answers to questions that might not even have answers.

Alas that was the downfall of such brilliance, without sleep his mind would be in top performance, and all of his discovers would fall away in favor of much simpler mindset. Something he couldn't allow to happen, without his intelligence he'd be left with nothing. Then he'd have no way to impress Doris, no way to win her heart. Romance wasn't exactly one of his strong suits, he lacked the charm and charisma, no hint of mystery to draw a woman in. Which was something even Skipper and Private could do, well Private landed dates because he was adorable. He didn't dare compare himself to Rico, whose name even meant rich and tempting, who would always leave a bar with woman or sometimes a man draped over his arm.

A sharp pain of sympathy stung his heart as he thought about the other man. In-between the steady ticks of the clock he could hear the continuous sound of pencil over paper. It wouldn't be the first time Rico was up late drawing, more than once had they crossed paths in the middle of the night when sleep had eluded them. He would always catch a glimpse of the weapons expert on his way to the lab, it seemed where inventing was his solution to a restless night, and drawing was Rico's. Only drawing was more than Rico's way of fighting insomnia, it was his way of coping with what were certainly the beginnings of insanity. Kowalski felt his stomach twist again at the thought, he had seen Rico when he was first brought in from Chile, had seen the scars left from forced experiments, and torture. There had been nothing left in the man's blue-green eyes; he'd flinch if you so much as glanced at him, but for some reason Rico started to trust him, open up to him. That was something he'd given up long ago on trying to figure out.

There was actually a lot of things he had given up on trying to figure out, like how matters of the heart worked, never had he been able to grasp the concept of emotions. Private had once even accused him of being a Vulcan after watching one too many episodes of Star Trek, which led to an interesting mission about Tribbles in the sewers, but that was something he certainly didn't want to think about. Instead he shifted his thoughts to all of the things he'd given up on. He had given up on trying to figure out why his mind never seemed to stop working, on why Private was Skipper's favorite, on how Private managed to hold onto his childlike innocence. Or why the only time he ever seemed to be able to focus on anything was if Rico was involved.

Perhaps Rico wasn't the only one on edge of insanity after all, or maybe he had already gone over the edge. According to everyone else he already had, especially with some of his last inventions. But he had to stop that thought before it continued, instead pulling his focus to the numerous equations running rampant in his mind. There were just too many thoughts or at least too many thoughts at once, he couldn't hold on to one and follow it without it leading to a thousand more.

The sound of pencil across paper caught his attention once more, his mind going straight to Rico. He wondered what the other man drew during these late sleepless hours. If maybe Rico was pining after someone, like he was with Doris. If he constantly worried about losing his mind by getting caught up in too many thoughts. Or how Rico had gotten the scar across his face or if he had someone waiting for him in Costa Rica.

The thoughts began to settle in his mind, his eyes growing heavy, sleep beginning to overtake him. He saw Rico's face in his mind, a movie reel of all the years they'd worked together began to play as he fell further down into sleep. He smiled slightly, finding a scrap of his sanity, the one piece that held him together.