A/N: Bro, it's good to be back.

So this little fic is dedicated to my close netpal (internet pal, am I using this term right?), Miss catty-cat-cat, who just finished another round of circling the sun. Yeah, I know, this fic is two days late… my lazy self is to blame. I am sorry for the lack of awesome title. Might change it someday. Anyway, happy birthday Cat! Here's a fic of your favorite pairing!

Again, I don't know what genre this is! I'm sorry! Humanized character alert!

Disclaimer: I do not own Penguins of Madagascar or its characters, and I do not own the 'fate and choice' quote down there. This story is purely fiction.

Antiseptic

The scent of alcohol never ceased to disturb her. He knew that she had some sort of grudge against all things alcohol or medicine-related, which was why she never got sick – regular cold and chicken pox being the only exceptions. And yet, against the fact, to Skipper, seeing her surrounded by medicine and band-aids didn't seem out of place. The way her eyes would focus on the healing task at hand, how her hands moved in perfect coordination and put just the right amount of povidone-iodine, how she took careful steps while stitching his wounds; she really looked like that was where she truly belonged.

"Aren't you gonna ask what I did today?" he started lamely after the long silence – if you don't count the ticking clock, that is. She only glanced at him for a second before focusing back to the long red cut along his forearm; tweezers and a cotton in one hand, the other held him still even though he was practically immune to light stings now, as a habit. Her lips were pulled into a straight line as she maintained the cotton's pressure and movements, her long brown hair tied into a neat ponytail, her usual side bangs were missing. Skipper hadn't noticed that they have already gotten long enough to join the ponytail. It surely hadn't been that long since the last time he saw her. Just… what, a month?

"Like you would answer me," she muttered with a light snort.

Skipper was moving his dangling feet back and forth when the half Chinese half Spanish woman said that, trying to ignore the blaring silence that threatened to come back. In all honesty, he didn't know why he grinned. "True… But ask anyway."

She pulled herself away a little bit to examine the rest of the wound; it wasn't as bad as the moment Skipper knocked on her door earlier, when his white shirt's sleeve was soaked in blood and he grinned like an idiot.

Bruised and tattered. Victorious. Skipper never cared how those terms' relationship works, he just wanted to kick some bad guy's ass and fight for justice. She? She was in the picture just as the healer. She used to nag about how reckless he was and how she would stop helping him because she couldn't take it anymore, but every time he always ended up knocking on her door and she always opened it.

Skipper just shrugged in secret. He too never did understand how the two of them work.

The sound of ripping plastic bag filled the room, his feet were back to its slow rhythmic swinging.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, applying antiseptic on his cut. She now had her brows furrowed in deep thought. Skipper knew that whatever she had in her mind were not about 'reckless behaviors' when she put the tweezers away and placed her clenched fists on her knees that were pressed together.

"Sorry about what?"

She lifted her head, ready to speak, yet she still shifted her glance between him and her own hands. A few thoughts later, her eyes settled on his cut.

"About Lola."

The statement sparked a confusion in him, because he was preparing silly answers for questions like 'how did this happen' or mutters about how dumb men like him are. But he didn't expect Lola. He never did.

"Don't be." His voice almost made her turn away. "I know I'm not."

Something in the last sentence made her relax. Although Skipper didn't know what, he was glad that it came from him.

"I'm glad you're taking this break up well. But… you said it like she didn't matter."

He scoffed, "Why should she?" Marlene's brows were furrowed once again. "She's part of the past, now."

"That's the point. You never take your relationships seriously." Skipper opened his mouth to speak, knowing he'd never get the chance to. Marlene was far from finished. "And not just with your girlfriends. Your dads, your brother, your friends… You always act as if they could attack you any time."

A condescending, slightly mad laughter escaped Skipper's lips, causing her to take a deep shaky breath and squint her eyes shut as imaginary people yelled "He has gone bonkers!" in her head.

He raked his fingers through his raven hair. Madness could be seen flashing in his cold blue eyes. It hurt when Marlene remembered that she used to find warmth in those eyes. "Really, of all people, you don't get it?" Skipper shook his head, half amused and half in disbelief. "No, tell me, Marlene. Do you still not get it?"

"How am I supposed to know? You never let me."

"I don't need to. I think we both know that, don't we?" Shades of blue bore into rich brown. Silent took over as they pondered about their next move; spit out another lie, or confess for one last time. Skipper chose… not quite both. "Isn't it obvious? It's the mask, Marlene. I have a city to protect and bad guys trailing me all the time. Does it really surprising that I don't trust people?"

"You seemed to trust me enough to clean your wounds. I think you're just afraid of what people would think of your alter ego. And I get it, I do. Heroes have alter egos, bad guys do too. But does it really worth it? Living all alone, distancing yourself from everyone… You know you're harming yourself."

"It's what's best for everyone."

She replied, just as stubborn, "Well you are also part of everyone."

Soft white band-aid started to wrap his forearm gently, as Marlene said, "Contrary to your belief, Skipper, just because you distanced yourself from your friends, that doesn't mean nobody cares about you anymore." She let her eyes met his once again, this time she let him see inside her soul to tell him that what she said was true. They both knew it wasn't the first time, but still, lost for the umpteenth time in those chocolate pools, Skipper made the same mistake he did years ago. "Tell me that's not true, and I'll believe you." He couldn't. He never could. When he turned away in defeat, she smiled. "I'm not asking much, Skipper." He groaned inwardly at her pleading voice. Anything, anything but my name, he thought in frustration. "I'm just asking you to stop pushing them away."

He blew it. He came here for their usual never-ending game, thinking that he could handle it. Then he had to look into her eyes… The eyes and its danger he knew so well. Stupid!

He ran his free hand over his face, honestly he didn't know why. Maybe because he didn't want her to see whatever expression was on his face. Maybe because he was holding himself back from looking at her.

Looking down at the wound Marlene was wrapping, he dared himself to ask her the one thing he'd been wondering for years, consequently taking the round into a never seen before twist.

How did we end up here?

"Me, an almost full-time spy slash town hero," he added, "You, Broadway actress-wannabe who ended up being a ballet teacher."

There wasn't a lot to say, really. He who as a child dreamed of an unrealistic dream that somehow came true in a horrible way, she who as a child dreamed of a spotlight became the one who works behind the curtains… No, there wasn't anything good to say at all. "We screwed up," Marlene said. You left.

"Nah, I don't think that's it."

She raised a brow in confusion. She could have a long debate with him on how everything she said was true. But what was the point? His head was as stubborn as a rock.

It was her turn now to throw the dice. "Tell me, then. How did 'an eleven years old me opened the door and found a boy and a video game' turned into 'a twenty six years old me opens the door and finds a man dressed in blood'?" Why do you always come back?

"Well, we screwed up." Why do you always open the door?

Marlene shook her head, laughing. "Oh, so now you agree?"

Everyone they know shared a secret; when Marlene smiles, Skipper will too.

"Hey, we all mess up."

"No duh," she chuckled, bemused. But it seemed that this sunny part of the conversation was the furthest Fate would let them as Skipper's smile ceased to that of a lie.

"Except me. At least, not in this case."

She finished wrapping his wound. Carefully she moved her gaze upwards where his eyes wouldn't look at her, and then she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Meeting you is fate, but being your friend is a choice." She attempted a small nod of understanding, but for his sake couldn't figure out where he was going. "And I didn't make a mistake at all when I chose to. So, before I say anything else, I just want you to know that I appreciate it that you decided to look past my downsides and be my friend. Sometimes I wonder if you'll always be there."

"What do you think I've been doing? I always sleep with my first aid kit under my pillow!" She knew it wasn't funny. Yet she laughed anyway because something was terribly wrong with his smile.

"Yeah, and then you do that, proving that I have nothing to worry about. As always. But then the world asked me: what if the real mistake was your choice?"

…

"And if it wasn't, are we ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"To face the truth that we both know why we're here right now and why we keep coming back."

...

The End

A/N: Whoo it's done! *karate chops a piece of wood* Hope you enjoy my first posted attempt at slight Skilene. Now, I must go and get my healthy dose of Chinese culture. *fangirl squeal* Review, maybe?

(Hilarious stuff: the site's grammar check apparently doesn't recognize the word 'povidone' and when I clicked on it to see the suggestions all I find is Poseidon)

Thank you for reading!