Reposting some ficlets and drabbles originally posted to my tumblr. I plan on doing more, much, much more, especially since I've cleared away some other writing projects and want to refocus on my hiatused GI Joe fic. Sorry for those of you who I know have been waiting me to get back to these guys.

I plan on doing a lot of these as speed writing challenges, so I won't vouch for the quality. This one was written as part of the 30 day OTP challenge, day 1: meeting. It is set pre show.


It was still night when I woke up. At least, that's what I assumed. It was difficult to tell, because there were no windows or doors in the room, only a faint, bluish glow, like the nightlight I used after my mother died, emanating from a small lamp on a table.

I was groggy - after effects of whatever poison must be in those damn darts. My mind cleared slowly, and when the fog finally lifted and my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw him, the man who brought me here.

He was as dark and terrifying as I remembered. But I wasn't terrified. One reason is that fear doesn't come naturally to me. Back home they called me "scrappy Shana" because I was always knocking heads together. I might be a scientist's kid, but my interests never ran that way. I was always more in the mood to hit punching bags than hit the books.

The other reason was the way he was sitting, cross legged in the corner, leaning gently against the wall with his hands in his lap, and very quiet and still. Even dressed head to toe in black, he didn't look very menacing sitting like that. He looked more like a peaceful statue, like a guy who just wanted a nice nap.

I watched him for awhile. And then I remembered what he'd done, and my anger ignited, heated, and boiled over in two seconds. "Where did you bring me?" I shouted.

He started suddenly. Maybe he really was sleeping. It was hard to tell with that mask.

But whatever the case, he wasn't sleeping anymore, and he slowly unfolded himself and began walking towards me.

I knew instantly I'd made a mistake. My mouth is always getting me into trouble. A thin futon lay beneath me, barely thick enough to keep away the biting cold of the cement floor, and I was trying in vain to rouse my heavy limbs when he stopped in front of me and stuck his hand into the shadowy void of his uniform.

This is it. I closed my eyes and pictured how my end would come. With a knife, perhaps. Maybe another dart. Or how about one of those razor sharp star thingies that appear out of nowhere and never seem to run out? For all my scrappiness back home, I doubted it would be enough against someone with the confidence to wear two swords strapped across his back.

Just as I was formulating a reunion speech for my dad, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I opened one eye. "Yes?" Then he handed me my phone.

And then he texted me.

*This is where I live.*

The room was the size of a closet, and there wasn't even a toilet. "Seriously?"


It was starting to dawn on me this guy had no intention of hurting me, poisonous darts notwithstanding, and I began to relax. "Okay. How did you….how did you get my number?"

He just shrugged. Like it should have been obvious, like everyone in the universe ought to have my personal cell phone number.

"Fine. Why did you kidnap me?"

*Didn't kidnap you,* he typed. *Rescued you.*

"I think you need to read the criminal code a little more closely."

*You had no business breaking into that Cobra plant.*

"So what? What do you care, are you on Cobra's security payroll?"

*Cobra is my enemy. They are your enemy as well. That's why I stopped you. You had no plan. They would have caught you and arrested you, or worse.*

"Worse…you mean like drugging me and kidnapping me?"

*I had no choice. You wouldn't leave. There was no other way to stop you. And I didn't bring you here to keep you. You can leave whenever you want.*

"How, exactly? There's no windows or doors or -" The steely sound of his sword unsheathing silenced me dead. He raised the sword over his head and used the tip to prod the ceiling. One of the tiles lifted, silver moonlight shining down on us like a spotlight.

"We have to go out through the ceiling?"

*It's how we came in."

"You've got to be kidding me…" I rubbed my temples. The insanity of the situation was starting to catch up to me, and I was getting fed up. I wobbled to a stand, crossed my arms as defiantly as I could, tilted my chin in the way dad hated, and let everything pour out: "What right do you have to bring me here? I mean, what does it matter to you if Cobra throws me in prison? Why do you care what happens to me? You don't know anything about me! And I definitely have no idea who you are. Who are you? And why are you texting me? Why don't you just talk to me? And why -"

He didn't cover my mouth, but the way he held up his hand, equal parts grace and ferocity, had the same smothering effect. I stopped my tirade and he put a hand on each of my shoulders. The connection was steadying. I breathed deeply for a few moments, and after all the fear and uncertainty of the night, all I felt at that moment was safe.

*If I take you home,* he wrote, *will you please promise me to stay away from Cobra?*

I'm a woman of numbers and logic. But there was nothing logical about the small voice inside me, whispering that now that I'd met this dark, silent stranger, my life would never be the same.

"Hell no."

And the way he staggered backwards, as if my answer had slapped him in the face and he had no idea how to respond, made me wonder if he was hearing the same thing.