If I could send a message to my muse, it would be to stop sending me plot bunnies right as I am about to fall asleep. All three of
these oneshots were written very late at night and I've read them several times to check for typos (of which I am unbelievably good at), however if I missed any, or if sentences still give the feeling of trying to walk through a gap between mountains when the mountains won't stop getting in the way...let me know :)

Different writing style with these than normal...Feedback is shiny :)

My heart is probably near the verge of exploding, and Snake is leaning over the side of the helicopter tossing down boxes of ammo I probably couldn't even lift as though they were well…cardboard boxes, and he doesn't even seem phased by it. I smell a cigarette. He's leaning against the side of the cargo door, shrouded in smoke, arms crossed. I know he hears it all the time and he hates it, but he really is the picture of an action hero.

"Hold on," I shout to him, doing everything I can to keep this stupid thing near enough to the bridge to where we can still support Raiden, but far enough away so that we won't get caught in the crossfire. Raiden's a good shot, but he's kind of under a lot of pressure, and everyone makes mistakes, and Solidus is doing a really good job of trying to keep us in the middle. Bastard.

I'm trying desperately to make myself sound calm. Or at least…not terrified. I'm not sure why, really, but I think it's more just because if I focus on sounding calm, I might be calm. Snake certainly isn't going to judge me for panicking, though I'll probably get at least a disapproving grunt, maybe even a full sentence, to remind me that it's when you let yourself get worked up and stop focusing on the mission that things go wrong.

But I've come a long way, really. Hell, I'm flying a helicopter…Dr. Emmerich definitely does not know how to fly a helicopter. He hates flying, actually, even if he does understand the science behind it. He would be far beyond terrified right now. But I'm finding that Otacon is almost exhilarated by the whole thing. Well, he would be if it weren't for the missiles that keep whizzing past us, trying to settle a mix of a twisted sibling rivalry and…well, we still aren't really sure about this kid's history, but he's got to be connected to Solidus somehow.

"How you doing Hal?"

Snake is beside me now, staring down at the control panel of the chopper even though I know he can't really tell what anything does. He opted out of the VR training I've been through. I never really asked why and he never volunteered, but my guess has always been that in his mind he would feel like he was comparing himself to Liquid. Snake prefers to be in the middle of the action if there's going to be any, and I think not learning was his way of making sure he never found himself in a situation where he was fighting from the inside of a cockpit. This was probably the closest he had any interest in getting—honestly it was probably driving him nuts not to be the one down on the bridge, but he seems to be the only brother who got the 'time and place' gene, and he listens to it.

"We're holding out fine. How's he?"

"Surprisingly resilient. I don't know many people who could have stayed alive this long."

"I know one," I grin at him in the most flirtatious way I think I am capable of, and he laughs (it's rare for him to really laugh, so I do what I can do induce it as often as possible), and touches a hand to my arm, giving it a slight squeeze, and—

And of course, this is the moment Raiden picks to fire a rogue missile straight into us.

"Dammit! Watch where you shoot that thing!" I yell out, fighting back the urge to laugh at comedic timing, and Snake shakes his head and resumes his post in the cargo hold, lighting another cigarette as he walks.