Title: For a Little Fire
Rating/Warnings: M
Summary: The Planeteers left Hope Island five years ago to pursue their own dreams. Linka is definitely ready to go back - life wasn't exactly easy when she had to deal with it alone.

Notes: This is my first ever Captain Planet fic! I admit I haven't watched the episodes in a while, so my grasp of the characters may not be perfect - but I hope you like it, all the same! This story has language and adult themes in it. I'll try to warn ahead, in appropriate chapters, if certain scenes are likely to be worse than others.

It's set in present day, rather than during the canon time line.

Linka checked her cell phone and pocketed it again once she was sure it was off. Shoelaces tied and hair in a tidy ponytail, held off her face. Flash-light, lock-picking kit, portable memory stick, pen, paper.

Ready.

She slipped under the fence and stole along the line of shadow the nearby buildings offered, heading towards the main office, her eyes darting left and right for the security guard she knew would be on patrol nearby. Once she was inside it would be easier.

She held her breath as she tinkered quickly with the lock on the window – glancing over her shoulder now and then, her ears straining to pick up any noise that wasn't suited to the normal background hum of crickets and shifting leaves.

She dropped silently through the window and slid it closed again, her eyes immediately seeking the security panel near the laboratory door. The light was green, which meant the building hadn't been sealed yet. She sat back against the wall and checked her watch. It wouldn't be long. Focusing her eyes on the little green light, she refused to let her mind wander. From the moment it turned red, she'd have 60 seconds to disarm it again. Any longer and the code would lock her out.

She breathed slowly, watching the light, listening to far-off voices calling good night, and footsteps fading away as people left for home. The lights in the hallway were shut off, and she gripped her flash-light.

The light on the security panel went red, and she aimed her flash-light at the floor and hurried across the room, anxious to avoid crashing into the furniture and the empty, gleaming glass flasks carefully arranged on the counters.

She pressed her ear to the door first, and heard nothing. The building was silent. Crossing her fingers, she punched cancel and waited with bated breath. The light flashed green again. No sirens went off – and nobody muttered curses outside before punching the code in again. They had gone, simply assuming that the alarm would continue to count down the final minute before arming itself.

Linka waited a little longer, feeling tense. Finally, convincing herself that everything was okay, she slipped out into the hallway, keeping her flash-light off, but handy. She relied on the windows along the corridor as she crept on silently toward the stairs, the moonlight bright enough to cast a grey shadow alongside her.

She stopped on an upper floor, outside laboratory 12, and tested the door. Locked. She clamped her flash-light in her teeth and took out her lock-picking kit, working hurriedly. She was nervous and she wanted to get out of there fast.

The computers all hummed silently in the dark, lights blinking here and there. She locked the door behind her and sat at the closest computer. Her fingers ran rapidly over the keys and she plugged the USB drive in, searching for files to copy.

She was almost done when a shadow fell across the frosted glass in the door.

She looked up in alarm and quickly disconnected her USB drive, her eyes darting to the alarm panel by the door. The light still glowed green – she was safe.

But someone was here.

The door handle rattled gently.

"Chyort voz'mi..." She ducked behind the desk at the front, peering around the corner. She tucked the memory stick into her bra and zipped her jacket up again slowly, biting her lip as the metal teeth ran together. It sounded awfully loud.

A key. A key was slid into the lock and it clicked open. The door swung silently and a shadow entered. Linka dared not look. She pressed herself against the counter at the front of the room, praying that whoever it was would stay on that side of it and not see her sitting there. She anxiously ran over everything she'd done so far to avoid getting caught.

No perfume or strong-smelling soaps, her cell was switched off, her clothing was dark and – as a result – difficult to see in the shadowy moonlight. Had she been seen sneaking in? Had someone come to check the alarm and discovered that it wasn't on?

She risked a peek around the edge of the desk, but she couldn't see the new arrival. She could hear computer keys clacking gently and she prayed that she'd left everything just as she'd found it. She didn't want to be discovered until after she'd reached the rendezvous point and was well and truly out of the way and safe.

It seemed a long time before anything else happened. She'd been stuck there for at least half an hour listening to computer keys and mouse clicks, when there was the soft sound of a chair being scraped back slowly, and footsteps on linoleum. The door opened again, slowly, and clicked shut.

Linka hurried to the door herself. Whoever it was, they'd be turning the alarm on again soon, and she wanted to be out of there. She made herself wait an agonising ten seconds before she slipped out into the hallway and began hurrying toward the stairwell.

She was annoyed that she'd been disturbed. She hoped she had everything she needed. She wasn't sure if anyone would be able to tell what she'd done, but she didn't want to risk a second break-in the following night. She had to hope she'd copied over enough evidence. Maybe it was just in time – she hadn't checked to see what the other 'visitor' was doing. Maybe he had deleted everything?

She cursed herself for not checking, and considered doubling back – but the situation had become too risky. She slowed as she neared the stairwell. The building was not very big, but she didn't know it very well, and she wanted to make sure she wasn't going to emerge too close to the security station. A quick glance at a nearby alarm panel indicated that the main alarm was still switched off – though the main exits had their own separate codes. She'd need to find another window, or a door designated for deliveries and freights.

A soft footstep behind her made her freeze.

She moved on pure adrenaline and instinct, whirling around and aiming a high kick at the man behind her. To her surprise, he ducked, and countered with a kick of his own, knocking her to the floor. She grunted in pain and surprise. He went to move past her – a shadow in the dark aiming for the stairwell, but she reached for him, desperate to avoid him raising the alarm. She tripped him by grabbing his ankle, and struggled to beat him to his feet. He was fast, though – and strong. He lashed out again, and she fell back against the wall with a gasp. She resisted the urge to swear – her accent, let alone her native language, would be a dead give-away.

She kicked him again and this time she connected with his knee. She heard him grunt in pain, and she took the opportunity to flee into the stairwell, leaping down steps four at a time and relying on her rubber soles to keep the noise to a minimum. She could hear him following, his breath heavy.

Sure he would soon be joined by security guards, she didn't bother toying with the alarm. She burst through a side door into the night air and ran for the fence, not risking a look over her shoulder to see just how much attention she'd gained. She heard a shout, and lights flooded the yard, but by that time she had made it to the fence and was rapidly scaling it. She fell heavily into the scrub on the other side and finally took a moment to look back. Security guards were running about in confusion, unsure about what had just happened. Someone was pointing in her direction, and though she was sure she was out of sight now, she didn't bother hanging around any longer.