A/n: Hello! First ocean's 11/12 fic ever! I don't know if it is good but I just needed to write it...but anyways, I hope you like it...forgive me for any spellings mistake, english isn't my first language.

Disclaimer: nope...I don't own it...too sad cause I wish I could own Brad Pitt (and the rest of the handsome guys...)

Chapter one: Yelena Vladimirovich Nikolaev

"S'up? Do you need a ride?"

The girl nodded with a cautious look in her eyes. "Da," she mumbled, as the man opened the car's door for her to come in.

Sighing deeply as she got in, the warmth of the vehicle greeted her. She had been standing under the rain, hitchhiking for about an hour, hoping to get a ride with no luck until this small blue car stopped. The driver was a young man, probably on his mid twenties with blonde hair and soft blue eyes. He looked like a good guy, those you take home to meet your parents. "But one can never be too sure," she thought.

The driver looked at her. She wasn't bad, in fact she was not bad at all: she had light brown hair and piercing grey eyes and even though she wore a long trench-coat he could still notice her abundant curves. Coughing uncomfortably, driving away unnecessary images off his mind, he asked, "So where are you going?"

The girl snapped her attention at the young driver. "A hotel," she replied in a thick accent which seemed Russia, "need place to stay"

"Ok...let's see," he thought for a while, "I have this friend who owns a hotel and I believe it's not too expensive, so you could stay there..."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling. "What's your name again?"

"Yelena Vladimirovich Nikolaev," the girl answered nonchalantly.

"Oh, I see well, that's a...that's quite a long name."

Yelena smirked. "Yes."

"Soo," the driver continued, "where did you say you came from?"

"From Russia."

"Really? Wow, Russia must be a very, um, interesting country," he observed, obviously trying to force conversation. Seeing the girl didn't answer he added, "Was it nice there?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Hmm...had you been in the states before?"

"No."

"Really? Well, have you liked it here? I mean, you've probably haven't seen much of it, but so far?"

"From Russia."

"Right," he sighed. She didn't understand a word of English, or at least she was pretending she didn't understand. "I'm Linus by the way." The girl just smiled and nodded, while he sighed and shook his head.

After an hour or so, Linus stopped the car in front of a hotel. The place certainly wasn't a five stars hotel , it looked a bit shabby, and as he had said, not very expensive, it was actually tasteful, well at least for a chav it would be. It's exterior was painted in a faint coral tone, and fake tropical flowers were everywhere, to Yelena, this looked like a fake Caribbean palace. Nevertheless it was fine, she'd have to stay here or the street.

"Here it is," he said to the girl and afraid that she wouldn't understand he repeated it slowly, "this is the hotel...hotel...here."

Yelena sighed inwardly and smiled. She got off the car and thanked the boy. Linus' car soon disappeared into the distance. In the meantime, she entered the hotel running and soaking. Her hair was so wet that it actually looked a dark shade of brown and it was dripping water. Her trench-coat and clothes were a mess and stuck to her body. Leaving wet foot prints on her way, she walked to the counter and saw there was no one there. She touched the small bell they had (a/n: you know those thing that sound like 'Cling!' that are on Hotel counters and stuff...sorry I don't know what's the name..) and still no one came, there was no answer, until suddenly she saw a man coming hurriedly from a door on the left side of the room.

Yelena had never seen a man so handsome. He was tall and fit and he had short blonde hair and the most beautiful, deep pair of sea blue eyes. Yelena had to concentrate hard on not drooling, this was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous, sexiest man she had seen!

"Good evening miss, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Uh...need a room, please."

"Just one moment,"he said.,"JOHN!" Turning to see the girl's impressed expression, he smiled, showing his divine pearly whites.

After a few seconds a young man with shaggy brown hair came in and stood behind the counter with an uninterested expression across his face, he began reciting, in an unexpressive and bored voice, "Hello Mr, and/or, Ms, and welcome to Rust's Hotel, I mean to Pearl Hotel, what may I do for you?".

"I need room please?"

"Ok, name please."

The girl hesitated for a moment and then said, in the most thick Russian accent, "Varvara Yevgen'yevich Zakharov." The speed in which the words came out of her mouth was such, that the shaggy brown haired man juts stared at her dumbfounded.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked confused.

"That's Varvara," the good looking man said to John, "V-a-r-v-a-r-a Y-e-v-g-e-n-y-e-v-i-c-h, Z-a-k-h-a-r-o-v. Varvara Yevgen'yevich Zakharov."

Yelena looked at the handsome blond shocked. She had given them the most complicated, longest, and hardest to get (even for some Russians) name she could think of, and still this man managed to pronounce it and spell it. This could only mean she would have to be careful with him. He was no ordinary hotel owner, that was for sure.

John typed her complete name in the computer. "Ok, Miss Za...Zaja..."

"It's Za-Ha-rov," the, drop dead gorgeous, man said.

"Right, Ms. Za-Ha-rov," John resumed, "I'll need to know: your age, mobile phone number (if any)and um...your country."

"I am twenty five," Yelena lied. John looked at her suspiciously and typed 25 in the computer. "I do not have mobile phone, and my country is the Ukraine."

"All right. We accept credit cards, Visa, Master-card, and cash only Ms. Zakharov."

"Ah, I am terrible sorry...but my purse was stolen and I only have karbovanets, from the Ukraine. I, maybe can change karbovanets into dollars tomorrow, is possible paying tomorrow?"

The handsome man, smiled, cocking his head, looking at the young woman standing in front of him, analyzing her. "John could you give a few minutes alone with Ms. Zakharov?"

"Yeah, sure." John left quickly through the same door he had come in.

Once alone Rusty told Yelena, or Varvara Yevgen'yevich Zakharov to follow him. Doing as he told her, she soon found herself in a grand, yet cosy, dinning hall. There were a lot of people (more than Yelena had expected to be in a hotel like that) sitting on the tables, pleasantly eating. Rusty walked to a one of the tables that was unoccupied and sat, motioning Yelena to do the same. Once she had sat down, he just stared at her for the longest time, smirking. Yelena was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the handsome man's eyes when he finally cleared his throat to speak.

"Ms. Zakharov," he said, "I believe I haven't introduced myself yet, I'm Rusty Ryan, owner and manager of this hotel."

"Mr. Ryan it is a, great pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine, Ms. Zakharov."

"Now, I'd be glad if we discuss my payment, Mr. Ryan."

Rusty chuckled and looked at her straight in the eyes. "Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, I know your type, you might've fooled John back there, but I'm not falling for it."

Yelena went pale. He knew what she wanted to do. However, she decided to stick up to her plan, anyway, quickly changing her expression from pleased to offended. "I beg your pardon Mr. Ryan!?" she demanded raising her voice just a bit. "I have no idea of what you're talking about."

"Right, sorry my bad," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. "What did you say Ukraine's currency was?"

"Karbovanets, of course."

"Busted," Rusty said. "Ukraine's currency is the hryvnia and it was introduced September 2, 1996. So either you are lying and don't live in Ukraine...or you are quite disconnected from your own country, Ms. Zakharov."

"I...the...I'm...they changed them...I..."

"As I told you Varvara Yevgen'yevich Zakharov, I know your type. You come from Ukraine someone stole your purse and you don't have dollars so you're going to pay tomorrow...that means you were going to stay in one of the first floor rooms, as near as possible to the streets and you were planning to leave tomorrow first thing in the morning through the room's window."

Yelena looked at Rusty blankly. She, then quickly, covered her face with her hands and tried to fake a fit of hysterical sobs, while Rusty raised one of his brows. These girl was a hell of a good actress, but she couldn't fool him. Seeing her sobs didn't produce any effect whatsoever in him, and seeing this, Yelena turned to her last resource: begging.

She threw herself to the floor, kneeled in front of Rusty and wrapped her arms on one of his legs, shouting, "please Mr. Ryan, please don't throw me to the streets! I don't have anywhere to go...I can't return home all my family is dead! Please!" Yelena yelled so loud several faces were now turning to look at them. Rusty smiled uncomfortably at them, pretending everything was all right, while Yelena continued her screaming, "the only choice I have left is to sell my body for a few dollars, but I don't want to do that Mr. Ryan, please help me!"

Now people were whispering to each other and muttering about the poor orphan foreign girl, being forced to sell her body to survive, and being thrown on the streets by the insensitive hotel manager. Rusty groaned. "Ok, ok...let's start over kid," he said, "get up." Yelena got up , brushed non-existent tears off her face and sat down again, facing him. "First of all, what's your real name?"

"Yelena Vladimirovich Nikolaev," she said.

"Also know as..."

"My mother called me Lenushka." She sniffed. "But you can call me Lena."

"You aren't really 25 are you?"

"I'm 23." Rusty looked at her suspiciously. "Ok, I'm 22 going on 23..." Rusty scowled. "almost 22?" He raised a brow. "I'm 20...going on 21."

"Where do you come from Lena?"

"Moscow."

"Ok, why are you here?"

"I am going to be honest with you Mr. Ryan, my father kicked me out because I robbed an art museum."

Rusty smiled, widely. "Welcome to the family."

A/n: that's it for chapter one...sorry if it's confusing or something it's like 3 in the morning. This is an ocean's 12 fic...rather than an O11...but I guess it has a bit of both movies, but since it set after O12...enough of my rambling, please REVIEW...and if you are going to flame leave a signed review...or your e-mail, hopefully you won't flame though.