I haven't been here in so long, is the term 'oneshot' still used? I guess I'll have to relearn everything.

I wrote this because both my friends and family (and watchers on this site) insisted that I write at least one more fanfic, even though I'd abandoned writing for drawing years ago. Now I realize that writing is still pretty fun for me, so maybe this will become my new practice grounds :) Don't expect multi-chaptered stories though, that was never my strong point. Anyways, enjoy!


It seemed that Sabrina and her millionaire father Regis never got along. He was overprotective and narcissistic, and she was like her estranged mother – shy and intelligent, but dedicated to justice. Every month brought a new argument that always led to nowhere, generally, but this month seemed to be quickly spiraling out of control.

"Father, please!" Sabrina pleaded. "What sense would it make to just leave without warning?"

"There is nothing here for us, Sabrina! In case you had not noticed, we are miners, not ranchers!"

Regis paused and, swaggering a bit, continued to say "Besides, you'll never find a suitable husband here among these hicks...!"

For gentle Sabrina, that was the last straw. She turned away from her inconsiderate father and ran out of their two-story mansion, slamming the door behind her. The sudden rush of wind from the door slamming shut brought in a chilly winter breeze. Regis scoffed at his daughter's insolence and shivered at the sudden cold. Clearly, he thought, she needed to get her thoughts in order before coming back home.

With tears welling in her eyes, Sabrina hurried down the street. She had no other destination other than 'as far away from that place as possible'. The cold winter air only proved to be a hindrance – another 'unnecessary annoyance', as her father would say. Just like her. The winter sun seemed to mock her and every other living creature on the small island, withholding its warmth yet still shining so bright. Her gait quickened until she was almost trotting past Lanna's house and the café... and right into the small frame of Pierre.

Pierre was, to say the least, an odd fellow. He just barely managed to top Sabrina's height, and that was without his purple top hat and elevated jockey boots. Pierre was born with a silver spoon in his mouth – both figuratively and literally. The Gourmets, a family of rich European chefs, was the bloodline he belonged to and he was determined to live up to its name.

He'd been looking for wild ingredients (as he always did on sunny days) when Sabrina bowled him over. Now, disheveled and surprised, Pierre stood up and shook the snow off his coat.

For a moment they stayed like that – Sabrina, rooted to the spot out of embarrassment and Pierre, unsure of what to make of the clearly distressed girl in front of him. Sabrina broke the silence.

"...Ah- um- I'm so s-sorry! It's just I was arguing, then I ran, and then you, then, um - "

"Hold on a second! Attente!" Pierre cried. Once he had her attention, he continued.

"First of all, are you okay? I'm fine, but has something serious happened to you?"

Sabrina sighed. "Not yet..."

At Pierre's puzzled look, Sabrina explained everything. How there wasn't enough ore on the island, how her father wanted to leave, and how she may be married off to a cruel and power-loving man – just like her mother before her.

"I cannot talk him out of it, either. It's hopeless..." Sabrina could feel tears welling up inside her again. They were all too familiar.

It that moment, Pierre leaned forward, slowly. Sabrina didn't notice his gesture until he was close to her. A little too close, but she was okay with it, sort of. She closed her eyes and relaxed, assuming what would happen next.

Instead of following the obvious cliché and kissing her, Pierre placed a consoling arm around Sabrina's shoulders. He didn't know Sabrina like that, and unless she wanted to, he wouldn't.

Sabrina opened her eyes and stared at the pudgy hand on her right shoulder. Her face went red. She found it interesting how her mind could misinterpret things so easily, like a little kid. Pierre sighed gently and giggled, reflecting his inherent childish nature. Their eyes met.

"Sabrina, you don't need to worry about a thing. Your father can't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

"What...?" Clearly the concept of 'freedom of choice' was new to sheltered, naíve Sabrina.

"My point is... you are your own person. You have the freedom to do as you wish – as long as it's not illegal, of course."

This caused Sabrina to smile, then laugh softly. That was just what Pierre wanted. He was no comedian, nor a psychiatrist. He was only a simple chef, but he tried his best to help in any and every situation.

"If you want to stay on the island, then stay. I'll be glad to help in any way I can." Pierre stated this simply. Sabrina nodded in response.

With that, Pierre slipped his arm off Sabrina's shoulders and turned to leave with a smile. Sabrina stood there and watched him walk away (awkwardly, in that Napoleon-esque way of his). She felt empowered enough to march back home and talk her father into a corner now.

Well, almost.

Before Pierre could reach his purple-roofed house and slip inside to its warmth, she stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve. He turned to look back at Sabrina. Sabrina placed her other hand on her cheek, making her look endearing even to baby-faced Pierre.

"W-would you...? Um... please... err...?" Sabrina floundered, but eventually gathered herself. You grabbed his sleeve, she told herself. Now finish the question.

"W-would you come with me? Back home?"

Pierre's eyes widened. It was his turn to take things the wrong way now, just like a child would. He looked like a deer in headlights, metaphorically speaking. Sabrina tugged on his sleeve a little more, then realized why he wouldn't budge from that spot.

"Gah, by the Sunshine Islands, I didn't mean in that way! I meant, can you help me convince my father not to leave?"

Pierre relaxed, chuckled at his own trip-up, then hesitated before answering. It took a minute for him to finally reply.

"...No."

"What?"

"Sabrina," Pierre began, "I won't come with you because you don't need me there. You, as Regis' daughter, have the most influence over the situation. I would only get in the way." Pierre sighed deeply and placed both his hands on Sabrina's shoulders before practically whispering his next statement. "Do you remember what happened when your father met Vaughn? I hate to bring it up, but it was not very pretty, was it?"

Sabrina thought back to that day. She and Vaughn had just met a week ago, and she insisted that the reluctant cowboy come by for tea (a rare occurrence, seeing as Sabrina was normally shy). Sabrina's mistake showed in the time that she'd invited the cowboy over – when her father was out of the house, doing an appraisal on Volcano Island.

When Regis came back to see his only daughter alone with Vaughn, who was rather imposing to most people on the island, he exploded. Vaughn was known for his temper, and he argued back. Since that day, Vaughn avoided Sabrina, deciding that he'd rather not have anything to do with her, or else have to face her father again.

Pierre's voice gently brought her back to reality. "Do you remember what I said before? 'You are your own person' – don't let your father take that freedom away from you."

Pierre let go of Sabrina's shoulders and slipped inside his house, slower this time, just in case Sabrina wanted to say something else. But she didn't, and instead waved dreamily at Pierre. He waved back, then quietly let the door close with a click.

At this, Sabrina turned and began to walk towards her own house, where her father was waiting. She looked up into the sky. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, casting a reddish glow on the trees and buildings. How long had she and Pierre been talking? What time had she left home originally?

It does not matter, she told herself. Right now, you need to focus on the task ahead. Sabrina had arrived at the front door of her house. What seemed hours of walking was actually only a minute or so. With one final, determined sigh, Sabrina remembered Pierre's kind words, grabbed the doorknob, and turned it.


Please be kind with your reviews. Writing isn't my strong point, nor is english. Also, this is my first time writing in this category, which is why I focused on quality instead of quantity. Flamers/fangirls will be ignored, but I do enjoy an intelligent review.