Okay, I wrote this simply because Snake never gets much love centers. I had to make him someone he could be with, with some struggle, but all in all, happily. She is not a Mary-Sue; she's me, with long hair and sunglasses. Yay. So please, read, respond, and relish...? Relish? WTF does relish even mean? This is an alternate universe, taking place during Sons of Liberty.

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"Who is there?" A voice, Russian, Male. But he couldn't've possibly seen Snake, could he? No, he was looking away, and Snake stayed well hidden. He pulled a Hal Emmerich and almost wet his pants as a female voice answered, scratchy, as if whoever it was had a sore throat.

"Ne. Where is it?"

"Where is what?!"

"Hm?! You aren't a Marine?!"

"Who are you?!"

"Then I suppose it won't matter!" The sound of a silenced handgun, and a groan of pain.

"If you can't tell me where Metal Gear is, you aren't of any use to me. Anyway..."

Snake had loaded his gun. He jumped out, and looked around. Where was she? Then he spotted her, leaning near the fallen man, wearing all black. She looked young, and Snake couldn't help fifteen seconds of fantasy.

He stepped forward. She wasn't facing him, so he walked forward quietly, until his gun was pressed to her back. She stiffened, but said nothing, and did not move.

"You have a weapon." Snake observed. "Drop it. Kick it away." She did so, and then ceased moving again.

"Both hands in the air where I can see them, miss. Turn around. Slowly!" He added sharply, seeing her attempt at whipping around.

She wore black sunglasses, concealing her eyes. Any hair she had was covered in a black bandana. Her trench coat was open, showing a black turtleneck sweater, and black leather pants. She wore black, woolly gloves, and knee-high black boots, with no heels. Her lips were painted black, and were pursed into a small line. Finally she smiled, tilting her head back to look at Snake's face. "Hi."

That, thought Snake, has got to be the single strangest thing that anyone has ever said to me in a position like this. "Who are you?" Asked Snake, his eyes narrowed. "And why are you here?"

"My name? ....Actually, everyone just calls me 'T'. No one ever really named me. So, just call me 'T'. I'm here, because I was told to come here. Isn't that why you are here?"

"...Yeah. But that's not exactly what I meant. ...Dammit, look, I can't just leave you here, so you're coming with me. And you're helping me."

"What are you going to do with me afterward?"

Snake looked down at her and gasped. Her grin was maniacal, if not just demonic. She was looking straight at him, and he was able to make out her eyes through her dark glasses. They were constricted, and looking mighty strange.

"That remains left to be s- woah, I got an idea. Don't move." He triggered his Codec. It rang. Once. Twice. Thrice.

"Snake, what's up?"

"Well, Otacon, we have a bit of an issue."

"Yeah, what's going on?" Otacon blinked, confused, wondering what could possibly be going on this early in the mission.

"Turns out I'm not the only solo here." Snake said, a sour smile fixing on his lips as he surveyed the girl, T.

"What? Snake, who else is there? Who else could possibly be there?!" Otacon sounded generally jumpy.

"Some girl, calling herself 'T'. She looks insane. Pretty harmless, without a gun."

"Oh, then, sedate her and get on with it."

"Not that easy, Otacon. Turns out she had a gun." Snake was determined to remain calm under her demented stare.

"Oh, great."

"Yeah, and that's not even the bad news."

"Oh no."

"Oh no's right. She is looking for Metal Gear." Snake clenched his teeth, almost expecting Otacon to shriek.

"Oh God." Came Otacon's quiet surprise. "...Who's she with, Snake?"

"She hasn't said. Hang on. Hey-!" He turned to the girl. "What's your group? FOXHOUND?"

"Group? I'm not with any group..." T lowered her hands and Snake followed them. "Don't worry. You canned my only gun. I have a few knives in my boots, but I can't get to them without you shooting my face off. And believe me, I don't wanna lose that." She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pants pocket, bit the end of one, pulled out put with her teeth, and put them back. She dug around in the same pocket, and pulled out a lighter. She lit the cigarette and put the lighter away, inhaling deeply. She smiled up at Snake, with a small smile, her eyes shut.

Snake didn't return the smile. "If you aren't with a group, then why are you here?" He asked, prodding her with the gun.

She smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Snake growled. "Dammit, girl! Tell me!"

"Or what?" She giggled.

"Or I'll....I'll...."

"Snake!" Came Otacon's voice. "Just shoot her and be done!"

"It's not that easy, Otacon! She hasn't done anything against me!"

"She's acting like an idiot."

"She's acting.....Oh my God, Otacon, you're a genius!"

"That's new..."

"Okay." Snake's attention turned back to T. "Girl-"

"T."

"Okay, T. Listen to me. You are going to help me complete this mission, and then we're booking it out. I don't know what I'm going to do with you yet, so we'll get to that when it comes down to it. Okay?" Snake eyed her.

"Can I have my gun back?"

"....I suppose."

T dashed over to where she kicked the pistol, looked around for it, found it, picked it up, and kissed it. "Okay. I got it. Now, what are you doing?"

"Takin' pictures of....why the hell am I telling you this?"

"Cause I asked."

"Shut up and follow me." Snake seethed.

"...Oh, alright."

"Oh, how sweet. Love birds, I take it?" Came a female, Russian voice. "Well, I apologize, but there is no time to be kissy-face. And besides. If I'm not mistaken, you don't belong on this tanker."

They whipped around, and Snake smacked his forehead. They had been so loud, HE had been found. She was blond, not pretty, but not ugly. She smiled, pulling out a gun. "Hands up, both of you."

"No way, hun." It was T. Her view had changed again. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, revealing dark green eyes, now narrowed in anger. You Russians don't belong here. You are the intruders."

"Even so, dear girl, you are not to be concerned."

"What's going to stop me, hm?"

"This!" Cried the woman. A gunshot went off, and T fell to her knees, clutching her chest.

"T!" Cried Snake. He pulled his M9, letting a few bullets fly through the air. They hit the woman, and she clutched her throat, also falling, but her, only into an induced sleep. Snake flipped her body over and pulled off her dog tags. "Olga Gurlukavich..." He read. "Hmm...." He pocketed them, then looked over to T.

She was choking on her own blood, a sight that made Snake wince. She stopped for a moment, offering Snake a bloody smile, and then gagged again.

Snake looked around. The rain was drenching her clothing. She would develop a cough, and with her already bloody condition, it was not healthy for her at all.

"Hey.." She choked. "Take me with you."

"I can't do that, look at you!" Snake whispered. "You could get killed."

"I'll die anyway...Snake, I....I only wanted...to be with you...."

"What the hell?! What?! WHAT?! Who are you? How do you know who I AM?"

T smiled a bit. "Get me inside. I'll explain."

She allowed herself to be carried into the small room, and placed on a table. But Snake's expression was still cold. "I know you are probably freaked out that I know who you are. That I'd reveal you. But don't worry--I wouldn't. Not for any amount of money. Not for anyone. I work solo. And....yes, I do know about you. I know more about you than I do about myself. I.....I was raised by a woman. I never knew her name, so I called her 'M'. She thought it was funny, so she began calling me 'T'. When I turned fifteen, I heard about you. I had been fooling around with some tap busting equipment of M's. I heard you talking to someone. Your voice...I dunno, enchanted me. Then I heard someone say 'Solid Snake', and you responded."

"Yeah, but-" Snake began.

"Well, I did extensive research, and by extensive I mean a year, on the Internet. I managed to find some clown named Hal Emmerich's website online. I looked it over. There were pictures upon pictures. Then I found the picture I was looking for. 'These are my friends, Solid Snake, Meryl Silverburgh, and Roy Cambell', it read. I clicked it, and found you. And, well...I fell in love with that picture. I book marked it, and looked at it almost every day. I began to draw sketches of you. You fighting, you laughing, you nursing a wound, you an I..."

She coughed, and blood splattered down her front and the front of Snake's suit. They both winced. "Look, Snake....let's get this over with. If we live, well...we can get to know each other better. Oh, don't look at me like that!" She laughed, mistaking his look of approval for contempt.

"Like what? Hey, do me a favor." Snake said. "I've seen your eyes when you were staring at Olga. I am currently envisioning you with blond hair."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Snake, but.." She pulled off her bandana and long red hair fell below her shoulders. "I'm a carrot top."

But Snake wasn't disappointed. Oh, no, if anything, he was charmed. His jaw dropped. "Waw."

She burst out laughing. "Thanks, I think!" She pulled the bandana back on, making sure it covered her hair, and then placed her sunglasses in her pocket. "I suppose I'm probably going to need to see during this."

"Yeah, most likely." Snake said, giving her a rather skeptical look.

"Let's go then, shall we?" And she kicked the door open, and they descended to the basement.