The Lament of Carmelita

Act 1: The Waltz

By Ken Weaver


Kit Karamak

Disclaimer: I don't really think one is really necessary. Due to the fact that this story is written for entertainment purposes only, you the reader may not sell or distribute this story for money, in any way. Sly, Carmelita, Bentley, Clockwork and all the characters that are Trade Marks of their owners, are copy-written intellectual properties of the Sony corp. and Sucker Punch. If you repost this story, be nice and keep my name attached to it. I mean, I can't help it if you don't, I don't own the story, so it's not like I can sue you if you steal it and claim it's yours….. But anyhow. Disclaimer's are lamers.

She didn't care that Sly is a Robin Hood-kinda guy who solely steals from deserving criminals. She didn't care that Sly has the hots for her. She only wanted to 'tag and bag' his ass.

Chapter 1: Nightmare

Sly glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. Off in the other room, Bentley was working his magic and Cooper had to make things last, due to the tortes' handicap. He didn't quite move as quickly as he used to, not that turtles moved fast to begin with. The raccoon brought his eyes back to the task at hand. He knew his friend managed well enough in his fancy little wheel chair, that's all that mattered.

Outside the large room no longer mattered. Sly shifted his gaze back to that of the vixen, who raked her soft cobalt orbs back to his own. Hers were contacts and with the way her head-fur was styled, it was obvious that she was incognito. It was ironic in a way, the two of them at a stand off, pretending to be someone they weren't.

They both knew who they were dealing with, although they both made the assumption that their own identity was secure. It was sad in a way; two soul mates would have to hide behind a mask in order to enjoy such a simple moment. And yet both were tortured by it. Both were yearning for something they knew they could never have… one another.

It happened before. In different ways, it happened. Their previous dances were sometimes revolving around a pair of handcuffs or around a town. This one was far more personal. Carmelita knew if she said something now, she'd be blowing her cover. The point was to let Sly's team escape with the merchandise. She wanted to follow them to where they slept.

But her emotions kept getting in the way. There was so much black and white in her life that it hardly seemed fair that a gray-furred man could step between where she drew the line between law and love. He was her bad man and her wish to catch him went from bordering on obsession to becoming completely and totally consumed by him.

And here he was. His supple yet firm paw came into her daintier paw. It was beginning again! His touch was graceful and tender, yet controlling and confident. His other paw came to her hip and she melted. A shiver ran up her spine, setting her body afire. Her mind screamed for reprieve. He was a liar, a thief and unjust in the eyes of her religion of law.

His body moved at odds for a moment, then slipped into step with hers, the dance had begun. He drew closer, so that they could shift in motion as one entity. Her heart was pounding and she feared that he could feel it once his chest came flush to her own. She could not help but submit to the sensuality of his step. She felt lost at the sensation of his warm breath that caressed her neck.

She clung to him the way a sailor clings to drift wood. At all the same time, she was the sea and he was the sky, rolling over her forever. Ungodly perfection in the form of the physical, she was a lost soul, guided in by his beacon of hope, love and in a twisted sense, honor.

Sly felt no better. He knew he had to be as cunning as a fox and she was the craftiest of all beings, as it were. He knew that all would be lost if he was unable to put on a façade of masculine fortitude. But the clandestine, surreptitious secret bubbled within him, gnawing at his heart. How long could he keep his feelings as covert as his missions?

He couldn't help but ponder what her intentions were. Did she want to lock him away forever or try to show him the way of change and reform? Did Carmelita want to show him defeat or did she want to protect him and secretly, subconsciously be the one to protect him from the law. Sly knew she was intelligent, why did she never catch him? Was it intentional? Was he that good? Did any question matter? After all, they were finally together.

He could feel her heart pounding against his chest and it pounded at his soul with every thunderous beat. It gnawed at his defenses and begged for him to, just once, come clean. He glanced furtively over his shoulder once more, but through the archway into the next section of the museum, he could see nothing. She drew his attention back with a soft sigh of content, which rustled the fur of his collarbone; he wanted to show her how much he desired her.

He couldn't resist any longer. After years of cat and mouse, he finally let go of logic for a moment and acted on impulsive, instinctual desire. "You're quite lovely when you're angry, but really, you're quite lovely all together," he mused softly. His words were softly spoken but smooth and reflected his sangfroid demeanor.

"You," she paused, burying her face into the crook of his neck. The perfect place on the perfect crook, "Bastard," She finally continued, speaking just loud enough that he could hear her words muffled against the fur of his neck. It surprised him really. He'd never heard her curse him in such a way before. Her emotions ran too high for her to be in control at this very moment. "I never want this to end, you know. If you just turn yourself in, it could be this way forever." Her whisper held a promise of fulfillment and love.

"I know you can never understand just who I truly am," He returned, his muzzle against the vixen's ear. "But know, deep down, that my intentions aren't on par with the likes of Clockwork."

"It doesn't matter," She murmured against his neck as the two moved together in rhythm of the ambient music that filled the abandoned lobby, "Jaywalking is just as wrong as murder. You're doing something that's against the will of Lawfulness."

"If I'm such a wrong man," Cooper said, easing his paw from her hip, to lift her chin, so that their eyes locked, "Than why does this feel so right?" He asked, replacing his inquiry with his lips meshing against hers. The brushing velvety tiers of Carmelita Montoya Fox were so lush and so welcoming. The kiss felt like home and in both dancers, an incredible explosion of emotion ruled their hearts, making one belong to the other completely, if only for that instant.

The kiss was long. It wasn't just good, it was incredible. It lasted as long as their breath could hold out because it had taken such a precious luxury away from both. She was the first to recover, breaking the kiss but hiding her face back into his neck once more. "You rascal thief. You steal my work, you steal my heart and now you steal my breath," She scolded in soft, dulcet tones. "I hate you," She added untruthfully. She wanted it to be true. She wanted those words to be more than a lie, more than anything else in the world.

"Carmelita," Sly whispered into her ear. However gentle his voice, it was silky and relaxing with the firm masculinity in which he spoke to her. Tones that were smooth like the finest whisky poured from aged oak barrels. It melted through her cold, iron-willed heart, "I love you." To his softly spoken statement, she was undone. He loved her. Everything changed. Her world was a different one and for the first time, she secretly mourned herself because she was living a lie.

"Sly, I…" She paused, finding the courage within herself to say it back. A soft rumble shook her back to reality. Sly played it off with a cough, but the rumble was one of a plan going sour. An explosive that was meant for the safe must have either been miscalculated or quite possibly, it went off prematurely. Worse, it reminded her of the man with whom she dealt. Someone who was dangerous and as explosive as the thought-breaking noise they both heard.

"Say it," He demanded with but a breath upon her ear. The command caused a shiver to run back down her spine, but now there was challenge in her soul, one that his love was threatening. She had to break free; she had to break his spell!

"Never," She hissed softly, placing her paws against his. She then smiled up at him. Sly lowered his eyes slowly, panning over her luscious feminine visage and ending on where their paws met. A metallic cuff went from her wrist to his wrist, connected together by tiny metal links. This wasn't part of her plan; in fact, it was ruining everything she'd gone through to set this whole thing up tonight. And yet, she felt vindicated.

"You mine, that's all that matters," She told him, leaning to brush her muzzle against the side of his own, then pulling back to let him see that Cheshire grin. She was victorious. She was the cat who finally captured the canary.

"Carmelita, listen. Just this once," Cooper replied to her mild gloating, "You've got to let me go. I can't explain now, but it has to happen," he said in a pleading voice.

"Are you serious? I have you," she exclaimed. "Last time I brought you in, you got away. This time, I'm not removing those cuffs until your court date," She explained with an air of satisfaction.

"Carmelita Montoya," Sly said, the way her father would say when she strayed from her truest duties. Her bottom lip quivered. How could he be so commanding? How could she love him! Sly continued, "As much as I would hate to stand you up on a date," retorted the raccoon.

"Forget it," interrupted the vixen; officer of the law, not to be forgotten even in a moment that was nearly blissful. "If I let you go, I'll never get this chance again," Miss Fox groused, lifting her narrowed gaze up to him. Those brilliant oculars were squinted and yet behind lush lashes, her eyes were dilated, taking in every action he could think to make, to keep him from living up to his first name.

She had no plans to release him, even if it meant for her to stay in his cell with him, over night. Bentley could wait. She'd let that one get away, the object he was taking was more important to taking down the rest. It was, after all, a rigged homing device; but without a leader, she knew that she was securing the entire group's complete capture.

Suddenly, without warning, a shattering noise commanded the attention of them both. Her ears flickered before her eyes could even lift. Glass shards floated about them and time itself seemed to slow to a crawl. It fluttered about their bodies like snowfall, capturing refracted light so that it was a dazzling, brilliant display of tiny objects, surrounding them in an almost ethereal swirl of fantasy beauty.

Her arm was forced upwards, pulled by the metallic chain which connected them. Cooper's arm was lifting to protect their faces from the falling razors that dropped from above in a volley of potentially lethal rain. The shower of glass pelted their bodies and beneath the protection of Sly's arm, she cringed, waiting for it to end. It was all happening so slowly that she was able to gather her thoughts in the never ending moment.

Above them, the ceiling of the decadent glass spire tumbled forth. Cooper's eyes lifted and in those obsidian pools, she could see the reflection of their undoing. A chandelier fell from the heavens, enveloping them in the shadow of the object. Her body was jolted and before she could realize what was happening, Sly had pivoted, shifting his weight forward to bowl her over.

His comforting weight surrounded her body and she knew, in that moment, that she was safe. He was her security, and in that, she experienced a taste of trust, for the first time in her life. Over his shoulder, she could see upwards. It was Clockwork, in his full, sadistic glory. A sardonic grin touched its metallic looking beak. Her muzzle parted in an attempt to utter a vituperative word of curse but something harsh filled her ears.

Hues of the most agonizing sun-swept crimson danced with the very mirth of hell itself. Those eyes belonged to non-other than Sly Cooper above her. His disdainful cry of anguish ended with him easing up onto one paw and lowering his head. She glanced down between their bodies and that's when her heart shattered in an instant.

Time seemed to speed back up to normal and a gush of scarlet poured from his stomach. He'd protected her from the falling glass, only to succumb to its wrath. His muzzle parted into the shape of an 'O', the way a soldier reacted when being shot for the first time. The sanguine vitae that flooded forth, matting her gown and the fur beneath in its warmth was horrifying. His body was in shock and the first words he could mutter would live with her forever.

The chilling acknowledgement of a man so strong brought her to tears. "So… cold," he moaned. It was like the sensation of ice slipping between his ribs, and there was nothing he could do. His life was slipping away in a garnet geyser that took her breath away. But this time, she was robbed of hope as well. His eyes glazed over and she was reflected in the milky cataracts that stole her window to the emotions of his heart, his soul. He was gone; Sly Cooper was dead.

Her muzzle parted once more and she wailed in mourning. It was a cry that would shatter all forms of subtlety everywhere. She forced her torso into a sitting position, squinting her eyes shut for a moment before prying them open once more. She had to verify the grizzly end of the only man that she could ever call mate… but there was only gloom.

In this obscurity, she reached out, groping into it. Was she blind? Where was Sly? Her arms passed before her muzzle, drenched in the inky tendrils of ebony that seemed to have been wrapped around her eyes. Her heart was pounding again.

The vulpine cop's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and she almost instantly realized where she was; in bed, alone. Cold. Broken hearted. The covers were torn from her body, the way her emotions were ripped asunder from the calamitous vision that enveloped her senses only moments prior. Stumbling over the boots at the bottom of her bed, she found herself careening into the floor, which was all too happy to reach up and capture her body. She groaned at the sensation of being slapped across her snout by the firm floor tiles.

Her equilibrium was gone. Her heart was pounding and her mind worked hard to console her. "It was only a dream," she repeated to herself. Her body felt overheated and she quickly rolled over, onto her back. The buzz-kill junkie feeling of the adrenaline rush ended, causing her stomach to ice over and turn. The vertigo finally passed and Carmelita caught her breath, shaking her head slowly. She couldn't get him out of her head and she despised him for it. Did she love him or did she hate him? Finally she found her voice and all she could manage was, "You're a bastard, Sly Cooper."

A/N: Ooo, very dark. I don't mean to write Carmelita as a Bi-Polar woman, but she is portreyed as Emotional. I'm going to draw this bad boy out, so if they wind up together, apart, or a bit of both, it's up to my moods at the time I sit down to this. But this story is going to put her as the main character today. We'll have to see Sly being Sly, thevious, devious and evolving through her eyes, in a way.

Yeah, I know, I usually write StarFox stories... Thought I'd try my paw at this one for a change. It'll be slow at first, I need to buy these games, so I can really get jiggy wit it. So once I get dem jimmie-jams, I'm ready to rock'n'roll.