This is the beginning of none other than a Sly story, not one shot. Expect chapters, plot, and suspense, all that jazz. Sly and all the characters ya know and love belong to Sucker Punch, but any character(s) of original design are mine and mine alone. If there is a particularly mature scene, I will post it seperately from the story or post a warning and write absolutely no plot into it.
Inspecter Sly Cooper relaxed into his reclining chair in the ever over air conditioned Interpol office in Paris. The biting cold made his fingers feel less mobile than usual, so he popped his knuckles and stretched them out. He had just finished putting the finishing touches on a report that was due in a few days, but he, unlike his female partner, was never the procrastinator. He flinched as he train of thought remembered Carmelita and he glanced at the time. It was fifteen minutes past two in the morning.
"Shit." he muttered. "Carm is going to KILL me." He cut off his desktop and lamp and made his way out of the office. The halls were empty and quite, much like the night he broke into the very same building to begin his adventure against the Fiendish Five. He chuckled at the memory and thought back on how far he'd come since. As he stepped into the biting cold of the French February he shuddered. He remembered quickly that he had told Carmelita to go ahead and take the car home and that he'd just take a taxi. He looked around and saw no sign of any life, much less a taxi, so he decided he'd have to get home the way he liked it; running rooftop to rooftop.
His route home took him through alleys and over rooftops as the inspector divulged himself in his only remaining pleasure from his thieving days. He was still living with Carmelita under the impression of his amnesia, but she was becoming slightly suspicious. In his defense, he had seriously had amnesia for the first few hours of the aftermath of the fall of Dr. M. But even after it faded, he didn't speak up. The whole way back to Interpol in Paris, Carmelita had been holding his hand, part of it in a motherly fashion to protect him, the other half just as scared as he was. For all she knew, there could be only prison waiting for him. Sly somewhat suspected that this would end with him making some fiasco of an escape and he and Carmelita returning to their game of cops and robbers, yet, it never came. Chief Barkley was, after much pleading and enticing, willing to allow Sly a chance. They put Sly on a cold case, which he masterfully solved when he proved a discrepency in the suspect's alibi and managed to find a suitable murder weapon in the vicinity of the crime to match the wound of the victim. Sly chuckled to himself. Cops always try to think like a criminal, which is why he would be the best cop.
At two thirty, Sly snuck into the apartment that he shared with Carmelita. He thanked God that they both had the next day off with his eyes closed, and when he opened them, they were locked with Carmelita's.
"Uh-huh, and where were you?" She said accusingly.
"Finishing the report for the Anderson case so there's no reason for Chief to call us in tomorrow or Sunday." Sly took a slight step back in fear at the sound of her voice. After a few seconds Carmelita's intense, disapproving stare turned soft as she smiled understandingly. Even so, there was a hint of disturbed disbelief in her eyes.
"See, that's why I keep you around. You're such a good officer and a good assistant."
"Oh, I'm hurt, I'm just a pawn to you."
Carmelita suddenly lunged forward and hugged him. Sly reacted slowly to it out of shock. He could feel an uneasy tenseness vibrating off her as their bodies contacted one another. He could sense her unsureness, and knew something was bothering her.
"You okay Carmelita?"
"Somewhat, I'm just thinking."
She stepped to the side and Sly's eyes followed the light behind her to the small lamp above a desk next to the window. On the desk was his journal. Reality hit him fast.
"You had to know for sure?"
"...Si..." Carmelita looked away shamefully.
"It's okay." Sly shrugged. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you my self."
"So you were going to tell my on your own?"
"Carmelita, I may be a thief, but I'm not a liar."
Those words broke her and she started to cry and beat on his chest wildly.
"Tu estupido culo! How could you just go and let me do something like that! You should have stopped me, now you're going to leave and I'll have to chase you again and clean up the mess and...and..."
"Carmelita, shut up." Sly said darkly, his eyes and tone filled with unfamiliar seriousness. She stepped back fearfully. "I'm not going ANYWHERE. Yes, I want to thief again, it's in my blood, but the blood is pumped by my heart and that belongs to you. Let's face it, you and I have been through so much and yet, time after time, it comes down to that fine line of black and white that seperate us. You couldn't see a shade of gray, so I bleached myself to white. I'm willing to sacrifice that for you if you are willing to give me the bloody chance." Sly walked past her and let out a sigh as he lost himself in thought. Finally, he straighted out his back with conviction and turned to face her.
"I'm not done yet!...I just...One of my last memories of my parents..." Carmelita immediately paid heed, knowing the importance of the oncoming words. "One of the last things I remember my parents talking about was sacrifice. My mother was talking to my father about how much he had sacrificed for her. She was thanking him for giving up all he knew for her. I was listening from outside their room, and that's when she let out the bombshell. The Fiendish Five didn't kill the Cooper Clan that night, but they managed to kill not two, but three of us."
The realization was quick to Carmelita. Sly's mother was pregnant the night she died. She watched as a single, glimmering tear fell from Sly's face as he finished his story.
"Oh God Sly..."
"I never told anyone, not even Bentley and Murray. I'm telling you because I don't want any lies or secrets between us; only honesty. I'm willing to make a sacrifice if you're willing to give me a chance."
Carmelita slowly nodded.
"I will Sly. Now, can we please stop crying? I'm not used to seeing you like this."
Sly smiled and wiped at where the tear had trailed down his muzzle. "There's just alot I keep locked away."
Carmelita nodded and hugged him once more. As Sly hugged back, his overdeveloped thieving senses knew he was being watched. The feeling passed as quickly as it came and he shrugged it off. The pair slowly parted from each other and the silence was broken when Carmelita realized just how sweaty Sly was.
"...Did you run here?"
"Um, maybe?" He sniffed himself and could easily detect the strong body odor wafting off of him.
"...Great, now I need another shower." Carmelita said with fluster.
"If it wasn't so inappropriate, I'd volunteer to take it with you."
"I'm sure you would Sly. I promise to leave some hot water for you if you're lucky."
"Great, I think I'm going to need more horseshoes."
"Then while you get those, I'll take my shower." And with that Carmelita disappeared into the dark hallway of the apartment and into the bathroom. The sound of running water cascading rumbled in Sly's ears as he stared out the window, scanning the skyline for any kind of threat. When nothing caught his attention, he turned to staring at the rolling steam coming out from under the bottom of the bathroom door. Sly stripped himself of his shirt and discarded it into wide closet that held the washer and dryer used by the pair. Sly listened as Carmelita hummed in the sweet, thick Spanish accent as he prepared the couch as his bed. He was about to take off his pants when Carmelita stepped out of the bathroom. The two locked eyes for a second before blushing slightly like high schoolers and looking elsewhere. Even in her bathrobe, Sly could see Carmelita's curves that made him question his morals.
"I, um, left the water running...It's still nice and steamy."
"Thanks Carm." Sly slid past her into the bathroom and shut the door lightly. Carmelita exhaled in relief. That racoon was too attractive for his own good. Part of her took close heed to the fact that he failed to lock the door and that he was probably in there, completely naked. The sound of sliding shower curtains confirmed this and she blushed at the thoughts running through her head. Finally, she shook herself out of it and walked to her room. As she slid on a nightgown, she wondered what Sly meant by he had alot locked away. After chasing him for so many years, she'd like to think she knew it all, that she had him figured out, but perhaps there was still some mystery to Sly yet. That's when she decided that tomorrow, she would talk to him about doing a geneology to see if he had any living relatives whatsoever. A family does not go throughout the generations and centuries only having one child who only has one child, the strict discipline and adherance to such a code must have surely been broken somewhere. Then, she thought back on how strong Sly's morals were.
He was a virgin, as far as she, or anyone, knew.
He never stole from the poor or innocent, only criminals.
He helped expose evidence on said criminals.
He saved her countless times, and made her career.
He was never arrogant, just confident.
When she weighed this against what she knew of his upbringing, she knew that Sly must have been a strong person, if even as a child. It only perked her curiousity more though. How does one without a family for so long, go through life to become such an interesting fur?
Sly stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed and sore. He walked over the table with his journal on it and turned off the lamp. He was too tired to write tonight, even though he wanted to catalog all that had happened. His muscles yearned for bed and he appeased them by collapsing onto the couch. He settled into the thick, yet confortable cushions of the couch and pulled a thick blanket over himself. As he felt his consciousness slipping and he smiled and wondered what else could happen this weekend.
Carmelita cut off the final light in her room and slid into her bed. She felt it was unfair to put the racoon out on the couch, but he had volunteered for it like a gentlefur. Part of her wanted to go out there and tell him to get into the bed with her, but she felt it would be too...bold...and may even intimidate him a bit. She chided herself mentally. Why did she care if she intimidated him or scared him off, it's not like there were in a relationship...She gasped as she realized that Sly had pretty muchly just confessed his love for her and she hadn't really picked up on it. She had to hand it to him, his metaphor on the blood and heart were quite breath taking and well placed. She sighed at the romantic implimications. Part of her felt giddy like a high school girl, which was quickly quelled be the resurfacing of old memories that deserved to die hard. She silenced them and cleared her mind, deciding that sleep would be in her best intentions. As she slipped away, she only thought of one thing:
Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day indeed.