Disclaimer: (For the whole fic) I have no claim to anything that was made by Sucker Punch or anyone else including Sly, Carmelita, and the other characters. I only have claim to the characters I myself created.

"If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? And why are you waiting?"

– Stephen Levine. American Spiritual Teacher

Strangers

How did I get myself into this mess? thought Sly as he faced his most dangerous task he had ever attempted. He had broken into the Louvre, the Smithsonian, the Pentagon, stolen from some of the most dangerous criminals in the world, but nothing had prepared him for this: changing his two year old son's diaper. When in doubt... he decided, yelling for the only person who could possibly help, "Carmelita!"

Walking carefully into the room, Carmelita sighed, and placed her hands on either side of her hips. Her long black tresses tied back into a ponytail that they vainly tried to escape, she stood in the doorway with a look of half exasperation and half amusement.

"You know we agreed that it was your turn today," she smiled, inwardly laughing at the look of confusion on her husband's face. Sly was one of the best thieves in the world, and he still had problems changing a diaper. Just as well, she thought, If he didn't have some flaws, he'd be insufferable."

"Just a little help? Please," Sly pleaded, looking so dejected that Carmelita couldn't keep herself from bursting with laughter. Sly quickly backed away from the table, allowing his wife to take care of the problem.

"Alright, but just this once," she said after she had calmed down, "You see you just have to unwrap the old diaper, wipe him off and..." she suddenly stopped when she realized her only audience was her son. "SLY!" she exploded out of irritation and reverted to her nickname for him back when she was the cop assigned to arrest him, "One of these days ringtail, I'm going to get you!"

It was later that night, after Sly had charmed his way back into his wife's good graces and the two had relaxed into the unique calm that comes only after one's infant son finally falls to sleep. Settling into the peace after the storm, Sly relaxed back into his armchair reading his newspaper, and Carmelita sat down to finish the book that her son's needs had interrupted. Peaceful silence stretched between them, but for the crackle of logs in the fire and the turning of pages. After a few momentsof this, Carmelita quietly began to laugh.

"Shh. You'll wake him. What in that book is so funny?" Sly whispered, almost desperate to keep his sleeping son asleep and to preserve the relative calm that had settled around them.

"It's not the book," Carmelita chuckled as she waved her hand about the room, "It's this. You and I, master thieves, sitting calmly in front of a fire, and apart from the stolen pieces of art, a perfect picture of suburban family. All we'd need is a maid and a few nosy neighbors and we'd be the poster child for any community"

"Even master thieves need to relax once in a while," he noted, " And it's very nice to be able to, at least for a little time," he commented, reminding Carmelita of the fact that he would eventually be unable to contain himself before he would inevitable embark on one of his dangerous capers. For all his good traits, Sly was possessd with an instinctive need to act and continued peace caused him restlessness that only thievery could cure.

Their relative peace was suddenly broken as a loud knock resounded throughout the house. Rising quickly, the two half ran to the door, intent on keeping whoever it was from waking their son, who could become incredibly difficult if someone woke him from his nap. Opening the door quietly, Carmelita and Sly opened the door to reveal a stranger standing in their doorway. A large black jaguar, he was wearing what looked to be a mildly expensive gray leisure suit and a small bowler cap slightly askew covering part of his face, and all of which smelled just slightly of mothballs and something eerily familiar. Despite the fact that they had never met the jaguar before, he seemed to know them.

"I need your help," he said before he collapsed onto the floor, a dark stain spreading from his right shoulder. As his cap fell off, it revealed the face of their friend, Hugo, one of the Headhunters. Reaching down to turn the jaguar over, Sly finally figured out the second smell. It was blood.