I wrote this Oneshot on midnight of September 30th. Lately I've had overwhelming desires to write and I decided to give this a go as I've always wanted to do a Sly Cooper fic. Because I never thought I'd get that far I just decided to keep it short and sweet. Please read and review if you'd be so kind.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sly Cooper and any of Sucker Punch's coolness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The window wipers worked profusely. As if each stroke could hopefully end the last drop of rain to spatter on the windshield. The brutish man, or rather, large hippopotamus, watched, his expression glassy. Not even the hum of the radio accompanied them on this quiet, thoughtful night. Occasionally a distorted ripple of lightning would tear across the sky, uprooting silence in the following thunder's wake. The slight, skinny turtle occupying the seat adjacent didn't seem to notice.

So this job didn't have much participation on their part. Bentley had even done as much as he could, he dared, to assist Sly in the gig. Over-riding the cameras and feeding them a loop. Now it was all up to Cooper.
The beloved van sat eclipsed in shadows of the narrow alley to conceal its identity and its overall appearance. Neither of them wondered what was happening three stories above them…only that they had received one single direction.

To be there.

The gang was about to be reunited. Again.

"It was an act, I was played."

Satin bathrobe and a crackling fireplace almost guaranteed comfort. Especially on that dreary, cold night that they had been given. Yet the hearth and comfortable armchair was not her own, and for that matter, she owned no pleasure or reason for a smile to dart across her dainty face.

"I was tricked by you, Cooper. Again." The flowing voice caught in her throat unexpectedly. She was grateful he could not see her eyes widen or her hands tremble. A flash of hurt swallowed her attempt to speak again and she remained silent. Silent to see if he would have the grace to reply.

"Carmelita, you and I both know that you wouldn't be happy if you had sent me to jail. I thought my decision was best for the both of us."
That voice. That voice that usually both made her tremble with relief and butterflies and yet pressed her hard with a determined anger. Yet in the stead of either of these emotions she only winced.

"What if I want to give up my life of crime," that flawless, rich voice continued. "…to be with you?"
"You still lied, Cooper," she replied quickly and coldly.

There was a pause; she cursed the fact of how silent he was. He could be anywhere in the room and she wouldn't know it. Carmelita focused only on the writhing flames in the fireplace. Their warmth meant nothing to her. She only felt cold.

"That's funny. It never seemed to concern you before my changed behavior. You never were suspicious after I told you I had lost my memory." He stopped, as if to ponder her actions and manners. "Why Inspector? Why must you torture yourself now?"
His voice was gentle and yet, stretching her every being. Before she knew it, a lithe form blocked her view of the fire. She was forced to look up into those deep brown, sad, eyes.

"Go," she whispered, unable to look him in the eye as solidly as she usually could. Her gaze withered away from him and he looked disappointed. "The rest of your gang is probably waiting for you."
There was a long pause. She could feel those eyes scrutinizing her.

A glint of hope and a spark of ingenuity flashed in his eye, "Will you be following?"

She knew he was waiting for the obvious answer. That she would be devoting her life and energy to tracking him down and getting the final laugh. Yet. Yet…she had fallen in love with this man over the time he had pretended to be her assistant. He really cared deeply about the safety of others, even if he had lied the whole time to be near her. She truly wished to go somewhere private to assess the situation and finalize her feelings…but the only choice she felt now was to reject him.

"No."

He looked shocked; she was staring back up at his face. Why did he look like he couldn't believe it?

Suddenly he was there, right in front of her. They were so close, almost touching. Sure they came in contact enough as it was...but it was different now. She understood that he had torn himself away from his gang to come be with her. She still felt betrayed, yet at the same time, jubilant. Insanely happy that he did remember all of those episodes that occured in the theiving days. Some of them...some of them had been worth it.

"Come with us," he pleaded, though his voice was deep and almost ridden with a strange authority. "I don't ever want to leave you behind again."
She had to strangle the desire to seize his hand and let him pull her out of this place. She did not reply.

"Aren't you even curious as to why the gang is getting back together? Do you really think that, especially after these months with you, I would do something to harm another person? Perhaps a big bad thief…" he flashed that charismatic grin of his, it had no effect on her. She was numb to the world. "…but I know how much you care---"
"No, Sly." She stood up so abruptly he reeled back. Her eyes flashed with a spasm of pain and anger. Not because of his words or actions, but because her mind had come to a stunning conclusion and summation of her feelings.

No. She wasn't mad because he had played along with her or even that he was revoking his job now to rejoin his thief friends. It was because Sly was leaving now. He was going somewhere Carmelita couldn't follow…even if he beseeched her to. She couldn't. She could throw that all away and let down those she loved.

She, in that moment, knew he had figured it out. Just by gazing into her eyes he realized. Knowing that he knew caused infuriating tears to glisten at the corners of her eyes. She was horrified at this weakness, knowing that she could no longer live without either being with him or hurting because she wasn't. His dark optics widened slightly at this scene, but he made no move.

"Very well," he was still sad, cocking his head at her in slight perplexity. Perhaps he really couldn't figure out why she wasn't going with him. But maybe, it was time to stop this charade.

He took her hand without permission, leading her across the room and away from the warming fire. Carmelita didn't fight. He had mellowed her over the time they had gotten to known each other, and she could do nothing but obey now. Now that she was weakened by the sudden and swift hurt.
The window was thrown wide open at the opposite side of the room. Rain and cold air was blown in by torrents of uncontrolled wind. The curtains billowed and undulated in the motion. She allowed him to lead her before it. The wind and specks of rain caught up her curly locks and swept them out of the loose braid and around her face. Flickers of lightning allowed her to see him standing over her, back in his blue thieving shirt and boots, familiar hat atop his head, yet his face…it was unclear to her what emotion it was. Not so much grieving anymore as distinctly musing.

"I'm going to miss you, too."

She didn't have to say a word for him to read her face and her thoughts.
Suddenly she was caught up in his intense kiss, arms pulling around her briefly, yet protectively. She moved her lips as well, helpless to do anything else, even to gasp in surprise. Her lips burned and her eyes widened before gently closing in acceptance. Then, it stopped and quickly as it had begun. He broke it off the same time she did, leaning so that their heads were side by side instead of head on. Her ear twitched as he breathed into it.

"I'll be back for you someday. Just remember…this time...you actually have a choice."

His face was almost darkly triumphant and blazing with a new kind of determination as he pulled away. She recoiled in shock of his plucky words, not able to scrounge up any courage or biting remarks herself. Yet, a twinge of playfulness and severe affection was the last thing she saw shadowed on his face before, in a single bound, he was on the windowsill.

Before she knew it she was running forward, not caring that the heavy drops hit her face, her nose, her eyelashes. "Goodbye...Ringtail."

And then he was gone.

"I'm back, guys. For how long this adventure takes us…I don't know," he smiled as their astonished gazes passed over him. He had changed, they could see it, yet the solid character of Sly Cooper was still indefinitely there. His witty, courageous gleam, his playful yet kind smile, his eyes shone with a whole new experience. Whole new plans.

"I just know that I'm going to enjoy the ride."

"Happy to see ya, Sly," Bently pushed the spectacles up his nose, beaming.

"BUDDY!" Murray hugged him from behind.

The van drove away into the distance, throwing up splashes of water that had flooded past the usual puddles and depressions in the road as it did so. It moved silently, yet almost lighter than it had before even with an extra occupant.

Far up in the elegant, Victorian-styled house, a slender figure watched from the open window