A/N and Disclaimer: Hallo again! This story (another short one! Don't worry, I'm working on long ones at the moment) is about if Carmelita got sick with, I don't know, the 'flu or something, what would Sly do? Well, read on to find out. Oh yeah, I don't own Sly, Carmelita, any external air vents, or any Panadol. I only own what I say I do. Anyway, enjoy…

Sly ran across the rooftops of Paris, with the world's largest emerald in his leg pouch. He could here sirens wailing in the distance, but something was missing. Or someone.

Sly paused on top of some crumbly terracotta tiles, and whipped out his binocucom.

'Hey Bentley,' he whispered into the small microphone embedded in it. 'Do you see any sign of Carmelita? Normally she's hot on our tail, but tonight I can't see her at all.' Worry had started to seep into the raccoon's voice.

'I don't know, pal.' A nasally voice crackled through the binocucom. 'I don't think this is even her usual squad patrol.'

'You don't think they've replaced her, do you?' Sly asked, his worry and anxiety now clearly present in his mind and voice. They couldn't replace Carmelita! It was…it was… an injustice!

Sly scanned the area with his binocucom. He spotted a certain apartment.
'I'm gonna check it out.'
'No Sly! It could be a-'
But Bentley's voice was cut of as Sly shoved his binocucom away and headed towards his favourite policewoman's living quarters. The lights were on…

Sly slinked around the roof of the apartment building until he found what he was looking for. The external vent of the air conditioning system. He had known the layout for years, and it was his favourite method of entry to Carmelita's apartment. He lifted the cover of it, and crept inside.

He found Carmelita laying on her couch in the living room, shivering violently. She had a thin blanket around her shoulders and her work clothes on. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her brows slanted in discomfort. Sly frowned as he wondered how long she'd been like that.

First things first, he searched her apartment for a thicker blanket. When one couldn't be found, he dragged her blanket off her bed and draped it around her. Then he knelt down beside her, placing a hand against her forehead. She flinched, and his frown deepened. She was burning up! He couldn't leave her like this, sick as she was. He tucked the blanket around her slim form, a small warmth running down his back as his hands smoothed the blanket over her. Then he stood, looked at her and made haste to her bathroom for some Panadol and a cloth for her forehead.

Sly returned to her side before long, placing the medication on a nearby table and sitting opposite her in an armrest. He sat there peacefully, watching her chest rise and fall, wanting her to wake but needing her to sleep. Thoughts wandered in and out of his mind. Carmelita shuddered violently. Sly's vision re-focused on her face, and he wet the cloth and placed it on her forehead. She murmured something, and he leant closer, trying to comprehend her prattling.

Carmelita peered sleepily through ebony lashes. He wavered in front of her gaze.

'Sly?' she whispered.

He couldn't think what to say. It was obvious she wasn't fully awake, and he didn't want to wake her and face being blasted by a shock pistol. So he didn't say anything. He just smiled, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Carmelita gave a small, weary smile in return. He felt like he had to say something.

'Are you feeling okay?' He said softly, gently rubbing her shoulder. She sighed at his touch, and tried to nod her head. But in a moment her face clenched again, and she bent in another fit of shudders.

Sly didn't know what to do. He couldn't help more than make sure she was warm and bring something to ease the pain. Ease the pain…

Sly mentally kicked himself, after momentarily forgetting about the Panadol he'd brought for her.

"Are you able to get up, Carmelita?' asked gently. She looked at him with her dazed eyes, and nodded. He helped her sit up slightly, leaning on the armrest heavily. He brought her a glass and two tablets. With a guiding hand, she swallowed the Panadol. Sly helped her lay down again. He knew the Panadol would take effect soon enough, and although he would have loved to see Carmelita's face when she found out it was the Master Thief she'd been chasing for so years that nursed her back to health, he didn't want to face the fury of her shock pistol just now. Sly could see Carmelita was about to fall asleep (peacefully this time, he hoped) and he knew that the next time she woke, he wouldn't see this kind of attitude towards him. In fact, he realised, this might be the only time Carmelita would ever let him be nice to her. He wanted to cherish it, but as Carmelita drifted further into her drug-induced sleep, he knew he would have to do it some other time. Right now, he had to leave.

'Carmelita, I've got to go. Get well soon.' he said as he stood up.

'Wait!' she said softly, shakily reaching out for him.

Sly paused, watching her try to focus on him. Even when she was sick she was beautiful. He waited patiently, watching her try to fight off the tiredness that had suddenly come over her.

'Thank you.'

Sly smiled. He was surprised (but not complaining!) at the effect of the fever on Carmelita's attitude. He nodded, and was about to stand up once more. But an idea struck him. He leant forward and quickly kissed her on the cheek. Then he left. Carmelita's eyes squinted open in time to see his ringed tail disappear through her air shaft. She smiled and turned over, hugging the blanket for the warmth she had felt when her Sly Cooper hallucination had comforted her. Now he was gone.

But not forgotten.

A/N: Aah! I didn't know how to end it! I had an idea, then I forgot, and then it almost came back and then I lost it again! Oh that sucks! Anyway, hoped you liked it, even with the bad ending