Thieves United

Heartbreak

A/N: You'll notice I've given this chapter a title. You'll see why later. XD Enjoy the chapter!

PARIS, FRANCE: 6:30 AM

The next morning, an exhausted Sly dragged himself out of bed, and readied himself for work. The day ahead, guarding the Blue Diamond, was going to be a long and boring one with more marching back and forth like a tin soldier, obeying Inspector Taylor's every command.

'Why do I do this…?' The raccoon thought bitterly as he pulled a clean, blue t-shirt over his head, messing up his already messed up hair even more. After he tiredly pulled on his jeans, he dragged himself to the bathroom, combed his hair, brushed his teeth, the whole bit, and went to get some breakfast.

By the time he had finished eating his toast, it was quarter to seven already. Noting this, Sly jumped up and scrambled around trying to find his keys. The raccoon ran his fingers, once more, through those soft, tousled locks of his hair, pulling on his jacket. He glanced around the room one last time for his keys, subconsciously patting himself down only to suddenly realize that they had been in his pocket all along. He blinked at the clock on the microwave in his kitchen, noting it was already passed the time that Carmelita was supposed to get there and pick him up.

But she didn't come.

Sly was finding it very odd and unlike her to be late as he tied his shoes. But then again, she was working late last night, even if she wasn't supposed to be. She must've been sleeping still, and not have realized what time it was. Picking up the phone, Sly dialed her number only to get the answering machine.

"You've reached Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox at--"

He hung up without leaving a message, cutting the machine off. So, if she wasn't answering the phone, she must be at work already. Again, Sly found this odd, but then he decided maybe she left early, trying to figure out who the mysterious thief was from the night before. His friends had drilled it into his head that she couldn't have recognized him as the thief. She would have said something right away, so Sly wasn't worried about it anymore.

Knowing his vixen wasn't going to come get him that morning, Sly left his apartment, locking the door behind him. Remaining calm, he headed for the elevator, with a shiny black helmet under his left arm. He'd take his bike to work today.

Mishelle Taylor was sitting in Harry's office, her arms crossed, and her bright green eyes were burning a hole in the carpet, where she was staring darkly. Her legs were crossed, too, and she was slumped in her seat. Her head was barely higher than the back of the chair she occupied. Her tail, which hung from the back of the chair and off the seat, was swishing back and forth; clearly showing she was not in a bubbly mood. But then again, was she ever?

Harry was at his desk, sipping his black coffee. Anything in his coffee, like milk, or cream, or sugar just made him sick. He would glance at Mishelle every so often, but she didn't look at him. An occasional angry growl would emit from deep in her throat once in a while, and whenever she did that, Harry knew better than to talk to her. He knew the feline was still upset about the argument which took placetwo days earlier. He had told her not to go suspecting people, but now he was starting to regret ever saying that. Not only was she not talking to him, but ever since she made note that Merah Ringo was involved with Robin Hood Mace, the Detective hadn't been seen at the office all that much, which everyone found quite strange. As to what he was doing? Certainly, no one knew. And, worst of all, Harry doubted they were going to find out. The arctic fox took another idle sip from his mug, the slurping sound cutting through the uncomfortable silence like a gun going off.

"Are you going to say anything at all?" Westwood asked finally, glowering at the black feline. She just gave that low growl again, her green eyes narrowing even more, but she never tore her gaze away from the carpet. Harry sighed, and set his mug down, clasping his pawstogether like a business man casually discussing an investment, or something.

"Listen, Mishelle," He began slowly and quietly. He saw one of her ears flick in his direction, so he knew he had her attention, and that she was listening. After a moment of pause, he continued; "I know you're mad about what I said. And I'm sorry. Truly, I am. But there's no proof, no hard evidence that Robin Mace is involved in Merah Ringo. I just can't believe it until I know it for a fact."

Mishelle didn't reply. If it was possible, her eyes narrowed even more. Harry continued in a delicate voice, telling her, "If you can get me proof, I'll believe you. But your suspicion is your enemy right now, and it's making me take this situation like you've cried wolf so I won't believe the truth. And, if I'm going to be honest, you have cried wolf. Many times. Your suspicions aren't always correct. This is why I'm not taking this light--"

In a flash, Mishelle was up out of her seat, and she had grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt, literally yanking him up so he was forced to stand out of his chair. She pulled him close to her, so they were almost nose to nose, and her eyes seemed like they were burning a hole in his soul, like they had been burning a hole in the carpet a moment earlier. Harry actually shivered as she replied in a low hiss:

"You want proof, Harold?" She asked, her voice threateninglysoft. "I'll get your proof."

And with that, she shoved him back into his seat, giving him one final, dangerously dirty look, and she turned and walked away, her tail swinging back at forth in obvious irritation. Harry, shifting his weight back into his seat, fixed his shirt as she took hold of the door handle, and yanked the door open, stomping out into the hallway. As if to accent her anger in a melodramatic fit, sheslammed the door behind her hard. So hard, in fact, it caused Harry's cup of coffee to tip over, and fall into his lap.

"Gah!" The grey-furred fox yelled, jumping to his feet when the hot, dark liquid splashed over his pants. "Mother …--"

He took the cup and set it down on the desk again, looking down at his soaked pants. His eye started to twitch with frustration, and eventually, he just let out an angry yell, and started muttering a string of very colorful curses that would probably make The Almighty Lord himself unforgiving.

Sly entered the office, stepping out of the elevator, and giving waves to a few people as they passed each other. Then he heard a door slam, and Mishelle came storming out of Harry's office, her furry black paws balled into fists, her shoulders squared, and her eyes glaring directly ahead of her. Sly could have sworn the green hue of her eyes had turned to a devil red, she looked so mad. She stomped by him without a word, and made him give her a dirty look that she didn't notice when she hit him in the shoulder with her arm.

'That woman could make a nun swear,' Sly thought as he continued down the hallway towards the shared office with Carmelita. He stopped for a brief moment in front of Robin's office, though. Nobody had really seen him around all that much this past week. Well, not until he showed up at the Louvre, looking sick and really pissed off, anyway. Sly wasn't worried, though. He was probably just spending forbidden time with Merah again, as usual. But it was getting a little concerning, just the same, for him to completely forget his job like that, and go off to be with her. I mean, people were starting to get suspicious, right? If you wanted to keep a secret about your relationship with a thief, you'd at least try to not spend that much time with her, no matter how much you wanted to.

He passed the Chief's office, and noted for the first time since Harry and Mishelle arrived in Paris that he hadn't been around either. The Chief always showed up for work, and his nephew, J.R., would march in through those elevator doors right behind his uncle. As a matter of fact, J.R. hadn't been around much, either, and Modesta had just been sitting at her desk, not really talking to people. The raccoon glanced over at Modesta's cubicle at the thought of her, and wondered if she was sitting there, looking as sullen as usual.

'I'm going to go make sure J.R. hasn't broken up with her.' Sly thought, his big-brother love for Modesta showing through. 'That moron.' He mentally added, headed for her cubicle. He turned the corner of the divider that separated her cubicle from the others, and saw her sitting there in her computer chair, clicking through files on her computer.

"Hey," Sly said softly, causing the Persian cat to look up. She smiled slightly.

"Hey," She replied, her voice the same level as his. "What are you doing down here at this end of the office?"

"I've noticed J.R. hasn't been around that much lately," Sly said, moving to sit on the edge of her computer desk. "Is something going on between you two?"

Modesta sighed, and looked down at her lap. "No."

"No?" Sly asked, raising a brow casually. "You two haven't gotten in a fight, or anything?"

"What makes you say that?" Constable Tavita said, looking up at the raccoon sharply. He shrugged in reply.

"I dunno, you just seemed… way too mellow for your usual self lately." He said. "Listen, Modesta, I'm… kinda worried about you. I know you think J.R. is a good guy, but I'm afraid he's going to end up hurting you, or something."

"Oh, no," Modesta said, giggling. "Thanks for your concern, Sly, but really, J.R. and I are fine."

"Oh yeah?" Sly asked.

"Yes."

"Then why did your ears just droop?" Sly's eyes flitted over her soft facial features, ever the perceptible man that he was. Those beautiful, jade-mixed-amber orbs of her eyes. The delicate nose and her now-laid ears. A frown marred her delicate visage and the 'big brother' heart in Sly's chest sank even further.

Modesta pressed her ears back against her head in a sort of anxious way, and she looked down at her lap again. "J.R. and I are fine, but… I'm kind of worried about Jacey. I mean,you know, the Chief."

Sly raised a brow when she called the Chief by his first name, but decided not to mention it. "Why's that?"

"Remember… when he was acting so strangely when Mishelle and Harry came the first day?" She asked softly. Sly nodded in response, and her golden-green eyes grew sad and she continued in a whisper. "J.R. got a call a few days ago saying that his uncle was in the hospital. He's been poisoned."

"What?" Sly asked, shocked. Modesta nodded slowly. Sly blinked rapidly, thinking back over the last few days. He was surprised that he'd not heard of this up until now.

"It's not fatal," She said. "He'll live, but he's very ill, and… well, I'm just worried. That's why both the Chief and J.R. haven't been here. J.R.'s visiting him at the hospital."

"Wow…" The raccoon muttered softly. "I… wish I'd known. Is J.R. okay?"

"He's worried," Modesta said. "But he's convinced the Chief will be okay. He's sitting up in bed, and talking, but he refuses to drink anything unless he watches the nurses pour it out for him. It's understandable… I mean, being poisoned? It was obviously someone from the office."

"But who would want to poison the Chief?" Sly asked. "The only person who'll become Chief next is J.R. himself, and J.R. wouldn't poison his own Uncle just to get the Chief Job sooner. If anything, whoever wanted to become Chief would just poison J.R. because he's next for the job." Sly paused in his audibly spoken logical thoughts when he saw Modesta's expression change to something of near horror.

"Don't say that!" She exclaimed worriedly. "I don't want to think about what will happen if J.R. gets sick, or poisoned, or hurt, or… anything!"

"I'm just trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together…" Cooper said softly. "But, we'll do that later. I came by to see if you were feeling okay"

"I am," Modesta said, her smile returning slowly. Sly went on to ask her questions about how her relationship with J.R. was going. She said things were going fine, and that they were going steady. They talked for a while about past events, and things they hadn't been able to talk about since this whole case started. It felt good to be talking to Modesta again, Sly thought.

Robin was at the Louvre, looking around the deserted, closed museum for clues. Yes, he was actually doing real detective work that he hadn't had the chance to do for a long time. And he was looking for clues that all pointed towards Mishelle Taylor.

He looked through all of the exhibits, going through the ones where the Elemental stones had once been. He knew Merah had helped with stealing those, but it was his job to look around anyway. Then he came to the empty area where the Blue Diamond was.

Robin raised a brow, wondering why there were no guards around. That's when he saw something that wrenched his heart out of his chest.

"Damn!" The male fox yelled. Then he pulled out his phone, and dialed a few numbers.

"All five…" Bentley whispered as he put the yellow topaz gem of Lightning into the vault he had made. He set the stone on the bottom left-hand point of the star, in the little slot he had made for it, and then wheeled himself backwards to look at it before he closed the vault. Five pieces of the puzzle were in place. Now all they needed was the final piece.

"Just the Blue Diamond left," The turtle said to himself. Then he pressed the button on the wall, and let the vault close before he wheeled his way over to his computer. As he boredly sifted through websites, he came across one that he had bookmarked, but hadn't yet read. He clicked on it, and immediately, a photograph of Inspector Mishelle Taylor popped up onto the screen. There was a lot of information written on her on this page. Knowing Sly didn't know that much about her, but wanted to, Bentley started to read. Some of the truths he learned shocked him to the core.

"Stupid... frikkin... that damn bastard Harold…" Mishelle muttered and she stomped out of the Parisian Interpol Headquarters towards her car. She wrenched the door open, throwing herself into the driver's side, and slamming the door next to her. She had dual driver's licenses, one for America, and one for England, where they drove on the opposite side of the road. She sat in her car for a moment, seething, and then she pulled out her cell phone, dialing a number. An overly-hyper male voice, one which fit perfectly with the overly-hyper male owner, was what answered the phone.

"Hello,thisisSkippy,snipersupremeandminiontoJohnson!" The voice said, all very quickly so that his words were slurred together. Mishelle, surprisingly, could make out what he was saying.

"Skippy, you moron," She snapped. "If you answer the phone like that, and another cop gets a hold of this number, you'll be arrested for sure. I don't think Johnson will be all that pleased to hear the name go out."

"I knew it was you," The one called Skippy replied on the other line. "Whaddya want, Tay? I thought you were in America?"

"I was in America," Mishelle answered. "I'm in Paris on a case for two people. Johnson, and the American police Chief. It was only my luck that Westwood was assigned to the case of the Blue Diamond; the very artifact that Johnson wants me to steal."

"Why didn't Johnson call me to do it?" Skippy said loudly, obviously stomping his feet in frustration at not being picked to do this assignment. "I'm in Paris, I'm close by, I could easily drive up there from Dijon to do the dirty work, why didn't--"

"Because you're a klutz and a moron when it comes to my work," Mishelle yelled into the phone. She heard Skippy give a squeak of surprise when she yelled. "This is my job, Skip."

"Then why did you call me?"

"Has Johnson contacted you at all?" Mishelle asked, ignoring Skippy's question.

"No," He said. "Johnson has not contacted me. Why?"

"Johnson'll want you to help me when this is all folded out," Mishelle said. "Once I steal that Diamond, and find the other stones, you'll need to come with me to the North Pole, so we can put the stones in place, and do what we need to do."

"Woot, woot, woot, woot!" Skippy shouted joyfully, his words slurred together again. "Finally, some action! Have you ever thought pairing all those stones together might be dangerous, though?"

"Johnson would have warned us if it was." Mishelle replied. "Just keep an ear and en eye out for me. I may need your sniper expertise sometime in the future. You may have to pose as a cop, too."

"Like you?" Skippy asked. "Ah… no, Taylor, I don't think the copper-business really works for me."

"You'll do it if you want to help Johnson," Mishelle said flatly. "Because Johnson will tell you to do it. Expect a call soon. I'll see you around."

She clicked off her phone before Skippy could reply, and she slumped back in her seat. Her green eyes glared at the exterior brick wall of the Interpol Headquarters.

"Soon it'll all come together," She said softly and darkly. "Soon…"

Then she turned the keys in the ignition, put the car in reverse, backed out of her parking spot, and pulled into the traffic, going off to look for Merah.

Merah was sitting in Robin's apartment, trying to get a hold of him on his cell phone, but it was no use. It just kept ringing busy. Who the hell he was talking to for that long, she had no idea, but if it was another woman she didn't know about, Robin would be dead that evening.

She finally gave up trying to call him, and set the phone down on the coffee table, taking up the large, blue-tinted diamond. She weighed the dangerous and priceless object in her hand, looking at it closely. Then she got up from the couch, and went into Robin's room. She was going to hide it, and tell him about it when she could. She needed to keep it from Mishelle…

The over-energized squirrel hopped around his run-down, filthy apartment excitedly. He still clutched the phone in his hand from when he stopped talking with Taylor, and with a whoop, he threw the phone at the couch.

His large mouth was pulled into a tight, Cheshire cat grin, and that grin rarely ever left his face. His eyes were large, and nearly bulging out of his head, giving him a look of pure insanity. No sooner than he threw the phone at the couch, however, did it start to ring. Skippy the Insane Squirrel stopped his random and unnecessary cheering, and looked at the phone.

"Aw, nuts," He said irritably, and marched over to the phone, scooping it up, and pressing the talk button. "Yeah, what now?"

"Skippy!" A curt voice on the other line snapped. Skippy shuddered.

"Johnson!" He exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I thought you were Mishelle, I'm sorry!"

"That's… fine." The voice said. It was soft and feminine, a voice you wouldn't usually expect from a dangerous criminal like Johnson was. "Mishelle… has she left the Interpol office?"

"I dunno," Skippy said, plopping down onto the couch, a cloud of dust rising up into the air. "Why?"

"She must be out looking for Ringo, then…" Johnson said softly, not really talking to the squirrel that could easily pass off as the energizer bunny.

"Ringo?" Skippy asked. "Ringo. RINGO!"

"Yes!" Johnson snapped. "Ringo! That pesky raccoon is here in Paris. Skippy; next time Mishelle calls you, I want you to get yourself to Paris. Is that understood? Mishelle has plans to… frame a certain detective little Miss Ringo seems to have a soft spot for. He's been skipping work to go and see her. Next time Mishelle calls, sign yourself up as a cop from Russia, or something. Help Mishelle arrest Ringo and the detective, Mace. Then they'll be out of our way. We can find the missing Five Elements, get the Blue Diamond, and everything will be set. We'll have the world by the end of the week."

"Do I get to do any sniper-work?" Skippy asked hopefully. A laugh came from the other line.

"Certainly," Johnson said. "Some sniper-work would be greatly appreciated."

"Get me that glass of water there, Jamison."

The portly brown dog pointed his nephew in the direction of a cup of clear liquid sitting on his bed-side table. Why the heck he couldn't get it himself, J.R. had no idea, for it was right next to him, but the black and while malamute husky picked it up, and handed it to his uncle.

"Almost ready to get out of here?" J.R. asked Chief Jacey, settling back into his chair next to his uncle's hospital bed. Jacey looked around the room in disgust.

"Hell, yes," He replied. "These pink curtains make me sick. They're pink, Jamison, pink! I hate pink."

"I know," J.R. answered with forced patience. Jacey had already told him that more than once that day.

"When I find out who put that poison in my coffee, Jamison, they're fired. Do you hear me? FIRED!"

"Shh!" J.R. said, trying to shush his uncle. "Quite down, Uncle. The nurses will think I'm hurting you."

"Let them think that," Jacey replied, a grin forming on his lips. "Personally, I wouldn't be that entirely disappointed if that cute blonde one came in. You know, the tall one, with the short hair. Dixie, that's her name. She thinks you're quite the catch, Jamison."

"Yeah," J.R. said, nodding irritably. "Too bad I'm already involved in a relationship with Modesta Tavita, so too bad for Dixie."

"You're still going out with that Spanish girl?"

"Yes," J.R. replied, slightly taken aback by his uncle question. "Why?"

"You've never been interested in a woman this long," Jacey mused, looking his nephew over. The young malamute shrugged.

"I guess Modesta was… just the one," J.R. said. "She's special. She's has this kind of aura thing going on that makes her easy to trust. I guess that's why I'm drawn to her."

"What happened to your infatuation with Carmelita Fox?" Jacey asked casually, sipping his water. J.R. scoffed.

"She's in love with Constable Cooper," He said. "Besides, Modesta is so much cuddlier than Carmelita ever seemed to be. I'm not sure it would be all that comfortable to snuggle with Miss Fox, no matter how beautiful she is."

"An iron will that woman has," Jacey said thoughtfully. "She's a good officer. One hell of a shocker, though, when she brought back Cooper and claimed he was a cop. Amnesia, she said. Do you believe that he has Amnesia?"

"It's highly possible," J.R. replied. "I mean, he had one nasty bump on the head when she brought him back. She was telling him every made-up story in the book. I guess she just didn't have the heart to arrest someone who'd lost their memories."

"No, she was in love with a thief, that's what it was," Jacey said. "I knew she was smitten with him, I knew she felt something there ever since she got handcuffed in Russia and whenever anyone asked her about it, she'd get angry and defensive."

J.R. chuckled softly. "They make a good couple, though. Cooper and Fox."

Jacey nodded quietly and pondered for a while before suddenly announcing, "Why are we talking about this?"

The black and while dog laughed at Jacey's question. "I don't know, Uncle."

"How's that, uh… BD case going, by the way?" He asked. J.R. sighed.

"It's… fine. Inspector Taylor's practically running it all, when Inspector Westwood is supposed to be the ringleader." He said. "How the heck did Harry get partnered up with someone like Mishelle, anyway? I thought her record would prevent her from ever becoming a cop."

"Harry pulled some strings, I think," The Chief sighed. "He did it for love. Poor ol' bloke. Mishelle doesn't give a damn about him, not one care in the world, and he treats her like she's the most wonderful thing in this universe."

Returning from Modesta's cubicle, making sure she was alright, Sly made his way towards his shared office with Carmelita. He put her hand around the door handle, turned it, and pushed the door open, stepping into the office. As he expected, Carmelita was sitting at her desk, moving her rotating chair back and forth in a rocking-like motion. She didn't smile when he came in, and Sly cocked an eyebrow.

"'Morning," He said casually. "Why did you come to work early today?"

"Why did you come to work late?" Carmelita replied with a question, keeping her eyes on him. Sly couldn't really read her expression entirely well, and her eyes weren't telling him how she was feeling.

"I was out late last night." He said. "Doing work. And then I was just talking to Modesta before I came in here."

It wasn't a total lie. His work was associated with getting the Elements and the Blue Diamond so she, Carmelita, and the rest of the world wouldn't see doomsday. She didn't seem to want to settle with his answer, however.

"What kind of work?" She asked, her voice eerily calm.

"Work for… the Blue Diamond case." Sly said, still trying to read her emotions. This was partially true, too, only his work wasn't associated with the police. "Carmelita, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm just fine," Carmelita said, her voice cheery, but her eyes didn't hold the same sort of cheeriness her voice did. Sly gave her a sideways look.

"You seem a little… tense, that's all." He said observantly.

"I'm not tense," She replied, her voice flat. "Where did you go last night for your… work?"

"Around," Sly answered. "Why do I feel like this is an interrogation?"

"Were you at the Louvre last night?" Carmelita asked, ignoring his question.

"No," Sly lied, not liking where this was going. "I was… at home. Doing computer work. Looking through the case files, and whatnot."

He moved closer to her desk, and said slowly, "Look, are you sure you're alri--"

Carmelita stood up from her chair suddenly, cutting him off. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously, and she looked like she wanted to tear him apart. Sly just looked over her angry face, feeling guilty and worried.

"Not at the Louvre, huh?" She asked, her voice quiet. "Then explain to me why I found this."

She threw something down on the desk in front of him, and Sly let his gaze linger over her for a moment before he looked down at the object she threw on the desk. His heart leapt into his throat, and he had to swallow hard. Sitting there, on the desk, was his calling card. The Cooper Clan raccoon symbol, painted on the side of the van. Sly never realized how this small slip of folded paper could cause him so much pain and damage.

"I--"

"I can't believe you," Carmelita said, obviously outraged. Sly sighed, and held up a hand, trying to explain.

"Carmelita, listen, I--"

"You lied to me!" She shouted. "Again! And to my face, just now! Not at the Louvre, Sly? Did you think I wasn't going to find out?"

"It's for a good reason." Sly said, trying not to lose control of his emotions.

"There is never a good reason to steal priceless artifacts such as the Five Elements, Sly." She said firmly. "There is never a good reason to lie. And not only did you break your promise to me last time, you swore you weren't a thief anymore, too. And-and-and… and then you go and do this!"

"I'm doing this for your life!" Sly said loudly.

"My life?" Carmelita said. "What does my life have anything to do with this? You stole the Five Elements! I should arrest you right this second!"

"If you'll give me a chance to explain, Carmelita--"

"No." Carmelita said firmly, cutting Sly off. "I'm done with the explanation. I'm done being lied to. Was your love a lie? God dammit, Sly, I don't even know if I should believe a damn word you say anymore! And… two nights ago. Did that mean nothing to you?"

"Carmelita, that night meant the world to me," Sly said softly. "I cherish that moment. It was the greatest thing that could have ever happened between us, even if I'm still angry with myself for letting it go that far."

Carmelita scoffed. "Now, see, I can't believe that now because… you're a lying criminal, and I don't trust you."

"Carmelita, please," Sly begged, trying to move closer to her, but she shoved him away.

"Don't touch me." She ordered, glaring at him. "Don't touch me, don't come near me, don't… you know what? Just get out."

The Raccoon still had his paws held up, defensively. "Okay, look, I know it was wrong for me to lie, and break my promise, but there are some pretty evil people at work here," Sly said as she pushed him towards the door. She didn't answer to his explanation, and continued to shove him towards the door. "Carmelita, I'm serious! If I didn't go and steal those stones, the whole world would be destroyed."

"Get out!" Carmelita yelled, and pushed him out into the hallway. "I don't want to hear anything else you have to say!"

Sly tried to get back into the office, but she slammed the door in his face. The raccoon opened his mouth to say something, but not sound came out. He had nothing to say. Carmelita was right. He was a lying criminal and he destroyed her trust.

He heard something go thunk against the door, and as he pressed his ear against the flat, wooden surface, he could hear the anguished sobs coming from his beloved Carmelita. She… she was crying. She was crying because of him. Sly sighed miserably, and leaned his forehead against the door. It took all of his will power not to break down into tears, because he really, really wanted to.

'I'm sorry, Carmelita…' He thought sadly, closing his eyes tightly against the desire to let tears fall. 'I'm so sorry I've hurt you so much…'

He left the office door in defeat, deciding he would go home. He couldn't work if his partner wasn't speaking to him, and wanted nothing to do with him, so he would check with the secretary, sign himself out as sick, and leave. It wasn't really because he would be bored here, though; Sly felt like he wanted to vomit, he was so disgusted with himself for lying to Carmelita, breaking his promise to her, using her. Because he had done all of that.

"Constable Cooper?" A soft, feminine voice said from the secretary's desk. The raccoon looked up at the white, female mouse sitting at the desk, her ruby-brown eyes watching him closely behind her large, round-rimmed glasses, her brown hair tied back in a bun. She looked very much like a librarian. She was even a hint like Penelope but different. Sly sighed.

"Sign me out as sick, Mimi," He said softly. "I'm going home."

"Would you like me to inform Inspector Fox of your departure?" Mimi the secretary asked, typing on her keyboard. Well, at least no one heard their argument, Sly thought bitterly. He shook his head.

"No," He said. "She knows I'm leaving. See you later."

"Try and feel better, Constable," Mimi called after him kindly. Sly just gave a wave, and dragged himself to the elevator.

I felt like I wanted to die. I had hurt Carmelita so badly… and knowing that I caused her pain, it caused me pain. I wanted to blame Bentley for all of this. If it wasn't for him trying to drag me into this thief business again, Carmelita and I would probably still be together. But it wasn't Bentley's fault. It was my fault for not telling her.

I went to my apartment, and I immediately went to bed. I thought I'd sleep this off, but as soon as I slipped under the covers, the memory of two nights ago with Carmelita came flooding back. The bed would remind me of her, and right now, I just wanted to escape from my pain.

So, I went to go sleep on the couch. But the memory of the same night when we were snuggled up on the couch and watching the movie came back, as well. I got up in frustration, and paced around my apartment for a while, just thinking about what a jerk I've been to Carmelita. Then, I decided to go and visit Bentley and the others. They'd console me… and maybe I could actually get some sleep there to take my mind off things.

As I drove over there, I got a call on my cell phone from Bentley. He told me to get to the hideout right away. I told him I was on my way anyway, so I hurried over there, and asked what was wrong. He had some very unsettling news to tell me.

Sly Cooper In:

Heartbreak, Loss, and Betrayal

A/N: More questions arise in this chapter. Mishelle's motives are not what Interpol expected, that's for sure. And what could have possibly been on that webpage about her that Bentley found? And who is this Johnson character? You'll just have to wait and see.

R&R!

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Oh, and by the way, thanks very much (again) to Kit Karamak for editing this chapter for me. Even if the last chapter he 'edited' wasn't the one that was posted. XD If any loyal readers noticed a few changes in the wording, and such, that'd be Kit. I tried to compromise some stuff, so it would still be his editing, but more in my style, but there was one part, where Sly's watching Modesta at the beginning of the chapter, and that was all Kit. Go, yay! He's imprinted himself on my story. XD Thanks, dawg. P-sout! XDD

Oh yeah, and Kit? Sly actually didn't look over that site about Mishelle. Murray simply mentioned it, and Sly made a note to look into it, but a call from Carmelita soon after made him forget. So there.

Hope you all liked!