The elevator chu-chinged to the top floor of the apartment block with a sudden jolt. Sly pulled back the iron grille with a heave and pushed the wheelchair out onto the landing. The apartment was nice; not too shabby, not too posh, the way the three friends liked it. It was just down market enough so that they're staying didn't arouse any suspicion, yet it had the modern bonuses of not smelling like urine and being infested with roaches. The wheelchair squeaked softly over the worn red carpet, ploughing through pools of light that the odd upward facing light-shades in the building created. A slight draught blew through the corridor, making Sly fight back a shiver. Brown wooden doors created breaks in the scarlet coloured walls, as Sly rattled off his neighbour's rooms. Their room was at the very end of the hall, but Sly was a little scared of pushing the wheelchair too fast.

"So Murray's sorting things out for you at home, he says he's found an extension cable so you can use your laptop from bed. We've cleared out a space in the living room for you, and if you need anything, me and Murray will be here for you."

"Thanks Sly," Bentley said from the wheelchair. "I think I'll be fine. I just need to relax for a while."

Sly smiled over the top his friend's head.

"So what did they say?" He asked, patting Bentley on the shoulder.

"Well, you got the message that it's not a broken back, right?" Bentley said, straitening his glasses.

"Yeah, Murray got it a couple of days ago. They said they wanted to keep you in for a few more tests, but that was it.

"Tests," Bentley scoffed. "I could've told em' what was wrong."

"So what was it?" Sly asked once again.

"Well, what they said wasn't entirely true." Bentley said grimly, as they pulled up beside their apartment door.

"You broke your back?" Sly said, worry creeping into his voice.

"No, not entirely." Bentley said quickly, in a reassuring tone. "But I did crack one of my lower vertebrae. Don't worry; it didn't reach my spinal cord so I'll be ok. I'll just have to stay off my feet for while."

"Well that's a relief." Sly said with a deep breath as he fished in his coat pocket for his keys. Since their final defeat of Clock-La and Sly's subsequent escape for Inspector Fox, Sly had had to give up his blue gloves, boots and sweater. Hell, he'd even had to stop wearing his mask. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone out without his mask on. He felt king of exposed without it, and besides, he hated the black rings around his eyes. They made him look like he was permanently wearing glasses.

"Yeah, it coulda' been a lot worse if it wasn't for this," Bentley said with a smile as he tapped his shell. "I could be looking at never walking again."

"Jesus," Sly muttered under his breath, as he slotted his key in the lock. A portion of his brain was already automatically worrying about escape routes and laser beam alarm systems. He shook his head slightly, clearing his thoughts. He was desperate to get out on a job again; he'd been cooped up for nearly a week now, lying low with Murray. The pair had been scaling new heights of slobbery, as they both usually relied on Bentley to keep the place presentable. It'd be a good long while before either of them could expect him to do anything like that again. Sly pushed the door open and slipped past the wheelchair to push the injured tortoise inside. The intense aroma of stale pizza and flat beer wafted out to Bentley's less than eager nostrils. The tortoise sighed the sigh of a mother entering her teen-age son's room.

"Murray?" Sly called out into the dingy apartment. "Our bestest-best friend in the whole world is here."

From one of the bedrooms the pair heard movement.

"Urr, Sly," Bentley asked uncertainly, "You did tell Murray he can't be too…physical with me, didn't you?"

"He's not to hug you." Sly whispered in Bentley's ear. "I told him."

"Good."

Murray came stumbling into the hallway, his face brightly lit with happiness. He charged up to the wheelchair, and for a moment Sly thought he was already about to violate their prior agreement. Bentley was obviously thinking the same thing, as a bead of sweat ran down the tortoise's green forehead. Luckily, Murray just about managed to stop himself from flinging his arms around Bentley and crushing the life out of him. He caught himself just before scooping Bentley up, and reluctantly settled for a handshake.

"Good to have ya back, Pal," Murray said with immeasurable pleasure in his voice.

"Good to be back, thanks Murray," Bentley said. His hand becoming lost in Murray's massive pink palm.

"Well, lets get this tortoise in front of the TV," Sly said with a smile. Murray nodded in agreement and retreated down the short dingy hallway and ducked inside the living room. With his path now unblocked, Sly went ahead and pushed the chair after Murray and wheeled Bentley into the living room. Here Bentley was able to bear witness to the full extent of how bad things had gotten in his absence. Pizza box skyscrapers, some five layers high were dotted strategically around the small-ish room. The one light source in the room, the TV screen, reflected off the empty coke bottles that lurked in clusters on the floor. Bentley thanked heaven for the light being off, at least that way he couldn't see any stains. He could see an empty patch of carpet next to the armchair, so Sly and Murray had indeed scraped him a small space amid the debris. Murray had already established himself comfortably in the armchair, and he patted the arm next to Bentley's space encouragingly.

"Here you go," Sly said, wheeling Bentley into position. "Anything I can get you?"

"No, I'm fine thank you Sly."

"Ok. Well, here's the remote, and just let us know if there's anything we can do for you."

Bentley accepted the remote control with a small smile.

"Thanks, I will."

Sly retreated to the back of the room, near the door, a meter or so from Bentley Murray and the TV and plonked himself down on a beat up fainting couch. It was partially obscured by several coats and some newspapers; Sly unceremoniously swept these items onto the floor. Bentley clucked disapprovingly from the other side of the room, but Sly paid him no heed. This kind of thing happened all the time. He got himself comfortable on the couch and lay back to see was Bentley had elected to watch on the TV. He strained to see it, for the tube was at an almost right angle to him, so he could only just see the screen. It appeared to be some nature documentary or other, Sly thought he made out the phrase 'Madagascan pencil mice' but he wasn't really listening. Bentley was sitting with his hands clasped together, all his attention focused on the TV. Murray had his arms crossed, and he appeared to be slightly glazed. Sly allowed his mind to wander for a while, safe in the knowledge that his friend was at home and safe. As was usual for the past few days, it wasn't long before Sly began to re-live the final battle with Clock-La. He kept picking over it in his mind, making absolutely sure that there wasn't anything he'd missed, no minute part of the evil bird had survived. Sly shuddered. Not that it really mattered, after all, with the hate chip destroyed there was no way that anyone could again harness the power of Clockwerk, and on top of that, the parts had wasted away and disintegrated as soon as the chip was destroyed anyway. Sly knew that there was another reason his mind wouldn't let him forget the final battle. He still remembered the monstrous Clockwork jaw bearing down on Bentley, the sickening crunch when it closed over his tortoise friend. In that moment Sly died a thousand deaths, the guilt that he felt was almost unbearable. It was the first time in his career that he'd ever felt vulnerable. He'd never been scared of anything in his life, but at that moment fear tapped him on the shoulder and knifed him in the gut. Sly knew it was he who had dragged his friends into Clockwerk's vendetta, but… He really couldn't help that, could he? Surely they wouldn't resent him for it? Sly once again lost himself in deep thoughts. Seeing the guys leave their gear behind had cut into him pretty badly too. He knew they were at the end of their tether but… He didn't know. Either they were just desperate to escape and there simply wasn't time to retrieve their gear or… or it had some deeper meaning. Sly sighed. He'd managed to postpone his feelings of doubt and guilt long enough to flirt and escape from Carmelita Fox, but that was only because he didn't believe in letting one's adversaries see one's weaknesses. At least that's what he kept telling himself. Doubts continued to gnaw at the back of his brain like a ravenous parasites. He hated nursing something like this. For all his cool and calm exterior he was never particularly good at bottling up his emotions. It felt like he was carrying a lead weight in his stomach. He knew that he was going to have to say something.

"I, uh, I notice that you guys left you gear behind the other day," Sly spoke up over the TV, trying to sound casual. He failed. Bad start. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hrmph?" Murray said, jolted from his half-asleep state. Bentley merely threw Sly a sideways glance.

"I just said I notice how you guys left your gear behind after the fight with Clock-La." Sly repeated for Murray's benefit.

"I was wondering when you were going to bring this up," Bentley said shrewdly, taking off his spectacled and wiping them with a small cloth. "Thought you'd leave it for a couple of days, but never mind."

What did he mean by that? Sly cursed the fact that Bentley could read him so well, but it was hardly surprising, since the three of them were like brothers.

"Well, you know, just felt like, you know, you were deserting me a little." Sly winced inwardly as soon as he said this. Very, very poor choice of words.

"Deserted? Sly, I was unconscious for God's sake." Bentley said in exasperation.

"Look, forget it, okay? Forget I said anything." Sly said, trying to stop the situation escalating.

"I was just worried about Bentley is all," Murray chipped in. "I didn't even think about… I'm sorry."

"Seriously man do you know how insulting that is? After we followed you all over the globe?" Bentley ploughed on, ignoring Murray's attempt to diffuse the situation.

"I never asked you to come with me." Sly said quietly, a tinge of annoyance seeping into his voice.

"What?!" Bentley near shouted in anger and disgust. "You'd have never gotten out of the history museum if it wasn't for the pair of us!"

"I'd have been fine." Sly levelled at Bentley. Murray sniffled quietly from the other side of the room.

"That's cold." Bentley said earnestly.

"Look, it just pisses me off that you guys left your gear behind!" Sly snapped. "It's like you left me high and dry!"

"High and dry?" Bentley repeated, his anger rising by the second. "As I recall someone rigged the helicopter autopilot and someone else knocked out the pilot."

"I thought you were out of it."

"It was the last thing I told Murray to do before I blacked out."

Murray was too choked up to agree, but it was obviously true. Sly scowled.

"I was ready to go to jail for you guys." Sly said bluntly. He was hoping he wouldn't have to use that one.

"Yeah, but we made sure you didn't, did we not? And besides, I thought you said you didn't need us."

Shit. Now Bentley had him. Check mate.

"I didn't…I didn't mean…"

"And I bet you found time to flirt with the inspector while you were in custody." Bentley pressed his advantage.

"I didn't." Sly lied, badly.

"All this time we've followed you," Bentley shouted at Sly "sometimes damn near to the Gate of Hell, and the minute we need to have a break you start questioning us? I almost broke my back for God's sake!"

"Look, I just took it the wrong…"

"I almost broke my back on a mission for you and you think I'm deserting you?" Bentley was leaning forward in his chair and visibly shaking now.

"Hey," Sly retorted, "If Clock-La had survived it would have been lights out for everyone. And if it hadn't been for me you two would be still in that battery!"

"You're still the one who put us on the road to fighting Clock-La." Bentley said. "And that was your war not ours."

"Are you saying you regret being a thief with me?"

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth!" Bentley bellowed, somehow managing to get his nasal tortoise voice to rise another octave. "My point is that we didn't have to stick by you all those times but we did!"

"So what happened this time?" Sly said, his body crackling with rage.

"I can't believe you." Bentley said in his normal voice once more. He turned to Murray, who was doing his best to suppress his sobs. "Could you take me out of here?"

Murray nodded wordlessly and wiped his face along the length of his arm and hoisted himself out of his chair to wheel Bentley back out of the apartment. Sly sat sulkily on the couch like a kid who'd been scolded. Murray wheeled Bentley in the direction of the door.

"I think you've got some growing up to do." Bentley threw at Sly as they were passing. Sly rolled his eyes. Murray gave him a tearful shrug and a heartbreaking look before the pair disappeared from sight. The front door was slammed shut, and Sly Cooper was left quite alone.

After a few minutes mental ranting Sly stood, violently kicked over a stack of pizza boxes and stormed into his room. Hurling himself on his clumsily made bed, Bentley's last words and Murray's tragic look had emblazed themselves on his mind. What the hell had he just done? Was he really so arrogant these days that he thought his two best friends in the world revolved around him? So paranoid that he saw an act of desperation as a personal threat? Did he really treat his crimes as a joke, having fun and flirting while Murray and Bentley picked up the pieces and did all the hard work? Was he really that ungrateful? He had to find them. He sighed deeply, swore loudly at the ceiling and raced out of the apartment, pausing only briefly to snatch his keys from the hallway table. As he dashed out he remembered why he was such close friends with Murray and Bentley. He knew in his heart of hearts that they would do anything for him. Christ, Bentley got himself squashed by nearly a ton of metal for him. He'd do anything for them too, he knew. It was just that he could be brash and insensitive at times too. He was going to have to grovel for this one. As he ran his mind cast back to a time when he first began to recognise the tortoise and hippo as family, a time when he was still stuck in the Happy Camper orphanage.