"Round, round, get around,"

"I get around!"

"Round, round, weehoo, I get around!"

The wheelchair squeaked loudly around the deserted Parisian streets as Bentley, Sly and Murray drunkenly made their way home. It had stopped raining now, but a chill wind still swept over the cobblestones that the wheelchair bounced over, and rippled the black puddles of water that collected anywhere they could. The sky was totally cloudless, and the three thieves were not unaware that they were singing their hearts out and toasting their friendship to a blanket of stars.

They had already sung a modest collection of songs, some with more words than others, some with parts totally made up, but all at the tops of their lungs. Several lights had gone on in darkened windows in their wake, and more than once they'd been shouted at by tired and disgruntled Parisians. They finished off their attempt at the latest tune, and fell into giggling amongst themselves. Bentley slumped into the side of his wheelchair, chucking away to himself, Sly pushed the chair erratically down the backstreet, relying on it just on it as much as his tortoise friend, while Murray brought up the rear, frequently stumbling and tripping over his own feet. The laughter lasted a few more seconds before all three thieves lapsed into a contented silence. After a few moments, Bentley happened to glance to the heavens.

"Wow," He breathed quietly. "Would you guys take a look at that sky?"

Sly and Murray paused in their shambling and cast their eyes upwards. Murray let out a grunt of appreciation, while Sly remained reflectively quiet.

"Y'know, I think I could happily do this all my life. Thieving I mean."

"Well, you know me Bentley," Sly said concentrating hard on his articulation. "I'm a Cooper. It's what I was born to do."

"I dunno Sly," Murray chipped in, suddenly joining the conversation. "We're not just thieves. Not anymore. Heck, we're practically crime fighters. How many -"

There was a slight pause in the conversation as Murray let loose a belch that shook the very foundations of the buildings around them. "How many Coopers could say that?"

Sly shrugged as Bentley twisted around in his chair to look at his big pink friend.

"I've noticed that you get more profound the more drink you've had. I should get some whiskey in."

Sly chuckled.

"I guess we have moved on from simple thieves…" Sly sighed, slowly starting to push the wheelchair again with a soft squeak. "I just wish I knew how much of it was down to high moral code and how much of it is chasing Carmelita around…"

Bentley and Murray exchanged knowing glances.

"Oh." Sly said, realising what he'd said out loud.

"Ah yes. The divine Miss Fox." Bentley quipped. "Of all the girls in all of the different countries we've visited, in all the countless cities, towns and villages we've been to, why her?"

"What? Whadaya mean?"

"Well, I mean come on Sly, of all the girls to be obsessed over…"

"Who says I'm obsessed over Carmelita?"

"Ah, the scrapbook full of Carmelita Fox press cuttings ensconced in a pillow case under the floorboards of your bedroom with the wardrobe on to top that neither I nor Bentley know about speaks volumes." Murray cut in.

The tortoise shot Sly an apologetic glance.

"Damnit Guys!"

"Sorry Sly. You taught us all we know."

"I didn't mean for you to use it on me." The raccoon moaned.

"We're sorry. If it makes you feel better my middle name is Cornelius and Murray has a modest collection of Barbie dolls he thinks I don't know about."

"Oh. Uh, well, okay then."

The three sheepishly avoided each other's gaze for a few seconds before Bentley broke the silence.

"So anyway, to doggedly drag us back to my original question, why Carmelita Sly?"

"Why not?"

"Come on. I don't think she's that good looking."

Sly tutted disapprovingly.

"No accounting for taste. Murray, back me up here, Carmelita Fox is a stone cold babe, right?"

Murray narrowed his eyes and made the 'sort of' face.

"I prefer girls with a bit more meat on them."

Sly sighed and shook his head.

"To be honest, I don't know. She's done something to me, that's for sure. I guess it's because I'm a thief."

Bentley and Murray registered their puzzlement.

"You know how it is guys, I'm a thief, what I do is take things that I'm not supposed to. So what could be more apt that the affections of my most worthy foe?"

"That's an interesting theory…" Murray slurred.

"Plus the idea of Carmelita and I, a supposed master thief and a DI for Interpol seemed vaguely poetic."

"Yeah," Bentley said mulling it over, "I guess I can see that."

"It begs the question of what you're going to do now though, doesn't it? With Carmelita I mean." Murray stumbled after his friends.

"Aw, I dunno." The raccoon mused. "Nothing I suppose."

"Oh, come on Sly, you got her phone number after all."

"And what can I do with that?" Sly countered. "Hello, this is that low down, slimy, worthless raccoon you've been chasing for the better part of three years, I was just wondering if you fancied going out for a drink?"

"You exaggerate. You don't look slimy."

"Thanks, Murray. That, that helps."

They continued on through the streets a little while longer. A massive cloudbank drifted with purpose across the moon, creating a dark shadow for the thieves to negotiate. They hit yet another cobbled patch of street and Bentley was near jiggled right out of his chair.

"We could always prank call her?" Bentley offered after the short silence.

"I'm serious guys."

"So am I!" the tortoise protested.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about Carmelita, nothing for now I guess." Sly said defensively. "I tell you though; she's enough to make a guy go on the straight and narrow."

Bentley looked up at his friend from his chair.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to be doing that for a long time."

"Good. You had me worried for a second there."

"C'mon Bentley, you know I'll never be able to do that. I mean, look at you two. You're a computer expert and more than competent RC pilot, and you" He turned to Murray "have superb driving skills. If both of you wanted to leave you could and you'd find another job to do easily. Me, thieving… it's all I know how to do."

Both Bentley and Murray remained respectfully quiet for a moment or two. The hippo placed a colossal pink mitt on Sly's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. You know, if you ever did want to stop, I wouldn't hold it against you…"

"Me neither," Bentley piped up.

"Nah, I'm not saying that guys, it's just sometimes I wish I had some other skill to fall back on. It wouldn't even bother me except for Carmelita…"

"You couldn't have fallen for a traffic cop?" Bentley muttered. Sly grinned.

"God no," Murray belched. "Those people have cold black souls. As for skills Sly, don't worry about it. I understand that most prisons in Paris have training in both the rock-breaking and mail bag sewing fields."

"Well, if that happens I'll have you there to keep me company Barbie boy!" Sly laughed. Murray glared at his blue capped friend.

"Thank you so much for that Cornelius," He addressed Bentley.

"Hey, come on, all's fair, we all know each other's dirty little secrets. Even if some of them are a little weirder than others." Bentley grinned. Sly guffawed behind him and almost lost his grip on the wheelchair.

"They're highly collectable!"

"Yeah, to eight year old girls!" Sly giggled.

"I'm not speaking to you guys anymore." The hippo huffed.

"Oh, come on, we're just teasing you."

"S'right, we didn't mean it. Look at Cornelius here, he's got a name like a toilet cleaner but you don't see him complaining."

From the chair Sly faintly heard the sound of teeth being gnashed.

"Well at least you've got Carmelita's number now Sly," Bentley cried "Now she'll be that much easier to stalk."

"Hey, yeah!" Murray laughed. "You'll be peering through her window every chance you get!"

"Hardy har har fellas. Although I could sneak up to her balcony and leave her a box of chocolates and a romantic note…"

"Assuming she has a balcony."

"Yes, assuming she has a balcony." Sly conceded.

"And they say corniness is dead." Murray prodded again.

"Okay then, Mr. Clever-no-trousers," Sly's brain struggled to come up with an appropriately gentle insult. "What would you do?"

"Cheese."

"Eh?"

"I'd leave her a cheese on her balcony instead. Girls love good cheese, everyone knows that."

There was a short pause as the information sank into Bentley and Sly. Had they indeed just heard their demonstrative pink friend correctly?

"Are you sure Murray?" Sly ventured, his brow creased in confusion. "Coz I always heard that girls liked chocolates and flowers, not cheese."

"No, it's defiantly cheese." Murray nodded.

"Are you sure you're not confusing girls with mice?"

"Yes! Look, if you leave her cheese you'll stand out in her mind more. She'll keep it away for a while and then when she enjoys the sophisticated taste of an expensive cheese she'll remember you, not like some half-heartedly devoured bitter-sweet chocolate tray."

Murray lat his words hang in the air dramatically for a few moments.

"The really scary thing is, parts of that made sense." Sly commented.

"I told you, it's the profound thing. Take his advice at your own risk though. Oh look, we're home."

The tortoise was indeed correct. Their comfy apartment building loomed over them, a monolith of cheap cement that signalled that their night was at an end.

"Shall we go in?"

"Best had. It's what we usually do."

Murray and Sly haphazardly helped Bentley up the wheelchair ramp, and soon they were back in their apartment. By this time Bentley had already fallen asleep, somewhere in the lift, so they wheeled him into his room and Murray tenderly lifted the tortoise out of his chair and placed him in his bed. Sly nodded the hippo his approval.

"Well, nighty night matey," Sly said, for reasons unexplained adopting a pirate voice.

"Yeah, night Sly. Hey, you think…" Murray started, his voice trailing off.

"Hmn?"

"Well…Bentley…You know, he's…He's gonna be okay, right?"

"Yeah, course he is. Wait, what, how do you mean?" Sly stumbled, dropping his accent and trying to focus his thoughts.

"Well, you know…with his back and the chair…"

"Yeah, he'll be fine Murray. The hospital said it isn't permanent. Why're you thinking about that now?"

Murray visibly fidgeted.

"Well, I…you know how I…If I'd managed to get that thing off him quicker, I…"

"Don't go there mate," Sly cut him off. "You'll drive yourself mad thinking like that. Just think what could have happened if you hadn't been there at all. And besides, like I say, it isn't permanent, so no worries, yeah?"

"Oh, good," the Hippo smiled. "I dunno what I'd do if he had to spend the rest of his life in that chair…"

"Don't worry about it. Just get some sleep."

Murray nodded and smiled at his friend, then turned and lumbered off to his room. Sly stared after him for a few seconds and then turned for his room. He was so glad to have a guy like Murray on his team, nay, able to call him a friend. Not having a family had affected the guy deeply, and had forged the bonds of friendship between him and Sly and Bentley stronger than any family ties. Sly knew without a shadow of a doubt that Murray would tear the world in half for either himself or Bentley.

He entered his room and flopped on the bed for the second time that day. He started to lift his shirt up to get changed, but the whole affair seemed like far too much effort so he stopped. He closed his eyes, and sleep approached his quickly, riding the crest of a wave of tequila. He smiled into his pillow and then giggled into it a little too. He had the best friends in the world. They'd had a fantastic night together and god only knew what embarrassing memories would bubble to the surface of his consciousness the following morning. He giggled some more, and dug around in his pocket. He was leaning on something, and that minor discomfort was the only thing that was keeping his slumber at bay. He looked at what it was, holding it three inches from his face, as that was the only way he could focus on what it was. It was his wallet, and wrapped around that was a white piece of paper. He struggled to read what was on it. He grinned as he clocked the phone number and the elegant handwriting of Carmelita Fox. As sleep finally took hold he knew that the possibilities from here on in were endless; no doubt about it, the possibilities were endless.

T H E E N D

Sorry this story took so damn long to finish off, yet another case of real life intruding on my meanderings. I do apologise. Anyway, should have the first chapter of the sequel to this up in a couple of days. Hope you enjoyed!