McHorn doesn't know why he keeps coming back.
Maybe it's because he can't stop thinking about that kid, or those inspectors, or this whole screwed up situation. Maybe it's because he feels guilt or responsibility or something that continues to draw him back to the case despite urges from everyone to let it go or forget about it.
Whatever the reason, he finds himself visiting Cooper's son over the next few days, both in and out of uniform.
He doesn't go for any conversation; it's clear in the few times he's tried that the boy just isn't going to talk back, or at all. Nurse Duke tells him not to take it personally - apparently not a single staff member has heard a single word from him the entire time, either. So the officer often sits and reads, or browses his phone, or does paperwork, and does his best to react with a smile or a few kind words whenever he feels little brown eyes on him.
It's for this reason that he's approached during his shift by Inspector Singh on day five.
"Your chief tells me you've been spending a lot of time at the hospital," the Interpol agent says nonchalantly, leaning against the doorframe of McHorn's office cubicle.
The rhino stiffens. "I'm staying out of the case. I'm not doing anything illegal."
"Easy, friend," Singh reassures him, "I never said you were. I actually came to talk to you about something related to that, if you'd let me."
He squints at the sun bear, giving a reluctant, curious nod when he doesn't sense anything suspicious.
"Great! You see, we're scheduled to transfer Cooper's belongings back to headquarters, but first we need to let the kid pick up a few of his own things before he's put in the system. Social worker's orders."
"Foster care?"
"A boy's home, I think. Anyway, I was hoping you could escort him to the place for us."
McHorn frowns. "Why me? I thought your partner didn't want me around."
"A few reasons." The inspector begins ticking off his fingers, one by one. "First, we're trying to separate Cooper's son from any association with him, for his own safety, so having an Interpol escort would draw a lot of unnecessary attention. Second, he's going to need an officer with him anyway to make sure he doesn't, y'know…"
When the man only gives him a blank stare, Singh sighs.
"Just making sure none of those infamous traits of his father have rubbed off on him. You understand the suspicion."
He says it like it's an inevitable fact, and something about that makes McHorn's gut clench uncomfortably in a knot.
"Are you expecting me to arrest him if he does anything?" He asks, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice. This is a child they're talking about, who they're keeping from "stealing" his own family's things.
"Oh, no, that's not what I'm saying at all. Just, y'know, keep an eye on him. Keep him from causing any trouble."
It's not a fair request, but McHorn is all too familiar with how kids in the system are treated just for being there in the first place. He nods again, much slower and hesitant.
"Is there anything else?"
"Yeah, actually." The sun bear drums his claws against the door frame. "We're hoping you can get that cane from him."
Now the knot flips his stomach entirely.
"...What?"
"I know it sounds like an impossible request," Singh says smoothly, misinterpreting the look on the officer's face. "But we really can't allow such a dangerous weapon to remain in the hands of a child any longer, and it's important that we get it back to headquarters where it belongs - safely off the streets forever. That cane has done enough damage already, don't you think?"
McHorn remembers the terrible fiasco that resulted from the last time they tried to do that. "You can't be serious."
"Yet here I am." The other man gives him a disarming smile.
"That kid barely even tolerates me as it is, inspector. He's not going to let me take his cane away from him."
"Then convince him! He doesn't have a choice in the matter." The detective looks him up and down before shaking his head with a disappointed click of the tongue. "Officer McHorn, you have to face the reality of the situation. Cooper's cane is coming with us no matter what. He can't keep it. I'd been hoping you could persuade the child to hand it over for his own sake, but if force ends up necessary…"
He trails off, letting the implications hang in the air with the most easygoing expression still on his face. The rhino feels sick.
"Consider it, would you?" Inspector Singh turns to leave with his hands in his pockets. "You're a good man from what your chief tells me. I'd really rather it was you who did this than someone more callous. Wouldn't you agree?"
And that's the problem - McHorn does agree.
He agrees so much that that's how he finds himself in a familiar hospital room the very next morning with a child staring up at him and that same knot still twisting his insides. Nurse Duke is there as well to say his goodbyes, and he squeezes the kit's hand in reassurance.
"You're a tough cookie, Sly," he says, and McHorn wonders for the umpteenth time what possessed a parent to give their kid a name like that. "You're going to be just fine. Keep your chin up and don't take flack from anyone, okay?"
The kit nods, one hand holding his notebook and the other curled tightly around the golden hooked end of his cane, and the rhino exhales very slowly through his nose.
"You'll make sure he's taken care of, right?"
It takes him a moment to realize the dog is addressing him. He jerks to attention.
"Y-Yeah, uh, yeah, I've got him. Don't worry."
To illustrate his point, the officer holds out a hand, and Sly takes it after much hesitation. They leave the room to Duke's earnest goodbyes, then the hospital entirely. He helps the kid into his cruiser and starts driving without any preamble.
It's so quiet in the backseat that he'd think no one was actually there with him, if not for the sight of the little raccoon curled up around his father's cane like it was a teddy bear every time the rhino glances at the rearview mirror.
The sight of Cooper's quant little home sends a spike of nausea through the officer even in broad daylight, and he catches a similar queasiness rising on the kit's face before he manages to school his expression. There's a large moving van parked in front, along with a civilian car and an unmarked vehicle that McHorn figures belongs to Inspector Singh. He rolls to a stop just in time to witness two movers carrying an armchair out the front door.
Sly's breath hitches. The officer wishes he wasn't the one who was asked to do this.
"Did, uh, anyone tell you why I brought you here?" He asks, turning around in his seat to look at the kid head-on. Relief hits him like a bullet when he gets a nod in response. "Good! Good, okay, uh…let's not waste any time, then."
Stepping out of the car in front of the house sends a wave of terrible deja vu through him, despite it being broad daylight. From this distance, he can't tell if the front door has been reattached and is simply wide open, or if they never bothered fixing it at all. The kit slides out from his own seat and appears at the rhino's side almost soundlessly, startling him back into the present moment. With a quick glance down and some attempt at a reassuring expression, he leads the boy towards the house.
Inspector Singh is waiting for them just past the doorway.
"Hey there, kiddo!" He greets Sly, whose face twists like he just tasted something sour. Then the sun bear's eyes rise up to his escort. "Officer McHorn. Glad you could make it after all."
"Didn't really feel like I had a choice," the man mumbles.
"Oh, there's always a choice. It's good to see you made the right one. Right this way, if you will."
He sidesteps another set of movers and begins walking, and his reluctant companions have no choice but to follow.
"I've made sure his room remained untouched," the bear says, far too cheerful as he starts leading them through the house. They pass the living room and both rhino and raccoon pretend it doesn't exist. "So it should be nice and easy to get his things together and ready to go."
Inspector Singh turns a corner down the hall like he's lived here all his life, then pokes his head back around. His eyes land on Sly to actually address him directly again.
"Kiddo, there's someone here who I want you to meet." He reaches a hand out as if to take his hand, but the boy shies away. The inspector's smile twitches only briefly before righting itself.
"Over here, please."
They turn the corner and stop. There's a lizard stranger standing next to Inspector Singh, who turns their head and peers down at Sly over carefully-balanced glasses.
"This is Campbell, your social worker," the sun bear says with an encouraging smile. "They'll be taking you to your new home after you're done packing your things here."
The raccoon tightens his grip on his cane as he stares up at the new stranger. All the adults stand awkwardly in silence for a beat too long, expecting a reaction that doesn't come, before Campbell coughs into their hand.
"Well. It's nice to meet you, Sylvester."
A few things happen at the utterance of that name. The kit shoots the lizard a confused look, then lifts his notebook and begins flipping through it as Inspector Singh whispers something to them that McHorn doesn't catch.
When Sly finds the page that holds his real name and tries to hold it up for them to see, they shake their head and none-too-gently push it back towards him.
"No," they chastise. "No, that's not your name. The detective here told me about your nickname. It's very cute, but we're going to use your real name from now on. It's proper manners for where you're going, especially if you end up in the care of another family."
The raccoon stares them down. Through the astonishment, everyone can see the question on his face. It almost looks like a dare; a dare to tell him what his real name is supposed to be. McHorn has to commend him for his boldness in front of all of these people of authority.
"Your name is Sylvester," the social worker repeats slowly, as if the child won't understand otherwise. "Sylvester James."
McHorn doesn't know the significance of this name, but the kid certainly seems to. His eyes blow wide and he stiffens, staring at Campbell like they just told him to spit on his father's grave. Then those eyes narrow in anger.
He opens his mouth.
They wait.
Nothing.
Inspector Singh looks particularly pleased with himself as the child closes his mouth, as if he has just won some kind of bet. The raccoon is subtly shaking now, and the rhino wonders what's going through Sly's - Sylvester's head. Something about the correction strikes him as wrong even in his own mind, despite barely knowing him at all.
But the kit doesn't protest - can't protest - and thus is powerless to stop this strong-arming of his new identity. Abruptly he pivots on his foot and weaves past both government workers, marching towards his room with his head held high and his cane dragging behind in as dignified a manner as he can manage. It's an obvious "screw you" that all of them can interpret.
They follow him in silence. Inspector Singh gives the officer a significant look as the cane catches on the hall rug, forcing Sly - Sylvester to pause in his prideful stride and tug it free.
McHorn pretends not to notice it.
They arrive at the boy's soon-to-be-former room, and Campbell turns to him.
"You can take enough to fill this up, but nothing more." To punctuate their point, they thrust a duffel bag in his direction. He takes it without a sound, as expected, and enters the room with a locked jaw.
It's a bizarre, heart-breaking sight to watch a child move around their own room as if nothing belongs to them, having to choose between favorite clothes and precious toys because they're not allowed to take more than a handful of any of those cherished things altogether. Sylvester trudges from closet to shelf to dresser to bed, quiet as a little wraith the whole way through. He picks mostly blue clothes, McHorn notices, and only a few other things to fill the space in his bag.
The cane moves along with him like a ball and chain.
His entourage watches him from the doorway, and this treatment of the situation like it's a spectacle adds a whole other layer to the wrongness of it all.
As the boy finishes packing, the Interpol agent turns and disappears down the hallway. Campbell adjusts their glasses as Sylvester zips his bag up and turns stare at them from the middle of the room.
"Yes, yes, very good. It looks like you're ready to go, then. Come on."
Head still held high, the raccoon steps out of the room just in time for a loud thud to catch everyone's attention. They all look to see Inspector Singh has returned with a mover and an open, empty safe now placed at his feet.
It's built like a rectangular instead of a square, meant to hold something long, and McHorn closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the moment the kit connects the dots.
Something small grabs onto his leg. He opens his eyes to the sight of Sylvester clinging to him, glaring at both government workers as he uses the rhino as a shield and clutches his father's cane protectively.
"None of that, now," the lizard scolds. "You should know by now that you wouldn't be allowed to take that with you even if these kind officers didn't need it. A weapon like that isn't meant for children."
The raccoon glares some more and shakes his head. Singh gives McHorn an expectant look.
"Well, officer?"
He hesitates, feeling more than seeing the child peer up at him in confusion. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to get down on one knee so that he can talk to the boy face-to-face.
"Listen, Sylv….Sly," he ignores the ugly looks using that name garners from the other adults, "I know how, uh, important that thing is to you. It probably feels like...like me and my badge, right? Like when you have it with you, it will protect you. Doesn't it?"
He holds his breath, worried he's misjudged things, until the kit gives him a slow, reluctant nod.
"Right. Yeah. So, uh, the thing is, you're going to a place where you'll be safe again. Not a place like the hospital, or…"
His eyes flicker towards the end of the hallway where the doorway to the living room waits for them both. Sly follows his gaze and inhales, mouth thin.
"So, y'know, uh…" It's getting harder to find the words. He sees the social worker out of the corner of his eye. "...You won't need that extra protection anymore, because you have Campbell here to look out for you."
The child doesn't look convinced by that. McHorn can't say he blames him.
"And - and you'll have me," he blurts out before he can regret it. "I'll look after you, too."
And he realizes that he means it. He cares too much about this kid to pretend he won't exist after today. Sly deserves better than that for all he's already been through.
It's this sincerity that cinches it. The child stares at him, searches every inch of his expression, and recognizes the man's genuine promise. It won't be enough for him to truly feel safe, but there likely won't ever be anything that does again.
Slowly, as if it's physically painful to do so, Sly relinquishes his death grip on his father's cane, allowing McHorn to take it with the utmost care from him. His face cracks in remorse and longing the moment he no longer touches it, but he doesn't try to grab it again.
He simply stands there, looking utterly defeated, as the rhino hands the cane to Inspector Singh.
"Thank you, officer," the other man says, wasting no time in placing it in the safe and closing the door with a heavy thunk. "Your help is incredibly appreciated."
The safe is hefted up and away by the mover, and the kit makes a soft sound far dangerously close to a sob. It's easy to pretend no one hears it.
"Come along then, Sylvester," Campbell puts great emphasis on the name, giving McHorn a severe look as they beckon the raccoon to follow them. "There's a lot to be done at your new home before you can get situated."
The rhino gets back on his feet and trudges alongside the boy back through the house, trying to show his support as best he can. As the four of them walk out the front door, McHorn sees a mover toss a half-opened box into the back of the trick. There's a flash of blue as several of the box's contents nearly get upended by the throw, disappearing into the depths of the truck.
Sly takes a sharp breath, face stricken, and sprints for the back of the vehicle.
"Wha-!"
"Hey!"
Inspector and social worker exclaim simultaneously and both try to grab the kit before he can much farther. He dodges them both with a grace McHorn has never seen on anyone before, and keeps running.
"I - I got him!" The officer promises them in a rush, seeing the mirroring looks of irritation. "I got him, hang on!"
He rushes after the boy, who has already climbed the loading ramp and disappears among furniture and stacked boxes. McHorn can't see him at all as he reaches the beginning of the packed pile.
"Kid? Where'd you go?"
There's no response - he's not sure why he expected anything different, honestly - and so the rhino heaves a big sigh before wedging himself into the mess to look for the runaway.
The truck feels much bigger on the inside, and the haphazard way everything has been stuffed in makes it terribly slow going. McHorn grunts as he bumps his horn against the corner of a nightstand balanced precariously on top of a stack of flimsy boxes.
"Sly? Are you around h-"
He peers through the space between an upturned table and a mattress and the words die in his throat.
Cooper's child has found the safe.
How he managed to find it in this claustrophobic nightmare, the man will never know, but that's not the biggest thing that catches his attention. What catches his attention is that the kid is on his knees in front of it, with his right cheek and ear pressed firmly against the door and his fingers touching the dial. His eyes are unfocused and his lips move in silent words that the officer can't decipher.
Intrigued, wondering what he thinks he's going to accomplish here, McHorn watches as quietly as he can as the child moves the dial carefully back and forth. A minute passes, and just as he decides he should reveal himself to get the kit out of here before the others get suspicious, he hears it.
A click.
Sly inhales in sharp relief as he opens the door to the safe as easily as if it was a kitchen cabinet. McHorn can only gawk at the sight of him pulling out his father's cane and hugging it close to his chest. It shouldn't be possible. It can't be possible, because that's an industrial, high-security safe made by Interpol. But the proof is right in front of him as he watches the child systematically fold the cane nearly in half by some secret button and tuck it neatly into his duffel bag. Then he closes the safe again, spinning the dial like it's a pinwheel.
The sight would almost be cute if the rhino hadn't just seen what he had. But for some reason unknown even to himself, he doesn't call the boy out.
As Sly nods in satisfaction to himself, the officer takes a few steps back and out of sight. It's barely in the nick of time before the kid pops out from within the furniture with his duffel bag held close. A blue cap far too big for him sits on top of his head, and McHorn belatedly wonders how he got the time to find it amongst all that safe-cracking and stealing.
His eyes trail between that hat and the bag, then to the kit's carefully schooled face. "You, uh…got everything you need, then?"
The child stares at him. Whether he knows the man had seen what he'd done or not, it's impossible to tell. But there is no denying the subtle lift to the corners of his mouth as he nods to confirm that yes - yes, he did indeed.
This is the happiest McHorn has ever seen him. It tugs at his heart, and he takes a deep breath before making a decision, holding out his hand again. This time, the kid takes it with barely any delay.
They exit the truck together, where Singh is waiting with a cigarette in his mouth and Campbell with an impatient look on their face. Two pairs of eyebrows arch upward simultaneously at the sight of Connor Cooper's hat now on the child's head, but neither adult comments on it. The inspector only lets out a single puff of smoke before turning to the rhino.
"Is he done?"
McHorn looks down. Sly looks up.
"Yeah," he says softly. "He has everything he needs, now."
"Fantastic," the lizard huffs, snatching the boy's wrist before he has the chance to get out of range again. "I think we've wasted enough time here. Come along now, Sylvester. We don't want to be late."
There's not even a chance to say a proper goodbye as the social worker hurries the wide-eyed child into the back of their car. McHorn only gets the chance to lock eyes with him through the window before they're speeding away, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.
Well, he thinks bitterly as smoke curls the air nearby, not quite alone.
Inspector Singh snuffs out his cigarette without any hurry, looking like he didn't just force the rhino to take a child's security blanket away from him. As far as he's aware, that's still the case. McHorn knows the fallout is not going to be pretty when they open that empty safe at Interpol headquarters, but right now he can't find it in himself to care.
The sun bear side-eyes him.
"Tell ya what." The other man suddenly breaks the silence, all smiles. "For being such a good sport about all of this, I'll let you escort us to the airport."
It takes a moment for the abrupt change of subject to register, but the instant it does, McHorn practically gawks at him. "Wait, you don't have an escort? Isn't most of this stuff super valuable?"
"We have an air escort," he replies, gesturing vaguely in some direction above the town. The rhino doesn't actually see anything in the sky. "And I'm here for ground coverage. Consider your presence a special look into how us international professionals do things."
The officer glances down the road, where Campbell's car has long since disappeared with their new charge. He exhales, turns back to the inspector, and nods. Might as well see this horrible day through to the very end.
"Excellent! You'll want this, then." He hands him a walkie-talkie. "Contact with our eyes in the skies. Only use it if you have real reason to be concerned, alright? Now let's get this train a-chugging."
They waste no time heading out; three vehicles leave the house and then the suburb with Inspector Singh leading, McHorn in the very back, and the truck sandwiched in between. The moment they pass the "leaving town, thank you for coming" sign, heavy humming drones in from overhead.
The rhino glances upwards to see a helicopter with the Interpol insignia coming into view, hovering a ways up above the moving truck. The sound of it thrums through McHorn's hands where they're clenching the steering wheel.
Ten minutes out of town, just as they're stopping at a red light, the copter suddenly jerks sideways as if the pilot bumped into the cyclic stick. The officer frowns, watching it right itself as his radio crackles to life.
"Delta-1, this is Singh. Everything okay up there?"
Another crackle. There's an alarmingly long moment of delay before someone else answers back.
"Everything is fine," responds a British voice, deep and a little raspy. "Unexpected turbulence. Things should go quite smoothly from now on."
"If you say so," the inspector concedes with just the slightest hesitation. "Continuing radio silence. Over and out."
The light turns green, and Singh's car pulls out onto the intersection.
A vehicle slams straight into him.
McHorn swerves at the sight, and that is the only thing that saves him as another car attempts to t-bone him as well. It rams into the back left door instead of the driver's it was aiming for, sending him spinning out of control. Before he can even get the chance to right himself, the assailing car comes back for a second round.
The helicopter's blades drown out all sound.
The officer gets one good look as it drops to their level, attaching a wire crane to the top of the transport truck, right before he's hit again. This time, one of his tires hits the side ditch.
He flips.
He lands.
The world goes white and red and then blissfully black.
"Tragedy today in America as an Interpol transport was ruthlessly attacked, resulting in a double homicide of Detective Inspector Bodie Singh and American police officer Charles McHorn. According to our sources, the transport contained the belongings of recently-deceased master thief Connor Cooper, which was stolen at the time of the attack. Included among these was his world-famous Cooper cane, once used to perform heists all over the world."
"Chief Inspector Francine Pennington has announced that they have no primary suspects for the crime at this time, but urges anyone with information to come forward. No statement has yet been released about the death of her partner."
"In related news; former Cooper Gang member Jim McSweeney has turned himself in to authorities. According to a witness, he did so without resistance and is quoted as saying, "it's over. I'm done.""
"The question now on everyone's minds: is the Cooper case cursed? Is everyone who gets too close to the master thief's legacy doomed to failure and death? Stay tuned, and find out the answer."
A/N: I am so. SO incredibly unsatisfied with the action scene at the end but I really don't think I'll be able to get it any better at this point. If I ever come up with a better execution I'll go back and rework it.
But yay! New chapter! And character death! How exciting!
Funny fun fact for you all: I've had the latter half of this chapter planned since I started this fic back in 2019 - specifically how Sly steals his cane back out from under Interpol's nose, and how one of the inspectors was going to die at the end (I was unsure at the time of who got the privilege, though. Sorry Singh, you silver-tongued bastard. You were a fun character while you lasted).