Glad you guys are enjoying my fic! Thank to all my reviewers including the ones for this story and my other Sly fics! Also, I know this story is a bit on the slow side... I need to establish everyone's roles and characters at this point in time. After all, these characters are central to the rest of the story as it unfolds. Hopefully, this will finally pick up some steam after chapter 4. Also, don't forget the contest that is going on with this story. If you don't know what I am talking about please see Chapter 2. I will be posting the answers at the end of every month for all the chapters posted in that month.

So I know some people may have questions at the end of this chapter about some of the characterizations. At this point in my story, the gang is a lot younger and so they are still learning to work through group conflict. As I've said before, I wasn't a fan of the character development in the games, or lack thereof, in some places. Therefore, I am starting at a rather low point so that there'll be plenty of time for character growth throughout the story for everyone, not just Sly.

Your hints for this chapter: There is 1 Easter Egg in this chapter. It also deals with numbers. This one is chronologically important.

Disclaimer: Sly Cooper and other related characters are formerly the property of Sucker Punch, inc. and currently the property of Sanzaru, Inc. except for Beatrice Montreal, Bryan Moliere, Desiree Mallery, Desiree Monroe, Nautica Macavity, Aubrey Lancaster, Ann Monret, Armand Jaeger, Phillip Dumont, and Claire Bennet which all belong to me. Carmen Fox, Carlos Diego Fox, Kitty Petro, and Ling Chu belong to Kitty Petro.

Season 1: "When Strangers Meet"

Arc 1: "Shattered Past, Broken Present"

Episode 2:

Things Fall Apart

Later on that morning...

Beatrice Montreal was doing well for a 24-year-old orphan that had never been adopted. A lot of the people she grew up with were either dead, on drugs, drowning in a bottle, or in jail. She, however, had a fairly decent job as a buyer for a small bookstore chain in France, and she recently got a beautiful home. Most importantly, she was getting married to a wonderful man. That same wonderful man was beside her as both bats continued quietly finishing unpacking their belongings. She was currently unpacking a box of decorations and picture frames. Picking up another newsprint bound object that was in the box, she proceeded in opening it as a small smile graced her features. She uncovered a picture of her and Bryan at the ballet that they went to while celebrating their third anniversary. She had been wearing a sapphire dress with matching plastic earrings; her feet had been wrapped in a pair of beautiful clear shoes. Bryan had been dressed in a crisp black suit with a sapphire tie and pocket handkerchief. The ballet had been beautiful, and the dinner afterwards had been divine. She turned to the brunette beside her and held up the picture with a flourish.

"Why, look at this handsome devil!" she teased. Bryan looked up and grinned as he saw the picture she was holding.

"What handsome devil? All I see is the gorgeous blue clad angel." he exclaimed in surprise, enjoying her teasing. Beatrice blushed and admonished him playfully to which, Bryan indulgently pouted like a child denied a sweet. After a few moments, they both started laughing Before Beatrice laid the picture down on the table next to her. She turned back to Bryan and noticed that he was staring in the direction of the backyard.

"Thinking about Shaun still?" she inquired softly. The raccoon was sitting outside with his back against the left door. She had allowed him to retreat after his episode, but not before making him promise that he would not leave the yard since there was a steep drop-off a few meters out. He nonchalantly agreed to her request, much to her surprise, and remained sitting outside for the past hour and a half. After a moment, she returned her gaze to her fiancé when he sighed.

"I am beginning to think that we're in over our heads here," admitted Bryan. Beatrice abandoned the box that she had been cleaning out, in order to address her fiancé.

"Well, I did warn you that this wasn't going to be easy," said Beatrice. She knew that Bryan was a smart, and brave, man, it just took him a little while to adjust to new things. He also had a tendency to underestimate. Therefore, this morning's episode in the kitchen probably shook him up. While she had grown somewhat used to the ups and downs that came with dealing with people suffering from depression or PTSD, he had never even seen an episode of true melancholy before. Especially an extreme episode like the one Shaun had had at the table. Although she hadn't shown it, she had been terrified... not of Shaun, but for him. That outburst alone confirmed her to believe that she was right; that Shaun had a much larger problem than just nightmares going on.

"I know that, but I wasn't expecting him to just fall apart over nothing," muttered Bryan as he continued to watch the teen.

"Oh, I am quite sure that it wasn't just 'over nothing'," explained Beatrice, "he was probably suffering a flashback. This is confirming what I already feared."

"Which is what?" Bryan asked, as he turned to face her once more.

"Ann mentioned that she thought there was more going on than just the fight with Clockwerk. When she ran into the gang back in Paris, she saw scars on Sly and Murray that weren't there before they left. Of course, we already knew some of what really happened, thanks to communications with Bentley during the event. Nevertheless, her hunch was right. Now I'm afraid that Shaun has developed severe mental issues," She explained. Beatrice became silent as she continued to recall the conversation she had had with her former orphanage mate. Ann had called her practically in hysterics; the woman had been contacted by Sly a few days back in order to solicit her help for a heist.

According to Sly, Murray had been acting out of sorts since their defeat of Clockwerk. Therefore, he had needed her help to free Bentley from the hospital before the turtle was taken to prison. Ann refused to help with anything until Sly told her the truth about what was going on. He explained what had happened with the Clockwerk parts and that in the end; they still had to fight the bird. Ann agreed to help them then, but she felt as if something had been left out. Especially, after she met up with Sly at the rendezvous point. He had clearly been in pain, and she could've sworn that she saw scars on his wrists. Then after seeing the pale and listless Murray at the hideout, she became heavily concerned.

However, she refused to pry anymore, scared that she may push them away, but she finally caved when she hadn't heard from them again and called Beatrice to check up on them, knowing that she was a lot more stubborn. Beatrice convinced Murray to spill some more of the details that Shaun conveniently left out during a brief phone conversation. He spoke vaguely of the Contessa's cruelty, and a few of the other missteps he and the gang had made during their parts run.

"Speaking of scars...did you seen any last night?" Bryan asked as Beatrice shrugged.

"No, Shaun just slept in his clothes. He just crawled under the covers and went to sleep." She elaborated as Bryan shook his head.

"I cannot begin to imagine what he and Murray went through though," said the man before rubbing his face wearily.

"But, it must've been truly awful in order for Sly to develop PTSD," sighed Beatrice. Bryan looked sharply at the blonde beside him.

"PTSD? Don't you think you're exaggerating just a little bit?" the male bat asked skeptically. Beatrice wasn't thrown off by his skepticism; many people underestimated what post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, looked like. Only people who had experienced it, or worked with people who had it, knew what to look for. Now that she had a moment to look back over his behavior, Shaun was exhibiting the classic signs. One moment he'd be restless and agitated, and then the next he would be despondent, like he was now. He also had nightmares, as evidenced last night. He had also only eaten about half of the apple she'd given him, so more likely than not, his appetite had been off as well. Finally, in addition to those symptoms, he was having flashbacks.

"No, I don't believe that I am. Bryan, you know where I volunteer at, and you know I have probably seen it far too many times for my liking. I would not exaggerate about something like this," She insisted. Bryan held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He knew that his wife had seen some pretty troubled people at the Women's Shelter she volunteered with, especially since they took in mostly abused children and women.

"Maybe it's not so bad. After all, he seemed fine after he faced Clockwerk the first time," Bryan pointed out. Beatrice shook her head.

"Or that is what he wanted people to think. Sly is notorious for going until he collapses! And he probably didn't want to alarm Bentley and Murray, either. After all, they were hurt, too. I think he is trying to make amends to them by bearing his own pain in silence, while continuing to care for the others... How about this? Why don't you go see Bentley and Murray? See what they say. If they say that Sly has been fine... I mean no deviation from his normal behavior at all aside from what we have already seen; I will drop the matter entirely. However, if they say he has been out of sorts, I will go see Phillip while I am at the abuse home. Deal?" Beatrice proposed.

"Ok, but I still say you are overreacting," Bryan agreed as he continued to empty the box in front of him.

2 days later…

Bryan and Beatrice finally unpacked most of their belongings. Bryan had decided to go ahead and fulfill his end of the bargain he made with Beatrice and meet with Murray. and Bentley After all, he had a consultation appointment with a Parisian bakery that was looking to expand soon. The accounting firm that he worked with had just landed this consultation contract, so he needed to be early anyways. Therefore, he could easily go to Paris a day early and see the guys. Then he could check into a hotel and travel to his appointment the next day. Although, if he was honest with himself, he would admit that he wasn't up to watching his fiancée try to coax the reluctant raccoon out of the guest bedroom once more. He didn't think he could stomach watching Sly have another breakdown, either. He often wondered how she could stand working at the shelter sometimes. Especially, if she saw episodes like that every day she went in. The feeling of utter helplessness he experienced at the kitchen table had been one of the most awful feelings the bat ever experienced. Even now as he was getting onto the A6 to start the long trek back to Paris, his heart clenched at the thought of the incident. He sighed to himself, especially since he hated using this toll road. It was expensive. If it weren't for the fact that he needed to get to Paris quickly, he would have taken the long way around. As he drove along the toll way, he smirked to himself as he thought back to his future wife's ploy earlier. She knew he had a tendency to understate everything, but she also knew that he was competitive and with this deal of hers, she exploited both. His competitive side would have to take the challenge in order to prove her wrong, and by wording the challenge the way she did, she made it so that he would not be able to downplay any information that the two thieves would give him. And besides, Bryan was looking forward to seeing the two men again.

Bentley, Murray, and Sly had always been an odd group. Even with other hippos, raccoons and turtles living at the orphanage, the three still chose to spend time with each other. Bentley was the youngest of the trio and Murray was the oldest, although one couldn't tell it by his behavior. Murray, despite his size, boisterous attitude and booming voice, was the most genial and innocent of the three. He had been the first one to approach Beatrice and Bryan. Sly eventually warmed up to them as well, with Bentley following behind a short time later. Bentley, however, was rather closed off. The turtle wasn't standoffish, but he did not interact with anyone that he didn't have to. His reserved nature made him an easy target for bullies. Sly and Murray often spent a great deal of time defending the turtle from would-be attackers. The turtle had found comfort in building things, books, and eventually computers and while all these hobbies were okay, they also gave the turtle something to hide behind.

Murray's size was not only a blessing, but also a curse. Because of his height, Murray often towered over many of the children at the orphanage, automatically made a lot of the smaller children wary of him. Some of the smaller bullies often made Murray a target as well since they could often claim that Murray had been harassing them and the matrons would believe them. The matrons often assumed that Murray was intimidating them because he was bigger, but in the end, both kids grew up okay. Murray was always the life of the party; easily amused and always looking for a good time. Bentley eventually emerged from his shell and was found to have a very dry wit and keen intellect, which made for a very intelligent and lively conversation; not to mention really cool gadgets. And then there was Sly…

Sly was simply the odd one out. The children often whispered tales about where Sly came from. The night he'd come to the orphanage, the raccoon had been making the most unholy of noises when the police brought him in. The police had been rumored to say that the boy had been fighting them the whole way there. Some of the older children that saw the commotion began spreading rumors about the raccoon, some of them being harmless, some others though…it was these rumors that caused other kids to stay away from the young raccoon. One of these rumors was that a devil had possessed Sly; however, his friends soon learned the truth. The only thing that possessed Sly was terror. The house had caught fire not long after his father's murder, which Sly had witnessed firsthand. No one ever knew just how the child escaped the flames, but by the time authorities found him, the kid had been in hysterics. Bryan also suspected that the police had not been very kind to the child, either but by the time that anyone got the full story, the damage was irreversible.

The rumors had come to define Sly. Most children avoided him like the plague, and his distrustful and quiet nature didn't help. Bryan, at the time, being the unassuming fellow that he was, didn't believe the rumors. However, he had plenty of reasons to be wary of the raccoon. Incidentally, a lot of the rumors remained because of Sly's outbursts. Strange things would happen around the boy when he became extremely agitated or angry. Brian recalled one such incident where Sly shattered all the light bulbs in a hallway in a fit of anger. Eventually, Sly would warm up to his roommates; Bentley and Murray. Through them, he would come to be somewhat friends with Ann, Beatrice, and Bryan and as the young man opened up, his friends found him to be witty, intelligent, loyal, and talented. As Bryan came out of his walk down memory lane, he realized that only an hour passed by and still had another three or so hours left of driving. He sighed once more before reaching down and turning on the radio, settling in for the long ride ahead of him.

Bryan could only smile in relief when he finally made it into Paris proper. In about fifteen minutes, he would be at the gang's current safe house. They had a few scattered throughout all of Paris, France in general and a couple other countries worldwide. When the gang's income became superfluous, despite giving to charity and returning goods to owners, the gang began looking for other ways to get rid of their illegal goods. Sly would eventually come to Bryan for financial advice since he had always been a whiz with numbers. At the time, Bryan suggested that the gang pawn what they could and put the money into useful assets and money generating expenditures. Therefore, the gang put money into safe houses, gadgets and vehicles as well as stocks, mutual funds, and bonds as well.

The safe house that he was going to was one of such asset purchases. He mentally pulled himself back into reality as he began to look for the turn onto the dirt road that would lead to the hideout. Thirty minutes later, he was pulling up to the cabin in the middle of a satellite field. Due to the location, the house wasn't well received on the market, and as such, Shaun was able to get a good deal on the place. He parked his car into a patch of trees near the edge of the property and started making his way to the cabin door. Climbing the steps, he knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds later, a camera popped out of the overhanging of the roof, focused on him, and then beeped before disappearing into its compartment again before the door opened, revealing a grinning Murray.

"Hey Bryan! Come on in," he said as he stepped aside to allow the bat inside. Bryan blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting of the cabin. The cabin was mainly a three room affair with a large living area with sections set aside for the usual household rooms as well as a bedroom and bathroom. The large room had a space for Bentley's workspace, a small kitchen, a living room of sorts with a couch and TV, and a table with some chairs for eating. Bentley was sitting at a desk in the corner furthest from the door. This wasn't unusual; however, the wheelchair the turtle was sitting in seemed obscenely out of place. It painfully drove home the fact that the boys had a rough go of it. Reality often had a well-meaning, yet brutal, habit of shoving hard truths into people's faces. This was one of those moments. Bryan quickly realized that his usual skepticism would not cut it this time. Coupling with what he saw with Sly earlier in the week, and what he was seeing now, enabled Bryan to see that this was going to take some serious work on everybody's part to fix. At the present moment, Murray was shuffling about the cabin, making idle small talk as he offered Bryan a seat on the couch. Bryan noticed that there were a few pale scars on the hippo's forearms and also noticed the unusual tenseness in the air, as if one wrong move or word would cause the room to explode instead of the usual easy-going type of silence that sometimes pervaded through the cabin.

"Hello Bentley," said the bat affably as he took a seat.

"Hi," the turtle said in a deadpan voice, surprising Bryan, especially since Bentley was being unusually curt, meaning just one thing: he wouldn't be getting much out of the turtle. He sighed internally before turning to the only other person in the room. Murray was leaning against the wall while looking around warily, as if he were expecting an enemy to appear out of thin air. Bryan made a mental note of his friend's distressed manner before speaking.

"So, how have you been Murray?" asked Bryan.

The hippo gave a weak smile before replying, "I've been fine." Bryan didn't believe the statement, but didn't press. "How have you been?"

"I'm doing great. Beatrice and I are getting married next March… Well not next March next March but the March after that," explained Bryan before he laughed at his own bad wording. Murray chuckled a moment as well before offering his congratulations. However, the conversation between the two was quickly ruined when Bentley cut in.

"Will you two take your chatter elsewhere? I'm trying to get some work done!" He hissed testily. Bryan frowned; Bentley was definitely acting out of character…and here he thought that Sly was the one with a temper. He just looked at the hippo and shrugged. Murray motioned for the bat to follow him before heading towards the bedroom. The bat closed the door behind him after he entered the room.

"What is going on with Bentley?" asked Bryan as soon as the door clicked shut. Murray just flopped down on the king-size bed and sighed.

"I really don't know. I think he is just confused," said Murray.

"Confused?" Bryan parroted as Murray nodded.

"Yeah, Bentley's been real moody lately. I think, no, I know that he is upset about being in a wheelchair and his legs still hurt. I believe he blames Sly for that, so he's been fighting with him a lot. At the same time though, he wants Sly around. I'm not really a shrink or anything, so I can't say for sure. Besides, I really don't want to think about shrinks at the moment," Murray admitted. Bryan wandered over to the twin-sized bed, which he assumed was Bentley's, and sat down. His face became marred by frowns as he turned over what the hippo said in his head. It made sense.

After all, Clockwerk had originally been Sly's problem. All of them pledged to help the raccoon to defeat his enemy, and they had. However, when the parts resurfaced, it was as if all their hard work would be quickly undone if they fell into the wrong hands and the gang fiercely debated about whether or not to go after them. Shaun was adamant that they had to be destroyed completely, and eventually, he convinced the others that this was the correct course of action. Therefore, some of the blame for the following misfortunes could easily be laid at the feet of the master thief. Bentley's anger was somewhat understandable, although a little unfair. On the flip side; however, Shaun was Bentley's friend, and confidant, for almost as long as Bentley could remember. It was only natural that he would want the comfort of his friend while he was hurting. Because of the conflicting emotions, Bentley was left confused and moody.

"Yeah, that seems to make sense. I will try talking to him before I leave," Bryan said. The hippo nodded noncommittally. "So, how are you taking all this fighting?" The bat asked.

"I don't like it, if that's what you mean. Who likes to see their best friends fighting? Especially, since it seems to hurt them both a lot. I mean, the last night that Sly was here; Bentley went on a really angry and mean rant about Sly, and I think Sly heard it," Murray said softly. At this point, the hippo swallowed before continuing with a heavy sigh, "I think that's why he left." Murray sighed in frustration.

"What else is on your mind, big guy?" probed Bryan as the hippo then looked at the bat with a heartbreakingly forlorn expression.

"It's just not fair! Bentley is making everybody miserable, and the sad thing is no one wants to call him out on it. We all hold, well me and Sly, some responsibility for Bentley's new handicapped status, but, that doesn't give Bentley the right to be unbearable. We feel bad enough of as it is and now, I feel backed into a corner…" The 19-year-old broke off mid-sentence with a sigh. Bryan waited in silence as Murray gathered his thoughts, "because, Bentley gets upset if I go to check up on Sly after one of their spats. He insists that I am choosing Sly over him, which isn't true at all. I care about both of them equally, but I usually go after Sly because he is less likely to snap at me than Bentley. Bentley just yells at me...plus, it was just a nice thing to do, especially since Sly does so much for us. He cooks, cleans, and constantly checks on us to see if we need anything. The only time he wasn't doing something was that time last week when he was sick. He had been couch bound for a day or two because of it," He further explained, his eyes pleading with Bryan to understand his point of view.

Bryan sighed explosively; he definitely got more than he bargained for by coming here. He had initially come to check on Sly's behavior around his friends and instead discovered that things were falling apart within the gang. The others were struggling as well it seemed. Bentley's bitterness over the wheelchair was causing strife with Sly and Murray. Yet, Sly's guilt kept him from truly confronting the matter and putting it behind them while poor Murray was hurting but unfortunately caught in the middle. Bryan shook his head at it all.

"Well aside from the fighting, has anything else unusual been going on with you, Sly, or Bentley?" Asked Bryan. Murray looked back at the slightly chipped ceiling as he thought.

"Sleep has been little hard to come by for everybody, I think. I know I've heard Sly call out or talk in his sleep a lot lately. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and he will be wide awake. I've also been woken up by Bentley dreaming of crashing a lot. He often cries out about falling in his sleep. Sometimes I can't sleep either." admitted Murray.

"Well have any of you been eating regularly?" the bat inquired.

"Yeah, I do eat for the most part…but only if Sly cooks…sometimes I'm just not hungry. Speaking of eating, I hardly ever see Sly eat now. Bentley manages to eat more than he does," muttered Murray. The bat nodded as he decided to ask one more question as he could see that Murray was growing tired.

"All right big guy, I have one last question for you, and then I'll let you be. Has there been any other strange behavior besides Bentley's rare mood and Sly's insomnia?" He asked.

"Yeah, sometimes Sly would just curl up in a corner and not say a word. He would whine or moan if anybody got close to him. I just learned to let him be since he usually came around after awhile," answered Murray.

"Okay Murray, thanks for talking with me. I just wanted to see how you guys were," said the bat as he stood to leave. As Bryan prepared to walk out the door; however, Murray's voice stopped him.

"Is Shaun coming back?" the hippo asked. Bryan looked back and decided to give Murray an honest answer,

"I hope so."

The next day back in Lyon…

Beatrice sighed as she put the phone back on the receiver and began making her way back to the guest bedroom. She had just ended a conversation with Bryan, who was currently on his way to his

consultation appointment in Paris. It seemed as if things were going badly for the Cooper Gang, according to her fiancé, and it wasn't just Shaun who was suffering. Now, Sly's nightly ritual made sense. He was trying to outrun the pain being caused by Bentley, as well as his own internal pain. She now wondered just what Bentley could have said that would hurt Shaun so badly. She had been trying to get the young man to talk for the past couple of days to no avail, thankful that she was able to get him inside the house with little trouble a few days ago. It had remained below freezing for the last couple of days. The thief spent a majority of the time in the guest bedroom asleep. Beatrice had been trying to get Shaun to eat at regular intervals, but he steadily refused. It was obvious that the teen was depressed, but sleeping the rest of his life away would not help anyone, especially him. She sighed as she stood outside of the guest bedroom, sighing lightly before knocking on the door. Usually he wouldn't answer, but this time, she had a plan.

As per the norm now, she got no response. She did not leave; however, she removed a pin from her golden locks and proceeded to pick the lock. After a few moments, the lock clicked into the unlock position and she pushed the door open. The lights were off, but the sun provided plenty of natural light as she saw Sly sitting cross-legged on the bed looking out the window. The teen had the dark blue comforter wrapped around his shoulders, having no idea how long he was like that. Adjusting the tote bag she had on her shoulder, she stepped into the room.

"Shaun, you really need to eat. Aren't you tired of sitting in the same place?" she asked as she moved further into the room. Shaun did not even twitch as the raccoon just continued staring out the window. She sighed. Seeing the usually collected, yet energetic, thief so out of sorts was disconcerting. Compared to the emotional wreck that he was a few days ago, he had done a complete 180. It was as if all the life had left the raccoon. Beatrice was particularly worried because when people usually reached this stage; they usually started contemplating self harm and/or suicide sooner or later, having seen it many times at the shelter.

At first, they take comfort in the numbness. The lack of the emotional whirlwind that dominated most of their mental energy and behavior was soothing. Eventually, after days, weeks, and months of feeling nothing, they began actively searching for stimulation. Some of the teens she worked with described it as searching for something to make them feel real, or alive, again. Anything was better than the constant isolation and numbness, self-induced or no. Self harm helped alleviating the feeling of numbness that settled over them, the pain a sharp reminder that they still lived, felt, and breathed, but eventually it led to a cycle of guilt, self-hate, need, and depression. Guilt from harming themselves turned into self-hate because only horrible people hurt themselves; at least that's what they're told. Sadly, self-hate and loathing aren't enough to completely eclipse the need for stimulation when it calls. Once the need is sated, the cycle starts all over again until depression sets in when they realize they can't break the cycle. After a while of this, they finally turn to suicide out of desperation.

She did not want to watch Shaun teeter on the edge of that precipice, so she was just going to have to be a nuisance at this point to make sure it didn't get that far. However, this was a delicate dance she was about to perform. Dancing with damaged souls was one of the most terrifying, sometimes disturbing, but ultimately rewarding experiences she ever had in her life. Each move had to be choreographed in such a way that both partners were completely exposed, yet neither was left completely, and utterly, vulnerable to the dangers of the dance. It was also one of the most unorthodox and asymmetrical dances in life. Sure all dances may become off kilter at times, but the dance between friends was usually light, energetic and individualistic, but usually harmonic; unless someone took a misstep. The infamous dance between lovers certainly changed often: passionate and sensual at one point, sometimes soft and sweet, harsh and angry at others. Even at the dances' most uneven beats and measures, both dancers were willing participants, and both, for the most part, were completing the same dance.

However, when dancing with damaged souls, there are essentially two independently dancing partners: one partner meant to lead, and another to follow until they can lead their own dance; that is if the partner doesn't refuse to dance all. Nothing in this dance ever seems graceful, choreographed, or harmonic. In fact, it's usually clumsy, disorganized, traumatic, yet very genuine. It was like watching a car stuck on a train track, you never knew if the person inside the car would make it out of the car before the train hit or not, but in the end, you know it's real and grotesque but something you can't look away from. This dance is just as ugly to look at in the beginning, but you stare in fascination anyways. You watch each dancer struggle to complete each step as they struggle against and with each other. However, no matter how draining or horrid looking the dance may be, it must be done to avoid that life-ending cliff.

Beatrice thought over what she knew about Shaun and decided to start there. Shaun, well Sly, was usually a get-to-the-point kind of guy. He also tended to have martyr tendencies when it came to his well being, especially if or when he felt there was something more important that needed doing, or someone else that needed his attention, but Shaun's major flaw was his temper. If one pushed Shaun hard enough, his temper would snap. One just had to be patient and persistent enough to reach that point. The most important thing was to get him talking so as to break this wall of silence he surrounded himself with. He was going to end up retreating further and further into himself, if she allowed him to continue to wallow in silence. She walked further into the room, closing the door behind her. She hesitated a moment, but took a deep breath and dove in feet first. It was now or never.

"Shaun – – Sly, I know you are struggling right now, but this self-imposed solitude isn't going to help you," said Beatrice, hoping that Sly would be more willing to open up if she kept her conversation succinct and direct. She figured that given his usual direct approach to life, he might feel more comfortable answering direct questions or challenges at first, which didn't require as much 'soul-searching' or energy as answering more probing statements and questions would. She would slowly increase the intensity of questioning until he shut off, then she would leave him alone for a while before starting again.

"Ist das so?" (Is that so?) muttered the raccoon, his tone flat. German, great. Sly tended to use the German language to put an end to conversations that he did not want to continue. Thankfully though, the phrase he used was close enough to an English equivalent for her to recognize it. Beatrice chose her next words carefully, as her response could end this conversation before it even started.

"Yes," She stated matter-of-factly. He snorted, but didn't say anything else. She bit back the urge to groan before deciding to make herself more comfortable. If he wanted to play stubborn, then two could play that game. She walked over to the bed and sat down next to it. She leaned against it and drew her knees up to her chest. She sat the bag beside her and began rummaging through it before extracting a small snack bag of grapes and a book. She put these items beside her before reaching into the bag and pulling out another green apple, placing it on the bed before picking up the book and started to read, opening it to where her bookmark laid. It was another book recommended highly for sale in France, and the female bat was considering it for her company to market and sale this coming year. If the raccoon wanted to talk, he would do so in his own time.

Sly heard Beatrice move across the floor and then he felt the bed shift slightly. He sighed, her stubbornness had kicked in, and she was not leaving for a while. He continued to stare out the window. As the snow glistened underneath the soft light of the sun, Sly continued to contemplate on his current situation, despite Beatrice's interruption, although, her words were now bouncing around in his head. As much as he would like to say that it helped, she was correct. It had not helped at all; in fact, it made the situation much worse. The first day that he slept most of the day away, waking up somewhere around 10 o'clock after a nightmare. He had managed to slip out of the room and grab an apple from the kitchen. He nibbled on it for the rest of the night.

The next couple of days he drifted in and out of hellish flashbacks and nerve-racking nightmares. As much as he hated admitting it, Sly knew he was getting worse. He was starting to lose sight of what was real and what wasn't, spending more time trapped in his own head than in reality. Then again, reality was just as bad as his nightmares, if not worse. In reality, his friends hated him. He grimaced as he felt his heart clench painfully in his chest at that thought. He couldn't blame them though, especially when he hated himself at the moment. Well, he had. Honestly, Sly hadn't felt much of anything lately. The numbness that he found relief in a few days ago had now taken over his mind. He was exhausted, and he had no will or energy to fight through the haze. The exhaustion could easily be blamed on the nightmares. He stopped trying to fight them since there wasn't any reason to. They came whether he wanted them or not. He continued staring out the window, noticing how beautiful the sunset looked.

The sun's rays had turned a warm gold as it began its daily descent. They fractured and bounced around trees and off of icicles becoming small shining beams that seemed to make everything they touched glow with an ethereal light. Even the frozen snow looked like sun-kissed crystals upon the ground. A sight like this would have taken his breath away a few months ago, but thanks to the harsh realities of his present, and past, failures, he was too busy being numb or fighting with Bentley. It wasn't the usual "will you stop being so nonchalant about everything, Sly" or "why are you a thief? You should have been a poet..." mock fights they usually had. These fights were loud, vicious, and painful. He knew that the turtle had an extensive vocabulary, although he never imagined that the turtle would use it against him. He unconsciously traced the scar on the inside of his left forearm as he thought about that last encounter with his friends. The numbers remained etched there since the day they were carved into his flesh by the Contessa herself. 1...4...0...9...2...0...0...4. His prison number. It marked him, just like the last time he heard Bentley's voice had been branded into his brain.

Sly had returned from getting some food for the hideout. He had walked into the cabin and was surprised to discover that neither of his teammates were present. He quickly deduced that they were in the lone bedroom, from the sound of their voices. He simply walked into the kitchen and started putting food away. After a few minutes, their voices got louder. Well, Bentley's voice got louder and he sounded upset. Sly left his task in the kitchen and went to check on his friend. As he neared the bedroom, the turtle's strained words became clearer.

"… I don't care! He has ruined my life!" The turtle yelled. Initially, the thief had been confused. His confusion was quickly cleared up when Bentley continued speaking, "then he has the gall to complain whenever I give him advice! Sly has caused more trouble for us than he's fixed!" Sly winced from the words, as well as the sheer venom behind them. At the moment, he was trying to decipher what he could have possibly done to piss Bentley off now. The turtle had been suffering from a hair pin trigger temper lately. Although given the current situation, neither of his teammates could completely blame the turtle. Sly's ruminations were halted when Murray's voice was heard next,

"Hey, ease up, Bent! He did not mean anything by the change in plans earlier and was actually doing it to help you, since you were still in a lot of pain. There was no reason why we had to move today! The rotation schedule would not have been completely thrown off if we waited a day so you could rest," he insisted. Ah, so that was it. He was still upset about not sticking to the rotation schedule. Bentley decided a while back that they should rotate safe houses every few weeks to keep their trails as difficult to follow as possible. The other day, Sly had decided that it would be too much stress on Bentley to move at the time. The turtle had been having a rough go of it for the last few days since he was in extreme pain and his iron levels weren't where they were supposed to be. Food and medicine were a little on the scarce side since Sly had fallen ill for a few days with a respiratory infection of some sort. Sly usually did the grocery shopping because Murray had been really jumpy lately and was worried that the big guy would draw attention to himself. However, Murray had managed to make one quick trip without too much incident.

"Well, I would not need to rest if it hadn't been for him and his stupid owl OBSESSION! I can't walk! I never will again, and it's HIS ENTIRE FAULT!" The turtle screeched with fury.

"I agree. This Clockwerk thing caused problems for everybody; but you can't blame everyt-" Murray tried once again to explain, but was once more cut off.

"Had he just scrubbed the whole damn thing from the beginning like I wanted, this nightmare would never exist! I mean, we literally hand-delivered the parts to Arpeggio with the backwoods bumpkin, Jean Bison, as our broker!" argued Bentley. Sly winced; he could not fault Bentley's somewhat crass description of that nightmarish mission. Now that the raccoon thought about it; the turtle was right. They had essentially did all of Arpeggio's, and by extension, Neyla's work for them. Jean Bison was just able to temporary benefit from their momentary, but costly, mistake. Dimitri's club couldn't be searched without a warrant. Neyla couldn't risk her cop cover to grab the feathers...Rajan's party basically had the same issue, plus some logistical issues. No one knew where his spice temple was until the gang tracked it down...after all, Neyla, nor anyone else, had shown up until after the gang got there! The Contessa guarded the eyes jealously after her exposure to the gang, courtesy of Neyla, but she may have been willing to give them up if she had not been forced into needing them to evade persecution. Finally, Jean Bison cou-Murray's voice cut off his mental dialogue.

"W-w-well, they may have still put Clockwerkback together anyway." Sly heard Bentley snort derisively,

"Let's see, Neyla would not have been able to get her hands on Dimitri's part without a warrant or risking her cover. Rajan's Wings were in the middle of a ball/police stake out and then the heart was located in a hidden temple not found on any map. He could have hid out there for years, if we hadn't busted him. The Contessa could have been persuaded to loan the eyes, or at least sell the eyes to Arpeggio. Finally, Jean Bison could have been persuaded to hand over his parts with enough money or replacement parts, but the last two situations are just rough conjectures. Both Jean Bison and the Contessa could have chosen to keep all, or part, of their parts. Meaning that nearly half of the bird's important parts would have been lost to Arpeggio and Neyla! And lastly if they did, who's to say we wouldn't be better prepared or that there would be a less likely chance of me losing my legs?!" he grumbled.

"I guess that's true but-" Murray said, before being cut off once more.

"I don't care what you say Murray! As far as I am concerned, Sly Cooper can die for all I care! Hell, he might even be doing us a favor! Once Interpol has the body of its favorite fugitive thief, they might be nice enough to leave us be for a while!" yelled the turtle. Sly felt like he had taken a knife to the heart, Bentley wanted him dead... His own friends wanted nothing to do with him, after everything they went through together. Sly's head swam with conflicting emotions as guilt, pain, bitterness, and anger all battled for dominance in his head and heart. The distraught thief thought nothing of the weather outside as he raced for the door of the cabin, taking his cane from its resting place by the door on his way out...

Sly was brought out of his musings, by a sharp scratching sound. He looked up sharply to see a fairly large eagle owl perched on the sill of the window. Its deep yellow eyes seemed to glow against its frost and silver plumage, with ebony feathers adorning its chest sporadically, shining like jewels in a royal's cape. It hooted at him in a low hollow tone, as if it were voicing the raccoon's very own internal grief to the world in Sly's stead. The regal avian continued to stare Sly down as if it was warning him, daring him to make a move. It was then that Sly recalled something from a school history class. It had been a widely held belief in the medieval days that owls were omens of misfortune and death, especially a nocturnal owl that was seen during the day. If they stared at a person, it was certain that death was coming to visit that same unfortunate soul.

While Sly wasn't an overly superstitious person, there were just some things and beliefs that he could not ignore. He had seen a lamia, ghosts, zombies... anything was possible. The owl myth sent a jarring shiver down his spine and rightfully so, since most of his family, save himself, had been wiped out by Clockwerk. Sly couldn't help but think morosely, 'Well, Bentley may get his wish, because it looks like Death will be calling in his due...'

Alright we are done! I can't believe it, three down and quite a few more to go! What did you think of this chapter? Be sure to let me know!