Glad you guys are enjoying my fic! Thank to all my reviewers, including the ones for this story and my other Sly fics! So, this chapter gives us a small look at a new, but necessary, character and the end should bring back another well known character, but she will not be wearing a skirt!

Your hints for this chapter: There is 1 Easter Egg in this chapter. It is a movie reference.

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 3:

Broken Pieces and Broken Hearts

The next afternoon, shortly after 12pm...

Beatrice was itching to leave; she had taken a great risk leaving Shaun by himself this morning. Shaun was asleep when she left, but that was almost five hours ago. Beatrice had spent three hours in Shaun's room yesterday, but only got a few additional words from the teen before he drifted off into a fitful sleep. A little while later, the need for food saw the bat heading for the kitchen. She decided to give up for the day, resolving to try and speak with him again the next day after she finished her shift. As she was about to leave after packing up her personal belongings, she saw ebony fur out of the corner of her eye. She turned around slowly and grinned as Dr. Phillip " Phil" Dumont passed by.

"Hold on a moment, Phil! Wait!" called the bat. The timber wolf stopped and turned around before waving in acknowledgment. The bat grabbed her things and quickly caught up with the wolf.

"How are you, Ms. Montréal?" He asked as they continued towards the Center's exit. She grinned.

"I am as well as a soon-to-be-married woman can be. Heading to lunch?" She replied.

"That's good! We are so excited for you and Bryan. And yes, you?" He said lightly as he held the door open. "Thank you for the invitation, by the way."

"You're welcome. Who knows, maybe I'll be attending your wedding one day! But no, I am headed home," She admitted. The lupine blushed slightly and smiled.

"Maybe, but did you want to speak to me specifically about something?" He asked as the two walked to the bus stop.

"Actually, yes, I did. I have a friend who is in need of help," She said as her jubilant mood dissipated. Phil's eyebrows rose as he noticed the sudden mood switch with his walking partner.

"Really now?" He muttered as they continued walking.

"My friend, Shaun, is exhibiting symptoms of severe PTSD. He has been having nightmares and flashbacks, he's not eating or sleeping properly, and he's depressed," she explained. Phil seemed to mull over the information for a moment.

"How long have the symptoms been present?" He finally asked.

"About two, maybe three months," she said.

"Hmmm... I could see why you're worrying. Have you noticed if he has tried hurting himself or commit suicide?" he asked.

"No, although there is a belief that he does have scars. Whether they are self-inflicted or caused by the event that is troubling him, I cannot say," admitted Beatrice.

"Well, I can definitely agree that your friend is indeed in danger. However, I'm not sure I know what you want to gain from this conversation," said Philip. Beatrice bit her lip, hoping what she said next would not anger the wolf.

"He's a magus, Phil," She finally blurted out softly.

She saw the man's countenance turn stormy before he exclaimed, "Really, Beatrice?! I expected the teasing from the rest of them, but I never thought that you of all people would –"

"No! Please Phil! Please listen, I'm not teasing you. I swear I'm not! I have known you for years, and I've known Shaun for longer. He is a magus. Just the other day, I could only watch as he changed a simple flurry into a full-blown blizzard!" explained Beatrice hurriedly. Phil paused mid-rant and was watching the bat steadily. At the moment, he was hoping that his friend was just suffering from a temporary work induced psychosis. But her genuinely anguished countenance was hard to ignore. Furthermore, the fact that forecasters were still scratching their heads about the sudden intensity of a storm that should've only put down about 1.27 cm (1/2 an inch) of snow instead of the 15 to 21 cm (6 to 8 inches) of snow in some places before it was over. Maybe, Beatrice had not gone any battier than she already was.

"Okay, let's say I believe you. Why tell me?" The wolf pressed.

"Simple. I know you would do your best to help Shaun and not just cover the symptoms. Secondly, you are one of the only five therapists in all of France that are trained to treat magi," stated the bat. Philip internally sighed as his conscience started to ream him out.

"You start trying to tear the girl a new one, and she was actually being nice! She came to you because she had confidence in your abilities, not to ridicule you!" his conscience tutted as he felt himself flush in shame. Phil had really let that training gaffe dictate his behavior in the worst way possible, becoming self-absorbed and defensive in order to defend himself against the taunting and smears of the established psychology circles. And here he was now sneering at one of his best friends.

"Bea, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. This training thing–" he tried to explain, but before he could, the blonde waved him off.

"I understand, but Shaun really does need help," she pressed. Phil sighed, especially since he wasn't sure if he and his staff were ready for someone like the person Beatrice was describing.

"How well can he control his magic?" inquired the wolf.

"Quite well now. It's just that it reacts to strong changes in emotion. Every now and then though, he has some spectacular outbursts," She admitted. Phil debated for a few moments before making his decision.

"Okay, I will check with my benefactor and staff, but it should not be a problem," He finally said.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Said Beatrice as Philip just nodded.

"You're welcome and I really am sorry about earlier. I have been taking so much heat for this training," He admitted.

"I know, but they're just jealous because you got all that money! Not only that, but you also got a new building that's completely furnished and fully staffed," Said the bat grinning up a storm. The wolf laughed as he couldn't deny the woman's logic. All this started when one of the benefactors to the medical center he worked for had offered the center a huge donation. However, there was a catch: they had to have someone attend a specialized training course. Given that he was the youngest on staff at the tender age of 27, Philip was sent by the center to receive the training. He traveled to Geneva and spent four months there learning to recognize, diagnose, and treat magi, of all things! At first, he thought it was an elaborate joke. However, he would rapidly change his mind after being flown to Geneva on a private jet and attended the first class. He remembered that trip like it was yesterday...

Flashback

Philip stepped off the plane with a feeling of foreboding, especially since his day had started off in the strangest way possible. He had arrived at the Lyon International Airport early and went through customs as usual. However, it was when he went to find his gate, he was surprised by a man holding a sign with his name on it. He walked over to the horse and spoke: "I am Dr. Philip Dumont."

The large horse regarded the wolf carefully. He then took the card with his name on it and turned it sideways as the psychiatrist realized that was actually a folder, not just a card. The horse looked in the folder moment, then back it Phil. "Can I see your ID, please sir?" The man asked.

At that particular moment, Phil realized that the stallion was wearing a badge. Quickly deducing that cooperation would be in his best interest, he reached into his jacket's pocket and produced his ID. The stallion took the card and studied it.

When the guard handed back his ID, Philip put it in his pocket while asking, "What's with all the intense scrutiny?"

"You are slated to fly on a private jet. We have strict orders to not allow anyone else on board. Therefore, we have to make sure that you are who you say you are," replied the guard. A private jet? No one said anything about a private jet! Phillip was beginning to get the feeling that this whole thing was a very bad idea. "Are you married, sir?" asked the stallion quickly, throwing Phillip for a loop.

"Not exactly…" he started to reply before the guard quickly cut off his explanation by demanding either a yes, or a no answer to the question. "No." The wolf finally answered. It must've been the answer he was looking for, because he asked the wolf another question.

"When did you get your yellow glove in Savate?" Philip frowned, wondering where they were getting this information from. He definitely didn't broadcast his Savate training. Besides, were all of these personal questions really that necessary to establish his identity? However, he decided to save himself the trouble and answered anyway.

"1998," the horse nodded.

"Please follow me," he said before heading off to the right and down a deserted corridor. Phillip followed behind after a moment's hesitation, wondering just what he had gotten himself into. Finally, Phillip returned to the present when he walked into the noisy Geneva airport. He went to the baggage carousel and retrieved his belongings. The wolf headed for the chauffeur that was holding another name card before being taken to his hotel room, where he slept fitfully before attending his first history class in the course the next morning. This class was just the first of many that told him all about how magi came to be.

According to his instructor, in the early 1930s, two scientists set out to determine whether or not ESP, or extrasensory perception, was possible. If one believed the published literature on the subject, the project was a failure. There was no such thing as ESP, telekinesis, or any of these supernatural gifts that filled people's imaginations for years. However, the truth of the matter was that the project was a complete success. They had not only discovered that ESP was possible, they discovered that there were a host of other gifts as well. As science continued to advance and tools that were more precise became available, other scientists were able to pinpoint where the gifts had originated and how they worked.

The most common theory taught was that magic was the byproduct of a special form of metabolism. Like plants and some bacteria, some people could produce their own form of energy. This was because of a special symbiotic organelle in their bodies. This organelle could take raw "manna" energy from the atmosphere and convert it into a sugar that could easily be broken down by the organelle. When the organelle then metabolized the sugar, instead of the usual Adenosine Tri-phosphate, or ATP, that was produced during normal cellular respiration, it produced a protein playfully called Manna Tri-phosphate, or MTP. It had a similar shape to ATP and was used by the body as a form of alternative energy. However, compared to the ATP output of the mitochondria, the organelle would only put out half as much MTP. Scientists hypothesized that the MTP was used in conjunction with ATP during times of large food shortages caused by heavy competition, since major evolutionary strides were being made by many species at the same time. The early mannatrophs, or magi for short, were able to survive on smaller amounts of food than their completely heterotrophic counterparts. Therefore, the organelle was transferred from parent to offspring through reproduction.

Over time, as agriculture became prevalent and with it the rise of civilization, mannatrophs continued to produce MTP. However, their bodies no longer utilized all of the MTP produced, since food was more readily available for ATP production. As a consequence, MTP levels rose in the body and would be released as a radiating energy similar to heat. This external energy would become known as "magic". As mannatrophs became more consciously aware of their magic, they would begin experimenting with it. From there, different branches of magical practice would slowly come into existence over the centuries. However, with the rise of cut-throat politics and religions, identifiable magi were turned into vilified scapegoats and driven underground. Despite being oppressed, mannatrophs continued to pass on their abilities to their offspring and the number of mannatrophs continued to grow quietly. Thanks to their MTP, mannatrophs were able to outlast famines, plagues, and even wars.

Which is why when a consensus was run in the 1950s to gather data on the magi population in the more developed countries, scientists found that 45% of the population had magic levels and exhibited abilities that were usually attributed to "trueborn magi". A further 52% of the population was what was called "potentials", these individuals did not possess magic levels near the levels of trueborn magi but with training, could increase their magic levels and eventually be taught to use some limited form of a magical art. Finally, the last 3% of the population was considered "normal" or "mundane". These people, for some reason or another, could not produce enough MTP to even give off the smallest amount of manna. This meant that containing, tracking, or just "removing" magi from the population would be impossible; given that 97% of the developed world's population would have to detained, tracked, or eliminated. In the late 1960s, a few surveyors and scientists were sent to other countries. After collecting, scrutinizing and analyzing the information, this information was sent back to the researchers; that based on the data, the numbers first reported were fairly consistent worldwide, give or take 3-5%.

By the 1970s, it was decided that magi were just a subset of anthromorphs, and a major part of the world's population. Therefore, special laws were written in order to govern them. During the world talks in 1971, the World Peace Accord of 1971 was amended to include a treaty on Magi and the Occult. In short, the treaty contained rules that most countries would quietly add to their laws concerning magi and practicing occultists. In exchange, the governments promised not to persecute magi at the governmental level, unless they broke the laws set out by the treaty. The rules were written in conjunction with government leaders, scientists, and magi so that no one party could claim discrimination. These rules would be adopted by most magi and become known as "The Codes". The Codes basically summed up the rules of the Treaty.

1. Magi, or occultists, are not allowed to use their powers against another person unless it is to defend themselves, defend someone else, or offer assistance to someone (i.e. healing).

2. Passive Magic, like Telepathy and Empathy, were to be contained through shields, and any information gathered through this magic could not be utilized without consent and/or with ill intent.

3. Magi were responsible for teaching their offspring, or other "trueborn magi," about the Code and their magic.

4. Magi were not allowed to teach potentials how to utilize magic unless granted permission. Permission must be given by a governing magi body after a potential pupil has been vetted.

5. Magi, or occultists, must never perform prohibited magical arts (i.e. production of zombies).

6. The existence of Magi and magic is a government secret, therefore it should only be discussed with other magi, authorized people, or parents of trueborn magi that are not magi themselves.

Now then, Phillip, himself, had been identified as a "high-level potential" during the registration phrase of the training. After the initial history, law, and biology classes, the class had been divided up by mannatroph type. There were a surprising number of trueborn Magi, and the rest were some level of "potential". Then they were further split up by their competencies. Phillip was actually one of five mental therapists in the training program and was one of two psychiatrists there. Because of this, he was paired with a black widow by the name of Dr. Kathleen Sorrel, this being the first time he had ever met an arachnid. She was huge with a stern-looking countenance as well as having short brown hair. Simply, everything about her screamed no nonsense. She spoke with little accent, so the wolf had never figured out exactly where the older woman was from.

The first time they actually met formally for instruction, it was simple, but intense. She made it quite clear that she did not choose students on a whim, and the only reason she was doing this was because she owed an old friend a very big favor. She was going to teach him how to use his magic and mind to heal his patients, warning him that if he ever used her teachings to harm an innocent, not only would she hunt him down, but would also make his life a living hell. The lupine believed her threat before she then went on telling him all of his deepest and darkest secrets, amongst other tidbits of his life, stuff that Phil told no one for various reasons. After that, Phil was no longer a skeptic. He faithfully learned everything she had to teach, and would eventually be called one of her best students. All in all, he received some life-changing training. However, since the whole magi thing was indeed a government secret, he could not legally tell anyone about it; much to the determent of his career with the center.

End Flashback

He would eventually lose his job, despite the generous donation the center received because of him. However, he was instantly given a new job by the same company that gave the center the donation and him his training. He was now the head of the mental health department of a small wellness complex that was recently built in Lyon and had been working there for the past year now, and was deeply enjoying it. Despite this, the secret of his training had been heavy on his heart, and he eventually told the only two souls he could trust: his partner, and the bat beside him. Beatrice had actually surprised him when she said that she knew about magi before he, himself, had known. She had mentioned learning about it in her youth, yet she, herself, was not a magus and now he understood where her connection with magi came from. As he refocused on the present, a nagging feeling began to grow in the back of his mind. Just what had he agreed to? He continued walking towards the bus stop next to the woman, who was now oddly silent.

"Beatrice?" he called, accidentally startling her.

"Huh?" The young woman muttered as Phil laughed.

"You aren't usually this spacey," He said, causing her to stick her tongue out at him in response.

"I'm just really worried about Shaun. He's slow to trust and way too close to self-destruction," she explained as Phil just nodded. He understood her fear, especially since it was a dangerous position to be in. A loved one was on the edge of oblivion, but family and friends were too far away emotionally to help. Phil wanted to ease his friend's anxiety.

"How old is your friend?" Phil decided to ask, hoping to change the subject and learn more about his soon-to-be patient.

"He turned 18 in September," she answered. Phil sighed inwardly with relief. His specialty was trauma recovery, not pediatrics. Therefore, this case was within his areas of expertise. However, he was still quite nervous, because this kid could quickly become one of his toughest cases. After all, the kid was only just legal, and Beatrice was convinced that the kid was going to kill himself. Meaning Shaun must have had a rough ride lately, which undoubtedly meant that there would be several issues to work through. No matter though, he was always up for challenge; it was the reason he chose this profession in the first place.

"Okay, I'm willing to take him on. As I said before; however, I have to get clearance first, and that may take a few weeks. If you think he gets worse before I contact you again, have him committed temporarily and gain power of attorney over his medical decisions. Of course, this means you have to have him declared officially mentally unsound. I know it doesn't sound nice, but it's the only way to get any legal power to make any medical decisions for him, since Shaun is technically an adult, if only by age. This way you can keep him in a facility until he can be moved in order to cut down his chances of hurting himself in the meantime," He suggested. Beatrice made a face of discomfort, and then gamely nodded.

"Technically, I was his legal guardian," She admitted.

"How did that come about?" He asked as they stopped at a crosswalk.

"We were all orphans. After Bryan and I left, a lot of the kids were being tossed out of the home by the owner and Shaun wrote us frantically for help. We decided on a guardianship because it was the quickest, and easiest, way to help and somewhat protect them," she explained before crossing the street once the light changed.

Phil tried to placate his friend by stating, "Then you will probably not have any trouble getting power of attorney."

Beatrice must've decided she needed a complete change of subject because her next words were, "Now, enough about me. What are your holiday plans?"

Phil grinned slightly and shrugged. "Nothing super exciting. We'll probably stop by to see Evelyn's parents; probably go see my parents and uncle on Christmas Eve just to avoid the yearly grumblings. Then we'll probably spend Christmas and the day after in Evry. We'll probably be back in Lyon to bring in the New Year. What about you?" He asked as they stopped at the bus stop. She copied his shrugging gesture playfully.

"Well, at the moment, I can't say," she admitted. "We were planning on driving around and looking at the lights on Christmas Eve, then before that we were invited to the Christmas party that Bryan's job was hosting on the 23rd of this month," She never got to finish as Phil interrupted her,

"Don't you mean today?" He interjected with a raised eyebrow as Beatrice just rolled her eyes at the wolf before continuing.

"Of course. But…we probably won't go, or Bryan might go by himself. I don't want to leave Shaun too long by himself. That's why I took an opening shift today," she explained. She watched the bus roll up to the curb and she stepped on. After paying her fare, she took an empty seat with Phil sitting across the aisle from her.

"It's nice that you are loyal to your friend, but don't sacrifice all of your plans. Because –"

Phil warned before the bat cut him off, "I know, I know! All of our plans won't be torched, although some will be altered. After all, this is our first Christmas together as an engaged couple, so, I definitely want to celebrate, but I am not going to leave Shaun to wallow on his own. At least, I don't want him to while we're in the same house, "she said, laughing a little. The two friends continued to talk all the way to Phillip's favorite café, where he got off for lunch and Beatrice continued on home.

Beatrice finally made it back home as an anxious feeling began fluttering in her chest. She hoped that her gamble had paid off and that Shaun slept all morning. This was why she did her volunteer hours early in the morning; in hopes that Shaun would still be sleeping after she returned home. She put the key in the door and pushed it open, glad that she and Bryan had finally finished unpacking and decorating the house just yesterday. Their home was furnished in earthen tones with touches of teals here and there to give it some variety. She could not help but smile as a feeling of accomplishment threaded its way through her soul, but that feeling quickly turned into fear when she heard a loud commotion from the back of her house. She froze momentarily, listening for another sound before making her way over to a side table where she opened a drawer and removed a small pistol from it.

"Shaun? Sly?" She called hesitantly as she began making her way through the living room and into the hallway. There was no response. Beatrice's mind was working furiously to determine if there was someone else other than Shaun in the house. Her bedroom had one window and the guest bedroom had a window as well. Those were the only other sources of entry, since the windows in the living room were still intact, not to mention that she had to unlock the front door to gain entry. Seeing that the back door was also intact, that also ruled it out of a point of entry. She cautiously proceeded down the hallway and her heart dropped when she noticed that the door to the guest room was ajar and could see light pouring from the room and into the hallway. As she proceeded slowly towards the bedroom, she was stopped in her tracks when a rancid smell hit her nose. It was coming from the bathroom and the light was on. She wrinkled her nose but pressed on.

She edged up to the opened door and peered inside. The blue comforter that usually rested on top of the bed was now lying in the middle of the floor with the bed empty with the pillow and the sheets barely staying on the mattress, with the comforter looking as if the occupant dragged it across the floor, before ultimately discarding it at the door of the bathroom. Basically, it looked like someone had stumbled out of bed without any regard to the state they left it in. This only served to further her anxiety as she continued onwards with the gun still raised, ready to be used at a moment's notice. Continuing inside, the female bat noticed that the bathroom door was wide open, and Beatrice pressed herself against the wall. She then shimmied along it until she could stick her head inside discreetly. She peaked into the bathroom and her jaw dropped.

There was Sly sprawled in the middle of the bathroom floor. His fur was matted with sweat and the front of his shirt was soaked with it. The young man was also shuddering as well. The smell had obviously come from him vomiting into the toilet. Beatrice could feel the blood drain from her face as she dropped to her knees. The gun was quickly placed on the counter as she reached out and began shaking him gently as she called his name over and over again. However, the raccoon only moaned piteously without waking. Beatrice sat back on her heels as she took a few deep and steadying breaths as she battled to keep her rising panic and bile in check. Then, the rest of her first aid training kicked in and she checked to see if he was still breathing. The bat crawled closer to the teen and placed her cheek a few centimeters from his mouth, feeling some of the worry leave her when she felt his shallow breath against her cheek. She slowly rolled Shaun into the recovery position so that air could easily get into his lungs. She then adjusted his legs to stabilize his position."Okay. Keep it together, girl… this is the best I can do. Now, I need to call an ambulance," she said as she mentally counseled herself. Stumbling to her feet, she pulled out a cell phone from her jacket pocket and dialed 112(Equivalent of 911 in the States). When the operator answered, she quickly told the man everything that happened.

"Okay, I need your address, ma'am." He said as she quickly told him.

"How long will it take?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly due to her barely restrained anxiety.

"8 to 10 minutes, ma'am," he responded. "How long has your friend been unconscious, and is he still breathing?"

"A few minutes at most, I heard him fall as soon as I walked in the door. He is still breathing, barely so," she explained.

"Ok. It's important that you don't move him. He may have injured his back or neck in the fall and any sudden movements could make it worse."

"I know. I just placed him in the recovery position to keep him breathing," Beatrice thanked the man, before declining his offer to remain on the phone with her before hanging up the phone. She tried to wake Shaun once more by calling him again. When she called him Sly once more, a horrifying thought hit her: what if the doctors discovered who Shaun was? What story could they concoct to hide the raccoon's identity? After all, they would see all the scars and would start asking questions. What were they going to tell the doctors? Before another round of panic could overtake her, Beatrice called her fiancé, praying that he answered.

"Hello? Bea?" said that voice that she loved to hear.

"Amor? Thank goodness! Ohh... something terrible has happened!" she blurted and proceeded to tell him everything in a rush.

"Whoa, whoa... slow down, ce qui s'est passé?" (What has happened?)he asked calmly. Beatrice took another quick breath and then retold her story from the beginning.

"What?! Is he still breathing?"

"Yes, but he's unconscious at the moment."

"Have you called an ambulance?"

"Yes. But, what are we going to tell the doctors?"

"Well, given that it is such short notice, just go with as much of the truth as you can," suggested Bryan. Beatrice nodded to herself thinking, "That could work."

"But what about all the injuries from the Contessa?" She asked.

"As for the Contessa, just say it was a case of mistaken identity," said Bryan uncertainly. She could practically hear Bryan shrugging on the other end as Beatrice sighed. Now that she had a moment to collect herself, she began thinking of an alternative to explain everything. Maybe instead of trying to hide a villain, she could replace it with a more visible one. There was a big time modern Mafia boss known only by the name of Mister, and he had practically enslaved the gang as young teens. While he was nowhere near being as sadistic as the Contessa, the man was not above using physical violence or the threat of harm to achieve his goals. Yes, that could work. Shaun had attempted to escape multiple times and the gang would finally catch a break and escape after a year of captivity, which was mostly true. However, for the sake of convenience he had beaten Shaun severely when he caught up with the raccoon and was recovering from the beating when he fell ill.

"Bea? Are you still there?" called Brian. Beatrice quickly refocused on her situation when she heard her fiancé's voice.

"I was just taking your advice and thinking of a proper story using the truth, at least a version thereof. Thanks for your help, cher," Beatrice answered.

"Okay, I am pretty much finished in Paris. I can grab the guys and head back to Lyon. You just let me know what hospital they take Shaun to," said Bryan before telling her goodbye and hanging up. A moment later, Sly started to shift beneath her hand. She noticed that she had started stroking his face while she was talking on the phone.

"Sly? Don't move, Sly. You are ill and fell on my bathroom floor," She explained softly as she continued stroking his face, while placing her other hand on his shoulder to keep him still. The thief stopped moving and groaned. She felt some sense of relief when she saw the teen make an attempt to open his eyes, thinking that he was finally coming around. It was short-lived; however, as soon as Shaun opened his eyes; the boy started screaming in agony. He quickly shut his eyes and curled up into a ball.

"Mom..." The teenager moaned. Beatrice's heart broke and she began to curse the absent Mrs. Cooper. According to Shaun, she abandoned him at the age of eight.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" She asked. She never received an answer, only moans in response. He was out of it again. Beatrice huffed to herself, while wishing the ambulance would hurry the hell up…

In Paris…

Bryan felt numb. This was completely out of his emotional range. First, sly freaks out at his kitchen table and then the thief practically barricaded himself in the guest bedroom for the next few days and now he passes out in his bathroom! The bat would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified for his friend. However, Bryan would not let the terror rob him of the ability to keep going during a tragedy. He always had this ability to maintain a level head during more intense situations. However, this often times left him too detached to act quickly if something had to be done immediately; that kind of work was his fiancée's territory.

She was active and passionate, living and thriving in the heat of the moment, always ready to act at the drop of a hat. Just like earlier, when she thought there was someone in the house; she did not hesitate. She found a weapon and checked it out. The downside to her intense nature; however, were her own intense emotions would overcome her rationale at times. She could easily become severely angry or descend into a delirious panic pretty quickly if things became too much for her to handle, but once she had a chance to calm down…that was when she truly shined. Bryan saw Shaun in the same light; however, Shaun tended to temper or even hide what he felt. He hardly allowed panic to take a hold of him, and he kept a tight leash on his anger. Most people didn't even realize that Shaun even had a temper, but those who did, knew that it was a spectacular one.

Bentley and Murray, like Bryan's love, tended to be more reactionary. Bentley was especially reactionary. He would get angry, irritated, excited, and panicked at the drop of a hat. This was pretty much why Shaun and Bentley were fighting now. Bentley was reacting to Sly's seemingly indifference towards him, although that was probably the furthest from the truth. Bryan continued to think back on the conversation he had with the turtle yesterday...

Flashback

As soon as Bryan had finished talking with Murray, he had returned to the main part of the cabin. He stood and watched the turtle work. The computer screen's glow cast an eerie reflection off of the reptile's glasses. Bryan couldn't see Bentley's eyes, so he was going to just have to go in blind.

"What are you working on now, Bentley?" He asked, startling the 17-year-old. Bentley yelped and whirled around to stare at the bat.

"Don't do that!" He gasped as Bryan chuckled.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said semi-apologetically.

"Sure you didn't," the turtle grumbled. "but if you must know, I am working on a new algorithm for some security measures."

"That sounds cool. Although, don't you already have four of them?" Bryan questioned, in an effort to keep the turtle talking.

"Yes, but this one is different."

"How is it different?" asked Bryan causing the computer genius to spin around and growl.

"Why don't we just cut to the chase? That way I can continue focusing on my work. I don't know where Sly is. Honestly, right now, I don't care." the bat felt his face redden with anger. Murray's earlier complaint had been valid. Bentley was being unusually mean.

"I didn't come here for Sly, or for a fight," Bryan said tersely, biting back his annoyance. "I know exactly where he is! I just wanted to check on the rest of my old friends!" the bat turned around and stomped towards the door before leaving the hideout. Unlike Sly and Murray, Bryan did not have the same sense of loyalty to the turtle. Sure the turtle was his friend, but he was not about to take the same abuse from Bentley that the others did. If there was one thing that got Bryan's blood boiling, it was sheer meanness, especially uncalled for meanness.

End Flashback

He left the cabin that night without even getting a chance to really talk to the turtle. Bryan was starting to regret letting Bentley's prickly nature get under his fur. He should have at least tried to reason with the turtle. Now, he was practically flooring it through the side streets of Paris to tell that same turtle that his friend was barely breathing. Suddenly, Bryan had an idea that might help make things easier. As he stopped at a stoplight, he reached into his cup holder and pulled out a cell phone and dialed Murray's number. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the hippo to answer.

"Hello?" said Murray on the third ring.

"Hey, it's Bryan. Look, something bad has happened. Sly is unconscious and on his way to the hospital in Lyon, the accountant explained quickly as the light turned green.

"What?! What happened?!" blurted the hippo.

"I'm not completely sure. Beatrice found him. I will be there in 30 minutes. Pack up your things, at least enough for few days, and be waiting outside. I am coming to take you back to Greater Lyon with me," he ordered as he sped from the traffic light and continued on to his destination.

At the cabin...

"Who was that?" muttered Bentley.

"It was… Bryan. He says something has happened to Sly," answered the hippo as he moved to the other end of the cabin. The turtle spun around as much as his chair would allow and stared in disbelief at his pink friend.

"You're joking, right?" He half-begged unconsciously.

"No, he said that Beatrice found him unconscious. She called an ambulance and Bryan is on his way to take us back to Lyon," he explained as he continued down the hallway to go and pack their things. Bentley felt his heart plummet. Sly was so ill that he needed a hospital? Impossible! It was statistically improbable! Sure Sly got sick on occasion, but usually it was a minor cold. At worse, a rare case of influenza would pop up, which Sly had only had once. Sly had only been in a hospital once, and he had been near death then. Sly had been so injured by the Contessa that he remained hospitalized for three weeks. Now, he was back in the hospital again. Bentley shook with trepidation; what if he died this time? The turtle gulped and hastily pushed that thought away. He huffed in part worry and part annoyance, when the hollow slam of a drawer reached his ears. If Murray slammed those drawers any harder, they would fall apart. The turtle sighed to himself before starting to transfer the data from his computer to his laptop before shutting both machines down. He packed his laptop and its accessories for the trip.

By now, his fear and concern for Sly had now merged with his annoyance at the suddenness of the situation. Now, he was angry again. Why couldn't things ever be simple with Sly? There was always some catastrophe going on with him. Either he was looking for trouble, or trouble found him. Why didn't he ever consider what problems his shenanigans would cause for other people? Bentley's mental rant was cut short as sharp aches from deep within his muscles raced through both of his legs at nearly the same time. His body tensed up instinctively due to the pain, but it only made the painful spasms more intense. Bentley bit back a cry as tears continued to pool behind his eyelids.

His legs had been crushed so badly by Clock-La's beak that the doctors had to replace most of the bones in his legs with metal rods. Amputation wasn't an option because of his shell. In order for the doctors to completely amputate his legs, they would have had to crack his shell. Even in this medically advanced age, some things were still hugely risky, such as cutting into Bentley's shell. There was the threat of the shell getting infected, as well as the tissue underneath it. The biggest risk, in his case, was that the entire lower half of his shell would need to be opened, or removed, to operate. Furthermore, there was no guarantee that the shell would heal correctly, or at all, which was why it was decided that a rod combination would have to do.

While the rods were the most economical choice health wise, they weren't without their drawbacks. The major one being the pain he was currently experiencing; pain that was originating from many different sources, some of it from the aching of his remaining bones. Others came from the grading of the metal rods against his bones and rubbing against his muscles. Further pain came from the occasional muscles spasms, like the ones currently plaguing him. The turtle could not take anymore.

"Murray! Ahhhgrh! Murray!" He screamed. A moment later, Murray rushed into the room. He immediately looked at his friend's anguished face and raced into the kitchen. The turtle could only gasp for air as bile rose up his throat. An eternity later, Murray returned with a syringe in his hands. The hippo quickly inserted the needle into the turtle's thigh. As the muscle relaxer started to work, Bentley finally managed to pull in a full breath of air, which was quickly followed by a coughing fit so severe that it almost had the turtle falling out of his chair. Murray placed a steadying hand on the reptile's shoulder to keep him in his seat until the episode passed. Once Bentley was mostly back to normal, Murray continued to pack their belongings.

The resident genius continued to sit and stare at his laptop bag. It was well worn, but still usable. He almost smiled at the message written on its side. It read, "This is not the laptop you're looking for." It had been Sly's idea of a joke. But the smile did not last long as he was way too busy comparing experiences to really laugh at it. When Sly took care of him, the thief was just as quick to get the meds as Murray was. However, Sly often talked Bentley through it. He would comfort the turtle until it was over, and then take whatever abuse Bentley heaped on him afterwards. Shame began sliding through his veins as the turtle's long buried conscience decided to finally reassert itself. He had been a terrible friend lately as he realized that Sly and Murray were doing their best to help him and here he was berating them both. It had gotten to the point where one of them couldn't stand to be in the same room with him for long, while the other one thought the turtle hated him, the same friend that could practically be on his deathbed. Now that Bentley was finally feeling appreciative and apologetic, the turtle could practically hear Sly's voice in his head now.

"… Great going, shell boy..."

An hour and a half later…

Bryan watched the roads wearily as he continued to make his way out of Paris with two-thirds of the Cooper Gang in tow. He had taken the side streets once more due to the roadblocks and checkpoints that were now dotting almost every main road out of Paris. In the intervening time between his first call to the gang and now, there had been a major prison break. Interpol and local police were scrambling all over to recover the escaped convicts. All around Bryan, there was chaos as people were ducking around trees and police cars racing to and fro. He had yet to turn the radio on so had no clue how many of them escaped, or how many of them were truly dangerous.

He took a quick sneak peek in his review view mirror, Bentley was huddled down in his shell and Murray was hunched over in the backseat as far as he could go. He knew they were scared and was thinking quickly about the best route to get out of Paris without calling too much attention to himself and his passengers. As he sat at a traffic light, a bright flash lit up the afternoon sky behind the car. He quickly turned around and gaped as three shadowed figures were streaking towards the car, but that wasn't what had the bat stunned. Behind the trio, was the shock-pistol wielding policewoman, Carmelita Montoya Fox and was pursuing them with all she had. He could only watch as the agile policewoman leapt over a stationary semi-truck while still firing at the escaped convicts before landing on the cab and flipped off before landing on her feet and continuing after them.

Bryan's eyes further bulged out of their sockets when one of the convicts climbed up the front of an apartment building to escape Carmelita's shock pistol. Now that the convict wasn't blending into the shadows, but standing out against the concrete building, he realized that it was an arachnid climbing the wall. Carmelita had stopped pursuing the others to try and incapacitate the wall crawler before the arachnid could make it over the building's wall and onto the roof. Unfortunately, the spider was moving too quickly to be hit, and it disappeared over the wall. He watched Carmelita swear a moment before turning to locate the other two, who were now hijacking a car. The antelope that had been driving the four-door car was left sprawled out on the concrete while the car's tires seemed to scream in terror as the convicts floored the accelerator, and the car took off down the street. The vixen leapt across the road and landed on the hood of Bryan's car. Everyone in the vehicle held their breath, praying that she was not paying attention to who was in the car. She leaped off neatly and continued to pursue the fleeing fugitives on foot.

"Follow them!" a strained voice said. Bryan whirled around to see Bentley peeking out of his shell.

"What? Why?" he asked, even as he drove around the car in front of him and ran the red light.

"Carmelita is hot on their tails, and she has probably already called the car into the road blocks, so they may be less likely to notice us and focus their attention on the fleeing criminals," said Bentley. Bryan considered the idea. It was a risky venture, but it could work. Bryan continued to follow the criminals through the streets, although certainly not at the same speed since he definitely didn't want the authorities on him. He steeled his nerves as they came up on a block. Despite the officers firing on the car, the culprits continued barreling down the road before blowing through the road blocks. However, due to Carmelita calling ahead of time, the officers knew that the criminal were coming and reacted accordingly, having placed spike strips a few meters away from their position. Bryan quickly slammed on the brakes and watched as all four of the car's tires of the criminal's car blew out at the same time. The car continued rolling along on the hubcaps, shooting sparks everywhere as it went. Officers scrambled to put their weapons away and get to their vehicles. Carmelita hopped onto a vacant motorcycle and continued to pursue the fleeing auto. Other cars joined her with their lights and sirens blazing. Bryan's heart nearly stopped as one of the few officers left came over to the car. Bryan took a deep breath and calmed down before rolling down the window, saying "Hello Officer,"

The officer nodded. "Where are you headed?" he asked breathlessly.

"Evry, I have to visit a friend in the hospital there." answered Bryan as the officer nodded.

"Once my boys finish cleaning up the spikes, you can pass and continue on your way," he said with a sigh before heading back over to the other officers. Bryan sighed in relief and waited. After a few minutes, one of the remaining officers waved him through. Bryan drove through the block and continued on his way. He turned off the exit ramp leading to Evry and continued on towards the A6. As soon as he and his friends made it through that checkpoint and paid the toll, they all sighed in relief. Bryan was almost giddy from the feeling. He pulled out his cell phone, deciding to let Bea know what happened and to be careful, because Lyon may be on high alert, too...

Done! So, now we have heard from Sly, Bentley, and Murray... what will happen now, especially since our favorite police vixen has shown up? Find out next time! Review with your comments and guesses!