Disclaimer: I don't own any Sly Cooper characters; they belong to Sucker Punch Productions.

Claimer: I own all of my original characters.

Well, since I'm still at my friends' house and I usually have two or three chapters typed up in advance (like this one) I can post chapter 9. But this time this really is the last chapter I can post until I get my laptop repaired. So, until then, please read and review and let me know what you think on this story and whether or not I should do a Phantom of the Opera based oneshot.

Chapter 9: Morphine on a Monday

I had been released for the hospital for only a few hours and already I had someone irritated towards me. Granted, it wasn't completely my fault. Before I left the hospital and got on the plane back to Paris, the doctors had given me a decent amount of morphine so I could sleep through the plane ride without much pain. And that part went smoothly, but when I finally got back to my apartment, the sleepiness wore off and the uncontrollable, laughing Ramona came out into the world. I sat on one end of my couch while my brother sat on the other end. He was sitting very quietly and clearly agitated while I, on the other hand, was sitting like an Indian and giggling and there was no stopping me. Ever since the sleep had worn off, Sitka had been in charge of me, making sure I didn't hurt myself even more than I already was, but he had trouble getting me to keep quiet.

"Sitka," I gasped between laughs, "do you want to hear a joke?" he shot me a sideways glance and gave a short huff.

"If it'll shut you up," he mumbled into his paw, "Alright, what is it?"

"Ok, ok, ok," I paused so I could catch my breath, "What do you call…ground beef?" I stared intently and waited for him to guess. But instead, his eyebrows knitted together and he gave me a look that told me I was an idiot.

"What?" he asked after a minute of thinking. I stopped laughing and thought myself and realized I messed up.

"No, wait, I said it wrong. Hold on I'll think of it." I stopped and tried to remember how the joke went while Sitka attended to the soft tapping on the glass door.

I didn't pay attention to who was as the door since I was so determined to figure out the punch line of my joke. Normally, I would never find these types of jokes funny, but if I was on any type of medicine I was a laughing moron and would find anything funny. I slumped to the end of the couch and was determined to figure out my thoughts. The positive thing about being on such a powerful pain killer, I didn't have any pain from my gunshot wound or cracked tooth but instead I didn't give a cat's rat about anything. Another positive thing was that I didn't have to do anything until I healed and I didn't even need to get dressed in normal street clothes. I could lounge around in my pajamas for as long as I wanted and not get scolded at for being lazy.

"Ramona," my brother called out from the door. I shot up and started silently to see what he wanted, "Did you figure out your joke yet?" I realized he wasn't alone, but Sly had gotten back to Paris before we had and was on his usual routine of dropping by unexpectedly. As far as I knew, my siblings didn't know he would stop by at leas three or four times a week and only thought he was stopping by to make sure we had arrived back.

"No," I said softly, "but I'm still thinking." I flopped on the couch again and kept thinking while the two male raccoons in my apartment carried on a conversation. I shot up a moment later and was almost ecstatic when I remembered the correct punch line of my joke.

"Wait I remembered it!" I shouted and started giggling again, "Are you ready for this? What do you call a cow with no legs?" Sitka's face dropped and very dull said, "Ground beef." I stopped laughing and my face went serious.

"How'd you know and why aren't you laughing at it?" I didn't know why he wasn't laughing at my joke and had no idea how he knew the answer and was almost hurt at his lack of enthusiasm.

"You just told me and it's not funny." I snorted in disbelief before quickly pointing a finger a Sly, who was laughing quietly.

"Then why is he laughing?" Sitka turned to the thief before letting a paw slide down his face in frustration.

"Don't encourage her." he grumbled. I started laughing again and started falling forwards on the couch as my laughs got stronger. During my roaring fit, I could have sworn I heard Sitka ask my rival to watch over me for a few hours while he got a break; or something to that effect. My suspicious were confirmed when I heard my front door open and close swiftly. By now, I wasn't laughing but wheezing and squeaking out laughs and my forehead was touching the cushions of my couch. I felt the other end dip down suddenly and I finally brought my head back up only to see Sly giving me a sideways glance of curiosity.

"What could you possibly be laughing at?" he was chuckling himself and I was still heaving in air.

"I started out laughing at the joke," I was still giggling loudly while I continued, "but then I though about when you get laughing so hard you start wheezing and then you can't breath or do anything but flap your arms around while trying to get a word in," I rambled on but stopped briefly to breathe, "so while your wheezing and your arms are all crazy you look like a really happy walrus and its really hard to stop laughing like that." I went back into a laughing fit and falling forward. My head was stopped by falling on his arm and he snorted himself.

"Your brother wasn't kidding when he said you didn't take medication well." I sat up quickly and focused on the side of his face. I ran my palm over the side of his face and realized how fuzzy his fur was.

"Are you having fun?" he turned his head and that just made it more difficult to pet his fur.

"Do you know how fuzzy you are? It's like petting one of those kitties you find on the side of the street in a box." He started to say something but stopped in thought.

"Ramona, those cats are usually owned by drug dealers? You're saying I have the fur of a drug cat?" I stopped petting and gave him a confused look.

"What's a drug cat?" I hadn't been paying attention to what he was saying and was mainly paying attention to the softness of his fur.

"Never mind." He chuckled softly. I yawned deeply and the medicine was starting to wear off when the dull ache in my chest was starting to form, "Why don't you take a nap? You're looking really tired." I nodded in agreement.

"I don't have any energy." I mumbled softly and he nodded.

"Alright, I'll help you out here." He stood and eventually I was lying sideways on the couch and quickly drifting off to sleep.

I was sleeping soundly until I was being rocked awake and I quickly found out it was my brother. He was pushing and pulling on my shoulder in an attempt to get me up. I growled to let him know I wasn't about to get up but he was persistent. I eventually whirled around and my fist impacted with his chest but was quickly brought down my own wound burning. He helped me sit up slowly before handing me two different colored pills. One was and antibiotic to keep me from getting an infection and the other was a milder pain killer. Even if it was a smaller dose of what I had earlier, it would only be a few minutes before I was a laughing fit again.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked after I had downed the pills and was halfway slumped on the armrest.

"I'll feel better after this whole thing is over and done with." I grumbled and another pang of burning ripped through my chest and up my neck.

"Let me stop you right there," he said sternly, "I don't want you to even think of that until you are completely healed. Understand? You're not going to risk getting hurt even more than you already are."

"I'm going to wait a couple of weeks before trying anything-" he cut me off before I could finish.

"You're going to wait more than a couple of weeks; you're not going out for a few months."

"I don't need to wait a few months, Sitka." I started to protest against his decisions but the look he gave me quickly shut me up.

"All I'm saying is that you need to be careful, alright?" I nodded and he ruffled the hair on my head before placing the pill bottles somewhere in the kitchen. I slumped against the armrest again and I could already feel the medicine start to take effect. I was getting ready to start going into another laughing fit when I heard Sitka sneeze violently somewhere in the kitchen.

"What'd you do!" I shouted over to him. He wiped his nose on his wrist and laughed at himself.

"Soda bubbles went up my nose." He said simply. And with that comment, I went into a laughing fit, "Now what are you laughing at?"

"You said 'bubbles'!" I started laughing even harder and I heard my brother groan in the kitchen. I knew my constant laughter would get on his nerves eventually, but at the moment I didn't care.