(A/N: the author's note is at the bottom today, because it's long and I didn't want to eat the header :D )

Chapter 2: Suspension

Carmelita Montoya Fox. She was intelligent and she had looks. She had attitude and she could appear spirited on days when nobody was on her bad side. She destroyed the Hate Chip of Clockwerk; she had even managed to arrest the slightly younger Sly Cooper. But he always managed to escape. Last night, however, was different.

He didn't escape in her dream. She had allowed herself to be upset at the very thought of him when it was over but after sleeping on it, reflecting on the dream and letting it all sink in, she realized that it could easily be an omen, as well. It was twisted, in a way, just how much the two of them had gone through together. He lied to her about his amnesia but she had lied to him about his identity, to get him closer to her. They were meant for one another. The Tarot cards(#) told her that much. Her eyes shut; she didn't want to think about that.

"Who believes in Tarot Cards(#) anyhow?" (#: Revealed in Chapter3 -kit) She asked aloud, suddenly startled by her own voice. There she sat, trying to allow the morning bath sooth her emotions yet she was only getting herself riled up. Leaning forward, Carmelita reached from the tub to the bathroom door knob, where her badge hung. She took the badge by its black chain, bringing it close to her eyes, holding it in the padded palm of her paw. She often wore it around her neck; it was a yellow metallic star engraved into a pentagon shaped badge-plate.

The padded bottom of her paw was still dry; she didn't want to get the object wet, really. It's not that the badge wasn't water proof; it was. She just had an amazing reverence for the metallic symbol. She drew her thumb across it slowly, forcing a soft smile. If Law was her religion, this badge was her crucifix necklace. It was who she was. It marked her and gave her a sense of identity.

She rolled her softly padded thumb across the nearly reflective golden surface. It was her rock of stability. If she was truly an island, this precious medallion was the rock which gave the atoll its earthy substance, anchoring her from drifting out to sea or metaphorically floating into the clouds, only to later plummet to a fool's demise. If anything, clouds were for the foolish. Black and white, the straight and narrow, is what helped to keep her on the interstate as opposed to going off road. With her luck, she'd wind up driving off the edge of the planet, somehow, if she didn't have an interstate by which to steer.

Her badge was the only thing that she loved more than her trusted shock pistol. Without her pistol, she was still an Agent, but without her badge, she was nothing. She tried to let its weight and smooth feel sooth and comfort her heart but something else was brewing, making it impossible to even hold her attention on any one object or thought.

Sylvester Cooper, aka 'Sly' Cooper. He was a touch younger than her but there was something in him that got her to think, sometimes. Were they reincarnated soul mates that happened to fall on the wrong side of the law from one another? It was better than falling on the same gender, she supposed, but she wasn't quite sure she totally believed in reincarnation. She just couldn't pinpoint her draw to him. She didn't want to be labeled as 'obsessed' but deep down she knew the truth. She battled with it every day, how could she not know it?

"For one day, we were partners; even you can't deny it was wonderful," She said softly. Part of her wished he was there to hear and acknowledge it. "You claim to only rob from the deserving. Sounds more like a mercenary to me; why don't you just join Interpol?" She shook her head. She wasn't exactly a fan of holding monologues. Part of her wanted to throw the badge across the tiled floor but she adored it far too much.

It was then that she was shaken from her reverie so badly that her fur fluffed up, over her shoulders, neck and face above the bath water. Carmelita reached her paw up, snatching the cellular phone off of the tub ledge, flipping it open. "I'm not due into the office for another two hours, so this had better be good."

"Actually," came the voice at the other end, "You're off today; so very like you to come in on your day off," Replied the constable. "I had some new hardware for you to try out, thought you might want to participate."

"Not like the handcuff throwing gun, I hope," She grumbled in a sort of teasing way. The man on the other end couldn't hear it, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of her muzzle. "I like the shock gun, so I hope it's not weapon replacement hardware."

"Actually," the man repeated a second time. There was an ensuing dramatic pause before he continued with, "Not really. See, there's an expo in town for gadgets. The technology expo has brought in a lot of nerds from around the world. In fact, if you were really on top of the nerd world, you might even know that Sly Cooper's handicapped friend would be there, as well as their friend Penelope, but anyhow. The point is, the Chief feels that bringing in some smart nerds to display their latest gadgetry would be a plus. They'll be here in an hour."

"Like I said," Carmelita mused, "I'll see you in two." She didn't wait for an acknowledgement. She simply thumbed the cell phone shut and leaned back in the tub again. "Calgon, take me away," muttered the vixen, allowing her eyes to shut.

The essence of time disappeared for the voluptuous vulpine. Her reality slipped away and there were only two things in her world right now: the heated purity of the bath water and him. Her therapist had explained how her obsession was actually inhibiting her from catching him. The advice given was to get over him, forget about him and pretend he never existed. Then, she could come back later, fresh and open minded. She would have to look at him as just another case, in order to follow through with it. The more she involved herself personality, the more impossible the case would become.

"I don't even know you," She muttered. "You're a name on a piece of paper in a big file cabinet at the Office," She added, knowing it was of no use. She was lying to herself. Her therapist suggested that she find a boyfriend but her instincts suggested that capturing him was the only true way to put it all to rest. "If I don't get myself reassigned," She blurted out, "I'm going to wind up with a checkered career and a broken heart." While it wasn't quite true, she knew she had to put something else on her mind. Anything.

People simply didn't understand her. She may have been strong but she was emotional. Walking around, several stories tall, consumed by dark urges and an ill-will, just because of some stupid mask… being locked away in a gas chamber and rescued by her nemesis; she was embarrassed, really. She wanted to embrace their cat-and-mouse game but her emotions got in the way of that, as well. Now that things were slowing down to some extent, she looked at Sly with 20/20 hind-vision.

"Hindsight twenty-twenty," groused Fox. She didn't realize she was nearly falling asleep at this point. Her body was shutting down, attempting to flee into the depths of unconsciousness. If she could keep her mind clear, there would be no Sly waiting for her. Hot and cold, she loved him and hated him at the same time. She couldn't believe that she'd foolishly managed to fall for a man she hated a few short years ago. While she couldn't admit it publicly, she could finally admit it to herself. Hindsight, twenty-twenty.

Everything in the past was clear. His intentions, his actions, his … she was doing it again. She was obsessing. She changed her thoughts to something that didn't directly correlate to him, but instead, something that was partially related to herself. The dream.

Why did she hide behind a pair of contacts and changed hair? Was her dream trying to tell her that she was hiding her true feelings from him? She couldn't understand how the dream was meant to relate to her every day life. What about Cooper's death? It was some sort of sacrifice to protect her, no less. She thought about how the shiver ran up her spine when he touched her, then back down when he demanded to hear her speak of love, shortly thereafter.

Was there significance in the directions of the shivers that crept over her spine in that dream? Worst of all, she had to wonder if Clockwerk, the freakish avian who had rebuilt his mortal body with mechanical parts to live through his vendetta, was able to return without the Hate Chip. She could only hope he was gone for good.

She could feel herself growing further into a deep state of Alpha, her eyes shut, her mind running but her body was finally relaxed. Some people called it a power-nap, but this was simply quiet time for a woman who had too much action in her life. After all, she didn't want to go crazy. She was stronger than that.

Before she realized it, she was entering the depths of REM sleep once more. Her eyes fluttered open just slightly and behind them, she witnessed another dream sequence. The first one, from last night, was based loosely on a dance they shared. This one was based on her subsequent fantasies about how he never recovered from being Constable Cooper.

The vixen sat up in the tub, moments later, her eyes wide, screaming again. He was killed again, saving her from death at the cold metallic claws of Clockwerk. "He's dead! Clockwerk is DEAD!" She argued with the silence. "I've got to be going out of my mind. I know it, it's …" She paused. Work would sooth the savage beast welling up inside of her. "I'm losing my mind, I've got to be. I don't even give a damn about that thief," She muttered, drawing herself from the tub, unplugging it with a toe-claw. She pulled her body from the porcelain and stepped onto the bathroom floor, reaching for a towel.

Water ran down over the glossy coat of fur, and regardless of the saturation, the lotion she used kept her coat glossy, like a waxed car, so that it ran down, dripping dry instead of looking like a soggy furball. A playful thought came to mind, running the towel over her slender waist and yet over-all luscious frame. "I bet you're jealous of my bath towel, Raccoon." This was said with a smirk and once dry, she tossed the towel upon the bathroom floor, drying her hind-paws upon it. "You'd like me walking all over you, wouldn't you? Gah!" She simply shook her head and reached for the hair dryer.

"He doesn't exist," Snapped the vixen. After a change of demeanor, she cleared her throat. "New gear, this is going to be fun," She assured herself aloud, no longer caring or not if she was speaking to herself. As long as she didn't answer her own questions, she felt it should be relatively fine. The longest part about getting ready before work wasn't getting dressed or styling her hair. It was drying her fur. Once the curveatious, lithe yet voluptuous, full bodied woman was ready to walk out the door, her phone rang again.

There was no use answering it, it was probably Work and she wasn't in the mood to chat before walking into the office. She paused at the door of her apartment, stretching her legs out as she often did before jogging. Carmelita then bent back, stretching her lower lumbar then she quickly shoved the phone into her pocket, slipped through the door, locking it behind herself. From there, she began a brisk jog through downtown Paris to the main office, up the road.

Sly Cooper, the thief raccoon. Bentley was the brains and Murray was the brawn. A very odd group indeed. Murray was some sort of hippo or rhino, she rarely got a good look at the getaway driver. Although she has seen him on occasion. There was no tusk on his nose, so she was going to go with hippo. But she wasn't so sure she'd be lucky enough to run across them. It didn't happen every time. She pondered, during her jog.

Sly in town? No, just his friend Bentley. But what if Sly was snooping around, too? She put it out of her mind. The jog was refreshing. She arrived at the office, opening the door and taking the stairs today. Once she was on the fourth floor, Carmelita Fox opened the door to the large work office, with different desks on both sides of the wall. In the center, a speech was in progress, from one of the nerdy types.

"Interpol is the sum of its constituent parts but the gear in Lyon France is her pride and joy to communicate and stay global. We've developed a PDA that you can keep on your gear belt that will link you in with the database of not only that computer but other ones of local and large scale police computers around the world. It's amazingly reliable and we've designed it to be affordable to Interpol, keeping its international budget in mind!"

She couldn't help but gawk; the coatimundi was short, pudgy and wore glasses. A stereotypical nerd-boy. Sad. Interpol moved her office to the one at the end of the main precinct as of recently and yet she still had the ever popular red door marking the entrance to her office. She opened the door and stepped inside. She kept it just the way she kept her old office, it was a familiar lay out and she liked the feel of the spread; it had a sort of Feng Shui.

She crossed the small room, passed the green sofa on her left, picking up a pass to the gym on her desk, next to the schedule for her piloting practice lessons for biplanes and small leer-jet sized craft. Even the pros had to brush up on their skills, after all. Her eyes lifted to the map above the desk and she couldn't help but blink twice. There was a pin over Bombay India. She'd never put it there, and yet there it was.

There was a small sharpie-drawn arrow on the head of the thumbtack pointing to the right. Approaching the safe to the right of her desk, she quickly thumbed through the combination then opened the door. Once upon a time there was a blue and white card where she'd had a case file but that seemed like forever ago. Carmelita blinked away the memory and set her eyes upon the pedestal within the safe's confines.

"You truly are unreal, Raccoon," She muttered softly reaching her paw in and wrapping it around the Fire Stone he'd taken early in their career relationship together. She tried not to melt at the gesture since it was still admittance to his crime. Her heart beat faster and at the same time she was approached from behind. The person was about to get a barking they'd never forget for interrupting her.

The Constable, who had called her on the phone earlier, tapped her on the shoulder then whispered in her ear, so as not to interrupt the techno-expo dweebs who were still giving a speech, out in the other room. "We've got to talk."

She whirled around to face the bandicoot and folded her arms across her chest. "I came in on my day off to get side-work finished; so by all means, what's on your mind?" Her words were scolding with sarcasm; she hated to be bothered when attempting to acclimate herself to a change of plans. As it were, it would be impossible to do paper work with a speech going on, just outside her office. This already meant reversing the order of errands today; he was just slowing her up.

"There's a problem. You might want to go home while the chief cools off," Said the man, shaking his head slowly. "Please trust me on this. I just found out that he's been involved in a bureaucratic, political sort of audit. Your name has come up quite a few times involving things that got messed up, broken and needed replacing."

"In what way?" She narrowed her eyes, turning to face him, leaving her belongings on her desk. Carmelita placed her paw upon his shoulder, guiding him from the room, heading towards the nearest hallway, "Go on; let's have it."

"You might be getting suspended," Said the bandicoot with a frown. He lowered his lengthy pointed nose, then stole a glance back up at her. "Starting with destroying police cruisers and other police property… it cost a fortune to replace the fire escape. Trashed a helicopter after firing off missiles with no full authority to engage in such a way? Stomped all over a city; we're not exactly sure about the report that you were 50 feet tall, there's no documented evidence to support that kind of claim in a police report. Air support nearly destroyed. The people the chief answers to feel that you've not had much to show for it. He's 18 years old, Miss Fox. How could an orphan boy elude you?"

"Excuse me?" Carmelita snapped, baring her teeth. "He's not 18 anymore, for one, you idiot. For two, I'm not going to talk about the mask; I'm not going to talk about the vehicles I've piloted and narrowly walked away from. I'm not going to have you talking to me about it right now, either. If the chief has something to say, I'll talk to him personally about it. Beyond Cooper, I've bagged and tagged more scum than you have teeth in your muzzle." She patted his cheek with her paw and walked passed him, directly for the chief's office. She smirked then added, "Suspension? Not likely!"

Thirty minutes later.

Carmelita couldn't believe it. She couldn't place a furry digit upon where any of this made sense. She'd filled out all the proper paperwork every single time something ever happened. There was an inventory record going back over two years of little things that had her on someone's list. The new Secretariat General over Interpol could have had something to do with it, but at this point, she couldn't even begin to think of how this happened.

There was a price tag on every hole in every shoddy shack that happened to be in front of her shock pistol, from whenever she missed a fast moving target. Not to mention Equipment that was ruined, vehicles that were shot up, ordinance that was exhausted. It was all documented. The bill added up to a figure that possibly ranged as numerous as there were strands of fur on her body. She didn't want to even begin to contemplate who was going to pay for it all. There was no possible way she was personally responsible for a price tag that extended into the low hundred-million dollar range. It was impossible and yet she held the itemized bill in her paw.

Carmelita was insulted. The chief suggested that she take this opportunity to get the vacation her mind and body needed. Bahamas; always nice this time of year, but a tropical island wasn't a place a woman went alone, unless it was for work. Her therapist did suggest finding a single guy to take her mind off of the man she didn't belong with, but the only single men that prowled the tropical beaches… closely resembled sharks.

"Suspension?" She simply gawked at the slip in her paw, sitting on the stairs leading up to the office building. It was still mid-morning and there was too much on her mind to even try and think. She drew the cell phone out of her pocket, flipping the top open. That's when she saw the "ONE MISSED CALL" that she had received on the way out the door of her apartment this morning. Curiosity had her attention now. Was it the Constable calling to say, "On second thought, don't come in," Or was it possibly something more interesting?

Her mind began to race. The phone number on the LCD screen was of a foreign area code. Was the itemized bill really a fallacious faux pas? Or was she truly that inept of doing her job well? Her eyes reflected the characters on the digital screen, partially obscured by azure locks of hair. Those Ming-hued tendrils that hid her eyes were particularly important now. She couldn't let anyone see the confusion and hurt held in her gaze.

The cell phone in her paw… Just what number did it hold? To whom would she be connected if she called it back? She thought about running the number before returning the call but that would require going back inside and right now, she wanted to be anywhere but in the office. This devastating blow to her psyche and ego left her without the one golden rock whose anchor-like powers provided incredible stability. They took her badge.

"To heck with the drama," She muttered, redialing the number, "Let's just see who's calling," the vixen continued, mashing in the 'send' button. Dialing… She'd know soon. A voice replied on the other end, offering a subtle salutation.

The vixen didn't recognize the voice. She cleared her throat quickly and spoke. "Yes, this is Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox. I seemed to have missed a call from this number earlier and was returning the call to whoever wished to contact me," The cop explained. The gentleman on the other end explained that the phone number was from a large bank in Prague.

Something wasn't adding up. A bank in Prague wouldn't call an Interpol agent. The case would be handed down through Interpol dispatch and with a suspension on her paws there was no way someone from the office gave out her cellular number. She couldn't help but continue for a moment with whomever she had the conversation. "I'm sorry. Did you say this was the Bank of the People's Republic of Czechoslovakia? How did you get this number?"

This wasn't adding up. There was no way in hell some random bank from downtown Prague, or anyone in the Czech Republic would have her personal phone number. She didn't even post it on her business cards. She had a special forwarded number that linked to the cell phone, using an alternative ring tone. Again, things weren't adding up.

"Yes and a gray-furred man using a hook on the end of a pole, broke into the vault this morning," explained the gentleman on the other end of the line.

"I see," replied the face-faulted fox. "I'll see about taking the next plane out from Paris. And your name sir?" Before the man's confirming reply could be offered, there were two gunshots heard and the call abruptly ended. "Nice rebuttal," Carmelita mused, quickly dialing the Constable from earlier. She knew the poor Bandicoot had a crush on her and it was time to milk it.

"Yes, this is Carmelita!" She announced with an airy, almost boisterous voice. The happiest, smiling female always got their way. "I just wanted to personally express my appreciation and apologize for my indignation, earlier." It was so very unlike her. But being out of character at times had its selling points, for sure.

She listened to his reply then continued, "I was just wondering, is there any way you could actually use the system to determine where the Secretariat General of Interpol is, right now?"

She waited, hearing the clicking of keys on the other end. "Ah, I think I found it," Exclaimed the man, "He's in Prague at a special banquet meeting held in the conference room of some really large bank, there. They sometimes use it as a ballroom, I was there once, a few years ago, and it's really nice."

"Is that right? Have you heard anything else about the nerd Expo?" She asked. If she could ascertain the location of Bentley, she could verify if Sly was really involved. He had to be in town, how else did the Fire Stone of India wind up in her safe? Something told her not to go directly to Prague without information first. She wasn't sure if it was because things didn't add up or if it was her woman's intuition.

"As a matter of fact," Replied the constable, "We've had a sighting report of the leader of the Cooper Thief Guild from someone at the Expo. We've not been able to substantiate the authenticity of that claim but the source is a reliable one, so…" He was cut off rudely when Carmelita snapped her cell phone shut.

"Time to get to the bottom of this and get my badge back," said Inspector Fox to herself with a grin. She hailed a taxi cab and headed for the Paris Convention Center in the downtown area. She couldn't arrest Sly even if she wanted to, not without her badge. Giving the arrest to another officer would just look bad on paper, so for once, she had to gear up and keep her hostilities off of the playing field.

And if, for some reason, someone really did set her up, forcing Sly to help her might have just been the ticket to answers. After all, there was no way he could know she'd been suspended, so she still had alternatives for persuasion.

Sly Cooper. He wasn't just a thieving raccoon. He had wit and the perceptive abilities to do what it took to get jobs done. But this wasn't his sort of thing. He had no problems using a computer, but once it came to something more than playing video games and checking email, he really lost interest to learn. Surrounded by dweebs was, in a way, starting to grate on his nerves.

It wasn't that they were all annoying. Some of them had the clever wit to program cool computer games but all the brain power in the convention center caused him to feel out of place. Murray had no intention of hanging out for something like this; these kinds of people sometimes picked on him, growing up, and made him feel somewhat inferior. Even Bentley could understand that.

The thing was, even though Sly was growing beyond bored, he couldn't help but be amused by two geeks in particular that had invention tables set up only 8 feet from one another. Bentley and Penelope. His best bet for something to do was to scope out the rooftop and see the east side of Paris.

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the two nerds offer little flirty nods and head gestures to one another. He couldn't help but shake his head, bearing for the door. "Nothing could get worse than this," muttered the Procyon lotor, slipping through the door. His eyes shut and head lifted, nose to the wind. And that's when he could smell her. "I suppose I spoke to soon," Said Sly, his eyes still shut, just taking in the fresh air.

"Spoke to soon about what, ring tail?" She was directly behind him, between the Convention center doors and his tail. Sly pivoted on his left ankle, turning to see her. His eyes stole a glance, raking over her form, pausing on her amber gaze.

"Do I really look like a Lemur to you? I was just saying, I spoke too soon about how this place was boring," Cooper mused in a calm yet playful way. "Inspector Fox, not sporting your favorite necklace today? It's no matter," He told her, "Without you, it's just a piece of metal, just like without you a ruby is just a glassy stone." His mention of the ruby was a subtle hint to the Fire Stone of India.

"Oh, so kind of you," She muttered, but the normal bitterness in her voice had faded. She was a little offended by the fact he noticed her badge wasn't around her neck but his flattering remarks over it was at least welcome. She was fairly blunt, however, and got right to the point. "What about Prague?"

"Pretty architecture, neat Goth scene but I'm not into it, why?" Sly tilted his head, wondering where she was going with this one. Usually, she was right on his tracks but this time, she was making assumptions and that was kind of gauche. Not a first but definitely awkward. "Did you get my gift?"

"So you are admitting you had it?" She asked, trying not to let a grin tug at her muzzle. No, she would NOT allow him to see her smile or even smirk. She kept her eyes blazing cold and a stoic look was plastered upon her snout.

"My business card, Carmelita," Sly said offering the grin that she never did.

The vixen smirked now, nodding her head slowly, "I got it. It's going to," she trailed off, touching the stone … the gift… that was still in her pocket. "Go back to Bombay where it belongs, now let's talk about Prague. When's the last time you were there?"

"I guess when I was still 18, when I was hunting the Clockwerk parts, why?" asked Sly, beginning to walk down the stairs, playfully keeping his backside to her, which was rarely done.

"That's strange," She replied, folding her arms across her bosom. "I've got a witness who can place you at the scene of a bank heist last night."

Sly stopped on the bottom step, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small piece of paper. Carmelita blinked uncomprehendingly and approached, snatching it from his paw. She read it over for a minute, narrowed her eyes and crumbled it in her paw.

Inspector Fox sneered, "You intentionally got this receipt for food last night, with the intention of using it as an alibi for your heist last night?"

"Not at all," Sly chuckled with a dazzling, masculine smile. "Last night, we got lodging, I took a shower, then got dressed. After that, Bentley and I started setting up his gear and brought the van to the loading dock around back. We loaded things in and because it has been in anticipation of such a big day, I've been helping him since late," He explained.

"And you're wearing the same clothes as last night?" She said, pulling her paw away from him with a moue of disgust upon her maw.

"I've not gone back to bed yet, it's been a long day," Cooper admitted with a shrug. His species was known as nocturnal, but he easily had the endurance to make it through the day with little sleep. At least he'd sleep well tonight, that was for sure.

Carmelita normally wouldn't have bought the story but with the strange occurrence of being suspended and the head of Interpol actually on location of the supposed bank heist, which wasn't even in the papers, she half-way believed him. "I'll be sure to check with the convention registration papers, to make sure you were here when you said you were here," she warned with a wan smile.

"You do that," he said, turning to pat her cheek playfully. She had to control herself not to melt into the padded touch of his paw. Raccoons always had such lithe, petite hands; they were so cute in a way. She wanted to tell him, then have him sneak into the bank of Prague and see what the Secretariat General was up to, but that was unlawful and there was no way she would let herself get in on such a plot.

"Why did you leave that stone in my safe?" she finally just blurted out.

"I found it and was turning it in. I'm not interested in reward money," Sly explained, rubbing his thumb against her cheek before turning back to the sidewalk for a brisk walk towards a nearby café. She followed. It was better than he could have planned for.

"Oh, is that right," the vulpine said with an airy shrug. "You found it in someone else's safe in Bombay right?"

"No, I stole it off a thief and you started chasing me," Sly said flatly, his ears laid and his paws were stretched outwards in a loose shrug. "I don't mean to be short with you, Inspector Fox," he told her, adding, "But shouldn't you be in Prague looking at whatever you're accusing me for, or in Bombay returning the stone? After all, Interpol pays for all your trips right?" He simply winced. He'd never been curt with her before.

She brushed off the terse and yet pleasant worded reply and came to walk besides him. "I'm on vacation," She finally said, patting his cheek in return. It was the strangest thing he'd ever witnessed. Carmelita Fox patting his cheek. It just wasn't done. It wasn't like her.

"Are you sure you're the real Carmelita?" Sly chuckled. Being silly with such a question, sure; but the thing is, she was acting different. For one, she wasn't wearing her badge around her neck and that was always done. Also, she wasn't with her weapon or trying to arrest him. Now she was patting his cheek? "I thought I was the one who teased."

"You think you're the only one capable of teasing?" She groused, giving him a shove. Again, something that was unlike her character. She just didn't know how to react. She was inches away from the man that she obsessed to capture. She used to keep different wanted posters of him in her office for a long time. She finally had him within paws' reach and now she couldn't legally do anything. It was driving her up the wall. Love and hatred that boiled over and made her chest ache and her mind flutter. 'Control, Carmelita,' she thought to herself.

She wanted so badly to just grab his wrist, shove him up against the wall and cuff him. The hurt of being betrayed by the one job she loved was also welling up in her chest, bottled up tightly in a small container with contents that were under far too much pressure. She felt like she was about to burst. There was no way she could admit that she was suspended.

"Did you like being manipulated by your job?" Sly randomly asked. He was speaking of The Contessa, but she took it as him meaning the suspension.

"How did you know?" She demanded as the two walked down the sidewalk together, approaching the café up ahead. She wanted so badly to force him down and bag and tag the fuzzball. She'd have given anything for it. And yet it wasn't in her lawful rights, any longer. Citizens' arrests couldn't be made on men whose names had been locally cleared. What else did that family fortune buy him, she wondered?

Political pay offs and a healthy donation from an anonymous contributor of things that had him in trouble in the area made it easy to call his name cleared for the moment. She was pissed, but what could she do? He was a man with unusual skills as far as the law was concerned at the moment. She knew she'd get him on something else in the near future, she just had to be ready.

"The whole department knew about the idiot," replied Sly. She didn't know that he was referring to Contessa, she actually thought he meant the new head of Interpol. Her paws closed into tight fists and she stared hard at the ground with no rebuttal to offer. "What?" he asked, noticing her demeanor.

"Nothing." Impasse; they were stricken with miscommunication. He patted her shoulder the way a guy pats his friend's shoulder at the batting cage after the friend just struck out. "Chin up, Inspector Fox," Sly told her with a smile. "Today, we're just a guy and a girl standing in front of the finest backstreet Café in Paris, France."

He was right. She couldn't admit it right now, but he was completely correct on all counts. They were just a guy and girl today. Even if she wanted to, she didn't have her badge or the lawful right to do more than call the police and that would mean handing over her prize capture to someone else. After working his case for a very long time, she could not allow that to happen. It had to be her, as soon as she got her badge back.

But until that day, she technically wasn't Inspector Fox. "Just… Carmelita," She replied softly. Suddenly the earring on her ear flickered; her ears perking up. Sly's did, as well. There was something going on inside the café, of all places. She dashed in first, on instincts. Sly slipped in behind her. Once they were inside the establishment, their muzzles dropped wide open.

A group of men stood inside, having ransacked the place. Sly and Carmelita exchanged glances of shock and confusion. Their surprised expressions panned back to the group of men standing in the room. She didn't know what else to say and the words seemed to roll off her tongue without a second thought. "You dirty rats are under arrest!"

Author's Note, up in here, up in here!

A/N: Uh oh… we're all about to see some good ole' fashion ACTION SCENES in chapter3! Neat! Who are these rats that are ransacking the café? And why? Do they tie into the suspension and Prague or is it a random change for Sly and Carmelita to work together?

I'm sorry this chapter was long and boring; it'll be the only one… I had to set up all the good intrigue and storyline foreshadowing… I figured now would be the best time. I've noticed after playing Sly 1 and 2 for a little, tonight (for the first time), that in all the games, they do a sort of lead in story that introduces the characters, through Sly. I know I've not done that well, here… but to be quite honest, I don't know them, myself.

I'm not able to play through one, there are scratches on the disc (I got it used :( ) and it doesn't go passed the first cut scene. It just gets to where he says "Murray" then locks up, half way through the word, so he says "Murr" over and over. LoL. In lieu of the long boring chapter tonight, that grinds storyline in your faces, I'll make it up to readers who've stuck with this story so far… by delivering some kickass combat action starting in Chapter3.

So you've all read chapter one, and some of you were worried I killed off Sly and that would become Carmelita's Lament… nope! It's losing her badge! There's a very good tie-in reason this is all happening. When playing through the beginning of Sly 1, when she was blowing up police cars with her gun, while you ran off with the documents, it became apparent to me that I was on the right track by saying she's run up quite a bill. The rest of my info came from glancing at IGN Walk-thru's to see what happens to the characters next. I'm going to finish 1 & 2 (I've gotta return 1 and find another copy… blargh.) then I'll be on the right track. I'm slow to introduce other characters because I'm starting with the ones I'm becoming familiar with first. I'm writing this because I've had several people say "you should do a Sly Cooper Story" LOL. I hope I'm nailing it! I've been doing research to grow more intimate with the characters as I get further into it. Thanks for reading… if you're actually reading this Authors Note, then I just want you to know one thing… I LOVE YOU!

Btw, about those Tarot Cards… We'll learn about them when Carmelita reflects on something that happened right before the dream sequence, during the next chapter :)

And I thought it might amuse you guys to know that "SLY" is a nickname for "Sylvester" so I got 'playful' with the thought of drawing out his name for the sake of a woman with a casefile who's obsessed with knowing every detail. It might not be right, but who says it is or isn't, directly? Woo! Chapter 3 soon. Got a few other chapters to put up on various stories... but it won't be long... I hope you guys like it as much as i like writing it... And I'm a man, you can give me flamers and critical reviews.. I can handle it but if you bust out the whole "YOUR GRAMMAR SUCKS" be prepaired for me to hunt you down... and have you tell me what IS right, what I did WRONG and how I can fix it. ;)

-Kit

PS: those who have submitted replies, minus myself, THANK YOU!