Okay guys, here's your chapter! Not much to say by the way of author's note except that this is in no way meant to be an accurate representation of the mental health system in any country and that it's a pretty long chapter.

I should so be in bed, I have class at 8 in the morning...

Oh well, on with the chapter!

"And how are we feeling today, Ms. Jenks?"

I flinched and glared into the overhead fluorescent light that had just been turned on. Stupid lights and stupid institute rules about not letting me sleep in past nine. I longed for the days where I could sleep until one in the afternoon and wondered what on Earth was taking the gang so long.

"Bored. You know the term 'cabin fever'? It applies." I was impressed by my coherence so early and decided to reward myself by sticking my head under my pillow and trying to go back to sleep.

Dr. Chat reacted to my remark by simply ignoring it, something she had gotten quite good at over the last five weeks. She probably didn't even look up from her clipboard. She was a tabby whose mud-colored fur was beginning to dull and streak with grey. She was the head of the Institute, the only doctor who could speak English fluently enough to deal with me, and on the brink of retirement. I believe the only reason she was sticking around was to crown off her career by 'guiding' me 'to a breakthrough' or something similar, and to use the Institute as much as she could as a convenient way to teach her University students.

I didn't like her very much. She was very strict and conventional, the standard disapproving matron figure that most people associated with Catholic school or that one really annoying aunt they only saw at family reunions. Fortunately, this made her quite easy to mess with.

"One of my students would like to meet with you today, if that would be alright." It not being alright wasn't an option, sadly.

"Sure, just tell them not to expect a straight answer and have them sign a waiver that says any physical injury gained in my presence is not my fault." It was the exact same answer I'd given the past seven times she had asked.

I heard her sniff in discontent, she hated sarcasm, "If you do not hurry, there will be no breakfast left by the time you stop lazing about."

I waited until she left, then beat my head repeatedly against the metal bed frame.

"Name?"

"Kaia Jenks."

"Age?"

"Three hundred and ninety-four."

The cheetah glared at me over his glasses. I appeared very interested in my chipped nail polish.

"Species?"

These 'meetings' consisted of Dr. Chat's students putting together a list of questions, either straightforward or aimed toward discussion, which she approved, and then they got to ask a patient of their choice. Usually a lot of the questions were transparent attempts to get info on the gang. Silly university students.

"Wookie."

The only straight answer I ever gave them was my name. I took great pains to be original every time they asked me a question. It was my way of surviving the crushing boredom.

The student let out a frustrated breath through his teeth. Apparently, this one had a short fuse. "Place of residence."

"42 Wallaby Way, Sydney."

This was fun. I was still trying to figure out how to work in a Doctor Who reference. Maybe next time I was asked my age I could say nine hundred and three-

"Have long have you been in a relationship with Sly Cooper?"

I sat up so fast the leather couch squeaked.

"WHAT?"

"So, how does it feel to be sedated?"

"I feel like my hands…" I examined my fingers in the fuzzy light, "… are made of cake."

Kristian snorted. Thankfully, he'd been there when I'd woken up. He came by often, at least once a week, more when his case load was light. He really wasn't so bad, so long as we stayed off the subject of the Cooper Gang. Maybe it was an act, like back in Venice, but it was nice to see a friendly face, fake or not, after such a traumatic experience. "What did that guy do? The higher-ups will seize with happiness if they can file charges against you."

"Assault charges? Against little ol' me?" I sat up and batted my eyes innocently.

He rolled his, "You don't have a scratch on you and you broke his nose and most of the bones in his writing hand."

"Did I? So that's why my knuckles hurt so bad," I flapped my hand back and forth to make sure there wasn't anything really wrong with it, "I know you're not really supposed to hit someone with a closed fist, but it's just so satisfying."

He sighed and rubbed the upper right corner of his forehead, the area that he had designated 'the Kaia headache zone' when I asked, "Just tell me what he did."

"He asked if I was in a 'relationship' with Sly."

I half-expected a tumbleweed to bounce across the linoleum floor in the ensuing silence.

"He…"

"Yeah. Is he even allowed to ask me that?"

He didn't respond, he just stood lethally, "I think I'll go have a word with him."

I cackled and flopped back onto my pillows. And began to plot what I would say if any students were brave enough to repeat the question that I quite clearly hadn't expected.

It wasn't like I didn't find Sly attractive or anything, the guy was smoking, it was just that I'd never thought of him that way, so I, for some reason, didn't anticipate anyone else would. After thinking about it, I started to be more surprised that no one else had asked the question.

Sly and I were relatively close in age, he was attractive and I was… well, I wasn't ugly at least, and we got on well. Why hadn't I thought anyone would ask the question?

Maybe it was because Sly was so thoroughly in the 'Friend Zone'. Well… thinking about it, that didn't quite make sense. Sly and I were close, really close, but labeling him as a 'friend' or even a 'best friend' didn't quite feel right.

The mantle of 'best friend' could be coated in gold and handed to Bentley in a heartbeat. Murray was definitely a friend. The Panda King and the Guru were acquaintances. Penelope was sort of a friend/acquaintance, because of the whole gender bond thing and the fact that she had a brain and a decent sense of humor. Sly was harder to categorize.

I frowned at the ceiling. I seriously couldn't put a label on him. For some reason that bothered me. On one hand I hated labels, on the other I used them liberally. I just liked having my thoughts organized. Of course Sly would make that difficult.

I sighed and picked at a loose thread on my pants. They were standard issue pale pajama pants of a blue/grey/green color that was as depressing as it sounds, my shirt was a regular navy blue. I'd been given slippers, but I ran around in socks for two reasons. First, it gave Dr. Chat a nervous tic. Second, the linoleum floor was really fun to slide on when it had just been waxed.

Kristian came back in, looking satisfied, "Did you know that Dr. Chat didn't clear her students' involvement in the institute with the psychiatric board? She's now under performance review for that and not complying with your requests in regard to having an outside party interview you."

It took me a second to realize what he was referring to. When I did, I laughed, "I was totally being sarcastic about the waiver thing, but whatever keeps me out of jail."

He actually gave a small smile and tapped the side of his head, "Sarcasm doesn't really translate well."

One week later, Dr. Chat was practically walking on eggshells during the morning's greeting. She hid her annoyance with me only thinly, but her words were carefully selected, as though she expected a film crew was hidden in the room and secretly reporting to her bosses.

"Oh, I'm just peachy, thanks." I answered her routine question with heavy sarcasm and without looking at her, two things she hated. I was aiming at a tiny spot on the ceiling and trying to hit it with a rubber band. My goal lately was to be as annoying as possible and hope to be released out of frustration. The gang was taking forever.

"That's good to hear," I was surprised the temperature in the room didn't drop at the frostiness of her voice, "I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear you have two visitors waiting for you in the lounge."

I blinked and actually sat up and looked at her in disbelief, "Really?" Kristian had only been here yesterday and she said two visitors. Very few people had the credentials to get in to see me, Interpol wasn't taking any chances on me escaping, "Who?"

She took her sweet, sweet time flipping through the papers on her clipboard and my heart had just started to sink at the idea of my visitors being agents here to interrogate me, when she said, "Some young men by the names of Ahanu Sinclair and Ritsuka Valenta."

Somehow, the fact that they had last names took me by surprise. I leapt up, "Awesome, what are we waiting for? Allons-y!"

She had me in a position where I was actually showing emotion and she wasn't giving that up easily. She slowly flipped to another page and put her pen to it, "You know them?"

"Yes, obviously." I scowled.

"Would you describe your relationship as 'close'?"

I crossed my arms and glared at her. She looked up, saw my pose, and backtracked a bit.

"What is your relationship with these men?"

Oh she was asking for it. I plastered on a grin and spread my arms wide, "They're my sassy gay friends!"

She snapped her pen in half.

Ink went everywhere.

I had to practically use Dr. Chat's own smelling salts to bring her around so she could unlock the door and skipped down the hall until I got to the lounge.

I threw open both doors, just because I'm dramatic like that, and spotted Ahanu and Ritsuka instantly. I heard the doctor right behind me, so I implemented the plan I'd come up with during the short journey.

I launched myself at Ahanu, breaking into theatrical sobs, "Ahanu! I've been here for six weeks and it's boring and they keep trying to medicate me!" That was true and through some clever sleight of hand learned from Sly during long plane rides and good acting skills, all the pills wound up in a puzzle box Kristian had brought me for just that purpose, "Hold me and tell me I'm pretty!"

Ahanu is to be commended for his flexibility and improvisation skills. He really belonged in a theater troupe somewhere. He caught me and spun me off my feet, "Of course! You're absolutely stunning, even in those hideous clothes, and the outside world misses you!"

We buried our faces in each other's shoulders to make our hysterical laughter sound like sobs to any on-lookers. I think I heard Dr. Chat faint somewhere behind me.

Ritsuka rolled his eyes and called us drama queens.

We sat in the lounge and played Connect-Four, talking in hushed voices. There was a security guard by the door and cameras everywhere, so any lip-reader would be able to know what we were saying, but we still tried to pretend at privacy.

"It's really good to see you guys," I confided, cutting off one of Ahanu's more obvious attempts to line up his pieces, "You wouldn't believe how depressing this place is."

"I can take a wild guess," Ritsuka said, leaning back in his chair and taking in his surroundings. I sometimes forgot that he actually had medical knowledge, "Let me guess… older head psychiatrist, resilient to change, probably using outdated methods."

"I don't know about the 'outdated methods' thing, but the rest is spot on. I think I gave her a coronary when I called you two 'my sassy gay friends'."

Ritsuka choked on his paper cone full of water. Ahanu had to use the table to support himself he was laughing so hard. When he recovered, the first words out of his mouth were, "What are you doing? What, what, what are you doing?"

We high fived. Ritsuka buried his face in his hands and seemed to be uttering a Czech prayer.

"So, what are you guys doing here? Not that you need a reason." I hastily added.

Ahanu shrugged, "Just to give you this, really." He handed me a package wrapped in Christmas paper and I squealed with joy; from the shape and weight, it was obviously a book, "We would have come sooner, but it took quite a bit of leverage to get my bosses to give me the credentials to get past the Interpol officer downstairs."

"What do you do?" I asked, realizing that: A, I didn't know; B, whatever it was gave him influence with Interpol. "I thought you were just a translator."

He widened his bright green eyes, "I am."

"Don't even try," Ritsuka recommended, barely lifting his head from his hands, "I don't even know. You'll only get a headache."

"Duly noted," I said, frowning at the bracket in front of me, trying to come up with a good move and mentally making a note to ask Bentley, "So, how long are you guys in town?" It was hard to keep the pleading from my voice.

It surprised me that Ritsuka answered, "Just today, really. I have a job interview in a couple of days. We can't come back for a while because of that huge storm that's supposed to roll in this Saturday." He looked me dead in the eye. It was Sunday, "They say there'll be power outages across the city."

"Really? I hadn't heard anything about that. It'll probably be chaos outside." I dipped my head, then lifted it, the barest nod. Then I dropped a red disc into the vertical frame in front of me, "I win, Ahanu."

The next day, Dr. Chat unexpectedly and quietly retired. There was much rejoicing. And cake, lots of cake, for some reason.

Tuesday was spent quietly, for me at least. The rest of the Institute was trying to work out who would be doing what as far as leadership went. I just read the book that Ahanu had left for me, The Beekeeper's Apprentice. After about half an hour of reading it, it was my new favorite book.

On Wednesday, I was introduced to my new psychologist. The new doctor in charge of the Institute was focused more on updating the various treatments and dealing with the grievances Dr. Chat had left behind than dealing with publicity, so I was pushed to the backburner. As such, my new psychologist was a rookie fresh out of school.

"Hi!" She said, bouncing into my room in pink scrubs at the debatably illegal hour of seven thirty. She was a pretty, chocolate brown spaniel with white speckles across the bridge of her nose, "My name is Genevieve!"

He accent was French, but she spoke English as though she'd been doing it for years. She'd probably lived in the States when she was a kid or something.

Instead of hitting her over the head with the book I'd fallen asleep reading, like my anti-social self wanted to, I lifted my head and took her outstretched hand, "Hi, Genevieve. I'm Kaia." I sounded as though I'd been drinking glue, but she smiled broadly.

"It's nice to meet you, Kaia! I think we'll be good friends!"

I just clutched my book compulsively, as though Sherlock Holmes could materialize from it and protect me with logic, "I'm sure we will…"

Genevieve turned out to be one of those people that you want to hate, but you can't quite get there. She was annoyingly cheerful, but there was absolutely nothing I could fault her for.

So, her prediction was actually accurate, we became friends over the next few days. She even snuck A Monstrous Regiment of Women in for me once I'd finished The Beekeeper's Apprentice.

And then Saturday came.

It was three in the morning on Saturday. It was perfectly clear outside and the weather report said that it would stay that way.

I was laying with my head pillowed on my arms, staring at my bedside clock and trying not to fall asleep. I wasn't sure when the promised power outage would happen, so I resolved not to sleep until it did. This was easier said than done, you're never more tired than when you know you can't go to sleep.

Then the red numbers blinked out of existence.

It took me a second to process this, but then I sat up so fast I almost gave myself a head rush. The steady hum of electricity through the building, something you never noticed until it was absent, was gone. The streetlights outside my window, however, hadn't faltered.

"God bless Bentley," I breathed, and made for the door, pushing it open without resistance now that the electronic lock had disengaged. On Thursday, a safety manual had mysteriously made its way under my pillow. It detailed that the backup generator took several minutes to come online and that it was the duty of an employee of the Institute to maintain order during this time.

I wasn't too interested in that last bit.

I slipped through the halls, quiet as a ghost, on the lookout for any security guards. There weren't any. That should have struck me as odd, there was usually at least one, according to the safety manual, but I just assumed at the time that Bentley had taken care of it with his techno-black-magic. That's totally a thing, right?

I was in sight of the delivery entrance to the kitchen when I heard the muffled shriek.

It was a moment of severe indecision, I'm ashamed to say. Escape was so close.

Then I heard a thud and grabbed a nearby wooden broom, snapped it over my knee so I had a piece about as long as my forearm, and made my way to the supply closet, where I heard the noises.

The scene I walked in on was one of overturned shelves, pill bottles everywhere, and a security guard with bloodshot eyes and a fistful of Genevieve's honey-colored curls. She looked stunned, as though she'd just been hit.

The story I got later was that the guard had been using his convenient access to prescription drugs to feed a habit and had been high out of his mind (somehow) when Genevieve had caught him. Things had gone downhill from there.

At the time, though, I merely took in the situation and reacted. A sharp blow to the guard's arm made him let go of my doctor and cause him to round on me. It took hits to his shoulder, knee, and kidney to finally drop him, though not much dodging ability as his swipes were easy to see coming.

I planted a knee between his shoulder blades and Genevieve stumbled to her feet just as the lights came back on.

I sighed and hoped Bentley would forgive me.

It took a lot to convince people that I hadn't been trying to escape, but had heard crashes and gone to investigate. Apparently, when you were taking the meds I was supposed to be, you'd be out like a light and wouldn't wake up to that.

Still, no one could get my puzzle box open, so they couldn't prove anything.

Genevieve (who I soon started to call 'Ginny') was even nicer after the incident, which was good because I'd fallen into a black pit of despair at losing my chance to escape.

Okay, so that was a bit over dramatic, but I still wasn't happy. The 'rescue' of doctor by patient from security guard had been well publicized, so I knew Bentley and the gang wouldn't hold it against me once they figured out what had happened, but it still stung.

But the electrical system was being updated now, how were they going to pull something like this again?

It was a few weeks later when I discovered that they had no intention of being so subtle.

Ginny had dropped by after her shift to give me The Moor to read and I was listening to her and nodding every so often at the story she was telling me about the cute lynx she'd met while she was out to lunch.

"He seemed about your age and he was so nice! He was dressed in dark clothes, but he was so sweet and thoughtful! You know, he suggested cloud gazing because it looks like we'll have a few warm days?"

"Is that so?" I asked, reading over the inside cover of the battered library book.

"Yup!" She nodded, bustling about the room, checking over inconsequential things.

"What was his name?" Oh great, this had to do with the Hound of the Basker-

"Kurtis!" She beamed.

The book fell from my numb fingers onto the thin bedspread.

No way. No. Way.

"That's a cute name."

"Yup!" She giggled, "He told me to call him Kurt, though."

How the hell did they pull that off?! Did Kurt even own a passport? I knew Millie did- Oh no…

"He suggested cloud-gazing?" I looked outside, "Not a bad idea. The clouds are really pretty right now. I know you were just about to take off, but they won't let me out onto the grounds without you." Stupid Interpol, "Would you mind sticking around for a few more minutes?"

"Of course not!" She actually looped her arm through mine and pulled me off the bed, "What are friends for?"

"Busting me out of institutes."

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's hurry before the sun sets completely."

The grounds of the Institute were pretty enough. The wrought-iron fence ruined the aesthetics, though.

Ginny and I flopped down on the lush green grass. She sat, but I laid back, folding my arms behind my head. It was only a few minutes before I heard a quiet whirring sound.

"Hey, Ginny?"

"Yes?"

I turned and gave her an honest smile, which I think almost gave her a heart attack. "Thanks. You've been brilliant."

Then the claw dropped out of the sky and fastened itself securely around my torso.

I had a split second to grab the handles fastened to the line and hold on for dear life before I was yanked into the air.

Ginny shrieked dimly behind me, but I would have screamed in excitement if the wind hadn't stolen my breath.

I was vaguely impressed the RC chopper could hold my weight, but then I remembered that it had towed the van, incased in a block of ice, out of a freezing river on barely any fuel, then gone on to make pigs fly.

My arms were getting tired already, but I was more worried about the weight that would be on my spine if I let go. Then I saw a folded strap of nylon secured to the cable with twine.

It took some doing, but I got it untied. I twisted in the air until the newly unfolded strap was underneath me and I could pretend I was on a swing. Somehow, the steadily-increasing height wasn't so potent that way.

The buildings of Paris flew past me at an alarming rate, but I was trusting Penelope to not turn me into a rather unattractive smear on the side of a skyscraper.

I whipped my head around at the sound of a whistle and found myself staring at one of the balconies on said buildings.

I had a split second before they were removed from my sight, but that split second was burned into my mind for ages.

Millie was jumping up and down, waving her arms and grinning. Kurt had been the one to whistle and he was doing much the same, his silver hair glinting in the fading light. Roger stood behind them, hunched in his thick aviator jacket like a golem, but smiling.

Then I was whisked away, to the sound of Kurtis yelling, "Whooo, go Kaia!"

I just had to laugh.

The RC chopper ride got old after about five minutes.

Freedom was awesome, but it would be even more awesome if I didn't lose any digits from frostbite, if that was all the same.

The sun had set and it was a new moon, so when I left the City of Lights via remote control helicopter, I was surrounded by darkness. The fact that I was at a high altitude, wearing thin pajamas, and over the ocean all of a sudden all contributed to how cold it was.

The only reason the height itself wasn't completely freaking me out was because I could really only see the stars, in the sky above me and reflected in the water below. And in the vastness of the ocean, it was really hard to tell what was far away and what wasn't.

I rested my forehead against the taut cable in front of my face and sighed, looking down. I knew I should be worried about pursuit, but how on Earth would Interpol go about chasing a remote control helicopter that had quite the head start? I'm sure they could probably manage it, but my brain was slowing and I didn't really want to think how. It was as though I'd used up all my excitement for the day.

I was proven wrong about the same time I noticed that some of the stars below me were bright purple.

The claw of the RC chopper let go of me and a split second later, the attachment to the sling I was sitting in gave and I fell. Somehow, I was too surprised to scream.

I landed, but not in water. I looked down. Yup, that was definitely water. But on top of that…

I pressed my hand down. It felt like cotton candy. It was a sort of… transparent fog, I suppose. It was tinted purple and scattered with thief lights of the same color.

The Guru.

I stood on the strange surface and looked ahead. There was nothing but the path, which only extended for a few yards. I walked toward the end, but found it the same distance away still. I looked behind me and there was nothing. The only sign to show that I had moved at all was the wave in the water beneath me.

Ever played Super Mario 64? It was like the never-ending stairs. I kept going and going, farther and faster, until I was jogging across the ocean on my own private platform of purple fog.

Where was the gang? How much range did Penelope's RC chopper get? How far out could the Guru make levitation platforms? All of these were questions I asked myself as I went.

Once or twice, it tried to occur to me that what I was doing was absolutely insane, but I just blandly acknowledged it and kept going.

After about thirty dark, silent minutes, I saw, up ahead, a slightly darker outline blocking the stars out. I started running.

I got closer and closer. It was a small boat, like a… very familiar raft. When a figure unfolded and stood and I saw the outline of two pointed ears, a long, fluffy tail, and a familiar cane, I started to sprint.

I was only a few feet away, now.

"Long time no see, Jin-"

I tackled Sly back into the boat. I was immediately enveloped by the smell of coffee and wood polish. He was warm and solid and his heartbeat was stark in my ears. I breathed out heavily, speechless for once in my life.

Fortunately, I didn't have to talk. He laughed, in happiness, not amusement at my actions, and held me with just as much strength as I was constricting his ribs. "It's good to see you too."

We stayed like that for about a minute before I had to pull back and slug him in the arm, "What took you so long?"

"Hey it's not our fault that you were sent to an institute that was six months behind on adding its patient information into its computer system- take that oar there. The only reason we found you this soon is because Bentley was keeping an eye on Ahanu and he found out and led us straight to you."

"What does he even do?" I asked, following Sly's instruction, sitting next to him and getting a good grip on the oar.

"Bentley won't tell me. Something about national security."

"Which nation?"

"He says all of them."

"… what…?"

He flashed me a grin as we started rowing, "I have no idea."

I started laughing, all of my relief and happiness and sudden relaxation coming out in a single expression, "Ten weeks is far too long to be without the pleasure of your company." I felt like half of me had been missing.

… wait.

He reached out and tousled my hair, "Yeah, let's hope we don't have to deal with that again."

Pressed next to each other in an inflatable raft patched with duct tape, rowing with numb hands through the darkness towards the darkness and the vastness of the ocean, we laughed like children and I didn't mention the chopper ride and he didn't mention his hydrophobia and that was fine because everything was right again.

I think I wrote this chapter in a single night, lol. I'm sure it shows. I hope you enjoyed, feel free to let me know what you thought and don't forget to visit the series' blog!