Chapter 1: Special Delivery, Bad Accent Required

"…Murray, I would like something, actually," Carmelita said kindly. "Could you run to the store and get me some coffee?"

"I'm on it!"

As he left Murray almost tore the door off its hinges. Bentley slowly and quietly turned to sneak off.

Carmelita caught the handle of his wheelchair and spun him to face her. "Did I just hear what I thought I just heard?" she asked, calm and cold.

He sputtered out gibberish, waving his hands in denial. Carmelita was so furious she unintentionally lapsed back into her native tongue: "Respóndeme, tortuga!" she screamed, yanking him nose-to-nose with her.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! Carmelita I—"

"You knew something about Sly?! You found him and didn't TELL me?!"

"I was going to but I didn't find him and he—"

"How LONG has he been back!?"

"I swear, not long! Only for about a week!"

Carmelita pushed herself off his chair, burning hotter than a furnace. Bentley wanted to hide in his shell just to get away from the look in her eyes.

"Then where is he?" she asked scathingly.

"Well, uh…oh, boy."

"Bentley. Where. Is. He?"

"...I can't tell you."

"WHY NOT?!"

"For one, I promised him I wouldn't!" Bentley exclaimed, clutching his head in exasperation. "You want me to keep it short? There's just too much to explain, Carmelita!"

"What—explain about what!?"

"Things! Plenty of things…he's been busy, not that he wanted to be! He wanted to be the one to tell you everything that's been going on."

"Tell me everything? Bentley, I haven't seen hide nor hair of his ringed ass within the past week. WHY. Is he at least in the area? In Paris?"

This time, Bentley tucked his head low, cringing. "Ehhh…the thing is, that's the other reason I couldn't tell you where Sly is...it's because I don't know myself."

Carmelita was turning red underneath her fur, flaring her nostrils quickly and harshly.

"T-Trust me, I'm furious with him as well…he was supposed to be back by now. I, uh…hate to say it, but I'm thinking he may've gotten impatient and went off on a…uh, solo mission."

"What are you talking about?"

Bentley paused, looking strained. He was clearly struggling to give her enough context without being too implicative.

"He wanted to head east and do surveillance on...uh, a certain group of people," Bentley said finally. He shook his head, frowning. "I didn't want him to do it. We were supposed to clear a few of my suggestions before he left so things wouldn't go south for him, but since he hasn't come back...that leads me to think the obvious. Auggggh…come on, Sly…"

Every word just pissed her off even more. It was par for the course, really; of all the three idiots, Sly was the one she was the most furious with. They were really trying to make her go gray at a young age. Carmelita jerked her head up, glaring around the safehouse.

"No WONDER," she snapped. "Call it my instincts, but something told me he'd been here recently."

"That's wei—interesting?"

She ignored that. "What'd he be in a big rush for? Something happened? What happened? Oh wait, you can't tell me, huh?"

Bentley lowered his head but she caught the frightened grimace on his face. "I can't. It's really serious, Carmelita. Please, don't interrogate me."

His voice shivered and she felt terrible. "I'm not interrogating you," she replied curtly, with less venom in her tone. "You know I can't just get over the fact you all have been hiding things from me. And Sly…oh, I am going to STRANGLE him…"

"You'd have to wait in line," Bentley muttered, scowling sideways out the window. "I call first dibs…"

Carmelita felt like she was going to be sick with worry. She had a million terrible possibilities running through her mind. It was one thing if she didn't know where Sly was, but for Bentley not to have a single clue…

I can't believe I have to wait for answers. I can't believe Sly did this! Carmelita thought. What could be so wrong?! This is the worst time for this! The worst time ever!

"Um," Bentley spoke up awkwardly. "I do have a harmless question."

She sighed. "Go ahead."

"If I were to infer, you'd tell me if you felt like you were being threatened, right?"

"Wait, what?"

"I'm wondering. You're a prominent member of Interpol who's made a lot of enemies. And you're with child. Nothing needs to happen to you now."

I wonder if he's been spying on me, Carmelita thought impulsively. "I'm doing just fine. And since when did you Cooper Gang members split up and do solo missions, anyway?"

"It's only for this one time. I told him I didn't like it. But he insisted. What can I do, y'know?"

"Adios mio...I-I have to go. I'm gone," Carmelita decided, slinging her coat back on.

"Alright. Stay safe."

She wanted to scream her lungs out, tear the fur off her face. She ran into Murray on the way out and found he had two fifty-pound crates of decaf for her.

"Ah…th-thanks. How about you keep the rest?" Carmelita suggested, taking a several pounds out of a hundred from him. "For when I…visit?"

Why'd she say that? Did she really plan on visiting a pair of high-profile criminals in the near future? Murray seemed to like the idea.

"Oh, okay, sure!" he said giddily. "Hey, have you picked a name already? Is it a boy or a girl?"

Carmelita shifted her eyes, searching for any other living soul around. "Murray…go!" she hissed. "I'll let you know later, I promise. Capisce?"

"Ca-peaches for sure!"

He was elated, getting his huge frame into a skip as he left. Carmelita had already made sure her face was covered, but wrapped herself tighter in the scarves before she left the area.

Halfway back home, everything she'd said to Murray came crashing back at once and she groaned. It would always weigh on her consciousness that again and again, she was willingly dealing with criminals. Over time, she'd just gotten better at denying and hiding it.

Well—only for the Cooper Gang, that was. Her feelings started with Sly, but had slowly spread over the years to Bentley and Murray. She couldn't deny it. They did feel like…

Family? No…too heavy.

Acquaintances? No! Too light!

Isn't there a word for in-between? For people who've been through so much shit together, but…but…!

Ugh! This is so maddening!

She had held back a detail. It was one she hadn't shared with anyone else, and only she and her doctor knew. She was pregnant with twins.

Two children! And what kind of world would she bring them in where their mother was an enforcer of the law and their father a world-class criminal?

The next day…

7:55 PM

Tuesday, March 7th, 2006

Interpol HQ

Carmelita's jaw was aching by now. She'd been staring at her computer screen for hours, searching to see if there'd been any signs or sightings of Sly in Paris.

But, if he was still around the area, it looked like he'd been careful. Nothing turned up in her searches. That was good. If he had been spotted, she'd have a lot of explaining to do.

She had presented a narrative to her fellow officers, starting with her chief. She remembered telling Barkley the both of them had gone out on an outing, and that she and Sly had gotten separated…the minor details (lies) she couldn't remember, and hoped he hadn't kept track of them either. He of course trusted her in his own stern, pithy way. She knew he very well may've still suspected something.

But if he had suspected her of lying or being dishonorable in the slightest sense, he would have definitely let her know then and there. The fact that he and the other officers took her lies for face value was a source of anguish for her.

So as far as the rest of Interpol knew, Sly was still technically her 'missing partner' with 'amnesia'. Then again, she thought a big part of it was that no one would be brave enough to question her story.

That's where seniority comes in handy, I guess, Carmelita thought. She'd catch some gossip on occasion. About Sly, her pregnancy. Though, the latter would've never gotten out if that weasel Winthorp hadn't eavesdropped on her and Barkley.

She hated how things looked for her and Sly. Yeah, it looked like he'd knocked her up and run off. It didn't help that most of the Interpol officers had (rightfully) never trusted Sly when he was signed on as Constable. Carmelita tried to ignore the questionable looks, the way others went quiet when she passed by, or how during meetings a good chunk of the audience looked amused or scandalous as she presented.

Just the other day she'd erupted at a new hire that'd innocently asked who the father was. Maybe they were trying to be malicious, maybe they were ignorant. Carmelita felt better after yelling, though.

Knock knock knock.

She sneered in annoyance. Who was pestering her this late?

"…who is it?" Carmelita called lazily. Someone was shuffling at her door.

"...this is, uh...the office of…" Pause. "…Carmelita Fox, right?"

"Yes?" she responded, already annoyed.

"I've got a delivery for you, ma'am! Can you open the door?"

"I didn't order anything. Go away, please."

Silence. Carmelita thought the deliveryman had left until the knocking came again, much quieter this time. She closed all the tabs on her computer and hefted herself up to answer the door.

"Grazie, Inspector Fox!" the delivery guy said, dropping his accent suddenly. "I'm—"

"DEAD, now get. In. Here."

She yanked him inside and locked the door. "And take this dumbass mustache off," she snarled, tearing it from his nose, "Sly, are you serious?!"

He grinned awkwardly in that way that said he knew he was in trouble, but didn't know how to proceed safely. Carmelita couldn't even figure out what to say or where to start.

So she just repeated, "Are. You. Serious?"

"I—"

"You do realize that you're classified as a missing person, right? And still technically apart of Interpol?! If anyone sees you here—"

"I would've been disguised as the clueless pizza delivery guy! The mustache brought the act together. Am I right or am I wrong?"

Carmelita stormed over to her purse and snatched out a pair of handcuffs. She closed his wrist in one of the links.

"You are not leaving. You are not going ANYWHERE," she snarled, cuffing her wrist to his, "until you explain to me what the hell is going on, Sly Cooper."