Inspector Francine Pennington doesn't have a lot of tolerance for wasting time.

She's been an Interpol inspector for over twelve years; been at Interpol itself for nearly twenty. She was assigned the Cooper case nine years ago, four years before it went cold. Before Connor Cooper decided to disappear into obscurity and made her job and her life that much more difficult.

Knowing now that he was married, that he had a child, has done little to temper the longstanding frustration she's been holding at the outside forces that prevent her from doing her job.

Currently, the forces preventing her from her job are a children's nurse and a locked door.

On Francine's left, the American rhino policeman wavers awkwardly, standing there with his bulk taking up half the hallway. Across from her, Inspector Bodie Singh leans against a wall and plays with something in his pocket. The elephant herself is practically pacing in front of the hospital door.

She stops only once to try and peer through the tiny window, then swears as she realizes that the nurse has pulled a blind down from inside.

"Calm down, Francine." Inspector Singh doesn't even look her way. "We'll be back in there in no time, that guy just needs to get the kid to stop freaking out."

"Don't lecture me!" She snaps. "You know how I feel about having my time wasted."

"Oh I'm well aware," he chuckles, pulling the thing out of his pocket. It's an unlit cigarette. "Ever thought about taking up the habit? It might help calm your nerves."

The inspector takes a lighter out of his other pocket, lights the stick, and drags out a single breath. Smoke puffs and curls around his snout. The American officer stares with his mouth open.

"You're – you're smoking in a hospital!" He whispers angrily. Inspector Singh smiles good-naturedly and grey vapor escapes the gaps in his teeth.

"It's not smoking if it's prescribed, friend. I'm just calming my nerves after that kid almost blew out my eardrums. Does wonders for my mental health, working in the field that I do. You want one?" He offers the cigarette to Francine.

"Put it away, Inspector." She crosses her arms. "You're going against protocol."

"Fine, fine," Bodie snuffs the flame out against his belt and brushes it off; ashes trickle to the tiled floor. He tucks the cigarette back into his pocket. "Just trying to pass the time. We might be here a while."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," the elephant mutters. She turns to the rhino, who's still staring at them. "Why are you still here?"

He blinks like the oaf she knows he is. "What do you mean?"

"We informed you that your assistance was no longer needed. And it's a confidential investigation, and I could have you fired for interfering like you did."

The American officer's face gets red and blotchy. "Now hang on, I helped you when you scared the kid, you can't just threaten me like that!"

"I can and I will if you continue to ignore your superiors."

"What my partner means to say," Bodie steps between the two and gives an easy smile, "is that it's been a taxing night for all of us and we'd rather you not have to worry about such a horrific situation any longer than necessary."

"I don't know." The rhino squints suspiciously. "He really didn't seem to like you, and I don't want him to get hurt anymore. I don't –"

"I know," Inspector Singh's eyes soften and his silver tongue waggles easily. "You're an incredible man, worrying about a child that's not your own. A remarkable trait needed in a good officer. But just like you're worried about him, there are people worried about you. We've lost too many good men to stress and PTSD. Don't let yourself be one of them. Please, take some time off. Go visit your family."

Francine sees the hesitation warring in the American's eyes, as well as the moment it loses to relinquishment.

"Okay," he says reluctantly, glancing at the door one more time. "But can you promise me he'll be alright?"

Bodie smiles sympathetically. "Cross my heart."

Both inspectors wait until the rhino officer disappears from the hall completely; when he's gone, Francine sighs and rubs her trunk.

"I hate having to play games like that, feels like I'm talking to children."

"Ah, but you're not the one playing games, silly," her partner looks mightily pleased with himself. "And you weren't very good at talking to that brat either."

"It was just as much your fault!" She grumbles, irritated. "Now we're just having more of our time wasted while Cooper's killers are long gone."

"Nothing to do about it but wait for now." Bodie sticks his hand back in his pocket but doesn't pull out the cigarette. "Will you stop pacing if I promise to stay quiet?"

"Deal." And she stops.

They stay still and silent for fifteen minutes more when the children's nurse finally opens the door and steps out into the hallway. He crosses his arms.

"Here's how it's gonna go," Duke says, dead serious. "The two of you will go back in that room with me as a supervisor. You are going to ask your questions, and you are only going to ask questions. You're not touching that child, you're not touching his cane, and if I think there's even a hint of too much distress for him then you're out. Understand?"

"But, you can't do that though," Francine is in disbelief. "That directly impedes an official Interpol investigation, a classified one to boot, you can't just –"

"I can and I will." The nurse growls and his upper lip curls a bit. "I'm dedicated to the safety and wellbeing of my patients, and that includes this kit. I don't care how confidential it is, I don't care if this is inconvenient for you. That child has been through hell and I'm here to make sure he doesn't go through it again."

Duke braces himself in front of the door and looks between the two officers, waiting for acceptance or opposition. Inspector Singh quirks his mouth and sighs.

"I'm sorry, Francine, it looks like we don't have much of a choice." The bear takes his hand out of his pocket and pats it briefly as if to make sure the cigarette won't fall out. Then he steps up to the nurse and gives that easy smile.

"Fine," Francine growls. "But nothing better leave this room, you understand?"

"Of course not. This trust is a two-way street." The dog cracks open the door and slips inside. After a moment he sticks out a hand and beckons the officers to follow. Francine hustles forward impatiently and Inspector Singh trails behind her. They all look to the bed.

The kit sits upright, holding a large notepad and a blue glitter gel pen. The Cooper cane has been propped up so the hooked end is practically wrapped around his neck. It's a disturbing sight to Francine, who has personally seen that cane take out her comrades in near the exact same position. The child stares at the pen and doesn't look up as everyone settles into the room.

"Hi, sweetie," Duke murmurs as he crouches beside the bed. "We're back. Do you want to introduce yourself or would you like me to?"

They watch as the child runs his fingers along the Cooper cane. After a moment, he turns the notepad around and shows them the first page. It's two words, glittery-blue and written in shaky cursive.

Sly Cooper

Francine has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. There's no way this is the kit's real name. To her surprise and mild irritation, the nurse offers his hand to Cooper's son.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Sly Cooper."

Something passes along the child's face, the closest thing to a positive emotion any of the adults have seen from him the entire time. But it's gone just as quickly and careful blankness is the replacement. He takes the hand and shakes it once, then pulls back to wrap around the notebook and pen.

Bodie steps forward as if to say something, but Duke holds up a hand to keep him back. Then he leans forward to whisper to the kit. Francine can hear him anyway.

"Remember, you don't have to answer any questions you don't want to, alright? And if they need to leave, just give me the signal and I'll make sure they leave."

The raccoon places his right hand flatly against the center of his chest. He moves the hand in a clockwise motion.

"That's exactly right. You're a fast learner, Sly."

There's not another positive flicker; Cooper's son has completely turned to stone. He fiddles with the rings of the notebook. The nurse glances sideways at the inspectors and nods very briefly.

Bodie takes the lead again, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Well, I guess we can just get to the point. I asked you earlier if you saw what happened. Did you?"

Scribbling, scratchy pen on paper. The notebook is flipped around again.

Yes

"Great! Now we're getting somewhere." The inspector pauses when the child's eyes flicker up to him before trailing to the nurse at his bedside. "Shall I continue or, no?"

"…You can continue." Duke says softly, offering the palm of his hand which the kit takes and squeezes once.

"Alrighty. So kiddo, what's –" he stops when there's suddenly furious writing.

Don't call me that, is accompanied by furrowed little eyebrows, conveying an emotion somewhere between hard anger and a cracked chasm.

"Fair enough, fair enough. So what do you want me to call you?"

The child shifts his hands and points at his name. This time Francine does roll her eyes, but neither of them say anything when the nurse gives them a glare that Cooper's son can't see.

"I think you should ask your last few questions, Inspector." The dog suggests not-quite-cordially. "Busy officers like yourselves, we don't want to keep you waiting too long, right Sly?"

'Sly' doesn't respond to that in any way.

"Fine," Francine grits her teeth. "How many people attacked your house?"

The kit's mouth sets and he blinks rapidly, then puts down a single digit. It's the number 5. Bodie is already writing it down in his own notebook.

"Good, good job – uh, Sly. Is there anything you can tell us about those five criminals? What they looked like, what species, anything?"

There's a moment where it looks like they aren't going to get an answer, and the nurse sits up a little bit in preparation to kick the officers out, but that moment is gone in a clenched fist and determined eyes.

The raccoon child writes slowly, stroke after careful stroke. When he's finally satisfied, he hands the notepad to Duke, who reads it and in turn passes the thing to Singh. Both inspectors look over five words in blue glitter ink. One of them is misspelled but still recognizable.

Frog. Dog. Aligater. Bear.

Monster.

Francine feels her trunk twitch at the last one and lifts her head, but the kit is trembling again, rubbing his flat palm over his chest erratically. Duke stands and beckons them towards the door.

"I think this is the most you're going to get for now. If you need something else, I'd suggest coming back tomorrow at the very earliest."

His tone is curt but not quite unkind, so Bodie rips out the single page and gives the notebook back to the nurse in a show of good faith. Francine wants to scream at the unprofessionalism of it all.

"We'll be in contact if there's anything more. Come on, Francine." The bear takes her arm and pulls her gently away, and the last thing she sees before leaving the room is Duke holding the notebook out to Cooper's son, who has buried his face against his father's cane.

Neither inspector says anything until they're in the relative safety of their car. Then Bodie pulls the notebook page out of his jacket sleeve and uncrumples it.

"What do you want to do now?" He asks, brushing the crinkles out.

The elephant taps her trunk against the steering wheel. "As much as I hate to admit it, we probably aren't getting anything more out of Cooper's son for a while. Let's get back to Interpol headquarters and see if they found something useful from that house."

"Sounds good, lead the way."

"Here we go," Bodie hums cheerfully as he drops a short stack of papers on his partner's desk. "Birth certificates, marriage license, official homeowner documents, aaaand schoolwork."

Francine flicks through the first few pages, knowing they're all sorted exactly as he named them. Sure enough, the third document is the child's official birth certificate, with the name 'Sly Cooper' in bold, damning ink.

"He wasn't lying about his name." The elephant sits back in her chair and shakes her head, incredulous. "I can't believe this. Cooper's audacity, honestly."

"He was definitely something else," Bodie remarks as he snags the certificate from her and scans it. "Well, shit."

"What?"

"Kid turned eight yesterday."

They're both quiet for a minute. Francine feels something sink into her stomach and rubs her eyes with her trunk to distract from it.

"Well, no point dwelling on what we could have done better," she says firmly once the feeling has passed. "Right now we need to do our jobs. What else should I know about from this pile?"

"Mm, well, we've got a name for Cooper's wife at least: Charlotte James-Cooper. She hyphenated her maiden name when they married."

"That's bizarre."

"How so?"

The elephant touches the marriage certificate. "The Cooper family is notoriously prideful of their heritage. There's police records of both men and women who take the last name when they marry into the family."

"Almost sounds like the mafia."

"That's one way to look at it, I suppose. But it's extremely unusual that Connor's wife kept her last name, in a manner of speaking. In fact I've never heard of it."

"The man named his only child Sly, Francine. I think unusual is an understatement." Bodie flips through more of the documents and clicks his tongue. "Ooh, we got a homeschooler over here."

"What?" She leans forward to look over his shoulder. Sure enough, there are filled-out homework assignments in the child's cursive, marked as approved from some official homeschool organization.

"Looks like the mother was the teacher. Oh hey, he was doodling on this page, check it out."

There is indeed a little drawing of a stick-figure raccoon with a hat and cane, carrying a giant bag of money away from one end of the page, where an angry 'villain' in a cape is surrounded by police cars. The raccoon appears to be running towards the other end of the page, where another stick-figure raccoon is waving at him, hearts drawn around her head. Beside her is a much smaller raccoon, holding a pair of tiny canes in his hands. This little figure has a phrase scratched underneath it: Sly Roichi Master Ninja Thief.

The two inspectors stare at the drawing a moment, taking it all in. Then Francine angrily crumples the paper and drops it in the wastebasket.

"Damn Cooper to hell, we were right. He was indoctrinating the kid." She grabs the rest of the school papers, looking for more evidence. It doesn't take long.

Doodles of Connor Cooper stealing from banks, people, police officers. Doodles of 'Sly Roichi Master Ninja Thief' – always labeled as such whenever he appears – doing backflips and scaling rooftops. Doodles of the mother beating up bad guys. Doodles of the whole family together, standing on a mountain of treasure. All the drawings have smiley faces above them, made in the same red ink as whoever graded the assignments. No words, just smileys.

But there's a single one near the end of the pile that has a real response; the drawing is of a hooded raccoon standing on top of a tree. Far above is either the moon or the sun – it's hard to tell when it's only a circle colored in yellow – and in its shadow is the giant, vague shape of a bird looming over everything.

The red ink sentence has been daintily scribbled in the space between the silhouette and the raccoon: 'please talk to your father about this after dinner tonight.'

"That's a weird one," Bodie points out, making idle conversation. "Kid must've had a nightmare."

Francine lays that page flat and careful on her desk. "How much do you know about the Cooper family history?"

"Uh, besides the obvious? Not a whole lot. They were sneaky thief bastards, what else is there to know?"

She picks up the little notebook paper from the hospital visit, with four species and one nonsense idea being their only lead to Cooper's murderers. The inspector looks from the words to the drawing.

"Singh, go get me our records on the Fiendish Five."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I know who the perpetrators are," she says slowly, "and if I'm right, then this just got a lot harder."

A/N: This took longer than planned but I've been so busy it's a miracle I got it out this week, honestly. Thanks for reading, and have a nice day!