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Dragging Sly to the time machine and hoping he could make the journey had been scary, but more than you could ever hope for. You had thought it would take months or even years to figure out where Sly had disappeared if you found him at all, and even if you found him, he wouldn’t be alive. But Bentley’s magnificent brain had made the calculations his every waking hours as he finally had a lead. And that lead had brought you here, back at the hideout as you laid him on the sofa and made him rest.
He had severe sunburns, a broken leg and cuts all around him, and he couldn’t sit or lie down without being covered in ice bags and bandages and still wriggling all the time, trying to find a comfortable position to rest. It hurt you to see Sly like that - wounded and helpless. And you knew it hurt rest of the gang too.