(Horsemen I) Pestilence 3/??

[koorii]

Fandom: Detective Conan/Magic Kaito
Fic Pairing: Mostly Genfic. Light Kaito/Aoko, Shinichi/Ran, Saguru/Aoko, and Heiji/Kazuha.
Final/Series Pairings: Saguru/Aoko, Heiji/Kazuha, Kaito/Shinichi (more may appear)
Rating: T
Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Character Death
Warnings: Character Death, Violence, Crime
Genre: Friendship/Crime/Drama
Words: 10732
Chapter Summary: Kaito discovers that he isn't the only tricky bastard about, and Hakuba arrives bearing bad news.




When he first came to, Conan thought, for a horrified second, that he was still trapped and something had happened because Kid, Kaito, wasn't there anymore. A heartbeat later and he could tell that the darkness of the room was different from the darkness they had been trapped in. It was not that absolute blackness, but instead a gloomy monochrome that was mostly pervaded by gray shades. It took only a second more recognize the trappings of a hospital room. Conan let his head roll to one side, and found himself facing another bed, a bed that was, at the moment, empty. The blankets on it were rumpled and mussed, the pillow still depressed from where a head had lain on it, and the case twisted. Whoever occupied that bed hadn't been gone long. There was a coolness in the air, bitter and nippy, that twisted away the last strands of lingering anxiety he hadn't even realized he felt. The place beneath the rubble had been warm, much too warm.

“It feels nice, doesn't it?”

Tilting his head back in the other direction Conan took in the person at the window. A hazy image swum before his mind's eye of sparse drifting snowflakes, and half blurry people. A teenage boy that looked much like he ought to, who wore a smile that hid a private secret in its corners.

“Kuroba Kaito.”

From his vantage point he could see the smile that drew itself over Kuroba's face when he said the name, though he could only see part of it. Kuroba's head was angled away from him, where he lounged, one thigh resting on the open sill of the window, leg dangling, while the other leg was braced against the floor. He was focused on something he held outside as the cold air whispered in, smelling of the familiar city scents, cold, and damp concrete.

Conan lifted his hand, and stared at it in the pale light of the aloof November moon that hung in a distant sky beyond Kuroba, beyond the window. Slowly he curled his fingers inward into a fist before unfolding them again. “How long was I out?” His own sense of his circadian rhythm told him it had been long enough to make him feel off, but not long enough to constitute worry.

“Almost twenty-four hours,” Kuroba said, voice soft and lilting in the quiet of the room. “They had you on a saline drip until a few hours ago, worried you would get dehydrated.” That certainly explained the faint tenderness in the crook of his arm. “I'm supposed to let them know as soon as you wake up.”

“Are you?”

Kuroba tilted his head slightly, giving a small chuckle in response to the question. Conan's eyes shifted over at the flicker of something sparkling to land on the gleaming jewel Kuroba held aloft like an offering to the moon.

“The Blue Elpis...”

“I figured you'd like some time to reorient yourself before they start pestering you.” The thief turned then, and pulled his arm back into the room before spiriting the jewel away. Conan absently wondered how he'd kept them from finding it, how he'd kept his identity at all. Kuroba crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the side of the window, head tilted so he could continue to see out of it. “It's a fake. They all were.”

“You knew, didn't you? That the jewels were fake even before you...”

Kuroba pushed off the wall, and closed the distance between the window and Conan's bed where he sat down on the edge of it by the boy's legs. He didn't answer, but that was fine. They both knew the answer to that, though Conan couldn't fathom his motivation. Kuroba had never told him that.

The magician thief leaned forward, and reached toward Conan's face in a gesture that was obviously meant to capture his attention. Immediately Conan was on the alert for a trick. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the thief, but Kuroba's only response was to allow a toothy white grin to spread across his face. The shadows seemed to cling to him almost as if drawn there, and for some reason Conan couldn't drag his attention away. When Kuroba's grin turned cheeky, Conan realized he'd fallen right into his trap.

A gleam of dull light flashed off a reflective surface before his nose. Conan had a second to glance at the object Kuroba had produced before Kuroba palmed it. With a flick of his wrist that brought his hand palm up, Kuroba was balancing it on the tip of his middle finger. The lens of the monocle was far duller than usual, and the white slightly tarnished in a way that was obviously more than just the shadows of the room. The charm dangled loosely between Kuroba's fingers where it swayed ever so slightly on its white cord.

“They found this on you,” Kuroba told him, lightly. “And, of course, then promptly seemed to forget all about it in the rush and mess.” Almost cheerfully, the thief bounced the monocle into the air, catching it mid fall, and held it up before one eye.

Conan dropped his arm, which he'd still held aloft without thought, to rest across his stomach. His eyes flickered toward the window before sliding back to the face behind the monocle, and he deadpanned, “I'm sure you didn't help them with that at all, either.” It didn't take the mind of a genius detective to know that Kuroba had made sure it vanished. Conan's mind was filled with an image of a baffled nurse trying to figure out where the infamous monocle had gone before she dismissed it as a figment of a shocked, stressed, and tired mind.

“So it looks like you get to keep it as a trophy for managing to get it away from Kaitou Kid.”

Shooting the thief a questioning look he asked, “And why would Kid let me do that?”

“I don't think anyone is thinking about that sort of thing right now, not even Kaitou Kid,” Kuroba deflected simply, though Conan knew that was a lie if he'd ever heard one. There was no way that Kuroba hadn't considered every implication of what he was doing. It was too dangerous for him not to. The question, in the end, was if Conan could figure out what he was up to.

He couldn't see any reason that he should keep it when Kuroba was right there, and perfectly capable of reclaiming it.

“Why?” Why take the risk? Conan was a detective, and Kuroba knew that, and... Conan was sitting right there watching Kuroba get his finger prints all over Kaitou Kid's monocle less than a day after he'd confessed to being that very thief himself.

Kuroba toyed with the monocle absently, then rolled it around along the backs of his knuckles with a deft twist of his hand. His face was almost pensive in the darkness, a faint melancholy smile quirking his lips in a way that didn't suit his face at all when Conan compared it to the wild energy and manic grins he was used to from the mischievous thief. At last, Kuroba let out his breath in a rush, and speared Conan with an amused look that, oddly, made Conan feel like the little kid he was forced to pretend to be.

“As much as I'd love to let you continue to believe me to be the infallible pinnacle of my profession, not everyone is fooled completely.”

Conan opened his mouth, brows furrowed in a frown as he tried to figure out what Kuroba meant, before it hit him. He closed his mouth again, and frowned at the thief before speaking, “You've been suspected of being Kid before, haven't you?”

Kuroba walked the monocle up his knuckles, and flipped it into the air before he rotated his hand and stuck his thumb up. The monocle landed on the tip of his thumb. The thief easily balanced the curved edge of his eye piece and winked at Conan, then said, “Sharp as ever.” Conan must have betrayed something in his expression, because a silly grin spread across Kuroba's face. “What? You didn't think you were the only one who was on my case did you?”

He sent Kuroba a narrow eyed glare, and crossed his arms uncomfortably over his thin chest. “No, of course not.”

A snicker came from the thief as he allowed his monocle to roll back down his hand and balance on his wrist. “Aw, don't pout,” Kuroba teased lightly. “While you might be my greatest adversary to date, Kudou-kun, I have to say that you were still two steps behind dear Hakuba-kun.” Conan's eyes narrowed further into a squinting glare, but before he could voice any protest or rejoinder Kuroba waved his hand airily. “It's no fault of your own, after all, Hakuba-kun and I go to the same school together when he's in the country. I've been his number one suspect since he started on the case. The Keibu suspected me for awhile as well, but I managed to get him off my back thanks to his wonderful daughter.”

Conan widened his eyes in a show of affected amusement, then deadpanned, “I see. And now?”

Kuroba merely offered him an enigmatic smile, and asked, “What do you remember from down there?”

“I remember our entire conversation,” Conan said, a bit sharply. “So if you were hoping I'd have forgotten you're out of luck.”

Kuroba's smile flashed, white and amused, against the shadows that clouded his face. “No, I'm not worried about that.”

Suspicions suddenly leaked into Conan's brain, slow at first then like lightning until he'd left the previous lethargy that he had been consumed by behind. What had he been thinking when he'd spilled his most closely guarded secret? What, after all, did he know about Kid? That he was a thief, with an apparent nonviolence policy to a degree, and a bizarre tendency to return what he'd stolen? That wasn't very much, but, then, he'd trusted Haibara about that. Though, in her case, she'd come with prior knowledge.

Small, childish fingers clenched on his stomach, the slightly rough quality of the blanket covering him keeping his fingernails from digging into the flesh of his palm. “Why? Because you have leverage now?” he asked. Conan thought Kuroba almost looked stung by that comment. A half aware memory, like a nearly forgotten dream upon waking, tugged at his consciousness even as Kuroba went still, head tilted down.

Something about a promise...

A loose grip around his wrist made Conan look up again. He watching in confusion as Kuroba drew his hand back into the air, until Conan tensed his muscles enough to hold it aloft himself– the monocle rolled along Kuroba's other arm to his elbow.

“No... I just know you won't say anything because you understand.” With a slight bounce of his arm, Kuroba sent the monocle into the air, ducked his head to the side, and caught it, balanced, on the bridge of his nose. The thief tipped his head to the side, dropping it expertly to his other shoulder, and rolled it down to where he gripped Conan's hand. Without any conscious thought, Conan felt his fingers grip the hard rim of the monocle, and his gaze dropped. He stared at his own child sized hand, small fingers wrapped around the eye piece. He could almost see the ghostly afterimage of his true self overlaying reality; could almost imagine his hand the same size as Kuroba's, and at the same time he could almost see a white gloved hand replacing Kuroba's as it loosely gripped his wrist. Abruptly he pulled his hand back, tucking it almost protectively against his stomach, fingers tightening around the monocle thoughtlessly. He turned his head away.

“You okay, Tantei-kun? You seem to be pretty down...”

Conan glanced back to stare into those surprisingly serious, patiently waiting, eyes, and opened his mouth to brush the concern off as he usually did with everyone else. Something stopped him this time and those blue eyes of his sharpened. For several long seconds he studied the true face of Kaitou Kid intently. If anyone would be able to understand the question that was plaguing him, it was Kuroba, and it wasn't like he'd already spilled the most damaging and damning of secrets to him anyway. Most others would probably think he was being melodramatic, or foolish but... but Kuroba probably wondered similar things, just in reverse. And, really, hadn't he just said what Conan was now thinking?

So, he asked, “Is it wrong of me to wish that Shinichi would just disappear sometimes?”

After all, it was Conan's place to seek truth, but, in the end, who could he turn to ask for the truth in return?

For a moment Kuroba's looked startled, then his face melted into a light, but understanding smile. There was a sadness, a darkness, in Kuroba's eyes that Conan only ever saw in the mirror. They both had two sides to them, sides that they sometimes wished never existed, but couldn't help but cling to all the same. For Conan, more and more, it was see-sawing wildly. He didn't really know who he was anymore, and that scared him more than a little bit.

“No more than it is for me to wish Kuroba Kaito didn't need to exist sometimes.”

“But why?” Conan found himself musing aloud. “Kuroba Kaito is the one with friends, family... Why would you want him to disappear sometimes?”

“Why not? I can't give up my night job until I've reached my goal. I'm just like you with the possibility of hurting everyone I know because of the secret I hide. It just... It's just a little different.”

As silence fell between them, Conan staring blankly at the ceiling, he realized with a little start that he was beginning to understand Kaitou Kid, and think of him as an ally. He wasn't just a rival or a puzzle anymore. He had a name, and a face that came with motives, sense, and reason to his strange rhyme. Conan dealt with criminals almost daily, he had heard every sob story there was to hear in about fifty different versions.

Kid, Kuroba Kaito, had said he was going this to find some gem (What was it? What was so important about it?), and because they had killed his father. Conan could sense it just as surely as he could feel this understanding that settled between them, knowledgeable and comfortable, that Kuroba's story was like his. That, in the end, they were both just after the same thing: Justice. Maybe this was just the point where their stories finally intertwined rather than running parallel.

Haibara would have called him a fool, Hattori probably would have called it instinct. As far as Conan was concerned, it just was. He'd known people from both sides of the line, deceptive evil people and deceptive good people. Personally, Conan figured he could handle himself. This, in the end, was Kid after all, and that was all that need be said about it.

That didn't mean he couldn't have his hand forced, or possibly have ulterior motives, or be coerced into revealing things... Still... Maybe it was the fact that Conan wanted someone who could understand him, talk on the same level as him. Maybe that was blurring his perceptions, but for the moment he decided to toss his lot in with this crazy thief and hope that maybe, just maybe, there would actually be some forward progress. He was tired of being stuck in the same rut, and really...

The thing was that...

Well...

Thing was, he wasn't; he wasn't nervous about this, wasn't bothered at all. He felt nothing but collected calm. In fact, he felt a little excited, just a bit exhilarated. He wanted this. No, maybe he needed it. Needed to get out from under the weight of memories, and guilt, and lies for just a little while.... Needed to know that someone was walking the same path he was; facing the same trials and trivialities as he. He needed, Conan knew, to find out who he was again. He certainly wasn't the same Shinichi he'd been before he'd met Fate head on and lost.

“We're pathetic,” he mumbled.

“We are, aren't we?” Kuroba breathed in reply. The thief leaned forward, over him slightly, and grinned mischievously. “At least we don't have to be pathetic alone anymore.”

Conan snorted, amused in spite of himself, and shoved Kuroba away with a small hand on his forehead. “You're an idiot. What if I'd rather be alone?”

“Well, you're stuck with me until they decide we aren't going to fall all to pieces.” Kuroba stood then, moving back toward the window which he leaned against, palms curling over the sill. His breath misted in the cold air, and Conan realized he could see his as well. He hadn't even noticed how cold it had gotten in the room. Kuroba tilted his head back, looking up at a sky that was quickly being obscured by clouds. The city's light pollution was captured and reflected by them giving the sky an eerily luminous quality. “There were a lot of people hurt and killed, you know. They're still digging, but everyone knows all they're looking for now is corpses.”

“Any idea how many died?” Conan asked. He felt cold all over. They may have escaped death, been lucky, but not everyone had. He wondered what he'd done to escape dying by fortuitous circumstance. Technicalities and chance saved him again and again though he couldn't fathom why. What was the karmic equation that balanced to him always surviving?

“No. We haven't been allowed visitors yet. I just overheard a couple of the nurses talking about it after I woke up.”

Conan sat up at last, blanket sliding off of his chest to pool in his lap. He rested his hands atop it, fingers smoothing over the smooth curves of Kid's monocle, and watched Kuroba thoughtfully. After a moment his gaze hardened and sharpened. “Did you hear anything about who might be behind this?”

The thief stepped back and shook his head, then pulled the window closed. “No, and there are far too many possibilities at present.”

Heaving a sigh, Conan twisted around and grabbed his glasses from where they'd been placed on the side table. There appeared to be a scratch on one lens. It was a good thing he didn't really require them, but he put them on all the same. Hopefully no one would think much of it until he could get a spare set from Ran, or the professor.

There wasn't much they could do about the bombing, not right now, anyway. Maybe it was something that was best left to other authorities. That was rich coming from him, he knew, but while he'd been wrapped up in bombing cases before he'd never been in an investigation after the fact. He wasn't exactly sure he'd know where to begin on this one without more information anyway.

Conan was pretty sure it wouldn't leave him alone though. Not something this horrific. And, as Kuroba walked around the foot of his bed, he pretended not to notice the stiff way he moved, had been moving the entire time no matter what that little game of contact juggling had tried to hide.

Kuroba slid back onto his own bed, and pulled the blanket over his legs even as he hit the call button to alert the nurse on night watch. Tossing Conan a grin Kuroba lay back on the bed, hands tucked behind his head and murmured, “Ready to act like the sleepy little brat?”

Conan snorted contemptuously, even as he leaned over and casually hid the monocle in the metal supports and braces under the bed. He sat up, ignored the faintly mocking and amused grin on Kuroba's face, and let his eyes fall to half mast. By the time the woman stepped into the room he was pawing sleepily at his eyes beneath his glasses.

–

As weak winter sunlight fought to drag him from his sleep Kaito grumbled and ground his face into his pillow. Immediately he regretted it as the pillow was rather damp. He jerked his head up, he brought his hand up, and pawed at his face. He couldn't help grimacing at the feel of saliva crusting at the corner of his mouth. A quiet snicker drew his attention, and Kaito blinked blearily at the sight of Edogawa Conan sitting up in his bed, legs crossed beneath his blanket with his elbow propped on his knee and his chin in his hand. Apparently, the little brat had been watching him.

Conan sent Kaito a deadpan look and drolly said, “You know you drool in your sleep don't you?”

Grimacing again, and fighting down the urge to stick his tongue out at the boy (No need to act Conan's physical age. For now at least.), Kaito retorted with an equally bland, “I noticed.”

As he propped himself up on his elbows Kaito brought his hands up, running them over the back of his head and making his wild hair stick up in even more directions. He bit back a yawn, and attempted to roll over only to find his lower body, from hips to toes, was wrapped up in his blanket like a mummy. It seemed that he had been shifting around quite a bit in his sleep. Admittedly Kaito was a fairly restless sleeper, even when he was sleeping he still had energy to spare, but this was nuts. He must have had a pretty rough dream. There was a lot of fuel for nightmares running around his head after all. Kaito could well imagine what he might have been dreaming about, even if he couldn't really remember.

He soon learned that wriggling and kicking his legs to get them free was a bad idea. The pain killers the doctors had been kind enough to hop him up on had worn out sometime during the night. Kaito gasped as pain flared all along his spine, shooting into his head and down his arms and legs in a way that made all his muscles lock up. His hands curling into fists automatically, and he grit his teeth. Slowly, he breathed in deep through his nose until the pain passed and allowed him to slump down against the pillow again.

Kaito smacked his head a few times against the pillow, which wasn't nearly as satisfying as a harder surface. “Idiot,” he muttered to himself, then tossed his head to the side. Kaito very nearly shoved himself right off his bed when he came face to face with Conan. The boy was standing right beside his bed, crossed arms resting on it, and obviously standing up on his tip toes to do so. “Shit,” Kaito gasped, heart thumping double time in his chest. “Make a little noise will you!”

Conan blinked at him, then let that deadpan look fall onto his face again. “That's rich coming from you. Anyway,” the boy stepped back, turning and retreating to his own bed and climbing back up on it like a monkey. Kaito supposed that if you had to go through life that small you learned to cope, particularly when you had adult-like dignity behind you. “If you're good enough to complain, then you're fine.”

It struck him, then, that the little detective had might have been worried about him. It was so odd that he laughed. Despite the annoyed glare he was receiving Kaito continued to snicker, forehead resting against his pillow, as he watched the boy arrange his blankets around his legs with an air of aloof precision. Which, he decided, was probably one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. It was Hakuba in his weird Holmes get up funny.

He sagged further back into the mattress, shoved his arms under his pillow, and dropped his head back down on it with his head angled so he could gaze toward his temporary roommate. The silly smile that had taken over his face slowly melted off. Conan's gaze was distant, lingering on a point on the wall with such a serious look on that small, childish face, that it seemed surreal. Kaito couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about. That mind really seemed fathomless.

His own gaze drifted to the side to land on the world outside the window beyond the small detective. The bit of sunlight that had broken through mere minutes before was gone now, leaving the sky the color of worn dust clogged white fabric. He ignored the flash of memory; of white pants so dirty they were gray, of blue so dust covered it was more navy, of flashing lights and a fading world.

The sky was spitting drizzle. These were small droplets, the kind that could fall all day for days on end without giving up the game. Tiny things that spattered against the window innocuously and foretold of something more, something heavier that might come. Kaito smiled, lips curving upward just the faintest amount. A gust of wind caused several rain drops to spatter and break against the glass in an intricate pattern of water spots. The world beyond the window glowed a distilled yellow gray. It was a color that tasted like agony, the color of a bruise on flesh.

From beneath half lidded eyes, Kaito watched Conan with the critical eye of his profession. Even now, Conan sat with a posture that was far too stiff and self contained to be that of a child. The look on the small boy's face was serious and contemplative, his eyes distant. There was really no wonder that people failed to be surprised that Edogawa Conan was an unusual little boy. The straight set of his small shoulders, the stiff hold of his back... all of it made Kaito want to poke, prod, and pester until he coaxed out all the amusing reactions he was sure were lying beneath that slightly smug, but somehow defeated little face. He was a lot like Hakuba in that manner, annoying but fun.

If nothing else, Kaito had always been bad at denying himself entertainment. “What do you want?” a slightly acerbic voice interrupted his musings on the most likely buttons to push. Kaito blinked lazily to show himself undisturbed by Conan's eerie ability to pick up the fact that he was being observed. It wasn't a new quality by far. What was annoying was that Conan hadn't bothered to look at him.

“Do you always spill your secrets so easily?” Kaito asked, aiming to needle at him. A part of him felt bad about it. After all, just a few hours ago he'd said he wasn't going to use those secrets against the kid. Then again, Kaito had never claimed that he wasn't petty and childish when he wanted to be. Aoko could attest to that quite happily.

Conan's head turned just enough that he could glare at Kaito from behind the scuff and scratched lenses of his oversized glasses. “Do you?” the boy shot back, clearly miffed.

“You started it,” Kaito said trying hard to hide his glee with a petulant tone to his volley. Oh, he was receiving one of those flat 'you're such a child' stares. He had to bite lightly at his sleeve to refrain from laughing like a giddy little boy. It was a little twisted and mean spirited, but he couldn't deny that he was enjoying it. It had almost the same flavor of soccer balls, moonlight, sirens, thrills, and chases; like the edge of a skyscraper, a white hot glare from a figure far too small to look that dangerous. Kaito hid his grin in the ruffled fabric of his clothing.

The little brat narrowed his eyes a little more, and Kaito wanted to laugh in the face of that look. Instead he lay silent to watch with a steady gaze, his eyebrows lifted toward his hairline. Then, Conan turned away and seemed eager to return to ignoring him. Kaito frowned, disgruntled, though he didn't let it show. He still wasn't willing to let anyone wiggle beneath his Poker Face like that if he could help it. That said, he wasn't unaware of the slight tickle of anger at the easy dismissal, though he was unsurprised of it. He'd been dismissed of any illusions he had that he was anything more than a brief flicker in the world of the Great Detective the first time he'd faced off against Kudou Shinichi at the Clock tower.

It was with both great annoyance and great smugness that he embraced that fact, because, while he was easily dismissed by him, Kaito also knew that he could easily draw him out to play again. He could still remember the thrill and resentment his first encounter with Kudou had brought, and equally the same feelings from his first encounter with Edogawa Conan, the cunning brat on the rooftop. Whatever they were to each other he couldn't say– rival, friend, and bitter annoyance wrapped all into one, maybe.

If Kaito hadn't been so studiously contemplating his current roommate, he might have missed the quiet boyish voice that muttered, “Maybe I just wanted to die as Kudou Shinichi.”

Kaito blinked, let his eyes unfocused, and gave the rain spattered window a faintly guilty look. The guilt, though was more brought on by the fact that Kaito had expected a response along the lines of 'I was trying to draw you out', or 'Because I was bored'. He'd unconsciously classed Kudou Shinichi along the same lines of expectancy as the ever suspicious Hakuba Saguru. To be fair to Hakuba, Kaito didn't think even he had that little tact. This, though... Kaito looked at the little figure where he sat on his bed, shoulders hunched. To want to be acknowledged as himself so bad that he could have a bit of peace before he was cremated and forever known as Edogawa Conan, the boy who didn't really exist, the boy who was a ghost of a young man who had once been full of promise... To want that so badly he'd seek it even from someone who wasn't really counted as a friend...

“Maybe,” Kaito offered, a little wonderingly, “maybe we're not all that different, really.”

Conan sent him a glance over his shoulder, but said nothing as he returned to what Kaito thought was probably a silent bout of sulking. It was almost as if revealing this secret was more horrible than the one he'd given up under the rubble, or the one about sacrifice and alter egos from last night.

While Kaito wouldn't lie and say that his decision to give Conan a little information had been the same, he could admit that it was part of it. Just a little. Because, Kaito could understand. Just like Kudou Shinichi would die and forever be remembered as Edogawa Conan while Kudou Shinichi faded away, another missing person who had never returned, Kuroba Kaito would forever have been remembered as the boy who was Kaitou Kid. Eventually, his name would become hazy and unimportant except to those who wanted the underlying facts, and it would just be 'Hey, remember that bombing where Kaitou Kid was killed for good?'.

So, it had been one part gentlemanly manners– Conan had started it, and it was only polite. One part curiosity– What would Tantei-kun do with the information? Because, as much as Kaito had said he didn't think Conan would do anything with it because he understood, it was more that Kaito knew he couldn't do anything with it. People had enough trouble believing Conan now, no good would come of such a ludicrous story and Conan knew that. The other part? Well, maybe Kaito had wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroba Kaito too, rather than the nameless, faceless, cloaked shadow that was the illustrious phantom thief who was, to this day, still more his father than it was him.

Which brought him right back to thoughts he'd rather avoid right then. He didn't want to think about the problems outside these walls; about how there was someone out there willing to blow up a building for whatever reason and steal who knew how many lives. Kaito didn't steal lives, because he couldn't give them back. He couldn't fathom why anyone would take such a precious thing away. His hand clenched into a fist beneath his pillow where his nails dug into the palm of his hand. It was so quiet in their room, like the world had dropped away and the two of them were snugly secured in an island of peace. He used that quiet to help him focus, and, as he slowly breathed out, listened to the muffled sounds beyond the closed door of their room. Sounds which he noted seemed to be increasing just a bit.

“Tantei-kun?” he asked softly, voice barely carrying any substance. “Do you know what time it is?”

“A little after six in the morning,” Conan chirped, obviously over his little fit of moroseness. Kaito chose, wisely perhaps, not to comment on it.

That was early. Kaito stifled a discontent sound in his pillow; it was easy to ignore the amused scoff that came from the boy. He really didn't want to be awake right now. Not when, now that he'd been made aware of it, his body was a single massive ache that he really wished would just go away. If he'd been home he would have just swallowed another couple of extra strength pain killers, have his mom tell Aoko he was ill, and stayed in bed for the entire day sleeping through the pain. That didn't sound like a bad idea. Now if he could just get some pain medication...

Just then the door opened, and sound from the beyond spilled in. A young nurse, no more than her mid twenties, wandered in carrying a tray of food which she bore over to Conan. The boy immediately plastered a smile on his face as he let the woman situate his food for him.

“There you go, Conan-kun!” the nurse said cheerfully, even as she absently brushed the boy's fringe back.

Conan beamed up at her. It made him look for all the world like the boy he masqueraded as. Then his features changed, as practiced as an actor's. “Hey, Neechan? Kaito-niisan woke up! Could you get him something for the pain? He seems to be hurting a lot...”

If he hadn't felt like someone was very intent on killing every muscle in his body Kaito might have sprung out of bed, bounced over, and hugged Conan until he squeaked right then, annoying little pain in his ass detective or not.

The nurse cast him a sympathetic glance and smiled easily. “Hold on a moment Kuroba-san, and I'll get you some medication.”

“Thank you,” he breathed gratefully. Once the door had clicked softly shut behind the woman, Kaito focused back on Conan. “You're an evil little child.”

Conan tipped his head up, blinked at him with wide innocent eyes and chirped, “What do you mean, Kaito-niisan?” Kaito stared at him. Conan let the childish look fall away, a smirk adorning his features. “When you have to live as a kid, you use what is available to you.”

“Conniving~!” he sang right back as Conan decided to ignore him and set to his food. Kaito used the moment to study the boy. He seemed to be moving freely enough. It seemed as if he'd escaped most injury just as he'd thought. Conan's chin was black and blue through and through, and looked like it might be a bit swollen. He winced slightly at that. How ironic that, through all they'd gone through, Conan's only real injury was from him.

It didn't take long for the nurse to come bustling back in with a small plastic cup rattling with his pills. Kaito was rather embarrassed with how hard it was to get himself to move. The woman helped him, a gentle hand under his elbow, as he twisted free of his clingy blanket and shifted around to sit upright on the bed. A glass of water, held in a slightly shaky hand, and the pills were gone in seconds. Now he just had to wait for them to kick in. Carefully he leaned back into his now propped up pillow, wincing slightly as he finally settled in and the steady ache escalated from the pressure. He really didn't want to know what his back looked like right now. Kaito could guess that it wasn't pretty.

Once the nurse had made sure he was situated, and asked him if he wanted anything to eat (He didn't but he knew he probably should anyway, so he asked for some light food.), she turned to Conan winked and said, “Is that better, Conan-kun?”

The boy immediately grinned and tossed one hand in the air with a cheerful hum of approval. With a laugh, the woman exited again.

Kaito couldn't help but find it rather fascinating how fast Tantei-kun had managed to get the woman wrapped around his little finger. “I'm impressed.”

Conan snorted and muttered something around his spoon. Kaito thought it rather sounded like 'I can't help it if they find me adorable'.

The grin wouldn't leave his face for ages.

By the time they'd eaten, and had their trays and dishes removed, Kaito was sitting in a happy bubble of, more or less, pain free haziness. Ah, the joy of pain killers. Conan had flopped back on his bed and appeared to be amusing himself by counting seconds or something. Kaito couldn't really tell what the boy was doing. He appeared to be merely laying there contemplating the ceiling, face completely devoid of any and all expression. For all Kaito knew the little detective could have been contemplating the pros and cons of the hospital food breakfast.

He was just going to open his mouth and ask if it was just that, when the door eased open a fraction and the nurse poked her head in. “I know it's early, but you have a visitor and he,” here she glanced over her shoulder reproachfully, “is very insistent on seeing you.”

The pair of them exchanged sidelong glances, then Kaito shrugged. “Let him in.”

Kaito wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't to see Hakuba Saguru of all people step through the door and pull it closed behind him. The detective had his head lowered, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in a manner that suggested he either had a headache or one was well on its way to forming, and his shoulders were sagging in a way that Kaito could never recall seeing before. When Hakuba finally looked up, paused near the foot of his bed, and shot a glance toward Conan, Kaito could easily see that his quasi-friend was exhausted.

The first words out of Kaito's mouth as Hakuba finally focused on him were, quite simply, “You look like hell.” As an afterthought Kaito tacked on, “I thought you were still in England.”

“You look like hell too,” Hakuba assured him drily. “I caught the first plane back as soon as I heard about the explosion. I've been on my feet since.” The detective paused, appeared to consider, then added, “I do believe that the blood in my veins has turned to caffeine by now.”

Kaito made a mental note that sleep deprivation apparently made Hakuba's stunted sense of humor rear it's sadly malformed head, then pushed the notion aside. “Hakuba,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument, “Sit down before you fall down.” He somehow doubted Hakuba knew how unfocused he looked, or the fact that he was swaying slightly even as his hand absently flipped his pocket watch open and closed. The detective was obviously somewhere between buzzed on caffeine and falling asleep where he stood.

“I don't think I'll be able to get back up once I sit down.”

All attempts at humor left Kaito's face and he pointed at the foot of his bed. “Sit. Now. Or I'll call the nice nurse lady back and have Conan-kun sweet talk her into sedating you.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Conan watching the two of them like they were a vaguely amusing circus sideshow. The brat.

For a moment it looked like Hakuba was going to continue fighting with him, but it passed to Kaito's surprise, and the detective let out a heavy sigh before stepping over and sitting tentatively at the foot of his bed. Hakuba remained stiff and wary for a moment before just shaking his head and letting his shoulders sag. His head tipped forward as he stared down at his hands with apparent interest. It didn't seem like Hakuba was going to say anything at all. Kaito sent a confused glance at Conan, who shrugged, eyes never leaving the other detective, so Kaito opened his mouth to ask why Hakuba was even there.

“You know,” Hakuba said conversationally. Kaito snapped his mouth closed, teeth coming together with a click, “they found Kaitou Kid's top hat in the rubble.”

“Okay...?” Kaito didn't have a clue where Hakuba was going with this unless he wanted to indulge in their usual song and dance of accusations and denials for some unfathomable reason. He personally didn't think now was the time for that, but he'd give Hakuba the benefit of hearing him out.

Hakuba nodded sharply. “Kid's fans are in a frenzy, apparently. They all either fear him to be deceased, whilst the rest of them firmly believe their hero could escape anything.” Hakuba paused, facing twisting into an expression that looked caught somewhere between amused and exasperated before he said, “I've even heard a rumor that Kaitou Kid was never alive at all; had actually been killed and was, in fact, a real phantom looking for revenge, and that he was responsible for the explosion.”

Kaito blinked, blinked again, and stared. Conan had his head tilted in a thoughtful way, though the boy looked like he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to laugh or not. Kaito could understand why because that was rather close to the truth behind Kid, just a bit twisted. He sent bemused look at Conan he let an incredulous smile slide into place. The small detective returned the expression with a sardonic twist Kaito could only wish to pull off.

He flicked his gaze back to Hakuba who was watching him, but not really seeing him as he continued to fiddle with his pocket watch. And, damn if the little click-snick of it wasn't getting annoying. Kaito drawled, “That's... interesting. I'm sure Kid just disappeared somewhere. Maybe what they found was just a spare or something that he had stashed in the building.”

“Hmm,” Hakuba hummed nonchalantly. “Rumors about Kaitou Kid's involvement aside, as we all are aware of that thief's rather tame tendencies, I've also heard about how Kuroba Kaito is a hero for protecting, and saving the life of, Edogawa Conan.”

Now, that really came out of nowhere. Kaito couldn't fathom what Hakuba was getting at with this line of conversation. At first glance it had seemed like nothing more than the usual back and forth where Hakuba accused him of being Kid with some fickle form of half-conceived proof that only stood up in Hakuba's version of the world, and Kaito parried with plausible deniability. He'd heard much the same as far as rumors were concerned. After all, he'd been told to his face that he was a 'hero' for helping out that poor boy who 'must have been so scared'. Kaito had laughed his head off at that– In his own mind, of course. Conan was no more a scared little boy than Kaito was a law abiding citizen.

Well, if Hakuba was here to poke holes in his story he had a perfectly plausible lie made up that he'd already been dropping hints toward: He'd been there to see the heist, decided to slip in to try and meet the thief he was such a big fan of, and ended up caught in the explosion. He had even made plans prior to the heist to meet up with Aoko afterward as it was, so she could just tell them as much. Kaito was a fan of having as many backup plans and possible alibis as possible. Extra escape hatches never went awry in his opinion. Yet there Hakuba was, looking at him with weary cinnamon colored eyes in a way that seemed to say 'Kuroba, I know there's some sort of brain behind that witless stare. Figure it out'. It was an awful lot like Hakuba was speaking a language very similar to Japanese, but things were all off kilter.

About to demand that the detective get to the point a childish voice piped up, “Wow! Hakuba-niisan you really know a lot of rumors!”

Hakuba blinked, started slightly in surprise, and turned to look at Conan. The two detectives locked gazes and seemed to consider reach other for several seconds before Hakuba let a faint smirk appear. There was an answering one on Conan's face a second later. Ah, so that was it. They were speaking Detective-ese. Kaito would have gotten it eventually, after Hakuba had fiddled around and pandered to Kaito's decidedly Not Detective brain a bit more. Hey, he couldn't help it if he wasn't all interested in truth, mystery, and a great big clue pie.

Detectives... Can't live with them, can't live without them because they're too damn amusing when they get all flustered or annoyed.

Hakuba leaned forward and loosely clasped his hands together between his knees. Kaito recognized the intent look on his face as the one Hakuba got when he was on the scent of a particularly good mystery; one that was intriguing, beguiling, and captured his entire attention. “That's true Edogawa-kun. I was at the police station, you see, and a lot of people come and go from there. There are inevitably a great deal of rumors floating around.”

Conan bobbed his head in agreement. “Yeah! Sometimes my friends and I have to go to the police station with Satou-keiji, or Takagi-keiji! They sure do like to talk a lot don't they?”

Hakuba nodded solemnly. “A lot of things get lost in communication, I'm afraid. Not everyone is very clear. Why, I even heard a rumor about how Wakahisa was observed to be gloating over the fact that Kaitou Kid didn't get his jewels, and never will now. After which he was apparently called off on an urgent business trip out of the country leaving one of his business partners in charge of clean up.”

“Ehhh?” the small detective chirped, eyes wide in apparent confusion. “Really? Didn't he have to go to the hospital too? I mean, he was in the building too. He was in the Black Room with me when Kid stole the jewel!”

It occurred to Kaito, with a sudden start, that the two of them were basically orchestrating the entire conversation with the intent of making it seem completely innocent. To anyone else it would seem as if Hakuba was simply discussing bits of gossip that he had picked up. It was even more innocent sounding because of Conan. After all, who would discuss anything meaningful with a little kid? Though, in reflection, he wasn't sure who was playing who more here.

What did Hakuba know? Did he suspect that Conan was more than just an extremely bright child? Or was he merely using him as a convenient way to drop information to Kaito? Kaito well knew that Conan himself was using this situation to get the information for, he suspected, the both of them. He didn't need to get Hakuba talking where Kaito could hear if he didn't want to and Kaito knew it. Kaito appreciated it, he really did, even if he wasn't sure quite yet to make of the information. He was a thief, not a detective. He didn't even know where to begin putting together the clues that Hakuba was apparently dropping, though he could tell that Wakahisa was apparently Hakuba's favorite suspect.

The motive, it seemed, was to keep him, Kid, from stealing the jewels. That bastard... Kaito's hand clenched into a fist beside his thigh with the blanket wadded between his fingers.

“From what I heard,” Hakuba was saying, “Wakahisa was waiting in the lobby at the time of the first explosions. He later told an officer who interviewed him that he was waiting to hear from Nakamori-keibu on whether or not Kaitou Kid had been apprehended or, at the very least, his jewels retrieved.”

“He's really lucky then, isn't he?” Conan said innocently, but when Kaito took in the expression on his face... That look was anything but innocent. In fact, it scared the part of Kaito that was all Kid just a little bit. A predatory hunting look that made his instincts for preservation of self jangle wildly. Thank god he would never warrant that kind of look. The worst he'd ever received was that mixture of smug knowing, and hungry challenge. Kaito could deal with those, but... He fought back a shiver at the idea of facing Kudou Shinichi when he really wanted to take him down and tear him apart.

“Well, he is supposed to be extremely lucky. They say that his Lucky Seven collection is blessed by the gods themselves.” Hakuba waved his hand as if to dismiss the very idea for as ludicrous as it sounded. Kaito couldn't blame him, but then, he was the one who dealt with supposedly magic jewels.

“Oooh... I guess they didn't work how he was hoping then, 'cause the curse of the other jewel still happened.” Conan looked upward, pressing the pointer finger of one hand against his chin as he mused, “But isn't it odd? You'd think he would want his jewels back!”

Hakuba snorted derisively. “Apparently he doesn't care if he gets them back, so long as Kaitou Kid doesn't get them either.”

It really was just like that, wasn't it? That bastard would blow up a building, kill who knows how many people, and injure others just to keep Kid from the jewels. How twisted was that? And the bastard had the gall to run away, too.

Kaito had half a mind to track the bastard down and make sure he paid for this, but was that really an option? Could he just take off and leave his mother, Jii, Aoko just because someone had the stupidity to turn one of his heists into a death trap? Was it worth the likelihood of his identity as Kid being revealed? Because, there really was no doubt that some people would make the connection. Kuroba Kaito going missing right after a disastrous Kid heist was just too coincidental. He sighed softly. No, he couldn't just race off at the drop of a hat like that. An admittedly very painful hat, but– The time would come, he was sure, when he'd see Wakahisa again, whether the man liked it or not, and when that day came...

Conan made a confused sound, and shook his head in a way that made his fringe shift roughly. “He seemed to really like them though, and said they cost him an awful lot...”

“Millions, I'd expect, if not billions.” Hakuba's expression twisted suddenly, turning pained and a bit sour. It was one of the oddest things Kaito ever seen on the detective's face. Then Hakuba's shoulders slumped a little more, spine curving as he sagged down tiredly, all the banter seemed to be gone out of him in a millisecond and an instinct, a gut feeling, spoke up in the back of Kaito's mind. Something was horribly wrong.

“That fool of a man... He got up in front of the press yesterday and made a public apology for the lives lost in the face of 'Some horrendous malcontent's evil doings'.” That sour look intensified. Hakuba looked like he was thoroughly disgusted even thinking about Wakahisa and his apparent bravado. “Offered to personally make reparations to the families who lost loved ones in the explosion and ensuing collapse.” He gave a derisive snort, and went on with an ironic, and oddly respectful tone of voice, “He very nearly had his head taken off by–” Just as quickly as the flow of words had begun, Hakuba clammed up.

Kaito frowned as the sense of dread, the eerie tickle of foreboding, increased one hundred fold. He could see it now, in the way Hakuba held himself, the way he perched on the edge of the bed like he was prepared to spring into flight at any second, yet still half curled in on himself as if defensive. He'd never seen Hakuba act this way. What was more though, was that it looked like what weighed on the detective so apparently, so much more than jet lag and stress, looked like a deep seated emotional and mental exhaustion. It looked a lot like sadness, and Kaito didn't like that at all.

“Hakuba.” Did his voice really sound as strained as he thought it did? “What happened?”

The detective folded his arms around his stomach, leaned forward, and refused to look at him. “I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, Kaito-kun.” His given name? Since when did Hakuba call him by that? Something cold was settling into his chest, but Kaito ignored it willfully. “I.. But I was the only one who really could.” Hakuba's hand lifted, smoothed over his face, and paused over his mouth for a moment as he collected himself.

Every second that ticked by made the coil of dread wind tighter in Kaito's stomach. The tenseness of the atmosphere was practically killing him as it pressed down, slipped down his throat, and tried to choke him. Kaito fought against it, mind frantically screaming that there was nothing wrong yet, it could just be something stupid. Hakuba was just being melodramatic! Maybe he'd really developed a sudden sense of humor and was going to suddenly tell him that, as Kaito was obviously Kid, he was now dead. Wouldn't that be a riot? Kid had died twice and could come back a third time!

Kaito could only imagine the look on that idiot's, Snake's, face.

“I'm sorry,” Hakuba murmured finally. Slowly he lifted his head, looked right at Kaito and said, voice quiet as if it would soften the blow, “Nakamori-keibu he...”

Just like that, Kaito went cold. He barely heard Hakuba's next words.

“He went back in to try and get more of the task force, more of the others inside, out and... He was caught in the collapse, they found him already dead... I'm sorry, I really am.”

Kaito's hands knotted in his blanket as he choked back a small whimper, and his mind screamed ragged denials. There was just no way! Nakamori-keibu was supposed to be a dogged, tough, loud, never dying, bastard who chased Kid with all his determination no matter what. He couldn't die! He wasn't, just wasn't, capable of something so mortal as death!

Which was silly, because Kaito knew... Kaito knew that no one was like that. After all, hadn't his own father died? His hands loosed from the fabric and flew up to grip his hair in tight handfuls that made his scalp burn. Kaito pulled his knees up, burying his face against them as he swallowed deep breaths and tried to keep from hyperventilating from the sudden influx of emotional agony. It hurt just like that day so long ago.

And, oh god, Aoko... She'd lost both of her parents now.

He gasped, breath hiccupping on a sob. He barely noticed the tears that were sliding down his cheeks and nose, nor how they dampened the fabric of the blanket and made his skin feel wet and sticky, nor how mucus clogged his sinuses thickly and made it harder to breath, as if it weren't already hard enough.

There wouldn't be any more rants so full of creative cursing it would make the most hardened criminal blush. No more bellows about how Nakamori would be the only one to ever catch Kid. No longer would he run into the man when he went over to visit Aoko, and be on the receiving end of gruff but friendly greetings, or glares. No more Nakamori-keibu period. It felt like a pillar holding up part of the world had crumbled away. Kaito had so few of those to begin with.

It barely even registered when the bed dipped beside him, and a hand came to rest on his shoulder, or when two smaller hands suddenly closed around his wrists in an attempt to get him to let go. He could hear Conan's voice as he murmured something Kaito couldn't hear past the rush of white noise in his head, but the sound shockingly serious despite the childish octave. He couldn't hear the words, but the cadence was soothing and he supposed it was just nonsense meant to calm him down and keep him from breaking with reality or something.

Kaito inhaled a shuddering gasp then asked, voice muffled against his legs, “How's Aoko?”

Hakuba's voice answered from above him, just as soft and calming as Conan's, “I didn't get to speak to her, she was sleeping, but she's staying at your home with your mother.” That was good. His mom would take care of Aoko just fine. He would be fine too, but...there was no way he was going to let that bastard get away with this. Death would be too kind, not to mention Kaito refused to sink to his level. No, he deserved a fate worse than death that only Kid could devise.

“I'm...” No he wasn't fine. Kaito let Conan pull his hands down and lifted his head a bit. He blinked at the boy who crouched on the bed in front of his curled form. “I'll be fine. I really will.” He would be fine, because he had to be. Kaito had learned a long time ago that he had to keep going, had to keep pressing forward. There was nothing else that could be done, even in the face of death. As he breathed in, slow and deep, he began to pick up the pieces of his abruptly discarded Poker Face, and glued them back together.

Sharp blue eyes watched him from behind the scratched lenses of oversized glasses, and Kaito watched him right back. If it disturbed Conan to see his tear stained face, with a few stray tears still rolling down his cheek, as it slowly formed back into a mask behind which the emotions were firmly sheltered, were as elusive as a thief in the night, it didn't show. Instead the not-child's knowing, understanding, gaze flickered slowly over his face, and jumped to look at every corner. Kaito felt like he could see every crack in him and was judging his repairs for flaws.

Whatever he saw seemed to please, or at least reassure, Conan for he nodded a moment later. “You will,” the boy agreed, tone serious. Kaito fully understood the unsaid words there: Because that's all we know how to do.

“We know you will, Kuroba-kun,” Hakuba added softly, the hand on his shoulder squeezing gently. Drily he added, “You're nothing if not a survivor.”

Those words made Kaito crack a smile, watery though it was, because they sounded almost like one of Hakuba's silly accusations. He hiccupped out a laugh, and gave one of his arms a tug. Conan looked at him for a moment longer, then gave his wrist a slight squeeze before releasing his hold on it, though he still held the other. Kaito didn't mind. He dashed his sleeve across his face, snuffled a bit, and used the heel of his palm to try and rub the wet from the dip between nose and eye. His eyes were sore, and his throat felt thick, but he would be fine. Grieving was natural, he'd been through it before, but it still hurt all the same.

Conan glanced between the both of them shrewdly. “I don't think either of you look fine.”

Kaito gave a strained laugh. “Out of the mouths of children,” he muttered. Conan rolled his eyes at him, though he could see there was no acid in the gesture this time. “I think I'd like to sleep for awhile though...”

Hakuba levered himself up with a groan. “I'd like to seek my bed as well...” Kaito watched Hakuba give the door, and more importantly, the distance in between a rather dubious look as if he didn't think he'd be able to make it. With a glance at Conan, Kaito tilted his head toward the boy's bed and widened his eyes questioningly. Conan waved his hand at him in a 'do as you will' gesture.

“Hey, Hakuba? Look why don't you just catch a nap on the kid's bed?”

“I couldn't possibly...”

“Go ahead, Hakuba-niisan! You need it more than I do right now.”

“See it's two against one. Go, sleep, we'll wake you up soon enough.”

As if to illustrate the point Conan hopped off the bed, grabbed Hakuba's wrist and began tugging him around Kaito's bed toward the empty one. Hakuba was apparently too exhausted to put up a proper fight, and Conan killed whatever was left with a few simple words, “You won't do anyone any good by being about to fall over.”

Hakuba clamped his mouth shut as he frowned at the child who was dragging him around. Despite whatever conjecture his mind was conjuring, he gratefully sank onto the bed, and let himself flop down on his side before rolling onto his back. The detective brought his hands up where he clamped them over his face. His fingers making his fringe stick up in every direction. One arm dropped back down to rest alongside his head, palm up, while the other draped over his eyes.

“Besides, if anyone dares to complain, Conan-kun can just sweet talk them.” The boy in question sent Kaito a disgusted look for that, but it was true. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy had the entire staff of the ward charmed by sundown.

Kaito barely heard Hakuba's muffled and exhaustion slurred thank you, but it made him smile even as he shifted around and lay down on his side, one arm tucked beneath his pillow and head. Hakuba appeared to be out already. Kaito wasn't surprised, he had probably crashed hard.

As he watched Conan wander back toward him through heavy lidded eyes, Kaito decided he didn't like crying much. His eyes felt sticky, and his tongue gummy. Crying made him more tired than he remembered it doing before. Conan clambered up to sit on the foot of his bed, small legs dangling over the edge with his feet swinging slightly, and Kaito let his heavy eyes slip closed. Emotional exhaustion, and his still overtaxed body, didn't take long to pull him down into the sticky oblivion of a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.






Chapter List, Chapter 02, Apocrypha 01; Last Rights