Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bitter cold fog obscured the world outside, and made the house feel warm and private. Kaito liked nights like this. The fog had a way of absorbing sound, making it more peaceful. It was a good time for getting that blasted studying done for midterms.

He had just brewed himself a cup of soothing herbal tea, when the quiet was shattered by the doorbell. That ought to be Aoko, with snacks and her study sheets. She wrote her own for math, and they were way better than the ones handed out by the teachers. With that in mind, he threw aside his tea and skipped to the door.

“Hello Ao-” The name died on his lips. This was NOT Aoko. This was a drop-dead gorgeous busty blonde with smoky grey eyes like flecks of silver in the sparse light.

The foreigner smiled and reached towards his face. “You must be Kaito,” she said in perfect Japanese.

Kaito blinked, his words caught in his throat.

“I'm a friend, or rather, my mother was a friend of your parents. My mother's name was Sharon Vineyard, and I'm Chris Vineyard.”

His jaw clapped like a dying fish's. “Ummm...” he stuttered. “W-Why... What can I do for you?”

She hefted a heavy dufflebag that was weighing down her shoulder, settling it on her wide hip, her muscular thighs visible through her tight black pants. “I'm in a bind, and need a place to stay for the night. May I?”

Kaito blushed. “Come in! I'll call my mom.”

“Of course, of course.” She slipped through the door and set down her bag as though it carried a baby. “Thank you,” she said rolling her shoulders and stretching her arms.

Shaking, Kaito skittered into the kitchen and pulled out his phone. Aoko was going to flip when she met the movie star! He tapped his foot while waiting for his mom to pick up. She didn't. Oh yeah, it'd be the middle of the night over there. He put his cell back in his pocket without leaving a message.

“What did your mother say?” Ms. Vineyard voice came from the entry of the kitchen. Her bag was back on her shoulder.

“It's fine. She didn't object.” She hadn't affirmed it either, but this was Chris Vineyard. How often does a beautiful actress ask to spend the night?

“Wonderful! Thank you so much!” Her voice was deathly sexy. “May I take a shower? It's been a long day,” she mewed.

“Of course! The guest bedroom is up here, and the bathroom is down the hall on the right.” He showed the way.

Crap. The bed was missing sheets. “Sorry,” he scanned the room. “I'll go get bedding for you.”

“Don't worry about it. Take your time,” she replied, smiling as wide as Yorik in Hamlet's hand. “I know I'm being a pain, and I really don't want to cause you any trouble.”

“It's nothing!” Kaito ran out of the room and down the stairs to where the linen cabinets were. It had been years since they'd had any guests overnight... ones that weren't Aoko anyways, and she was more like family than a guest. It took a while to find the sheets that would fit that bed, a double. When he puffed up the stairs, she'd already started her shower. Aoko was going to be so impressed when she met this famous foreign movie star! He entered the guestroom and made the bed. The dufflebag she'd been hefting earlier was open, and empty by the side of the bed. Nothing left but the remains of a dirty sheet. As he nudged it out of the way, he noticed something odd. A smell that he'd only smelt a few times before, all in times when his pulse filled his ears with a roar like the sea. Gunpowder and blood.

He didn't stop and think. Instead, he ran to the bathroom to see if she was injured. He burst through the door, yelling, “Ms. Vineyard, are you alright?” The scene that greeted him didn't compute.

She was still fully dressed, a black, long sleeved shirt rolled up to her elbows. By her feet was a set of children's pajamas, made stiff with semi-dried blood and the remains of something thicker that Kaito didn’t want to speculate on. In her hands was a bar of soap and a washcloth, which she had been using on a small child, laid out with care in the bath tub, covered in blood to the extent that he couldn't make out the child's features. He froze, trying to process the scene before him.

The woman, whoever she was, took this moment of indecision and sprang towards him like a predator, sinking something sharp into his side and pinning him to the floor in one, swift movement. His fight or flight response kicked in, and he thrashed, throwing her off him. Stumbling, he raced to the bathroom door, then down the hall, and down the stairs... but that was as far as his legs would take him. They felt numb, weak, like he had run a mile in those few seconds. Cursing he tried to crawl, but it was no use. Soon his arms had become useless lumps of flesh. He lay on the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The stairs squeaked behind him, then feet were at his side. He couldn't even turn his head to look at her. He didn't have to.

His attacker turned him over gently, and closed his eyes with her thumbs, smiling that billion-dollar smile. She gathered his limp body in her arms, smothering him against her bosom. She reeked of blood and gunpowder. Why hadn't he picked up on that sooner? “Sorry Kaito, I wish you had given me another choice...” she trailed off, lost in another thought. “I'd really rather not kill you. It'd make your fans sad. By the way,” her voice shifted, and he felt a wave of rage and nausea wash over him. “You did a wonderful job on the Bell Tree Express. Even fooled me,” in his father's voice. “Of course, when I saw my target still alive and kicking, I knew what had happened, but that doesn't change the fact that you achieved something incredible, fooling Touichi's best student. You're a worthy successor.”

Who the hell was this person? How did she know who he was? Did she have something to do with Dad's death?

The woman laid him down on the floor of the bathroom, not letting his body fall heavily to the ground. Steam condensed on him, slowly sticking his clothing to his skin. Meanwhile she lifted the blood-covered child out of the bathtub; some of the water splashed on Kaito’s face. Then she gathered Kaito up in her arms again, and with a grunt of effort, moved him from the floor to the bathtub, again not letting his body become bruised in the process. She bound his wrists and hung them off of the shower-head, letting his shoulders rest on the rim of the bathtub, and his head rest on the wall, to keep him from injury. Then she duct-taped his hands into fists, so he wouldn't be able to use his fingers. She bound his ankles together, and tied them to the towel wrack on the opposite wall, making him straighten his legs. When the drug wore off, he still wouldn't be able to move. Above him, the shower started again, soaking his clothes.

A warm, heavy weight was laid on his chest. He could feel the child's breath on his bare neck. At least the kid was still alive. She resumed washing the blood off. Maybe the child wasn't injured, just drugged, like he was. That must be why she'd had that sedative handy. Why was she doing this? Why was there a little kid covered in blood? Who was the kid? How did she know what that brat had blackmailed him into – wait, what had she said earlier: she'd referred to the woman, whom he'd disguised himself as, as her target. If she was one of Conan's badguys, did that mean-

The doorbell scattered his thoughts. Aoko. His mind buzzed with terror for her.

“Oh, that's right, you were expecting someone else, weren't you?” the woman said. Her hands groped through his pockets and pulled out his phone. “Let's see... It's a name that starts with Ao... Found you!” Kaito held his breath. He could faintly hear her voice on the other end.

“Why aren't you letting me in? It's freezing out here!”

His own voice answered. “Sorry Aoko, can I take a rain-check? I kinda got sick all over myself. … No, you don't want to see this, or smell it. I'm taking a shower. See you tomorrow? … If I'm feeling better by then… Don't worry about that; Mom's scheduled to be coming home tomorrow; she can take care of me. Thanks though! Bye!”

In those 30 seconds, he would have given anything to have been able to scream, but all that he managed was to speed up his breathing.

Washing the kid seemed to take hours. He was gaining use of his arms and legs again, and the strain of being bound made them ache. His muscles begged to move. He didn't dare try to though, fearing she might drug him again. Finally, the child was lifted off of him. The woman left, but he could still hear the soft words she spoke to the child in English. This made Kaito rethink his 'little kid is Edogawa Conan' theory. The kid was too young to have studied English, and in the brief glance he’d gotten of the kid, he couldn’t tell if the kid was a foreigner like his captor or not, but it seemed likely. So, same bad guys, different target. If he could get free, he'd have to go to Conan and let him know that his one of his train-bombing bad guys was washing a bloody child off in a phantom thief's bathtub. Being one of them, she must be a cold-blooded killer, one that had used his dad to get better at her craft. He yanked at his bindings, trying to pull himself upright, free, anything. Water splashed on the floor. All he achieved was making the rope cut into his wrists and ankles, and an amused laugh from his captor, when she re-entered the room.

“Good morning.”

Had she thought she'd knocked him out? Maybe it had been enough for that child, but Kaito's body-mass and the little time she had to react probably threw off her dosage calculations. “What do you want with me?” Kaito croaked.

“Well, I wanted to spend the night in your house, and clean up after a rather... wet night.”

He shuddered. The water was losing heat.

“What are you going to do to me?” he asked.

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled a syringe and a bottle out of her pocket.

That does function as an answer, Kaito decided. “What are you going to do to me after you knock me out?”

He flinched as the needle broke the sensitive skin on his exposed underarm. Time was running out. He shouted, thrashed, and pulled at his bonds, splashing her with the filthy water.

“Shushhh... shhhhhh...” she said, her hand lingering on his neck. His pulse fluttered against her palm like a struggling butterfly, easily crushed. “I'm saving your life.”

“Bullshit!” Kaito hissed. The numbness was spreading again. Her face looked like he was gazing at it through an empty, dirty water glass. The light in the room seemed to fade. He felt her other hand softly push his eyelids shut. Somewhere far away he heard her say, “Sweet dreams,” as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

He drifted slowly to the surface, not remembering at first what had happened. When he opened his eyes, pitch black greeted him. There was no hint of light from any source, not even the glowing ring around a closed window or door. He closed his useless eyes and focused on his other senses. He was lying on his back, on something soft, a futon. A blanket had been lain over him, but there was no pillow under his head. His wet clothes had been replaced with his pajamas. The smell of blood had been replaced with the floral scent of his mother's body-wash.

Cautiously, quietly, he moved his limbs, to see if his movements were restricted. His arms moved freely, but the sound of bandages on his wrists scraping the cloth of the blanket startled him. Had he been struggling that hard? His ankles, he knew from the quiet sounds of small pieces of metal striking each other, were chained or shackled somehow. Then he focused on trying to hear sounds outside the room. He held his breath and lay still.

To his horror, the soft sound of breathing didn't stop. There was someone else in the room. From the slow cadence, they were still asleep. Slowly, as to not wake them, he sat up and turned his head, trying to locate the source of the sound. Turning to the left, he could hear it best on his right ear. So, in front of him. Groping through the darkness, he first found the other persons' small foot. It was the child, it had to be. After following the shape of the child's body up to their shoulder, he shook it gently.

There was no response at first. How drugged was this child? He was about to quit when the kid reacted, thrashing and yelling something slurred and incoherent. Kaito backed off immediately, and waited for the kid to calm down. After a few minutes of panicking had been dealt with, the first understandable phrase slipped from its lips. His heart sunk. He recognized the voice instantly.

“Berumotto,” Edogawa Conan barked, “Where are we? Wh-”

“Who's Berumotto?” Kaito asked, sure to use his Kaito-voice, not his Kaitou-voice. He didn't fancy Conan knowing who he was.

Conan hesitated, then replied, “Come closer.”

Kaito obeyed.

The little hands felt his face, groped down to his chest, and rubbed his head. After a few minutes, the kid let go of a breath he'd been holding. “You're definitely not her, I think,” Conan said, his voice small and high. “Sorry. Do you know where we are?”

Kaito shook his head, then realized Conan wouldn't be able to see the gesture. “No idea. I can't see anything, and I only just woke up myself.”

“I see.” Kaito could almost hear the cogs in the child's mind turning. “We'll have to remedy that. By the way, who are you? It's weird just saying 'you', I feel like I'm being rude.”

Kaito deliberated with himself briefly. There were no guarantees that Berumotto wouldn't spill his identity. “Kuroba Kaito, and you're Edogawa Conan.”

“You know me?” Conan asked, his surprise not masked.

“You're the famous KID Killer. My best friend is Inspector Nakamori's daughter, and she won't shut up about you. Apparently you're adorable.” Not to mention he'd been hospitalized by Conan a few times, but he didn't need to tell Conan that. “Do you know why we've been kidnapped?”

“I don't know,” Conan said, barely audible. “I have no idea what's going through her skull,” Conan's voice caught in his throat. Things must be bad. He'd never heard of Conan crying, except when manipulating stupid adults. Did that make him the stupid adult in this scenario?

“What happened?” He paused, then added, “To you, I mean. How did this Berumotto person get you?”

Conan crawled to his side, and leaned his head on Kaito's arm. He lifted it and wrapped it around the little shoulders. In his mind, the KID Killer was larger than life, but in life – still a child, he reminded himself. It was too easy to forget when facing him.

“She killed Uncle Kogorou,” Conan started trembling, “right in front of me. Then, I tried to run but -” he made a sound halfway between choking and sighing.

“She drugged you, and took you away,” Kaito finished. “Kogorou, as in Sleeping Kogorou?”

“Y-yeah. And you?”

Kaito took a deep breath. “She came to my doorstep, posing as a family friend, Chris Vineyard, and asked to spend the night. I let her in; then later I walked in on her washing the blood off of you, and... the rest is kinda fuzzy, because she drugged me when I tried to run, and I woke up here.”

Conan stopped shaking while he talked. “Did you say that she introduced herself as Chris Vineyard, a family friend?”

“Yeah...” Kaito answered. Where was this going?

“And your family name is Kuroba, as in world famous magician Kuroba Touichi?”

“Yeah... Why?” He didn't like the 'I just nailed a criminal' tone to Conan's voice.

“KID, why didn't you properly introduce yourself?” At least Conan sounded happy again. Kaito, on the other hand, was trying very hard to not betray the fact that he was panicking.

“Now we have much better chances of escaping,” Conan said, the smugness dripping from his voice.

“No,” Kaito snapped. “We don't. She also knows who I am. And she knows it was me, not Miy-”

Conan practically shoved his fist down Kaito's throat.

“Don't ever talk about that. Her life depends on it,” Conan whispered into his ear. “We were probably kidnapped because of something to do with her and her associates – the ones with a fondness for C4.”

Kaito nodded, and Conan removed his hand.

“So,” Kaito started, squeezing Conan's shoulder, “Shall we explore our prison?”

“Sure. Call out what you find?”

“Right.”

They got to work. The first thing they discovered was that the chains on their ankles were connected to each other, with four feet of chain between them. The second discovery was that Kaito couldn't pick the locks on their chains, because there were no locks. Wire, about an inch in diameter, had been bent into the shapes needed, and it would take tools to cut them free.

The other end of the chain was wrapped around one of the support columns of the building they were in. The floor was made of concrete. They couldn't reach the walls, no matter how much they strained.

Conan had the ingenious idea of taking the blanket and flailing it around to find the walls. They were about to implement it, when the lights came on, blinding them.

“Good morning, boys!” Berumotto's voice called from about twenty feet away, above them. A chair scraped across the floor, stopping just short of their reach.

Kaito removed his hands from his eyes to allow them to adjust, then his jaw dropped. He knew where they were. This was his father's secret workshop in the basement, except that everything not nailed down had been stripped out, leaving the bare concrete. The picture of KID had been replaced by a polished wood door, but the picture of his father remained on the other side, the still revolving door revealed. Every trace of KID had been removed.

“You... you... evil, twisted...” he began.

“Kaito-dear, calm down. I simply removed all of the incriminating evidence. You don't want everyone finding out about KID's real identities when the investigation into your disappearance begins, do you?”

Kaito swallowed. She was right. That didn't change the loss and rage burning inside him, thinking of this murderer touching the relics of his father. It was like she was defecating on his grave. He clenched his fists and bit his tongue.

She continued. “I took you two so I can save your lives.”

“Do they know about me?” Conan asked, voice sharp as the needles she'd used on them.

“Yes, and no.” She smiled enigmatically. “They don't know you're the one feeding intel to the FBI. They do, however, know that I'm your mother.”

Conan blinked. His jaw opened and shut dumbly. Finally, he got out a weak, “What?”

“They hack databases of DNA profiles, looking for specific genetic traits, and you, Conan-dear, were shot last year.”

“But-” She held up her hand, silencing him.

“You and I share those genetic traits, and the genetics experts decided that we must be mother and son. Therefore, the fact that I had a secret love child with Kaitou KID shortly before he died was discovered-”

This time Kaito interrupted. “WHAT.”

She ignored him. “So, I was forced to fix my error. Of course, my superiors thought I should prove my loyalty, after such a transgression.”

“That's why you...” Conan's face became a sickly white.

“Well, glad we are all understood. Now, as my son, and you,” she pointed to Kaito, “his half-brother, you are going to have your schooling generously provided for. When you're grown, you'll be employed in fields most beneficial to the organization. Am I understood?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two.

“No,” Conan said, his voice shaking. “None of this makes sense. How can we have the same DNA?”

Her voice dripped with venom. “Ask Sherry.”

That seemed to make sense to Conan, but Kaito still had very, very important questions.

“How can he be my half-brother?”

She smiled that too-wide smile again. “You saw something you weren't supposed to, and fortuitously, you look similar to Conan.”

Everything clicked, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She was saving their lives, at the expense of their freedom and the life of Mouri Kogorou. “Can...” he swallowed. “Can I say goodbye to my mom?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I know you'll try to escape if I give you the chance.”

“What about Ran?” Conan interjected. “Is she okay?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, folded her arms, and looked down her nose. “You know I'd never hurt a hair on her head.”

“Can I call her?” Conan pressed on.

“No.” Looking back and forth between them, she sat back, and continued, “You boys don't seem to be getting this, so I'll explain it for you in simple terms.” She flicked an annoying lock of hair out of her eyes. “I'm making you two moles in the organization. After this conversation, I'll be knocking you out, and you'll pretend that it never happened. What did happen, is that you were kidnapped, and you don't know anything.”

She turned to Conan. “The story I told them is this: your mother,” she put her hand on her chest, “is an overweight woman with black hair, as far as you know. I've moved you from place to place, and gave you a new name each time. This time I let you choose it yourself, which is why it's such a stupid alias. The first time you will see my real face is when they introduce you to your 'biological' family.” She turned to Kaito. “You've never met me before, and you're not Kaitou KID, and neither was your father. You've never met Conan before either, and you know him only by his reputation. Everything else that happened before you woke up here happened. You two are going to be raised inside the organization I belong to. That will give you credibility and make your loyalty less likely to be questioned. You'll be the perfect moles.” She leaned down, closer to Conan's face. “You can't tell me you haven't wanted an opportunity like this. Thanks to setting up Mouri Kogorou as your fall-guy, you'll be given access to parts of the organization that the FBI doesn't even dream could exist.”

His eyes were wide, and his breaths came in short, sharp gasps. "Y-you're wrong!" he declared loudly, his voice echoing in the wide, barren room. "I never wanted-"

“Think about this logically,” her voice was cold as death. “Mouri Kogorou's fate was decided the moment you started using him as a cover. Did you think that someone poking around the organization would go unnoticed? Who did you think they would believe was disrupting their plans – a famous, brilliant detective with connections to the police, or a seven-year-old child? You're the one who set Mouri Kogorou up to be killed, and it's paid off. You're being brought into the organization, and you'll have a powerful ally at your side.” She fished around in her pocket, her eyes still locked on Conan's devastated face. “Either take the opportunity Mouri Kogorou died giving you,” she pulled a syringe from her pocket, “or die here,” she reached into her jacket, and pulled a gun out of a holster that had been hidden at her side.

Rolling up his sleeve, he spoke, his voice the same icy tone of Berumotto's. It wasn't hard to imagine them as mother and son. “Tell me one thing: was this your plan all along, when you found out about me? Is this why you didn't turn me over to them right away?”

A small, hard to read smile crept across her lips. To Kaito it almost looked like pride, as though Conan had just complimented her. She shook her head, and jabbed the needle into Conan's outstretched arm. Conan didn't flinch.

Sleep took Conan in mere seconds. He keeled over, his eyes open but seeing nothing. Kaito closed Conan's eyes and moved the small, limp body to the futon.

Snake and his jewel cult were as meek as mice in comparison to Conan's wolves. He secured his poker face, and turned to face the mother wolf licking her chops behind him. “If they test our DNA, they'll figure out that we aren't related. And Conan is too young to be my dad's son.”

She pocketed the gun, her grey eyes fixed on him. “Quite true.” Her voice shifted, and she sounded like a ditsy caricature of herself. “There were sooo many guys back then, and you two look sooo alike. And I was sooo sad when Touichi-sensei died...” Her performance dropped on the last word, her wolfish spirit came back.

Before she could bark, he asked, “What will happen if I don't go along with your plan?”

“How do you mean?” she snapped.

“Like if I escaped, or if I told your organization about you.”

She pulled the vial out of her pocket. “If you do that, then you'll be killed. Conan, however...” she clenched her teeth together and leaned forward. “If you reveal that Conan isn't my son, they'll be curious about how the DNA results made them think that. Conan will end up a lab-rat for the rest of his short, painful existence.”

He filed that away for further inquiry with Conan next chance he got. “Why can't you just leave me alone, and we agree to pretend that I never saw you?”

“Because I know that you could never do that.”

Kaito nodded. She was right. She moved towards him, and he scooted back. Desperate for anything to delay her, he blurted out, “Why are you protecting Conan?”

She sat back, a flicker of pain touched her brow before her own poker face came down. “He's my blood.” Her lie was so well-rehearsed that Kaito almost believed it.

She pursed her lips a moment, then said in a slow, deliberate voice, “Kaito, if you don't play the part I've cast you in, you'll have to die here, and Conan will be all alone. He's only seven, the closest person he's had to a father died in front of him, and he's been taken from his home.” She hefted the gun, leveling it with Kaito's chest.

The choice was join or die, and that's not really a choice. He nodded, closing his eyes. “I'll go with Conan, but make certain my mother is safe,” he said, his voice just a tad more anxious than he had intended.

“You have my word,” she said, her voice as smooth and slippery as silk. She refilled the syringe as she talked. “They had very specific reasons for wanting Mr. Mouri killed, none of which apply to your mother. I'll give her a call and tell her to go into hiding.”

He held out his arm for her, and suppressed the flinch when she jabbed the needle in.

“Don't forget your poker face.” She spoke like she was rocking a colicky babe to sleep as she helped him back onto the futon. He felt himself slipping away, like he was sinking into cold, numbing water. He heard her say, just before the cold took him, “It'll keep you alive.”

Chapter Text

The world was shaking. He was lying on his back. Rough cloth was under him. The shackles on his wrists and ankles felt like they were made of ice. There was a diesel engine running, the sound muffled by the hiss of tires on wet pavement. He took a deep breath – the precursor to a yawn – and almost choked. The mattress smelled heavily of mold and stale vomit and urine. It probably had never been cleaned.

Kaito cautiously opened his eyes, and inspected his surroundings. He was in a van. The upholstery had been stripped out, and a wire barrier had been welded into place behind the front seats. He was on a stained mat that wasn't tied down, at least not visibly. There was a portable dog-kennel strapped down in the corner so it wouldn't slide around with a heavy quilt on top of it. He couldn't see Conan anywhere. The ends of Kaito’s chains were locked into loops on his side of the van. There were two men in the front seats, their faces obscured by the barrier.

Kaito started to sit up, but found that the chains didn't have enough slack in them to allow him to sit up properly. Instead, he retreated into his mind, in order to make sense of what was happening. He thought of what Berumotto had said. If he followed the implications correctly, he had a role to play here. He needed to go along with whatever they did – not be cooperative, per say, but be innocent teen-Kaito who didn't know what was going on. They weren't going to hurt or kill him or Conan, because they were going to become loyal members.

The van came to a stop, and the driver got out. Kaito concentrated on the sounds: jumbled voices; another diesel truck starting up, and the unmistakable smell of gasoline. A gas station? There'd be people there, people not part of the conspiracy.

Kaito took a deep breath, and started screaming on the top of his lungs. The reaction was instantaneous. The driver jumped back in, and the van sped out. A few minutes later, the van stopped again. The back door opened up, and Kaito could see a winding mountain road. No other cars in sight.

The man who had been in the passenger's side crawled in, cursing. His fist caught Kaito off-guard. It buried itself in his stomach. He didn't feel pain at first – he felt paralyzed, like every muscle in his body had clenched at the same time. Another blow landed, this time in his side, in his kidneys. This one he felt. Another hit the side of his face. Kaito was no stranger to pain. But, when it came to beatings, this was his first. He'd survived explosions and falling out of a second story window. This wouldn’t be that much different. He disassociated, and sank deep into a fantasy.

He was studying math with Aoko. He teased her; she teased him. He ate cookies with her. The high-pitched shrieks he heard weren't Conan begging their captors to stop hitting Kaito; it was the tea kettle whistling. (When did Conan get there?) The cookies were dried out, so they dipped them into the chamomile tea while he imitated Hakuba's accent. Then, it was late, and Aoko had to go home. He drifted back to the surface.

Everything ached. He couldn't open his left eye. His mouth had been duct-taped shut. His fingers and toes could still wiggle – and speaking of hands, a small set of fingers were lightly resting on his wrist. Was Conan there? The van engine started again. He tried to call Conan's name, but the duct-tape muffled his voice too much for any intelligible sound.

He tried to analyze what had just happened. Berumotto hadn't said outright that everything after they woke up would be a performance... was this some kind of test? That didn't make any sense. Why would they put their precious future members into jeopardy, getting them seriously hurt? What if... Kaito's heart sank into the pit of his stomach at the thought.... what if, while they were asleep, they'd been stolen by another group, with opposing goals? Berumotto had said that they “searched DNA databases for certain genetic markers”, then that she, one of their assassins and/or spies, had that genetic marker, and Conan did too... from Conan's reaction... he hadn't been expecting that, and the mention of “Sherry,” the woman he'd disguised as and helped fake her death... but that didn't make sense. Berumotto had been trying to kill Sherry, but she wanted to make them moles in the organization. Was this the organization they were supposed to be infiltrating? Whose side was this woman on? Whose side was Conan on? Who should he side with?

He turned his head until he could look at Conan with his good eye. Conan had been gagged too, but his face was clearly twisted in pain. And that face – all of the baby fat was gone, leaving the skin stretched tightly over his skull. His lips were cracked and scabby. He almost didn’t recognize the child. His breath hissed, and when the van hit a bump in the road and jostled them side-to-side, Conan whimpered into his gag. He noticed Kaito looking at him, and attempted to say a three syllable phrase, rising pitch at the end meant it was a question. He guessed it was “You all right?” so he nodded in response. Conan visibly relaxed – letting go of Kaito's wrist and lying back on the floor of the van. They hadn't put Conan on the mattress – little comfort that it was.

Kaito repeated the question back to Conan. He nodded, then shook his head. What was that supposed to mean? Conan pointed at his feet. Kaito craned his neck to see. Conan's right ankle was swollen so far that the shackle made an indent in the mottled-purple swollen tissue.

The van came to a stop again. This time, the passenger stayed watching them, a gun barrel pushed through the wire mesh. They got the message, and lay quietly.

Instead of going back onto the highway, they drove around what felt like city streets for a few minutes, then the van stopped and the driver got out. Kaito's stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything since lunch the day Berumotto kidnapped him. How many days had it been?

His thoughts were interrupted by the driver climbing into the back, black cloth wadded in one hand. Kaito and Conan stiffened, in anticipation of further violence. Instead, the man gently grasped the back of Conan's head, lifted it, and pulled a black cloth bag over it, which he secured by pulling a drawstring. Then he repeated the process with Kaito and left.

There was silence for a minute or so, possible less, because Kaito was on high alert, trying to hear anything that could give them clues about where they were or what was going to happen next.

It wasn't long before they heard voices approaching, too muffled to make out. The back doors on the van were opened, and someone grunted as they climbed in. They clicked their teeth, and the voice of a man in his fifties snapped, “You aren't pervs, are you? I don't work with kiddy-diddlers.”

“Nononono!” the passenger-side man said, “This is a ransom deal. Their parents are loaded.”

“I haven't heard anything on the news...” the man said.

“That's because we're doing this right.”

There was an affirmative grunt.

Conan whimpered and yelped into his gag.

“It's broken,” the man declared. “I need this shackle cut off.”

“But...”

“He isn't going to be running away on this leg. Go grab your wire-cutters.”

Grumbling, the man went to the front of the van and dug out a tool box. The chains rattled as they came off.

Kaito heard Conan take a sharp breath.

“Shushushushushush,” the doctor soothed. “You'd be studying addition and subtraction in school, right? In your head, recite the addition tables, starting with the eights’ and up to twenty.”

Conan was starting to breathe hard, anticipating what was about to happen. After about half a minute, Conan had calmed down a little, then there was that sound. Kaito's stomach churned. The bones ground together. He couldn't puke into his gag. That wouldn't end well. He and Aoko would be studying Math... shit. Math. He struggled back into the fantasy. They'd discarded Math, and were watching a drama. Aoko would lounge across the couch, her legs on his lap, eating snacks and licking her sticky fingers. He liked that more than he was willing to admit. Her legs were toned from tennis practice, and her skin prickly from shaving. Her mouth on her fingers, her tongue, licking each one, a trail of saliva in its wake...

Someone's hand touched his tender, bruised side, jerking him back into the real world. He pulled his body away from the hand.

“Damn,” the doctor said, hissing the word through his teeth. There was a crunch, and a cold, grainy packet was laid on his ribs.

“Boy, does it hurt when you breathe?”

Kaito took a long, hesitant breath. Everything hurt. It was hard to tell if breathing make anything hurt more, particularly.

“Keeping these iced should be enough,” the doctor said to himself, massaging another cold-pack.

“You almost done?” the driver asked.

The doctor sighed. Duct-tape screeched. The cold-packs were secured onto Kaito's chest, on top of his clothes. The doctor crawled out of the van, starting to say something about his fees. Then, a loud bang. A gunshot. It had to be a gunshot. The was so loud that Kaito couldn't hear anything for a few seconds. His stomach knotted in terror. The floor shook as the engine started up again. His ears rang. What the fuck had he been drafted into? These madmen were killers, and he and Conan were at their mercy.

Hours of tedious, terrified silence later, the van stopped again. It had grown dark. The doors were flung open, and a blast of cold air washed over him, scented with snow and pine-trees and the loose, rocky soil of the mountains. Their captor grunted as he climbed into the back. The chains fell slack, and rattled on the floor.

“Get up,” snapped the man who had given him the beating. They were dragged to the open doors, shivering in the cold. Conan was shoved into Kaito's arms, striking his bruised ribs. He bit his gag to keep from crying out. He stumbled forward through the ankle-deep snow, bare feet numb, head spinning from vertigo, chest aching, half dragged into a brightly lit building that smelled like an ill-kept pet store. Once inside, he was rushed through the building as fast as his hobbled feet would allow, then pushed into a poorly lit kennel. Animals howled and screeched all around them, rattling the doors to their cages at the sight of humans. Their keepers poured some water into a dogbowl, and left Kaito huddled in the corner with Conan still in his arms. They were finally alone.

Even with the men gone, the animals kept up their racket, all competing for the humans' attention. Conan pulled the bag and duct-tape off of Kaito's face and himself, revealing the room. “Mount Bitter-rain Wildlife Research and Rescue Center” was painted across the wall with a cute animal logo of a snake grinning with a speech bubble that said “Welcome to the Wildlife Room!” followed by smaller text that he couldn't read from this distance. There were various wild and domestic animals, mostly crows and dogs, all around them.

After briefly taking in their surroundings, Conan started whispering, his voice horse and strained. “We need to get out of here. They're going to kill us.”

“What makes you so sure this isn't part of Berumotto's plan?” Kaito whispered back.

“It might have been,” Conan scowled, “but these guys aren't part of her organization. They may have been hired by them, but they're not organized enough to be part of the organization, if that makes sense.”

Kaito nodded, encouraging Conan to go on.

“They've been keeping us alive, ransoming every yen they can out of the org, but they ran out of sedatives, and they know that we've seen their faces. It's just a matter of time before they kill us to keep us silent. When they find the stuff they use on animals, they'll drug us with it, so we've gotta act fast. We might not get another chance.” Conan paused, lifting his shackled wrist. The skin around it had become scaly with scabs, blood and pus had oozed around the metal. Kaito's wrists weren't in nearly as bad a shape. Conan must have been awake and struggling longer. “Can you undo these, using the wire cage?”

He ran his fingers over the coiled metal. It'd be just like adding keys to a keychain. “It's worth a try.” He set Conan down on the floor, and started work on his makeshift shackles. The wire of their cage was thin enough to slide between the loops of the thicker wire, but strong enough to not break as Kaito slowly loosened the bindings.

“Do yours first,” Conan hissed. “If you run out of time, leave me behind. I'll only slow you down.”

Kaito bit his lip, trying to not think about that possibility, and got to work. His lips tasted like blood.

“Do you remember when Jirokichi's dog got stuck in the vault?” Conan asked, continuing to whisper.

He nodded, the first shackle finally off. He started work on the second.

“I figured out that you had to be either a total perv, or a teenage boy then.”

Kaito raised his eyebrow, wrenching on the metal. Just a little bit farther…

“You called your disguise 'cute'. I realized then that the reason you like disguising yourself as pretty teenage girls is because you like looking at teenage girls. And you said you 'have a weakness' for Ran's face...”

Kaito blushed. Stupid big mouth. Ran looked a lot like Aoko, just with bigger boobs. Of course he liked her. Not that she could ever replace Aoko – Ran was too lady-like for his tastes, but she sure was pretty.

“Therefore, you either are a perverted fourty year old man with a taste for teenage girls, or you are a teenager yourself. Though, I actually already knew from our first meeting that you probably weren't in your forties – at most your twenties. I got a good look at the sweat on your face on the roof, so I knew you weren't wearing a mask. The fact that you're short and skinny enough to pull off a believable teenage girl also made me think that you had to be young.”

The shackle fell free of his wrist. He got to work on his ankles. Conan enjoyed bragging about his deductions, so he encouraged it. “How, after hearing only my name and Chris Vinyard's, were you able to figure out who I was?”

To his surprise, Conan frowned bitterly, and fiddled with one of the twisted, bloodstained loops of wire on the floor. “Chris Vinyard is a disguise expert, and she learned her skills from Kuroba Touichi,” Conan began. He took a deep breath, and listed the connections rapidly, as though he didn't want to spend a lot of time thinking about it. “Her best friend, my real mother, studied from your father too. That's how I knew about it. My mother, Chris Vinyard, and Kaitou KID all use the same disguise techniques – therefore, Kuroba Touichi was Kaito KID. I knew that Kuroba Touichi died almost ten years ago, and here's a teenager, telling me that he's Kuroba Touichi's son. I already knew that the current Kaitou KID couldn't be the same Kaitou KID as before, because the current Kaitou KID is too young to have been active twenty years ago. When you told me who you were and about the connection to Chris Vinyard, everything made sense. You had to be Kaitou KID.”

With a final yank, he pulled the last shackle off of himself. He looked at Conan, who still had a deep scowl on his face. He got to work on the shackles on Conan's wrists. “She called herself my father's best pupil, when she thought I was unconscious,” he said quietly. “Does that mean she actually was Chris Vinyard?” Kaito pulled a goofy face, imitating a drooling fanboy.

“Yeah,” Conan's frown shrank a little. “But I wouldn't get too excited. She's in her fifties, at least. Also, she's her mom, Sharon Vinyard too. She uses makeup to make it look like she ages. No one but her knows how old she really is. I saw her real face myself – I know because there was a bleeding cut on it. Her face had no wrinkles, and she looks like she's in her twenties. I also heard her talking to my mom on the train over my mom's earpiece. She whined about how difficult it is to pretend to age.”

Kaito's heart just about stopped. She doesn't age. What if being immortal was possible? What if Pandora was real?

Gunfire shattered the stillness and ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Time's up!” Conan hissed. “Run!”

Kaito shook his head, still freeing one of Conan's wrists.

“I mean it!” Conan snarled.

Kaito wrenched the coiled wire on their cage, not caring that the friction between the metals gave an eerie shriek. The animals started howling again with renewed anxiety.

“If we're both taken, there's no one to lead the police to us.” Conan's voice was starting to rise, squeaking with panic. “I'll slow you down! They'll catch us again!”

Shaking his head, he finished off the last shackle and pulled Conan's wrist free. All that was left was the combination padlock on their cage, but those are stupid-easy to pick.

“Think about it!” Conan went on, “I can't walk, so you'll have to carry me. That'll make you go slower, and you're already pretty badly injured, and it's snowy and cold out there. And judging from the phase of the moon, you haven't eaten a real meal in at least a month. You'll probably collapse from exhaustion on the mountain side, and they'll find us. Or worse, you'll collapse on the mountainside, and no one will find us.”

He only had one number left to go… and their argument was ended for them. A man with blond hair, dark skin, a handsome face slipped in, a gun at the ready in his hands. Kaito's reaction was immediate. He flung himself back from the cage door, putting his body between Conan and the man in front of him.

Conan squirmed behind him, peaking at the intruder around Kaito's side. “Mister Amuro!” Conan exclaimed gleefully, sounding suddenly much more childlike. He tugged on Kaito's t-shirt sleeve, saying excitedly, “It's okay! Mr. Amuro is Uncle Kogorou's apprentice. He's a good guy!”

Kaito didn't budge, glaring at the man with his one good eye.

The man smiled easily. “I'm not that good a guy. My friends outside aren't either, walking around like shadows.” He stepped forward slowly, as though he was approaching a feral dog. He slowly holstered his gun, and raised his hands.

Conan nodded, clearly understanding the cryptic reference. “You can relax, Kaito,” Conan said quietly. “He's not here to hurt us.”

“How do you know?” Kaito hissed, leaning over to let Conan whisper in his ear.

“Trust me,” Conan hissed. “We have roles to play.”

Chapter Text

“Not in my car.” The man stood obstructing the doorway, arms crossed. He was towering, with long, straight silver hair that reached his thighs, and a bulky black trench coat that exaggerated his already enormous frame. “Those are leather seats.”

Conan was trembling. Something about this guy was scaring the crap out of him, something other than “big scary guy,” since Kaito had never seen Conan so terrified before. He buried his face in Kaito's chest, right into the bruises. Kaito was starting to regret insisting that no one else hold him.

“I can smell them from here.”

Amuro scowled. “We need to get them to the hospital. There’s not enough room in my car for Kyr and the kids.”

“Wash 'em off first. This is a vet's; they should have tubs or something.”

“Fine,” sighed the only person not in combat gear. She was a woman dressed in black like everyone else. “Bourbon and I can rinse them off. Then we can go?”

The man nodded, and they turned around. Kaito slowly hobbled back past the lobby where the corpses of the veterinarian’s employees and their captors had been piled carelessly. He tried not to look, but he could smell the gunpowder and blood, and no matter how hard he tried not to, he laid eyes on the mangled corpses. One of their captors didn't have a face anymore. Despite the pain, Kaito held Conan's face to his chest, preventing Conan from having that memory. The kid was fucked up enough already.

The woman had a slight limp, and she looked familiar. Little stray hairs curled at her forehead having escaped her tight ponytail. Her voice stayed calm, even as she organized and ordered Bourbon around. She sent him to look for soap and a tub, while she helped Kaito put Conan on one of the examination tables. She started peeling off Kaito's shirt.

It hurt. The material separating from his back stung, making him cry out. His eyes were blinded by the upturned shirt, but she stopped mid-action.

“Bourbon! Change of plans!” she barked out.

“What's wrong?” Kaito asked.

She didn't answer, and instead pushed his head down over the examination table, so that he was partially laying across it. “I need gauze, disinfectant, and medical tape!”

Bourbon charged back in and started rummaging through the cabinets in the room.

Kaito turned the good side of his face up, so he could see Conan sitting beside him. Conan's face was pale and wide-eyed.

“What's wrong?” Kaito asked again, this time directing it to Conan.

He swallowed nervously. “Your skin's coming off with your shirt,” he said, his voice small.

“They must not have turned you properly while you were unconscious,” the woman explained. She snatched a pair of scissors off of one of the counters, and limped back. Then slowly, carefully, she cut away the fabric that hadn't fused with his skin, careful to not rip any more of his skin off. The disinfectant came next, and it felt like his back was on fire. Kaito bit back screams, focusing everything on staying still. Conan whimpered and cried for the both of them, his hands clasped over his mouth to muffle his voice. Finally, the gauze was applied, and bandages wrapped around the whole of his torso, almost like a shirt. He was left to curl up in a ball on the floor while they started on Conan.

There was a tenderness to the way they handled Conan, that they hadn't shown Kaito. It was hard to place, but their actions seemed as though he was very important to them, as though he should be treated with reverence, not just the usual gentle hand given to children. Agency. That's what they were giving Conan. They were asking him what hurt, what to do next, telling him what they observed, giving him choices in his treatment. It reminded Kaito of the cryptic way that Bourbon had warned Conan that he was there with other evil organization members. Was this guy another ally then? Berumotto hadn’t mentioned him. He’d have to find a way to ask Conan what was going on later.

As Conan dried off, they allowed them one mouthful of water each, with the promise of one more every hour. Bourbon diagnosed them as suffering from severe dehydration, and warned that if they drank too quickly, they could go into shock and die.

When it came time for Kaito to be bathed, Bourbon stopped Kyr with some urgent words spoken into her ear. Her expression stiffened, and she nodded.

“Sorry Kuroba, you’ll have to bear it for a little while longer,” she said, her lips tight holding in her emotions. “A change of clothes is the best we can do for now.”

They pulled some loose-fitting, oversized clothing (sweatpants so big they felt like a skirt) from the giftshop, and put them on Kaito over the rough bandaging. For Conan, they found a new adult T-shirt, one with the snake logo cheerfully declaring that it was a friendly “ssssssssnake.” Conan went back into Kaito’s arms, and they started out the door, only to be blocked by the tall guy again.

“What’s wrong now, Gin?” Bourbon snapped.

“The interior is hand-crafted.” He glowered down at Kaito, his thin lips pressed tightly together. “Kyr and the brat will come with me, and Kuroba can go with Bourbon.”

Conan shuddered and wrapped his spindly arms around Kaito’s neck. His voice squeaked and trembled. “I wanna stay with Kaito.”

“Com’on,” Bourbon moaned. “We’ve gotta get Kuroba to the hospital.”

“Not in my car.”

Bourbon rubbed at his forehead, his scowl deepening. “Fine. I’ll take Kuroba to the hospital. Conan will go with Kyr.”

Conan brought out the little kid manipulation arsenal, aimed, and fired off a very loud, “No! I wanna go with Kaito!” The adults clenched their teeth under the pain of the blow, but didn’t falter. Kyr wrenched the squirming mass of emaciated limbs away from Kaito, and they marched out the door and into the snowy twilight.

Bourbon’s car was a flashy sports car designed to fit only two people, preferably a guy going through his midlife crisis and his much younger mistress. The seat squeaked when Kaito sat down.  The car started with a smooth purr and they sped off, leaving a struggling Conan to make the trip hell for the rest of the adults.

An uncomfortable silence settled over Kaito and Bourbon. He had never imaged that he’d end up being driven to the hospital by the guy who almost gave him a fiery death. It wasn’t long before they were far ahead of the other car.

Finally, Bourbon spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Kaito looked away from the scenery that he’d been focusing on. “For what?”

“That you got wrapped up in this mess. You’re a civilian, you and your family should never have gotten mixed up in all of this.” He paused to navigate a tricky S-curve in the narrow road.

A sharp, needle-like pain spread in Kaito’s stomach. “What do you mean ‘your family?’”

“I know Berumotto promised to keep your family safe,” Bourbon continued.

“How do you know that?”

“We’re on the same side. Berumotto and I are Conan’s allies in the organization. I manipulated the others into getting you into my car because I needed to talk to you, find out what would be best for you.”

A glimmer of the ever-more-distant headlights of the other car flashed on the S-curve, easily a kilometer behind by now.

“I’d like to go home,” Kaito said, his voice small. From the sounds of it though, that hadn’t been in Berumotto’s plan for him.

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

Of course not.

“Before our agents could get to them, your mother and her boyfriend vanished. From the amount of blood on the scene, it’s been concluded that they were likely murdered.”

“Their bodies weren’t found?”

“Nope. Just evidence that they were removed.”

So there was still hope. Faking her death with a grisly murder scene seemed like just the sort of thing that the Phantom Lady would delight in. That had to be it, right?

Bourbon went on, “When you’re healed up, we’ll be taking you to live with Conan as his half-brother.”

“She told me about that part,” Kaito interjected. “It doesn’t make any sense. Won’t people realize that Conan’s way too young to be related to me?”

“She and Conan have a rare aging disease, that makes them appear to age slowly. Conan is actually nine years old, not seven.”

“That’s why she was talking about genetic traits!” Kaito blurted out. “Why are you guys looking for people with a disease?”

Grimacing, Bourbon steered the speeding sports car around another tricky bend in the road. “That’s not important right now. What is important, however, is why she chose you. I looked into it on my own without her knowledge, and I found that Conan’s real father is Kudou Yuusaku, a famous novelist. Berumotto is the longtime friend of he and his wife, and from the sounds of it, was their occasional third. They knew about Conan, and I think they even planned on taking Conan in. But, those plans changed when Conan’s real half-brother Shinichi was murdered last year. After that, Conan was sent to live with the Mouris.”

There was the prickling sensation again.

“From what I gathered, Conan hero-worships his brother, and it’s my best guess that Conan got mixed up in this trying to find the murderer. Coincidentally, you’re a splitting image of his brother.”

It felt like he had swallowed a fistful of burrs. No wonder Conan was so fucked up. And no wonder that Conan was so instantly clingy to him, if he looked so much like someone the kid had looked up to.

He’d met Shinichi a few times long ago, when his father was still alive. He had a vague memory of Shinichi reading while Kaito tried and failed to show off magic tricks. Shinichi briefly watched him do his flower trick, then buried his nose back in the pages of a book after explaining in a bored, flat tone exactly how Kaito had done the trick, and how Shinichi had figured it out, and how stupid and baby-ish the trick was. Kaito may or may not have yelled “Meanie!!” then ran to tell his dad. He may or may not have been crying.

Kaito rubbed his eyes, trying to remember more about him. Kudou Shinichi was a year younger than him, and apparently been murdered at the same age that Kaito had started his Kaitou KID career. Sixteen looked like it was a dangerous age for kids like them. Something nagged at the back of Kaito’s mind though.

“Why tell me about Conan’s tragic past?”

Bourbon raised an eyebrow as if the answer should be obvious. “Berumotto wants to make you replace his older brother as a sibling he can look up to. I want to give you the chance to make an informed decision.”

“But why are you telling me all of this?” Kaito didn’t bother to conceal how disturbed he was from his voice.

“I’m giving you a chance to escape. When you’re at the hospital, I can arrange for you to run and help you hide. That kid isn’t your responsibility. You’re a civilian, and frankly, I have no idea how you could help protect Conan. Besides, he hardly needs protecting. He’s one of the most ruthless spies I’ve ever met.”

Kaito took a deep breath, thinking of Aoko’s smile, touching Aoko’s hand, the scent of sweat lightly clinging to her after gym that he liked but didn’t know why. No roads led to her. His mom was (hopefully) on the run with her new boyfriend. Maybe she’d take up the KID mantle.  There wasn’t really a choice for him, it seemed. “I’ll go back to Conan and be his big brother. Someone has to keep that kid from turning into a psycho like you guys. Besides,” he swallowed a gulp of water, hoping it would help clear his throat a little, and stop his voice from breaking.  “Even if I decide to escape, I can’t go home. My life is ruined either way.”

The man frowned, the cold gleam that Kaito had seen on the train returning to his eyes. He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a cheap convenience store prepaid cell phone. Keeping one eye on the road, he typed a message to an e-mail address that was a series of random numbers.

“Just to be sure, before I send this, I need to confirm that you’re all in.” He glanced sideways at Kaito. “Once I send this, there’s no way out for you.”

“Is there a way out for Conan?” Kaito snapped back.

“There never was,” Bourbon said. He paused to negotiate another tricky twist in the road. “Conan was in the thick of it the moment Berumotto conceived him.”

The trees flashed by in a blur. The snow had become rain, and the windshield wipers flicked frantically, trying to keep up with the deluge. In the reflection of the window, Kaito watched Bourbon glance at him again.

“Conan’s grandfather is the head of the organization.” His voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no way he would let his grandson slip through his fingers.”

Kaito searched all of their brief conversations, trying to find some way out. “Conan doesn’t think that Berumotto is his mother,” he said, realizing too late how lame it sounded.

“I checked it myself,” Bourbon answered. “Do you know what mitochondrial DNA is?”

Exams were coming up, or rather, they’d been coming up before he’d been kidnapped. He recognized the term, picturing in his head Aoko holding the flashcard, certain that this time she’d stump him. She had the slightest hint of dimples when she smirked, and it was super cute. He’d never have a chance to kiss those dimples. That thought hurt like another punch to his gut, and he flinched away from it. “I know what mitochondria are, but I didn’t know that they have DNA.”

“They do. Mitochondria come from the mother, from her own cells. Because of that, your mitochondrial DNA is identical your mother’s. Conan’s matched Berumotto’s perfectly.”

The trees gave away to a rocky mountainside, and the city lights burned in the distance, spreading like a web doused in gasoline. Kaito had thought that he’d be relieved to see them, but now… Now they were speeding towards the fire that wanted to devour them like kindling and torch all they touched. If Conan went in alone, he’d surely be lost to the inferno.

Kaitou KID’s suit was fire-retardant.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Kaito didn’t bother to try to keep his voice from breaking. “I’m going with Conan.”

A chime signaled that the message was sent. The agent dismantled the phone with one hand and his teeth, prying the battery out with the sharp crackle of cheap Chinese plastic shattering. He threw the pieces one by one out the window.

“You’re a brave kid. Or a very stupid one.” He shifted in his seat, reaching for a hidden pocket in his jacket. After a few clumsy one-handed attempts, he produced a little plastic bag with a handful of pills. He tossed them on Kaito’s lap.

Kaito’s eyebrow raised.

“It’s a sedative, as well as a painkiller. Take one next time you take a drink. When you get to the hospital, you need to be unconscious.”

Kaito picked up the bag, squinting through the darkness at them. He couldn’t make out any distinguishing features, but all he could tell was they were small, white, and round. These guys had a serious fetish with drugging people. “Why?”

“I was supposed to put them in your bottle of water. You’re going to a real hospital, and when you’re there, the police will question you. Say that your captors drugged you, and you don’t know how you got there. You can tell them about what happened before that though.”

The pill started dissolving the moment it hit his tongue. He gulped the water, flushing away the bitter taste. With no food in his stomach, it’d probably hit him hard and fast. The thought made his heart pound. He was going to be helpless again. At the mercy of strangers. Nausea struck him, doubling him over in his seat. The world was spinning. No, rocking. Adrenaline flooded his veins. He couldn’t sleep. He had to vomit. What nightmare would he wake to this time? It was getting hard to breathe. He heard someone cursing, but it was far away.

Then nothing.

Chapter Text

‘Kay guys…
I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

So, publishing and promoting a book is a ton of work, and I just haven’t had much energy left for writing. For years. Been depressed and saddened by the world ever since Trump got elected, basically.

It’s been so long, and I still get comments on my fics. I know you guys want me to continue my fics, but at this point, it’s just been too long. The delicate threads of inspiration and drive to continue broke long ago. The most I’ve managed in years is a short story. Everything else that I’ve written has been Elvish textbook stuff – less creative, more analytical.

Anyways, I wanted to chat about the themes and things that I was going for in this story before I put the lid on it… since so many people like it, maybe someone can find inspiration in it?

In A Guest in the Night, the main theme is the loss of agency, and the struggle to regain it. It’s a really simple theme, but it’s super powerful. The nuance that I was adding to it was that the way you regain agency matters as much as what you do with that agency.

Vermouth’s plan is to quietly wipe out the leadership of the Org and install Shinichi as their leader, with Kaito as Shinichi’s second in command. (This, of course, was written before some recent reveals in the manga.)

This story also explores different ways that our agency is restricted – ways that are good (caring for people – Kaito wants to take care of Conan, who he sees as a vulnerable child) and that are bad (kidnapping).

Trust is a more minor theme in this story, but specifically its connection to power. Trusting someone gives them power over you. At the same time, trusting someone gives you more freedom to act – more agency. This was going to be a stronger theme later on in the story.

Anyways, of these three fics that suddenly ended at the same time – this one I was having the most fun writing.

Oh, and I have some more material that I wrote but never got to include. (Beware, not edited, not finished)

Chapter 5: Enter Stage Right, Exit Stage Left Pursued by Bear

In the murk of his dreams, he was inside a hive of bees. Something stung his arm and he swatted at it, only to have hands grabbing his arm, holding it back. They started buzzing, but the sounds blended together, urgent and commanding. When he tried opening his eyes, the light was too bright, and he turned his head away from it. Then the noise faded as he slipped under again.

He surfaced again in a quiet room. He didn’t open his eyes at first, just listened. A woman was talking just outside his room, and this time, despite her voice being slightly muffled, he could make out her words.

“On the fourth floor. Yes, you can go right up.”

So, he wasn’t dreaming anymore. He’d never liked bees to begin with. He opened his eyes slowly, ready to close them again at the first glimpse of a bright light. His fears were unfounded. The room was dimly lit, save for a man’s face illuminated by his smartphone. The image reflecting off his glasses was of a basket of kittens.

Kaito lay still for a long minute, moving only his eyes. The door was closed. The window showed a city street lit by streetlamps below, with cars and people moving along in their nighttime errands. He was attached to a heart-monitor, which he confirmed by a slight twitch of his hands. They’d put the monitor on his right index finger. There was an IV, but other than that, he was unconstrained in the bed.

He wasn’t sure if his voice would work, but he gave it a try anyways.

“Excuse me,” he started. Sure enough, his voice was raspy, and his throat hurt at the effort. He’d done a lot of talking a shouting earlier without any care for his vocal cords. “This is a hospital, right?”

The man jumped up, stuffing his phone into his pocket clumsily. “Yes!” he exclaimed. “You’re in a hospital, and you’re safe now.”

He was already at Kaito’s bedside.

“What about the other kid? Is he here too?”

The man fished out a little notebook, and began to scribble. “Can I have your name first?”

“Kuroba Kaito. What about Conan? Is he here too?” Kaito turned his head, as if looking for an extra bed.

The man finished scribbling, then reached over Kaito’s head, pressing a button labeled “Nurse Call Button.” He sighed. “I’m sorry Kuroba, but you were the only one we found. Can you tell me the full name of the other child?”

“Edogawa Conan.”

The man was scribbling frantically again.

“They broke his leg,” Kaito went on, “I thought the people who helped us escape would bring him here too, but there wasn’t enough room in the car or something, so we were separated...” He was babbling, he realized.

“It’s alright,” man interrupted. “we’ll do a full interview later, with a few more people in a more formal setup, because we’ll want this properly recorded so we can catch the bastards who did this to you and Edogawa.”

“Those guys are dead,” Kaito said, the memory of the pile of corpses on the floor twisting some in his stomach. Bile was rising. “The people who rescued us killed them.”

The nurse poked her head in, ending the conversation. “Inspector, your colleges are here.”

Anyways, I’m really sorry that I quit writing these fics. I know you wanted more.