Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Shin’ichi doesn’t remember his first meeting with the Pale Lady, as he calls her: his first memory of her goes back to the first crime scene his father took him to. She stood aside, solemnly, in the corner, her whole body draped in a single white sheet from head to toe. He’d been uncomfortable, terrified even, but he knew he’d seen her before. He didn’t mention her to anyone that night, but the next time he saw her, he questioned his father. The question had been dismissed, ignored, and he’d gotten looks that told him never to do that again, so he didn’t.

     She didn’t follow him, he had realised quickly, she usually only appeared where bodies of the victims were, though there were times she would trail after his father, or himself. He used to fear her, never understood her, and she never spoke. He asked her once, who she was, and her response had been a single, chilling, shuddering sob. He vowed to never ask her again.

     Despite her existence, Ran’s tales of ghosts never really stuck to Shin’ichi. He figured if there were ghosts, he would have seen some by now, or there really was just one ghost, and she never hurt anyone. Ran did not understand, said that he was bad at trying to make her feel better, and so he changed his tactics, not wanting to bring up her existence to Ran anyway.

     There came a time, after he turned fourteen, that he started seeing her in his normal life, outside of the crime scenes his father went to. She once stood outside his door, shaking her head mournfully. He tried to ask her what was wrong, but she only laid a frigid hand on his shoulder, numbing his arm. It terrified him, and he ran back into the house. When questioned by his parents, he told them that he tripped and hurt his arm. They sent him out again after looking it over, and he watched a car spin out on the turn and careen straight across the sidewalk and into one of the buildings nearby. Icey road conditions, only the driver was severely injured.

     There was one day he was at school, and he saw her silhouette in one of the classrooms across campus. One of the students had hanged themselves.

     Two weeks before his fifteenth birthday, he watched an old man fall into her arms. He called an ambulance, but he’d died of a heart attack before they arrived, and there was nothing more they could do for him.

     She stood in a busy street, silently weeping for almost ten seconds before ten year old child walking home from school was fatally shot by a mentally disturbed, unidentified driver. Three other people sustained moderate injuries.

     He started learning how to read the situations; he knew she was warning him, that her appearance almost always meant death, but sometimes the number of victims could be reduced. He could help.

     When he went to visit his parents in LA with Ran, and she boarded the plane with them, he was absolutely terrified. He’d prepared himself for a murder and hoped to whatever god was out there that the plane didn’t crash. He was relieved when only one person died.

     At Tropical land, he hadn’t noticed her on the roller coaster at first, only when the ride came to a stop. She appeared again, though. When he was watching the strange dark-suited men. Right before he was struck over the head, he saw her standing right next to him. She screamed until he fell unconscious, and when he woke again she was gone.

     After taking the name Conan, he started seeing her more, and more. One time the detective boys broke someone’s window with a baseball, and he saw her peering out through the shattered glass. He’d see her sitting on fences, standing outside of windows and doors, and he always knew that someone had died, or would die, but then it started changing, and he realised something.

     She stood with him as his former teacher was on the floor with her insides burning and he’d still done all he could to save her. He hadn’t expected it to work, but she had lived. He realised that the Woman only predicted when someone could die, and sometimes they could be saved. It didn’t always work out that way, but her presence grew on him until she became a sign for him to be alert. He needs to be as ready for whatever can happen to the people around him as he can. He doesn’t know why he can see her, and no one else can. He takes her for a warning but sometimes he can’t do a thing to stop anyone from dying, and she only shakes her head slowly as her shoulder silently shake. He doesn’t understand, but no one really understands death.

Chapter Text

     It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon. Instead of being with the detective boys, he’s at a coffee shop, being treated to a nicely dark cup by one of the few people who treats him like an adult. He wonders, sometimes, what Hakuba Saguru thinks of him as a person, if he has any inkling of Edogawa Conan’s real identity. They’re talking about the usual things: how their lives have been going, cases they’ve had, and some slightly personal questions pertaining to his own mental health that he’s learned to accept as an attempt to keep the both of them sane. He used to hate it, feeling like he was being prodded for answers specifically aimed to tear down his facade and somehow show him to be in need of psychiatric attention, but that’s not what they are at all, he’s learned. Hakuba just seems to think he’s a real seven year old who has gone through a lot of trauma, as he’s put it. The conversation thins out into a silence that isn’t awkward as he enjoys the soothing scent of his coffee, eyes trained on the dark liquid below his nose when a reflection catches his eye and his throat clenches. Damn it. Sitting up and back, he looks over the crowd outside, both trying to see where the potential danger might be and trying to see where the woman he spotted in his drink went.

     Hakuba clears his throat, and when he turns back to face the other detective, he goes cold. She is sitting right next to him. He caught her reflection from the window of her sitting right there . He scans the room, nervous.

     “I was wondering, Edogawa-kun..” His eyes return to Hakuba. She has always shown up near the people who might die. Is there a sniper? Someone in this room with a weapon? Hakuba leans in closer as he begrudgingly pays attention to him and not the rest of the room, wondering what on earth the man could want to say to him right now that’s so important he doesn’t get to see who might be about to try to kill him. His voice is nearly silent.  “...are you Kudou Shin’ichi?”

     The world stops for a moment. Hakuba Saguru has always treated him like an adult, and he really isn’t certain of his personal ties, or why he decided to take him out for coffee so much-- he looks seven, after all. Why would someone work so hard to get his trust? Why didn’t he worry about this more?

     “What--How could I be Shin’ichi nii-chan?” He’s off with his response; The act isn’t very convincing. The woman in white is right there and Hakuba may have ties to the organization, and he’s trapped. His chest is tightening painfully; he needs to leave ; he needs to run; he--he can’t breathe, his chest is screaming and the woman is screaming and he feels like he’s changing back into his adult form, but he’s not hot he’s cold instead of burning up everywhere but his chest is on fire and he’s back behind the rides at Tropical Land again with his fists clenching the grass in vain only it’s a table this time and Hakuba is closer than he was before and there’s his voice speaking frantically into a phone and he can’t keep...his eyes...open…

     His senses fade out with distant sirens and a worried, slightly accented voice coming from somewhere above him.