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A/N: I started this fanfic way back in 2001, and abandoned it pretty quick when I realized just how much of the Detective Conan mythos had yet to be revealed, and how little I knew about the Black Org. This was long before Viz acquired the English translation rights, and the only way to get the anime was on fansubbed VHS. Manga scans were rare, translations were spotty. I had 34 volumes of manga, a remedial understanding of Japanese, and all I could do was look at the pretty pictures and try to figure out what was going on. I despaired of ever knowing enough about the series to comfortably write the fic my plot bunny wanted.

Well, almost 12 years later, access to the anime and manga has improved in amazing ways, even if my Japanese language skills have not. I'm back in the fandom and the original plot bunny that infested my brain is back as well, new and improved. This is the re-write. A lot of the original content is here, but there are a few new scenes that foreshadow what is to come. So for all of you who reviewed and followed the original fic, thanks. This is for you.

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 01: An Old Murder Comes to Light

15 years ago

Souichiro was no fool. As he, along with several other doctors and technicians, sifted through the burned out remains of the lab, looking for some sign of paperwork or digital data that hadn't been destroyed, he knew without a shadow of doubt who was responsible.

Hell's Angel and Mad Scientist both claimed the lab fire was an accident. But it was no accident, any more than their deaths a day later were accidents, regardless of what Tequila said.

He glanced over at the doorway where Vermouth stood, arms crossed, watching his progress. If the look of cold satisfaction on her face was any indication, he could hazard a guess on who had enacted the Organization's retribution on the two traitors. He also knew that she would never again set foot in this lab or any other - not of her own free will, at least.

He pried open a charred computer tower, metal flaking off in his gloved hands, and looked inside, hardly daring to hope. And just as well. There was nothing salvageable. The motherboard was a melted, green blob interspersed with wiring, and he could smell the lighter fluid that had been poured directly onto the still-smoking hard drive.

All their research on the amazing miracle drug nicknamed "Silver Bullet" was ash.

They would have to start over, practically from scratch.

Fortunately, he knew just where to begin.

Present day

For the fifth time that evening, Ran sighed heavily over the remains of her ice cream. The incessant, distracted tap of her spoon against her empty bowl echoed through the small dining area of the Mouri residence.

"Ran-neechan?"

Startled from her preoccupation, Ran looked across the dinner table to where Conan knelt. The young boy had paused in licking the chocolate syrup off of his spoon and was eyeing her curiously. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You keep sighing."

Ran blinked, and forced a rather guilty smile. "N... nothing! I'm just thinking, that's all."

Conan frowned skeptically, a messy circle of sticky chocolate-stained vanilla framing his pursed mouth. Ran suppressed the sudden urge to lean over and wipe his face clean with her napkin.

"Thinking about what?" he asked. He was looking at her with that familiar, intense look - the one that seemed to pierce right through her, and see right into her soul.

She shrugged, and looked down at her fingernails as if they had suddenly become very interesting. "Just... things," she said, hedging.

"What things?" Conan persisted innocently, his eyes wide and inquisitive behind his huge glasses.

Ran sighed again, frustrated that Conan wouldn't let the subject drop. What could she tell him? That he had caught her while she was in the midst of once again entertaining the ridiculous fantasy that he was actually Shinichi? That she was once again hoping against all rational explanation that the brilliant high-school detective, the seventeen-year old young man that she had practically grown up with, had somehow been turned into this grade-schooler sitting across the table from her?

It was impossible. The stuff of cheap, cheesy science fiction. It was completely stupid for her to keep feeling this way, and she knew it.

But... sometimes it was better than believing that Shinichi had just abandoned her for this never-ending case he seemed to be pursuing.

The only problem was, she had proof that her suspicions were false. All too-convenient proof. Whenever she expressed her suspicions out loud, inevitably something would happen to shake her faith in her growing certainty. A phone call from Shinichi with Conan in the room. Even seeing Conan and Shinichi in the same room with her own eyes. How many months had passed since Shinichi had returned to her, disguised as the Black Knight at the school play? Conan and Shinichi had been in the same room then.

Except that Conan had been wearing a hospital mask, because he had a cold, and he hadn't acted at all like himself the entire time Shinichi was around...

And Shinichi had only been around for a little over a day, during which Ran had felt the brief joy of thinking that he had finally come back to her, to stay. But then he was gone again, without even saying goodbye, just like the first time. He was gone without a trace, leaving her heartbroken and alone at the restaurant where they were having dinner; where he had promised to tell her something very important.

Not important enough for him to keep from running off again, apparently...

But then who should show up at the restaurant out of the blue, but Conan. Conan, no longer wearing a hospital mask. Conan, acting like himself again... and looking almost as heartbroken as she felt. Conan, bearing the news that once again Shinichi had to leave. Conan, desperately pleading with her to wait for him. For Shinichi...

And she couldn't help but wonder.

There were so many times when she looked at Conan, and all she could see was Shinichi. Those times when she would look into the young 7-year-old face, beyond the too-large glasses, and see the same old eyes that she had grown up with her whole life. Eyes, bright blue, and sparkling with a fierce intelligence far beyond his apparent tender years.

Like now. Sitting across the table from her, with half of his dessert on his face making him look even more like a little kid... even so, his penetrating, questioning gaze held her, refusing to let her go until she answered.

These were the times when her impossible suspicions actually felt more real and tangible than any evidence or logic presented to the contrary. These were the times she wanted to reach out, take Conan by his shoulders, look him in the eye, and say, "I know that you are really Shinichi. Why won't you tell me the truth? Why won't you tell me what happened to you?" And, most importantly, "Why can't you come back to me?"

Because she felt for certain that he would come back - as himself, and not the diminutive child before her - if only he could.

But she couldn't ask Conan those things. Because she had asked before, and every single time she came close to even voicing her suspicions, a new piece of evidence would crop up, proving her wrong. Too-convenient evidence, always showing up at the perfect moment, proving to her once again that her belief that Conan and Shinichi were one and the same was nothing but pure foolishness.

Why, then, did the evidence feel so wrong to her, and this... this impossibility feel so right?

"Ran-neechan..." Conan's frown had softened to concern at her continued silence.

She straightened and laughed self-consciously, brushing her hair away from her face. "Hey, what's with that look? I told you, I'm just thinking."

Conan didn't buy her act for one moment, and she could tell. "Well..." he said quietly. "You must have been thinking about something really sad."

The sadness in his own voice surprised her; it seemed to echo the exact feelings of her heart. Ran looked at Conan, then, and saw only Shinichi in the depths of his eyes.

She held the boy's gaze for a long, lonely moment. If I tell you that I'm thinking about Shinichi, she thought. If I tell you how badly I'm missing him right now... I'll get a phone call from him tonight. Shinichi will call and tell me that he's still working hard on a difficult case, but that he wanted to talk to me and cheer me up. And when I ask him how he knew I was feeling down, he'll say he just had a feeling...

"Why..." Conan paused, almost as if he was afraid to ask the question. "Why are you sad, Ran-neechan?"

A small, melancholy smile turned up the corner of Ran's mouth. "If I seem sad," she lied, "it's only because of the math test I have tomorrow." Conan blinked, looking at her with obvious skepticism, so she widened her smile, and shrugged carelessly. "And I was just thinking about how badly I'm going to do on it, because I'm sitting here eating ice cream with you instead of studying."

"Oh." Conan didn't sound very convinced, but he smiled a little anyway. "Well, then, what are you waiting for? I guess you'd better go study."

Ran nodded, relieved that she had successfully diverted Conan away from her true train of thought. Stretching her arms above her head, she yawned dramatically. "You're right. If I sit around moping about it, I'll never get anything done." She stood and gathered up the dishes from the table, taking Conan's empty bowl right out from under his nose.

He squawked in protest. "Oi! I wasn't finished with that."

Raising an eyebrow at him, she plucked the spoon from his hand to add to her pile, eliciting yet another indignant squawk from the boy. "There's nothing left on your spoon," she said, "and I'm not going to let you lick the bowl clean, if that's what you wanted."

Conan pouted, sticking out his lower lip, and Ran laughed in spite of herself. The illusion of Shinichi was shattered, leaving only a petulant little boy in his place, and she didn't know if that made her feel better, or worse.

"So," she said, brushing those thoughts aside as she put the dishes into the sink to wash later. "Do you have any homework?"

Conan shrugged, quickly recovering from his momentary sulk. "No," he said, standing up and wandering over to the television. He always liked to watch the news around this time, to see if any new mysterious crimes had been committed in the Tokyo area. "I finished everything at school today."

Ran shook her head knowingly. Conan never brought home any homework. But then, how hard could the 1st grade be to a high school genius?

Argh, there I go again, she thought irritably. If she wanted to improve her mood at all, she had to stop thinking like that.

"Well then," she said, "I'll be in my room studying if you need anything."

Conan was already absorbed in watching the news. "Okay," he said distractedly.

And so, forcing all thoughts of Conan and Shinichi from her mind, Ran turned and walked down the hall to her room. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could gather her turbulent thoughts enough to focus on her school work. She actually did have a math test tomorrow, after all.

Sitting in front of the TV, Conan watched Ran walk down the hall out of the corner of his eye. Only after he saw her safely disappear into her room, and heard the click of her door closing, did he groan and slump forward forlornly, resting his forehead in his hands.

"I don't know how much longer I can take this," he whispered.

It was agony, being so close to Ran, and yet not being able to tell her who he really was. To know how she felt about him, and how he felt about her... To be so close, and yet so infinitely separate. It was driving him crazy.

Normally he could handle the stress of his unusual condition. Conan found that he was usually able to distract himself from his miserable and annoying plight by tagging along with Mouri on his cases, and solving the mysteries that were so often beyond the man's abilities. But Ran's father hadn't had a new case in over a week, and the dry spell in work had given Conan far too much time to dwell on his own problems.

Being stuck in a 7-year-old body, and living with his girlfriend and her father being one of the biggest...

He wanted to tell Ran the truth. He couldn't help but think of the time he had tried to tell her, the very first time Haibara had given him the antidote to the APTX-4869 drug that had reduced him to this permanent state of childhood. With the experimental antidote, he had finally, for the first time in months, been restored to his true 17-year-old self. Finally, he could be with Ran, not as Conan, but as Shinichi.

He didn't know it at the time, but the antidote was only temporary. Haibara had told him that there was a possibility that it was unstable, but he had ignored her, too caught up in the euphoria of being back to his normal self. And then, thinking that he had all the time in the world, he had wasted the precious moments he had in his own true form by solving a murder at a restaurant - the very restaurant to which he had taken Ran out on a date, all so that he could tell her the truth. He had left Ran at the dining table, running after someone else's scream - a mystery that was just begging to be solved - telling her that he would be right back.

When he returned, he was going to tell her. Everything. About the Black Organization that had poisoned him, leaving him for dead. About how the poison, rather than killing him, had instead reversed the cell growth in his body, literally turning back the time on his physical clock, and shrinking him back into childhood. He was going to tell her about how he was forced to hide in plain sight in his child body, for fear that if the Black Organization found out he was alive, they would come and kill him and anyone who was close to him. And he was going to tell Ran about how he couldn't tell her any of this before, because he was afraid of putting her life at risk, and he felt he couldn't protect her properly with his child body...

But most important of all, he was going to tell her the truth of how he felt about her.

He solved the murder mystery as usual, but by then, his time was up. To his surprise and horror, as he was detailing the last of the evidence to Inspector Megure, the bone-melting agony of the change came upon him. Not long after, he found himself in the men's room of the restaurant, shrinking back into Conan before he had the chance to return; before he had a chance to see Ran again; before he had the chance tell her anything...

Thinking about the lost opportunity, Conan could only hold his head in his hands, the ache of unshed tears burning behind his eyes, and wish he had done things differently.

Why did I have to go off and solve that murder? I could have left it to the police. Inspector Megure and Detective Takagi were both there, they could have handled it. Maybe they could have handled it... Well, surely they would have figured it out eventually...

Why? Why didn't I just stay with Ran?

That was the problem with hindsight, he thought. When it came to crime, and murders, and the mysteries of human deceit, he was a master at uncovering the truth. When it came to himself, and his own personal relationships, he was as blind as a bat. What he wouldn't give to have that precious time with Ran again.

Well, it was too late now. He was back in the same stupid situation he had been in before, only now it was worse, because he had tasted, if only for a few hours, the freedom of being himself again... and being himself, with Ran. Something he had taken horribly for granted before his unwilling transformation.

He sighed, taking off his father's glasses, and rubbing his eyes with a small fist. One thing was certain - dwelling on his mistakes was not going to make him feel better any time soon.

Loosening the red bow tie around his neck, he looked down at the voice synthesizer that Agasa had hidden within the material, and double-checked to make sure the settings were calibrated for his... Shinichi's voice. In a half hour or so, he would pretend to go to bed, then slip out and go to the phone booth a few blocks away. And then he would call Ran, and speak to her with Shinichi's voice, and hopefully make her feel better. After the scene at dinner, it didn't take a great detective to figure out why she was feeling so unhappy, after all.

He knew exactly how she felt.

Besides, talking to her like that over the phone with his own voice was the closest he could get to feeling normal these days.

After checking his watch to plan what time he would fake getting tired, he settled back onto a cushion, and let his attention wander back to the evening news on the television.

Human interest story on northern fishing villages... boring. Prime minister discussing the economy... Conan began idly flipping channels with the remote. Boring... boring... sheesh, when did Tokyo suddenly become so crime-free? he wondered irritably.

His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. Grateful for the distraction from the lack-luster news, he answered, only to find himself looking up in surprise at Inspector Megure and Detective Takagi.

Looking up... that was one thing he'd always hated. Until his growth spurt in junior high, he had always been one of the shortest kids in his class. He had been so glad to literally outgrow that period of his life, and now he was right back to being the littlest of the little again. His annoyance at being so short, however, was dwarfed by the sudden surge of hope he gained at seeing the inspector. If the man was here to see Mouri, that might mean that there was a case for him to work on again.

"Megure-keibu, Takagi-keiji," Conan said, unable to conceal his genuine delight at seeing them. "Come in! Mouri-ojiisan isn't here - he's out playing Mahjong - but he should be back any minute, and you're welcome to wait..."

"Actually, Conan-kun..." Megure said hesitantly, and Conan blinked. The man's countenance was unusually grave. Takagi, standing behind him, looked similarly upset. Conan immediately sobered, realizing that the inspector was here for something much more serious than simply asking help on a case.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

The inspector cleared his throat. "Is Ran-san here? We need to talk to her about a rather unusual matter that has just recently come to light."

Conan didn't like the sound of that at all. But at least it didn't sound like an emergency. "She's studying," he said. "I'll go get her." He ran down the hall to her room and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Conan-kun."

Conan opened the door a crack and peeked in to see Ran sitting at her desk, pouring over her math book. She looked up at him and smiled. "Did you need something?"

Conan swallowed. "Megure-keibu and Takagi-keiji are here. They want to talk to you."

Ran blinked in surprise. "Me? I wonder what for." She pushed herself up from her chair, and followed Conan down the hall to the living area, where the policemen were waiting.

When she saw their expressions, her face turned gray with sudden dread. "What's wrong?" she said. "My father, is he-"

Megure held up his hand. "No, no," he assured her. "Mouri-kun is just fine, as far as we know. Conan just told us that he was out." He and Takagi exchanged a tense look, which did not go unnoticed by Conan or Ran. "We're actually here on a rather strange business..."

Ran nodded, her relief over her father's safety apparent, but her eyes still reflecting worry over the policemen's anxious manner. "Please," she said, gesturing to the living room couches. "Sit down." When they were settled, she looked at Megure apprehensively. "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

Megure reached up and tugged on his thick moustache uncomfortably. "Well, it's like this, Ran-san. Ah, how should I begin?" He sighed heavily, before looking up to meet her eyes. "Do you remember several months ago, last spring, when you were at the amusement park on the night of the roller coaster murder?"

Conan stiffened as an icy wind of fear blew right through his soul, chilling him to the bone. That night... that was the night of...

He looked up at Ran, to see her looking right back at him, her eyes wide in her pale face. "Yes," she said, glancing back at the inspector. "Yes, of course I remember."

"You were there with Kudo Shinichi, correct?"

"Y... yes."

"And did he walk you home that night?"

Ran's face became, if possible, even more white. "No... no, he... he saw something suspicious in the shadows, and ran off after it, asking me to walk home by myself, and that was the last time I..." She broke off and swallowed hard. "Megure-keibu, tell me, what is this all about?" She glanced at Conan again for a brief moment, fear and uncertainty written across her features. "Has... has something happened to Shinichi?"

The inspector closed his eyes. "That is what we're trying to figure out, actually. You see..." He looked up and regarded her gravely. "A few hours ago, we received an anonymous call from a man who claims that, on that very night..."

Conan felt his heart beating in his throat, thudding loudly in his ears as he heard the inspector speak.

"... he murdered Kudo Shinichi, the high-school detective."

Ran stared numbly at Megure. She was silent for a long moment, her face pale and incredulous, as if she was waiting for the man to tell her that it was all some sort of joke. When he merely returned her gaze solemnly, waiting for her reaction, she forced a tremulous smile.

"That... That's impossible," she said, and noticed, to her dismay, that her voice was thin and shaky, with a tinge of hysteria lurking at the edges. "Shinichi... he's not... He can't be. Right, Conan-kun?"

She glanced down at the boy for reassurance, and blinked as she saw the look of pure, thunderstruck horror on his face as he stared at Megure. He acted as if he hadn't even heard her.

"Conan-kun?" she whispered.

"Ran-san..." Takagi shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I realize this sounds strange, but-"

Ran turned on him fiercely. "It's not strange, it's impossible," she repeated, looking at the young officer, sudden anger filling her. "I mean... I've talked to him since then. I've seen him! Months ago, when he showed up at my high school play. And then he went to school the next day, and everyone at school saw him, and he took me out to dinner that night at the rooftop restaurant..." Ran's eyes widened with realization as she looked at Takagi. "And you both were there, because of the murder." She turned accusing eyes on Megure, who was looking slightly flustered in the face of her vehemence. "You were there at the restaurant that night, and you told me, the next time I saw you, that Shinichi had helped you solve the case. You saw him that night! So how can you say that he was murdered last spring?"

Inspector Megure pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and mopped his wide brow. "Ran-san, please. We are both on the same side here."

But Ran would not be mollified. "How can you say that, when you're taking this... this sick prank seriously? You know as well as I do that Shinichi isn't dead!"

"Ran-san," said Megure, "that is why we are here. That day when we all saw him, you spent the most time with him, correct?"

Ran blinked, taken off guard. "That's right," she said. So they admitted that they had seen Shinichi as well, and yet they were still concerned over this anonymous tip?

"Out of anyone, you probably know Kudo-kun best, don't you?" asked Takagi.

She felt confused at all the twists the conversation was taking. "Well... yes. I know... I mean, we grew up together..." She trailed off, uncertain as to where they were heading with his new line of questioning.

Megure leaned forward and regarded her intently. "What we need to know is this. And I'm sorry, Ran-san, but it is a difficult question." He sighed heavily. "Are you certain that the person you saw and spent time with... Are you absolutely certain that he was Shinichi-kun?"

Ran felt her mouth go dry.

Absolutely certain?

The night of the roller coaster murder... she remembered it clearly. She remembered how Shinichi had run off after a shadowy figure at the edges of the amusement park; how she had tried to chase after him, but her shoelace had snapped, and he had waved her off cheerfully, saying that he would see her soon.

But, as she watched him disappear into the darkness, she had felt the worst premonition; a feeling in the deepest parts of her soul that she would never see him again.

But she had seen him, for one brief day... and then he had disappeared again.

He called her on the phone, of course, but simply hearing his voice over a phone line... There was always something detached and surreal about their conversations. He seemed like his usual self, but whenever she would press him to come see her, he would be evasive and make excuses.

And then there were her suspicions about Conan.

She felt so confused, as if the world had just stopped making sense on that night last spring when Shinichi first disappeared. How could she be absolutely certain of anything anymore?

She looked over at Conan again. The boy was pale and silent, looking up at her with wide, anxious eyes. Shinichi's eyes.

At that moment, she didn't know what to believe.

"What are you saying?" she whispered, her gaze not leaving Conan's.

Megure reached up to tug on his moustache in an unconscious gesture of anxiety. "So... you aren't certain that he was Shinichi-kun?"

"I didn't say that." Ran tore her gaze away from Conan, and looked up at the inspector, suddenly feeling incredibly weary. "But you obviously have some reason to believe that he wasn't Shinichi. Why? How is that possible? What did this 'anonymous tipster' say to you?"

Takagi bit his lip. "Ran-san, if you would just-"

"No!" she said, frustration and fear and anger sharpening her voice. "I'm not answering your question. You come to me, telling me that there is the possibility that Shinichi is dead - that he's been dead since last spring. You say that the person that I thought was Shinichi all this time actually isn't. Until you give me a good reason to believe that this isn't anything more than a prank, I have nothing more to say to you."

And next to her, she heard Conan's small, agonized whisper. "Ran..."

Megure sighed. "I apologize, Ran-san. I realize that this is very hard, and that we have been unfair. You must understand, we are just as upset about this situation as you are."

"I seriously doubt that," Ran said.

Megure blinked. "Um... yes. Again, sorry."

"Megure-keibu," said Conan, and everyone looked at him. The boy's expression was tense and serious, and Ran thought she saw the barest glimmer of fear in his eyes. "Please. What did the tipster say?"

Megure sighed heavily. "He said that on the night of the roller coaster murder last spring, he led Kudo Shinichi away from his girlfriend by acting suspiciously, then lured him to an isolated area behind some buildings near the entrance of the park. He then... smashed Kudo over the head with a metal rod, knocking him unconscious, after which the man claims to have force-fed him poison, just to make his death sure."

Ran swallowed back a cry of anguish. She looked at Conan, and saw his blue eyes burning intensely behind his glasses.

"But if that's true," said Conan quietly, "then why was a body never recovered?"

"The man claims that he waited until the police left the area, then hid the body in the trunk of his car," said Takagi, looking at Conan. "He said that he drove to the mountains and buried the body in the woods."

"Did he say why he killed him?" Conan's voice was carefully neutral.

Ran looked at Conan, aghast. He was acting as if it was possible. As if he accepted that Shinichi had really been murdered that night.

"He claims that it was revenge," said Megure, "but for what, he wouldn't say. He would only say that, when he first... committed the act, he didn't want to get caught, but that since then, he had heard rumors that Shinichi-kun was still around, and so he decided to come out and make the truth known."

Conan blinked. "And what truth is that, exactly?"

Megure pinched the bridge of his nose, and glanced at Takagi wearily. "Takagi-kun? You took the call."

Takagi blinked, taken aback momentarily, and he looked back and forth between Conan and Ran. "Um... Well... as we said, he claims that he murdered Kudo Shinichi. And that Shinichi's father, Kudo Yusaku, is trying to cover up the murder so that he can conduct his own investigation without involving the police. He claims that any contact we might have had with Shinichi-kun since then has actually been with an impersonator that Kudo-san hired as part of his cover-up."

Both Conan and Ran's eyes widened in shock. "What?!" Conan exclaimed.

"Wait just a moment!" Ran looked back and forth between the two officers incredulously. "Let me see if I have this straight. You're trying to tell me that all this time, since last spring... all the phone calls... the... the date at the restaurant... It was some complete stranger?"

Inspector Megure shook his head wearily. "That's only what the man claims. We don't have any evidence that it's true."

"Well, it's not true," Ran said. "I know Shinichi, and I think I know the difference between an impersonator and my friend I've known since childhood!" She felt relieved and triumphant. "That settles it, then. This is nothing more than a stupid prank!"

Megure regarded her intently. "That is what I would believe as well, if I did not know Kudo Yusaku."

Ran blinked. She glanced at Conan for reassurance, but the boy was sitting, silent and stunned. Suddenly uncertain again, she turned to Megure. "What do you mean?"

"Before Kudo left the country a few years ago to work on his mystery novels, he would sometimes help us with cases, in much the same way Shinichi-kun did later. However, he was much lower-profile than Shinichi-kun. He often worked anonymously, and sometimes would even work under cover without informing us of his plans or intentions." Megure shook his head. "And, unfortunately, this scenario doesn't strike me as outside the realm of possibility. If Shinichi-kun has been murdered, it is possible that Kudo-kun set this up as a means of luring out the culprit and bringing him to justice himself. And with Yukiko-san being so prominent in the film industry, and with her skill in disguise, it's not like the two of them don't have the connections and ability to hire and train a convincing impersonator of their own son."

Ran felt the blood drain from her face. It was true, she realized. Shinichi's parents knew him well enough to teach an impersonator exactly how to speak, how to act... But why deceive her as well? Why not tell her the truth? How did having an impersonator call her, talk to her, fool her into believing that Shinichi was still alive... How did that do anything to catch the killer?

"So you can see now," Megure continued, looking at Ran seriously, "why I needed to talk to you. If this tip is just a prank - and I pray that it is - it was still perpetrated by someone who knows what you and Shinichi-kun were doing that night at the amusement park last spring, and he also knows of Kudo Yusaku, and his investigating techniques. Even if he didn't kill Shinichi-kun as he claims, he apparently harbors a great deal of animosity for the Kudo family, and could very well be a threat. It may even be that the reason Shinichi-kun has been so scarce, ever since that night, is that he is in hiding."

"I see," Ran said. "Or... or it could be that..." Her voice shook, and she trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

But Megure nodded, regarding her with sympathy. "Yes. It could be that the anonymous tipster is telling the truth. The details he gave us... it was enough to convince me that something is going on."

"But..." Tears were gathering in the corners of Ran's eyes. "But... no. We saw him. Shinichi can't be dead, we saw him..."

"Which is why I ask you again," Megure said, tugging at his moustache in distress. "That day a few months ago, when Shinichi-kun returned... are you absolutely certain that it was him?"

"I... I don't..." Ran clenched her hands into fists on her lap. In her peripheral vision, she could see Conan watching her, his young face tight with anguish.

And suddenly, a cold realization swept through her. "Shinichi said... that he needed to tell me something very important," she whispered. "I was hoping that he might want to tell me that he..." She stopped, and shuddered, gulping back a sob. "But... if it was actually an impersonator hired by Kudo-san, maybe... maybe he wanted to tell me about what happened to Shinichi... and maybe he changed his mind, and that's why he left the restaurant after the murder without seeing me..."

"Ran... neechan," Conan said, and there was a tinge of desperation in his voice. "You don't know that. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Am I?" She looked down at him, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Then why else would Shinichi leave me like that, without even a goodbye? Why else would he avoid me for so long? Tell me! What else could he possibly be doing?"

Tell me, Conan, she pleaded silently, as she looked into his eyes. Give me a reason to believe that the tipster is lying. Give me a reason to believe that Shinichi is still alive, and not months dead, lying buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the mountains...

"He's..." Conan swallowed miserably, shaken by the sight of her tears. "...on a case," he finished weakly.

And she laughed bitterly. "What case?" she cried, pounding her fists on her lap. "He's been on this so-called case for months! No mystery could confound him for that long! What am I supposed to believe, then? That he's really dead, and that his father has led me, and everyone else to believe that he's alive just so that he can catch the killer himself?"

Conan looked into her tear stained face. "No," he whispered.

"Then what?" she asked him softly, her voice hitching with grief. "I don't want to believe it, but at least it's an explanation that doesn't sound completely... impossible..." And she slumped forward, sobbing into her hands.

Conan sat transfixed for a terrible moment, staring at Ran's weeping form, immobilized by his own fear and misery. Then, slowly, he stood and went to her side and knelt next to her. "Ran-neechan," he whispered brokenly.

He wanted to take her in his arms and say, It's me, Ran. I'm not dead, I'm right here, I'm with you, please, please don't cry.

But he couldn't. Because Megure and Takagi were sitting right there, in awkward, resigned silence.

And because someone, somehow, knew his secret.

The Black Organization. They knew he was alive. And they were trying to find him.

Chapter Text

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 02: The Death of Shinichi

Shinichi was dead?

Ran felt her world collapsing around her, like a crystal shattered from within by a note of pure, agonizing sound; an inner scream of anguish.

Shinichi... dead. Brutally murdered on that night so long ago, when he took her to the amusement park.

Had she been deceived all this time? The phone calls, his brief appearance at the locked room murder case, and then the day she spent with him a few months ago... Was it all just an impersonator hired and trained by Kudo Yusaku, trying to fool everyone into believing that his son was still alive while he tracked down the killer himself?

It made a twisted sort of sense, actually. It certainly made more sense than... than trying to believe that Conan was actually Shinichi, somehow transformed into a child.

And Ran could feel Conan standing next to her. She could feel the boy's desire to reach out and comfort her, and as the culmination of months of fear, loneliness and grief tore from her in wrenching sobs, she found herself wanting to turn and pull the child into her arms and cry on his shoulder. But...

...but, no. She didn't want to be comforted by Conan.

Because, if her crazy suspicions were correct, and he actually was Shinichi... then it was apparent that he would rather let her believe he was dead, murdered by some vengeful madman, than be honest with her.

And if he wasn't Shinichi... if he was truly just a little boy who was merely wise beyond his years... then the chances were very good that the anonymous tipster wasn't lying. Which meant that Shinichi was dead, and had been dead for a very long time.

And if that was the case, then there was nothing Conan could do to comfort her anyway.

"Ran-san," Takagi said. The young policeman looked distraught and unsettled in the face of her grief. "Please remember... this information hasn't been verified. As of yet, there is no physical evidence to back up the tipster's claims. We still don't know for sure whether or not he was lying."

"That's right, Ran-neechan." Conan's voice was strained with false optimism. "It's all some sort of hoax. I... I'm sure Shinichi-niichan is just fine."

She looked up at him, wiping tears from her face with shaking fingers. Conan gave her a small, hesitant half-smile that she felt was meant to be encouraging. And yet, the quiet misery that she could see lurking within his eyes was haunting.

This was upsetting him too, she realized. And she suddenly felt bad for not turning to him sooner; for not wanting to accept his comfort. No matter who this strange, intelligent child was, she knew from long experience that he couldn't bear to see her in any kind of distress.

"How can you be sure?" she whispered.

"Because," he said, "I saw him at the restaurant too, remember? As he was leaving." Conan's voice faltered as he looked down at his feet. "He looked really upset... as if leaving was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do... And... do you remember?" Conan looked up at her, then, with Shinichi's eyes; and with all of Shinichi's intensity. "He told me to tell you... he's going to come back. No matter what it takes, he'll come back. Do you remember that?"

Ran nodded, swallowing back stinging in her throat. "I remember."

"Then think about it," Conan said. "If he was actually an impersonator in disguise, why would he say that? It doesn't make any sense to make a promise like that, if he wasn't really Shinichi-niichan."

Ran hadn't thought about that. It was true, though. Shinichi had promised to come back. And not only that, he had asked her to wait for him... no matter what.

Conan must have seen the dawning realization on her face. "You see?" he said. "The tipster is lying." His young countenance was serious and grave, emphasizing the conviction in his voice. "Ran... Shinichi isn't dead. He was there with you that night at the restaurant. And he will come back to you. No matter what."

Ran blinked back her tears. She felt, as she looked at him, that there were two levels to their conversation. The one on the surface, that was just words, and the one just underneath the surface, where the true meaning lay hidden.

"Do you mean it?" she asked.

Conan held her gaze, and nodded once, briefly. "I swear," he said solemnly.

And with those two words, Ran inexplicably felt a flicker of hope ignite in her heart once again.

"Ahem..." Megure cleared his throat uncomfortably. Ran and Conan both blinked, and looked over at the two policemen, who were staring at them with bemused expressions. Takagi in particular was staring at Conan with wide, surprised eyes.

Conan noticed the odd looks. Uh-oh. He realized that, in his desperation to comfort Ran, he had unconsciously slipped back into his old mannerisms. Quickly, with the ease of long practice, he shed his adult expression and speaking patterns, and played the innocent 7-year-old for all he was worth.

"I mean... that's what Shinichi-niichan promised," he said, his voice rising to a more childish pitch as he looked up at the two men with wide, guileless eyes. He gave a weak, nervous laugh, noticing that Takagi was still giving him a strange look. "He told me all of that himself, right before he left. And he told me to tell Ran. Neechan," he added hastily.

Inwardly, he groaned. Oh, real smooth, he berated himself.

"That is... an interesting point, Conan-kun," Megure said, eyeing him thoughtfully. "One that we will take into consideration as we continue our investigation. I suppose it does make sense that, if the person we all saw that night was actually an impersonator hired by Kudo-san, he wouldn't have promised Ran-san that he would return for certain - especially if Kudo-san believed Shinichi-kun was dead. So it stands to reason that Shinichi-kun was actually there that night. At least, I hope so." He sighed heavily, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "However, that doesn't change the fact that our anonymous tipster might still pose a serious threat to the Kudo family."

Conan looked up at the inspector. "What do you plan to do?"

"Well, we've been trying to contact Kudo-san, of course, but he is a difficult man to track down at the best of times, because of his traveling habits."

Yeah, thought Conan. And because he likes to hide from his publishers, so they can't nag him about deadlines.

"We would also like to question Agasa-hakase," Megure continued, "since he lives next door to the Kudo residence, and since, out of all of us, he probably knows the Kudos best.

Speaking of which," he said, getting to his feet, "we should probably be going."

"Yes," agreed Takagi, glancing at Conan. "I think we've learned all we need to know here." He stood as well, and bowed to Ran in a rather sheepish, but sincere apology. "I'm very sorry that we upset you," he said. "And I promise, we will do our best to get to the bottom of this. We will keep you appraised of our progress."

Ran managed to give Takagi a small smile. "Thank you."

"And Conan-kun," Takagi said, looking down at the boy, "before we go, could I have a word with you?"

"Eh?" Conan blinked in surprise as Takagi knelt down to speak with him on eye level.

"Now, I realize that you're a smart kid," the young policeman said with a smile. "Heck, Sato-san still can't get over how you helped us solve that murder case with the knife in the bookshelf. She talks about it all the time at the precinct. And then there was that time we were trapped in the elevator with that bomb..."

Conan had a bad feeling about this conversation. The last thing he needed right now was for the well-meaning officer to point out just how unnaturally brilliant he was. In those particular cases, he hadn't been able to use an adult to disguise the truth of where the clues to solving the case were coming from, and it had apparently made an impression. He needed a distraction, and quick. Fortunately, Takagi had just provided him with the perfect material.

"Neh, Takagi-keiji," he asked with all the childlike innocence he could muster. "Is Sato-keiji your girlfriend yet?"

Ran gasped at his presumptuousness. "Conan-kun!"

Takagi blushed right down to the roots of his hair. "Uh... well, I... that is... we've gone out to dinner a few times, but... I, uh..."

"Takagi-kun, is this going to take long?" asked Megure, who was standing at the door. His impatient scowl was softened by the mild humor glinting in his eyes.

The flustered officer shook his head. "No, sir." He turned back to Conan, struggling to regain his bearings, the blush still pinking his cheeks, while Conan did his best to look clueless. "Look, Conan-kun. I just wanted to say... I know that you and your friends like playing detective -"

Conan tried not to bristle. Playing?

"- but it's dangerous for children your age to be out looking for trouble like that." Takagi sighed. "You probably don't remember, but both Sato-san and I were there at the cave when you were shot by those robbers a few months back. If it hadn't been for Agasa-hakase contacting the police in time for us to get there and apprehend the criminals, well..." He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish.

And Conan paused. He hadn't remembered Takagi or Sato being there, but then he had been busy bleeding to death at the time, so his observation skills hadn't exactly been up to their usual standards. He felt his side twinge at the memory of bullet passing through him... He had been in many life-threatening situations before, but that had been the closest he'd ever come to actually dying.

And now, looking at Takagi, he felt guilty for flustering him, when it was apparent from the earnest look on his face that the man was sincerely worried about him.

"We just don't want to see anything bad happen to you." Takagi regarded him seriously. "And I don't mean to scare you, but with this anonymous tipster apparently out to get the Kudo family... Well, we know you're a relative of theirs, and so... Just... be careful, okay? Don't go off anywhere by yourself. Even with your friends, make sure you stick to public areas. And whatever you do, don't think of this visit as an invitation for you to start your own investigation into this matter."

Yeah, right, Conan thought. If only you knew what you're really dealing with. "No, sir," he said obediently. "I won't."

He suddenly felt Ran's hand on his shoulder. As it tightened around him possessively, he looked up at her to see that her face was once again pale with worry.

"You don't really think he might actually come after Conan-kun, do you?" she asked.

Takagi stood, and shrugged uneasily. "Honestly," he said, "we can't be sure until we find this man, and discover his motives for claiming to have killed Shinichi-kun. But better safe and forewarned than sorry. In the meantime, I'd keep a close eye on this one." And he reached over and ruffled Conan's hair.

Conan suffered the indignity with practiced stoicism. But one glance up at the sudden fierce determination on Ran's face, while feeling the subtle tightening of her grip on his shoulder, and he was boiling inside with frustration. Great. Just great. He's got Ran worked up to full-blown mother-hen mode. This whole mess has just gotten a lot more difficult.

Which was probably the understatement of the year. Already, as Ran graciously saw Takagi and Megure out the door, his thoughts were churning the situation over in his mind at light speed.

The Black Organization knew he was alive, or at least they suspected. Which was strange, since Haibara had told him that, while she was still with the Organization, she had altered his records to show that he was "Deceased," instead of "Status Unknown," so that they would stop investigating his whereabouts.

And Vermouth knew the truth about him, but she had made the point time and again of not giving him away for mysterious reasons known only to her.

Which meant that they had discovered that he was alive some other way. Unless Vermouth had finally changed her mind about keeping his secret.

There wasn't a moment to lose. As soon as Ran turned in for the night, he had to sneak over to Agasa's house. He had to warn the professor, contact his parents, and talk to Haibara as soon as possible to find out what she knew about what the Organization's plans might be with this strange new turn of events...

"Don't even think about it, Conan-kun."

Conan started guiltily, and looked up to see Ran leaning over him with a disapproving frown on her face.

"Uh... Think about what, Ran-neechan?" he asked, all wide eyes and innocence.

But she wasn't having any of it. "You can't fool me," she said sternly. "I can tell by the look on your face that you were thinking about investigating that anonymous tip. And right after Takagi-keiji told you not to!"

Conan suppressed a wince. Ha... she knows me too well. Then, before he even respond, she knelt before him, and grasped his shoulders gently with both hands, looking intently into his face. He swallowed hard as he saw her eyes, glimmering with wetness, and still red-rimmed from crying.

"Please, Conan-kun," she said. "Please stay out of this. I know you're curious, and I know that you're smart... I know that Shinichi taught you how to use deductive reasoning, and that you look up to him a lot... but Takagi-keiji is right. No matter how smart you are... you're still just a little boy."

Conan closed his eyes, a pained expression flitting across his face. ...just a little boy... He heard those words all the time now, but it always seemed to sting just a bit more, coming from her.

"If anything bad were to happen to you," Ran continued, her voice thin with distress, "I don't know what I would do. And with this threat against Shinichi..." She trailed off, swallowing hard, before offering him a tremulous smile. "Please, Conan-kun. This isn't fun and games. This sounds so dangerous. Promise me that you'll stay away from it. Promise me that you won't go off with your friends and try to solve this mystery."

Conan slowly looked up at her, child mask in place, and smiled wanly. "I promise," he said, "that I won't go off with my friends to solve this mystery."

Ran frowned slightly. "Or by yourself," she amended. "Promise me."

Damn. Conan's phony smile faltered. I can't promise that, Ran. The first promise was easy to make. There was no way in the world he wanted to get the kids involved in this dangerous situation. But he was at the very center of this new crisis, and to just ignore it went against every fiber of his being, especially when the danger was so close, and so real.

But, looking into Ran's face, it was plain to him that she would not be placated by anything less than a promise from him - a promise to stand by and do nothing, while the Black Organization relentlessly closed in on him like starving wolves around wounded prey.

A familiar, heavy ache built up in his chest. One more lie. Another lie, to add to the lies I've already told her.

He looked down, unable to meet her expectant gaze. "I... I promise," he said. And Ran swept him into a crushing embrace.

"Thank you, Conan-kun," she whispered in his ear. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Conan merely closed his eyes, feeling her arms around his small body... and silently wished, for the millionth time, that he had never followed the man in black on that night so long ago.

Less than half a mile away, a man sat in the driver's seat of an old rusting blue Honda. On the passenger seat next to him was a large metal bowl. A battered tv remote hung suspended over the center of the bowl, held by strips of duct tape attached to the sides. A microphone was wired into the battery circuit. As he pressed the channel button on the remote again and again, bursts of static interspersed with snatches of conversation sounded in the car. In his other hand, the man held a small mp3 recording device.

He had been at this for almost an hour now, ever since he had observed the police leaving the Mouri residence. So far he had recorded nothing of importance.

"Shinichi... please call me. I need to talk to you. Please, I... I really need to hear your voice right now..."

Less than ten minutes later.

"Shinichi, if you're there, please..."

And again.

"Shinichi..."

It wasn't until another forty minutes had passed that he finally caught the fish he had baited.

"...take it you've just had a visit from Meguri-keibu and Takashi-keiji?" A child's voice, too young to even be considered pre-teen, low and quiet.

An old man answered. "Indeed. This is serious, Shinichi-kun."

The man in the rusted Honda smiled.

Conan was filling the tub for a bath and was just about to call Agasa on his cell phone when Agasa actually called him first. He answered, keeping his voice low, trusting in the noise from the running water to prevent his words from traveling beyond the walls of the small bathroom in case Ran was close by.

"I take it you've just had a visit from Meguri-keibu and Takashi-keiji?" he said without even a greeting.

"Indeed," the professor answered, sounding grave. "This is serious, Shinichi-kun."

"Was Haibara there?"

"She wasn't in the room while they were here, but she eavesdropped and she knows what's going on. She's not happy, to say the least."

Conan snorted. "I'll bet."

"How is Ran taking it?"

"Not well," Conan said, closing his eyes. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a cold fist. "She's tried calling my 'Shinichi' phone three times already, but I can't answer, not while I'm stuck here, and that's only making things worse."

"I'm sorry," Agase said.

Conan pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to focus. "We need to talk about this, and not over the phone. I'm coming over tonight after Ran goes to bed. In the meantime, can you contact my parents and let them know what's going on? Whoever is behind this has involved them as well."

"Yes," Agasa agreed. "I'll see you tonight then. And it may go without saying, but... be careful, Shinichi-kun."

"I will."

Ran sat quietly on the couch, leaning forward and resting her chin on her folded hands. The digital clock on the bookshelf read 1:56 a.m., its red numbers glowing dimly in the darkness of the living room. In the silence, she could faintly hear snores from her father's room where he had passed out after once again coming home from Mahjong drunk. He had been so plastered, she hadn't even been able to tell him about Megure's visit, and the terrible news he brought.

Well, there would be time for that tomorrow, when he was recovering from his hangover.

Ran blinked wearily. Her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, and from the crying she had done earlier, but she didn't close them. She watched the clock. And waited.

She almost wasn't surprised when, at exactly 2:00 a.m., the door to her father's room slowly opened. A moment later, tiptoeing on stockinged feet, Conan slipped silently down the hallway.

Ran watched him in the darkness, pursing her lips in both exasperation and amusement as Conan stopped momentarily, to listen at her bedroom door for any sound of stirring within. Apparently satisfied that all was silent, he then crept stealthily into the living room. He was at the front door, standing on tiptoes to reach the doorknob, when she spoke.

"Going somewhere, Conan-kun?"

"GYAAAAA!" Conan yelped, spinning around wildly. The skateboard he had been carrying under one arm fell to the floor with a noisy clatter.

Ran calmly leaned over and switched on the nearby lamp. Both she and Conan flinched at the sudden flood of light, but even so, she could still see Conan leaning heavily with his back against the door, gulping and clutching at his chest as he stared at her wide eyed.

"Ra... Ran-neechan," he gasped. "You... you scared me."

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see that the boy was fully dressed, and even wearing his backpack. She raised an eyebrow at him. "A bit early to be heading out for school, don't you think?"

"I... I..." Conan stuttered, one hand slipping behind his head in a nervous gesture. "I... couldn't sleep, so I was, uh... was just..."

"Going out for a little early morning skateboarding?" she finished sweetly.

"Uh... a-heh..." Conan laughed weakly, slumping in abashment.

Ran frowned. "Conan-kun, you promised me. And where on earth do you think you could go at this time of night? Even if there wasn't some maniac out to get the Kudo family, don't you realize how dangerous it is for a child to be out on the streets this late?"

Conan looked up at her meekly. "I... I'm sorry, Ran-neechan. I was just... going over to Agasa-hakase's house."

She eyed him skeptically. "At two 'o clock in the morning?"

"It's true," he protested. "And Agasa-hakase is always up late. When he gets working on an invention, he forgets to go to bed, so I know I wouldn't be waking him up."

"Well, that may be," Ran said, "but that doesn't mean that you should be up at such an unearthly hour. And you've got school tomorrow as well."

"So do you," Conan countered.

She sighed. "Well," she admitted reluctantly, and she gave him a small, sad smile. "I couldn't sleep either."

Conan's countenance crumpled with understanding. "Oh."

"Go back to bed, Conan-kun," Ran said gently. "You can visit Agasa-hakase tomorrow, okay?"

"O... okay." Conan looked up at her apprehensively. "Are you mad at me?"

Ran smiled tiredly. "No, I'm not mad at you," she said. "Just... try a bit harder, from now on, to keep your promise, okay?"

Conan flushed, and looked down at his feet. "Okay," he whispered. Bending over to pick up his fallen skateboard, he glanced up at her. "Aren't you going to bed?"

"I will in a little while," she replied. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

The disbelief on Conan's face was plain. She laughed, and made shooing motions at him. "Really. Now go to sleep."

Conan turned away reluctantly, and trudged down the hall. When he reached her father's bedroom door, he turned back to look at her. "Goodnight, Ran-neechan."

She smiled as she leaned over to turn off the lamp. The living room once again plunged into darkness.

"Goodnight, Conan-kun."

Frustrated, thwarted, and feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself, Conan lay in his futon and stared up at the dark ceiling. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, Mouri's snoring drilled into his ears, and his mind felt like it was spinning in useless circles.

Outmaneuvered by an over-protective girl, he thought.

Since sneaking out was no longer an option, he sent a text to Agasa to let him know he would be coming over tomorrow after school instead. A delay he couldn't afford, but couldn't avoid either, apparently. With a heavy, resigned sigh, he rolled over onto his side. The glow from the street lamps outside the window filtered through his closed curtains, casting the small room in a dismal, deep-shadowed gray.

I am such a coward, he thought. I should just tell her.

But I can't, he argued with himself, for the thousandth time. I can't, because someone in the Black Organization knows that I'm alive, or at least they suspect. They are most definitely

trying to flush me out of hiding with this phony tip about my death. And until I discover how they found out, and figure out a way to stop them altogether, I'm in danger. Ran, Agasa, Haibara, the kids... we're all in danger. Not telling Ran... it's not cowardice, it's preserving her safety. Those men murdered Haibara's sister without a second thought. I've no doubt they would do the same to anyone they thought I might care about, just to get...

The thought froze in his head as, outside on the street, Conan heard the whispering approach of a lone car. He instinctively tensed, fighting the urge to jump up and peek out the curtains to see who would be driving past the Mouri residence at this time of night.

Was it them? Had they found him already? He could already imagine them, dressed in their trademark black, storming up the stairway to the apartment, breaking down the door, opening fire with automatic weapons and riddling the place with bullets before quickly escaping again into the night...

But even as his sudden rapid heartbeat thudded in his ears in time with the gunfire in his imagination, he heard the car pass without pausing.

The breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding escaped through his lips in a sigh. "Great," he muttered. "Now I'm paranoid."

You can never be too paranoid, Haibara had once told him. Not where the Organization is concerned. They have eyes everywhere. Their hands are in everything. And one of these days, when they use the assassination drug and it shrinks another person instead of killing them... they will figure out what happened to us. And we will probably both be dead within the day.

Conan closed his eyes against the image of the ex-Org member in his mind, remembering the unnaturally cool, emotionless expression on her child face as she casually discussed their potential death at the hands of her former employers.

Is that what happened? he wondered. Have they finally discovered the fluke in the drug?

The thought sent a cold thrill of fear down his spine. Shivering, Conan slipped out of his futon and began to pace the room, unable to lie still a moment longer. He cast a brief, longing glance at the soccer ball resting in the shadowed corner by the bureau. The exercise of kicking it around, keeping it bouncing from toe to head to heel and back again without touching the ground, had always helped clear his head when he needed to focus. Mouri might sleep through it, but there was no way he could do it at this time of night without disturbing Ran, so he resigned himself to pacing.

Was it possible that the Organization had discovered his secret, then? But no... if they had discovered the regressing power of the drug, why involve the police?

There was the most perplexing problem. Why call the police and claim that they had killed him, and thus start an investigation that might lead back to them? They had always been so cautious about covering their tracks before.

So they probably didn't yet know the truth about the drug. And yet, somehow, they knew they hadn't managed to kill him that night at the amusement park. How?

Could they somehow have gotten wind of his brief reappearance as Shinichi at the school play? Conan grimaced. That was a likely explanation. And he couldn't even try to explain it away by claiming that it was just Hattori disguised as him, like he was at the off-season Halloween party, since Hattori had tried to do just that and had failed miserably in trying to create his own "Shinichi" disguise. Kazuha had seen through it almost instantly. The only reason Hattori had pulled it off at the Halloween party was because his mom, the disguise expert, had helped Hattori with the makeup that time.

Megure, Takagi, and the other officers who had seen him at the school play murder, and then the next night at the restaurant murder, had promised, as usual, to keep his name out of the investigation. But hundreds of his fellow classmates had seen him at the play. And even though Hattori had extracted a promise from the student body to stay quiet about the murder to maintain their school's dignity, the likelihood that everyone would be able to withstand the temptation of gossiping about how he solved the murder was... was...

He sighed. The likelihood was virtually non-existent. Haibara had warned him that he should stay disguised, and talk to Ran in private, but no. Once he heard the scream ring out in the audience, the itch of the mystery was upon him, and he just had to go and get himself involved, in spite of all the common sense that said it was a stupid and dangerous thing to do.

Was that one glorious, dramatic moment of his unmasking in front of hundreds of witnesses going to be his undoing?

Genius detective you might be, Haibara's voice came back to him, mocking. But in other things, you are a complete fool.

He clenched his teeth and couldn't help but agree with her.

But still, even if someone at the school had leaked information about his presence at the school play murder, and it somehow reached the Black Org's ears... why would they involve the police? It all came back to that, and didn't make any sense.

He clenched his fists, and fought the urge to punch the wall. He was missing something important. Something vital. And it was driving him crazy.

Well. At least he would see Haibara at school tomorrow. He could talk to her then, and maybe the missing pieces would fall into place.

With a sigh, he went back to lay down on his futon, knowing that he should probably at least try to get some sleep, so that he wouldn't feel groggy tomorrow.

But, as he stared into the darkness, seeds of fear growing within him like sharp, thorny weeds around his heart, sleep was a long time in coming.

The man in the rusted blue Honda waited down the street from the Mouri residence until the light of dawn started to bleed into the sky, but the boy had yet to make an appearance. Perhaps the kid had been prevented from sneaking out in the middle of the night as he had planned.

A shame, really, the man thought. It surely would have impressed his boss if he could have completed the entire mission in one night.

It was just before 8 am and he was pouring himself a cup full of lukewarm black coffee from a thermos when the kid finally emerged from the stairwell... but not alone. The Mouri girl held his hand and pulled him along after her as they headed toward their schools, both of them looking weary, but alert. The boy in particular seemed hyper-paranoid, casting nervous glances around at the surrounding buildings and narrow alleys.

Interesting. This might prove to be a challenge after all. He smiled. It would have been disappointing otherwise.

Downing the rest of his coffee, he then started the car and pulled out onto the street, heading in the opposite direction from the boy and his teenaged guardian. His boss expected a report, and wanted a phone call, but he would only give his reports in person.

He didn't trust cell phones. You never knew who could be listening.

Chapter Text

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 03: The Baying of the Hounds

3 years ago

Souichiro watched as the chimpanzee in the narrow cage fell to the floor screeching, his face twisted in agony, furry hands clawing at his chest. Souichiro sighed. Another failure for APTX, version... what number were they on now? 4834, wasn't it? He turned and left the observation room, heading to his office. The beast had an unpleasant, lingering death in front of him, and he was not in the mood to watch.

Sherry was waiting for him in his office. He scowled at her, not even attempting to conceal his hatred. That this slip of a girl, barely a woman, had been made head of the project he had been working on tirelessly for nearly two decades... it galled him to no end, and he would never let her forget who should really be in charge, regardless of what the ignorant upper echelons of the Organization thought. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Her gaze was flat and unimpressed. "The results of the test, of course."

"The subject is currently enjoying a long, painful death. Anything else?"

Her expression didn't change. "I need a detailed report of the process, the before and after tissue and blood samples... do I really need to describe your own job to you?"

He smiled without warmth. "If you don't like my work, you could always do it yourself."

Ah. There was the reaction he was looking for. Sherry's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the corners of her mouth tightened. Without a word, she turned and walked out, heading back to the lab.

Stupid, coddled brat can't handle getting her hands dirty, he thought, smirking. Sherry never watched when her drug was administered to a test subject - even when they were only testing the drug on mice. She claimed it hindered her from examining the test results with a dispassionate perspective, but he knew the truth. Not long after she had been placed in charge, she had performed the first animal testing herself, and he had seen how her mask of calm composure had cracked - nearly shattered as she watched the death throes of the small, white rabbit; as she heard the animal scream until its heart gave out.

Her own work in action, and she couldn't even face it. How her superiors put up with such a weak will, he couldn't guess, but he had no doubt it would be her downfall one day.

Until then, however, he had to live with being her underling. He would work on the project - of course he would. It was his life's work. He had been there from the beginning, and then spent almost half his life trying to reconstruct what this girl's parents had so selfishly turned to ash.

But what bothered him most about being skipped over for project head was that most of the data that helped create the current drug came from his own memory of working with Mad Scientist and Hell's Angel. The Organization might think he was of little to no consequence, but it was only thanks to him that the project was still alive at all.

And yet, as each new drug continued to fail, he couldn't help but come to the conclusion that there was something vital that he didn't know. Something the two traitors had never written down or recorded, but kept to themselves. Something they took with them to their graves.

Well, he would discover it on his own soon enough. And as for Sherry, the Organization might have groomed her specifically for this position, but he knew what most others didn't know - Sherry was the daughter of traitors. The same blood flowed in her veins. It was only a matter of time before she followed their lead, and removed herself as an obstacle to his success.

And with success... would come power. Power enough, perhaps, to move his brother up from the bottom dregs of the Organization into a position that would afford him more safety. Hands-on assassination was a messy business; one for which his brother was not suited. Kiichiro had always been soft. His heart was not made for killing, no matter how much training and conditioning he received. If he wasn't transferred to a different assignment soon, he could break.

For Souichiro, recreating the Silver Bullet right underneath Sherry's unworthy leadership would be a glorious accomplishment in and of itself.

But the victory would taste all the sweeter if he could use it as a means to save his brother as well.

Present day

Conan's walk to school was excruciating. Ran held his hand in a grip so firm that sometimes he could feel his finger bones grinding together, and she wouldn't relax until he said, "Neh, Ran-neechan, not so tight!"

Stammering an apology, she would loosen her grip enough to allow circulation back into his hand, but she didn't let go. And soon, as Conan struggled to keep up with Ran's brisk, lengthy strides to the point where she was nearly dragging him along the sidewalk, her grip would slowly regain its vice-like strength. It was a vicious cycle. He endured it as best he could, and tried to accept the indignity and discomfort for what it was: Ran was scared for him.

Then again, if he were to be completely truthful with himself, so was he. He only hoped his fear was not the paralyzing kind, but rather the kind that would keep him on his toes.

When they reached the grounds of Teitan Elementary, Ran finally released him, and he fought against the urge to shake some feeling back into his hand while she was still watching. But instead of rushing off to the high school with a backward wave the way she usually did if she walked him to school, she turned and crouched down, facing him.

Her eyes were still red, and he wondered if it was from crying or lack of sleep. Perhaps a bit of both, he thought, guilt gnawing at his insides.

"Conan-kun," she said, "I'm going to pick you up after school, okay? Do you think you could wait inside the school until I get here?"

Conan blinked. He had never seen her this over-protective. This whole mess had really shaken her. "Ah..." he said, hesitating. "I'm going over to Agasa-hakase's house after school, remember?"

Ran nodded. "I'll take you over there," she said. "And when you're done visiting, I'll come and pick you up, okay?"

No, it's definitely not okay, Conan thought. How in the world was he going to investigate this tip to the police from an anonymous man who claimed to have killed him, if Ran was determined to be by his side whenever he went out in public? Very not okay. And yet... he didn't want to do or say anything to make her more upset than she already was.

"I called Agasa-hakase this morning," he said. "He knows what's going on because Megure-keibu and Takagi-keiji met with him last night, so he'll pick me up from school in his car and bring me home, okay?"

Actually, he hadn't made any such arrangements with the professor, but over the past several months Agasa had learned to roll with whatever crazy maneuvers he had to pull to keep his secret, and he would have to trust that Agasa would continue to do so if Ran managed to contact him first.

Ran didn't like it - he could see it in her face. But, to his surprise, instead of arguing, she just sighed. "All right," she said, her voice reluctant. "But I'll be calling to check on you, so make sure your phone is on and that you don't have the ring turned down. Deal?"

"Deal," Conan said, hoping his relief wasn't too obvious in his expression. "I'll see you tonight, Ran-neechan."

She didn't respond except to look at him with a sad-eyed smile. She reached out and smoothed his hair and then, before he could protest, she took his face in her hands, leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Then she was up and on her way to the high school without a backward glance.

Conan stared after her, feeling the heat rise in his face, suddenly, acutely aware of his heart thudding in his chest.

"I feel sorry for that girl."

Conan whipped around at the sound of Haibara's voice, struggling to fight back his blush. He needed to talk to her, but why did she have to walk up behind him and see that? "Wh-what do you mean?" he said.

Haibara looked at him with her usual half-lidded, blank expression. "Just that it seems that girl is in for more heartbreak."

Conan frowned, his eyes shifting away from Haibara's stare as he started to walk toward the school. "It's not like I want it to happen."

"And yet it seems inevitable." Haibara fell into step with him. "You're caught between a rock and a hard place, Kudo-kun. Investigate your own murder and make that girl sick with worry, or stay by her side and leave her wondering if you are really dead."

"Yes," Conan said, tightly. "I've thought of that, thanks. I was rather hoping you had something more useful to say than encapsulating my current predicament."

"You're always in a predicament, Kudo-kun. With you, it's only a matter of how deep you get."

"Still not helpful," he said through clenched teeth.

With that, the corner of her mouth turned up in a wry smile. "'Helpful' will have to wait until after school," she said, and before he could ask why, he heard the familiar patter of approaching footsteps.

"Conan-kun! Ai-chan! Good morning!"

Conan turned, trying to muster a cheerful demeanor for his young friends. Mitsuhiko and Genta followed closely behind Ayumi, as usual. "Good morning," he said.

"Neh, Conan-kun, Haibara-san," Genta said, towering over him, grinning. "We're going to play soccer after school. You have to come!"

"Ah..." Conan stepped back safely out of Genta's reach so that he wouldn't end up in a headlock after breaking the bad news. "I'm sorry, I can't."

Genta glowered. "Eh? Why not?"

"Don't tell me you're going to investigate another mystery without us," said Mitsuhiko, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

"I, uh..." Conan thought frantically. If he told the kids he was going to Agasa's, they would want to come along. What could he say that would ensure they wouldn't want to follow? "I... have... a dentist appointment," he said, and saw Haibara roll her eyes as if to say, That's the best you can come up with?

Ayumi looked alarmed. "Do you have a toothache, Conan-kun?"

"Hm," Mitsuhiko said, bending down to examine his mouth. "Could it be that you haven't been brushing like you should?"

"I... I brush," Conan protested, raising his hands.

"Ah, I know!" said Genta. "You have a permanent tooth growing in behind a baby tooth and need the baby tooth pulled! That happened to me when I was six."

"I don't..." This excuse was turning out to be more complicated than he wanted.

"I have a loose tooth right now," Genta continued proudly. "My mom says it might fall out before the end of the week."

"I want to see," said Mitsuhiko, and Genta promptly opened his mouth and used his tongue to wiggle a top lateral incisor. He beamed when Mitsuhiko and Ayumi were both suitably impressed.

"You know," Haibara said, quietly and close to Conan's ear, "you can never really go to a dentist since you don't have any baby teeth, so you'd better keep up on your oral hygiene. I'm certainly not going to fill your cavities."

"I don't have any cavities!" Conan said, completely exasperated, and paused when his friends turned to stare at him. "A-heh... Look, it's just a cleaning, okay? I'll play soccer with you tomorrow. In the meantime, shouldn't we get to Monday morning assembly?"

"Ah!"said Ayumi, looking at her watch. "We're going to be late!"

As Conan ran along side his friends as they raced to the auditorium, he silently expressed gratitude that the thought of being late was enough to change the subject and get everyone moving again.

The rest of the school day was a blur. He was so distracted, thinking about the Black Org, about who might know his secret, and what their purpose might be in going to the police, he couldn't even pretend to pay attention in class. At one point, Kobayashi-sensei called his name three times before he realized she was speaking to him.

"I think Conan-kun is worried about his dentist appointment," he heard Mitsuhiko whisper to Ayumi.

If only, he thought. I wish a toothache was my biggest problem right now.

"Welcome back, Colonel-"

"Quiet."

"..."

"... All right. This room seems to be clean. Proceed. And don't call me Colonel. That was a long time ago."

"You could have called. I do have a land line, you know."

"And wiretapping has been around since the 19th century. I told you when you hired me - we meet in person or not at all."

"Fine, fine. I don't really mind. You should know that I, of all people, can certainly appreciate a healthy attitude of paranoia. So, what happened last night after you stirred the pot? Are my suspicions correct, or am I chasing a dead end?"

"Heh. It seems you're not crazy after all. Here. A recording of all the relevant cell traffic after the police left."

"I see... This is wonderful. Truly amazing, I hardly dared hope..."

"I should be able to complete the job soon, ideally in the next day or so."

"Perfect. You want partial payment now, I presume?"

"I agreed to the full sum once the job is complete."

"Take this for expenses. Get whatever you need. He's not one to be underestimated."

"I should think not, if he's managed to avoid your former employers this long. Then again, he couldn't ask for a better disguise."

"I'm serious. If you relax your guard just because he looks like a little kid, he'll get the better of you. He outwits murderers on a regular basis. And he has some powerful friends."

"And powerful enemies, it seems."

"Indeed. Oh, and whatever you do, don't leave any evidence. He seems to attract fellow detectives almost as much as he stumbles on murder scenes."

"I read all the files you gave me. Are you having second thoughts? Do you not think I'm up to the task?"

"I wouldn't have hired you if I doubted your ability. I'm just offering friendly advice."

"Of course."

Agasa was waiting in front of the school in his yellow Beetle. Conan raced to the car and slid into the back seat, then waited impatiently as Haibara languidly made her way across the school grounds. Conan sighed. She was determined to make him suffer for this latest mess, it seemed.

"I contacted your parents last night, Shinichi-kun," Agasa said. "They were in Belgium. They caught a flight to Tokyo this morning and should be here later this evening."

"Wait, Dad's coming too?" Conan asked. He expected his mom to come when he needed backup, but his dad was usually too busy to leave his work.

"Of course," Agasa said. "How could he stay away when someone is claiming he's covering up your murder?"

Actually, quite easily, Conan thought, only a little grudgingly. Aside from that first time when his parents had teamed up to stage his kidnapping - all just to give him a taste of what he could be facing if he chose to stay in Japan and face the Black Org - his dad had respected his wishes and had kept his nose out of the investigation.

But he was glad to know his dad was coming. Just as Sherlock had Mycroft, the smarter older brother, to turn to on the rare occasion when he got in over his head, Shinichi had his dad. It was equal parts galling and comforting.

Haibara finally climbed into the back seat next to Conan, and when she closed the door behind her, Agasa pulled his car out onto the road to drive home. Conan looked at Haibara out of the corner of his eye. Now that he could talk to her without the chance of being overheard, he was hesitant to start. Whenever she had that look on her face - the expression that was almost a non-expression - it was impossible to gauge her mood. He knew from experience that if he pushed her for information before she was ready to give it, she would make him wait even longer.

"That man who called the police yesterday, claiming to have killed you," she said, and Conan looked at her in surprise, grateful that she was initiating the conversation immediately. "I don't think he's part of the Organization."

Conan blinked at her. "What? Why? Are you sure?"

"If the Organization needs access to police information, they infiltrate, get what they need, and leave without anyone the wiser. Like when Vermouth stole and then returned the records on all of Mouri-san's cases. They never, ever draw attention to their crimes - including what they did to you. The whole point of using the poison that left no trace was to make it look like a simple mugging-gone-wrong, not a deliberate assassination."

"That's what I thought," Conan said, "but if this guy isn't part of the Organization, how can he possibly know the details of what happened that night at Tropical Land?"

Haibara gave him a pointed look. "You can't figure it out, Mister Great Detective?"

Conan stared at her, frowning at the implication that he should have already put the pieces together. And then, as she returned his gaze, it dawned on him.

"He's like you," he said, incredulously. "He's not part of the Black Org now, but he was."

She nodded, looking satisfied. "Exactly."

Conan's mind spun at the implications. "Wait," he said, "does that mean you know who this guy is?"

"I've no idea," she said. "It could be any number of people. If I were to hazard a guess, though, I'd say it was someone who came with me to search your house, twice, when your body was never found. That's when I realized you were still alive. It's not outside the realm of possibility that someone else managed to connect the dots as well."

Conan put his hand up to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "If he's ex-Org, that means he's hiding from them as well." From what Haibara had told him previously, he knew the Org wasn't an operation that just let people go when they got tired of working for them. It was a lifetime contract, and the only way to get out was to die, one way or another. "But that still doesn't tell me why he's doing this. What does he want from me?"

"Perhaps," said Agasa, looking at him in the rearview mirror, "he wants help?"

Conan snorted. "No, this was not a plea for help. This was meant to do exactly what it did - inspire fear. If he wanted my help, there are better ways to ask for it than to call the police and say he killed me, and involve the people I care about. And if he's ex-Org, he knows he's putting me in danger, drawing unwanted attention to me, especially if the police have been infiltrated. Whoever this guy is, he is not hoping to be my friend."

"Unless he really doesn't know you're alive, and is trying to use this as a means of discovering the truth," said Haibara. "He knows that if you are alive, this would definitely get your attention and cause you to investigate. Perhaps the reason he mentioned your dad is because if you are dead, your dad is the next best thing for what he needs?" She shrugged. "Even if he suspects that you are alive, he probably doesn't know you've shrunk. You were seen in public in your adult form, and it's not exactly widely known that the drug can do anything beyond killing."

"Vermouth figured it out," Conan said.

"Vermouth has her own reasons for being able to connect those particular dots where others wouldn't."

Conan raised an eyebrow. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the fact that she doesn't seem to age, would it?"

"Possibly," said Haibara. "But honestly, I don't know. We were never really on speaking terms before I escaped."

"Hm." Conan lapsed into silence as he turned that over in his mind. Was it possible that his secret was still safe? Well, "safe" was a relative word when Vermouth was in-the-know, but if Haibara's hypothesis was true, he was certainly more safe than he would be otherwise.

And that would mean that Ran wasn't in danger either.

He grimaced. As much as he wanted that to be true, it was better to anticipate the worst possible scenario and be pleasantly surprised, than end up dead because of inadequate preparation.

When Agasa pulled into his driveway, he was still mulling that over. The big question now seemed to be, how could he find this ex-Org person and find out exactly what his agenda was?

Conan didn't realize how tense he was out in the open, even at school, even in the car, until he crossed the threshold of Agasa's entry way and felt the tension in his body ease perceptibly.

Agasa's house was Shinichi's sanctuary. It had been that way ever since he was a kid. A genuine kid. It wasn't his own house, but ever since his parents went abroad, Agasa's house felt more like home than the echoing edifice next door. If Conan's home was with Ran in her father's apartment above the detective agency, then Shinichi's home was here, even more so now than it had been before he shrank. It was a place where he could be himself without putting on a childish mask.

Haibara immediately went downstairs to the lab. Conan, on the other hand, had other business to take care of. "Neh, Hakase," he said, "I'm going to call Ran, okay?" He knew that Agasa would understand that he wanted to use one of the spare rooms for privacy.

Agasa nodded. "Sure, Shinichi-kun. Want me to put some coffee on? You're looking a little spent."

"That would be great, thanks," he said, before heading to the storage room where Agasa kept the equipment for older experiments. Closing the door behind him, Conan pulled out both of his phones. Ran hadn't called his "Conan" phone yet to check on him, which was just as well. Opening his "Shinichi" phone and picking up the voice-changing tie, he took a deep breath, and called her number.

She answered on the second ring. "Shinichi?" she asked, and the anxiety in her voice made his chest feel tight.

"Hi, Ran," he said. "I heard what happened. I'm sorry I couldn't call you sooner. Things have been crazy, but... I just wanted you to know... I'm not dead, and I'm not an imposter hired by my dad either."

There was silence on the other end for a long moment, and he braced himself for the thorough chewing-out he knew he had coming.

"You... you..." Ran's voice was soft and shaky. "Shinichi... I'm so glad... I was so scared..."

"Hey," he said, swallowing hard. Somehow this was worse than getting chewed out. "Are... are you crying? Ran, don't cry..."

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because she just started crying harder. He sat there, feeling awkward and miserable, wishing he knew what to say to help her feel better. After a little while, she seemed to gather a bit of her composure.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shook his head, even though she couldn't see him. "No, Ran, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Yes," she insisted. "I... I almost believed it. I doubted you."

He knew. He had been there, had seen how Megure's news of what the tipster claimed tore her to shreds. "I can't blame you," he said, quietly. "I haven't exactly... been available lately."

"Shinichi?" She took a shuddering breath. "This man... this man who claimed he killed you that night at Tropical Land. The call he made to the police yesterday... Is this part of the case that's kept you away for so long?"

All the old, familiar lies flashed through his head, every one of them on the tip of his tongue, but all he said was, "Yes." He closed his eyes briefly, and sighed. This was closer to the dangerous truth than he ever wanted her to get, but that line had already been crossed last night. "And I'm sorry, but I can't tell you any more than that. But please, I need you to trust me that there's a very good reason."

Silence for a moment. "I see," she said, and her voice was... strange. "A very good reason, hm?"

"Uh... yes," he said, even as he thought, Uh-oh. He knew that tone of voice, as well as the look of knowing suspicion that always accompanied it. He felt the urge to squirm, and stifled it.

"Okay," she said.

"Now, don't take this to mean... wait. What?"

"I said, okay."

He blinked. "I, uh... really?" She really wasn't going to yell at him, or question him, or ask to see him, or flat out accuse him of being Conan... What the hell was going on?

"Yes, really," she said. "You asked me to trust you. I trust you. And I trust that when you can tell me everything... you will. Right?"

He sat there in quiet astonishment. "Yes," he said.

She was silent, but when she spoke again he thought he heard a hint of a smile. "Aren't you going to tease me for being such a crybaby?" she asked.

"What do you take me for?" he said, feeling a little indignant.

"I take you for someone who always tells me that I cry over the silliest thing," she said, and this time he was sure he heard a smile in her voice, even as she sniffled back tears.

"Well... you do, usually," he said, smiling a little himself. "But you were afraid that I... that something terrible had happened to me, and I couldn't call you to reassure you otherwise until now. How could I think that was silly?"

"You're right," she said. "It's not."

And then, because he couldn't resist, he said, "I am talking to the real Ran, right?"

He was hoping to shock her out of her melancholy, and it worked because she gasped, laughing a little. "Mou, Shinichi! You Holmes freak, figure it out!"

He smiled. That was more like it. And then, with the cloud of gloom successfully dispersed, he led the conversation toward more mundane things, like what was happening with their friends at the high school, and how she was doing with her karate.

By the time the call ended, Ran sounded like her old, cheerful self, and his own mood had improved as well. That had gone a lot better than he expected.

He put his phones away and was about to leave the room and join Agasa for coffee - he could smell it brewing, strong and black, just the way he liked it - when his "Conan" cell phone rang.

His improved mood slid down a few notches. It was always jarring to have to put the Conan mask back on after being allowed to be himself for a while. Sighing, he flipped open the phone. "Hello, Ran-neechan!"

"Conan-kun! How are you doing? How was school today?"

He couldn't really remember how school went, since he hadn't been paying attention. "I'm fine. School was okay. Agasa-hakase picked me up and I'm at his house."

"Are you having fun?"

"Yeah, he's working on a new game and I'm trying it out." All the same excuses, all the same standard lines.

"That sounds nice. Could you ask him to bring you home in time for dinner? I'm making your favorite curry."

"Sure, thanks, Ran-neechan!" Inwardly, he wilted a little. He didn't have much of an appetite at the moment, and he was hoping to stay at Agasa's long enough to see his parents when they got in. But Ran had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, and while he might not be able to do much for her in his current state, he could do this. He could go home, be with her, eat the food she made just for him, and have Conan show her the in-person appreciation that Shinichi couldn't.

"Okay," she said, cheerful. "Dinner is at six. I'll see you soon."

Ran finished her second phone call to, for all she knew, the same person she had talked to in the first phone call, and sighed.

It was Shinichi - really him. An impersonator might be able to replicate his language, his mannerisms... but there was no way to duplicate the feel of him.

And this case he had been working on, that took him away from her... it began that night at Tropical Land. He had vanished into the darkness, and a few hours later, Conan had entered her life. Conan, who had inexplicably appeared in Shinichi's library, of all places...

I really do think they are the same person, she thought. Every instinct that I possess tells me so. Because, behind that familiar child face, when he thinks no one is looking, or even when he just forgets... he feels like Shinichi.

He promised to come back to me. He asked me to wait for him. He promised to tell me the truth when he could.

So as he continues to pretend, so will I. If it is important to him, for some dreadful reason that he can't divulge, that I not know the truth... I will act as if I don't.

And I will wait.

The moment Conan set foot out of Agasa's front door, ready to head back to Ran, he felt eyes on him. He stopped so suddenly in his tracks that Agasa bumped into him from behind, knocking him forward a few steps. As soon as he regained his balance, he crouched, glancing around sharply, trying to spot whatever was making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Shinichi-kun? What is-"

Conan waved him silent, brought a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, and continued looking around.

The sun was low in the sky, and the stone wall and maple trees around the house cast long shadows. But nothing seemed amiss.

Was he over reacting? Was it just his paranoia working on overdrive? Possibly. But he reached down and powered up his shoes just in case. Then he stood and looked back at Agasa, who was giving him a worried look.

"Should we go back inside?" Agasa whispered.

"You go back inside," Conan said, his voice low. "I'm going to look around."

"I'm not leaving you by yourself if someone is out here," Agasa said.

Conan gave him an irritable look, and was about to remind him that he could take care of himself, when a man came around the corner of the house from the back. He was tall, wearing grubby jeans, worn sneakers and an oil-stained t-shirt. He was also wielding a long hunting knife, and looking down at him in a way that was not at all friendly.

The man pointed the knife at Agasa. "You," he said. "Step away from the kid." He glanced at Conan with a nasty grin and looked like he was about to say something else.

Conan didn't give him the chance. He released the soccer ball from his belt and kicked it directly at the man's head. It impacted so hard, the man flew back almost two meters before he hit the ground, unconscious.

Conan turned to see Agasa staring, stunned, and reached up to grab his hand and pull him back into the doorway, when two more men came running around from the other side of the house. One had a knife, the other had a gun.

Well, that makes the choice easy, Conan thought, as he lined up the gunman in the target sights of his tranquilizer dart watch and fired. The gunman dropped, the firearm falling from limp fingers. His knife-wielding buddy halted, suddenly uncertain as he took in the sight of his two fallen comrades on either side of Conan and Agasa.

Conan was completely out of ammo now, but this idiot didn't know it. He pointed the watch at him, making sure the guy could see the cross hairs. When he saw the dumbfounded realization in the man's expression, he fought back a smirk. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

The man dropped the knife and raised his hands. "Look, I don't know nothing," the guy said. "We were just hired to grab-"

A gunshot rang out, and the man's chest exploded. Conan felt the blood spatter against his face and glasses.

And then, before Conan could blink, Agasa grabbed him around the waist with one arm and hauled him off his feet, running the few steps to the open front door. Before he could cross the threshold, another shot rang out. Red blossomed at Agasa's hip. He staggered through the doorway and collapsed with a cry of pain, nearly pinning Conan underneath him.

Two more shots rang out. Conan wriggled out from underneath Agasa's arm, sprinted to the front door, slammed it shut and locked it before rushing back to the professor's side. Agasa was bleeding profusely from his hip, and Conan tore off his jacket and pressed it against the wound with both hands, using what little upper body strength he had to apply pressure.

When he heard Haibara's sharp intake of breath, he looked up to see her standing in the stairwell that led down to her lab. Her eyes were wide, her skin white.

"Call an ambulance," he said, his voice remarkably steady considering how badly he was shaking inside. "And then call the police."

She nodded once, and disappeared back down the stairs.

"Sh-Shinichi...kun," Agasa gasped.

"Don't move. Help is coming soon," Conan said, hoping it was true.

"He... he was..."

"I know," Conan said softly. His skin was cold, his insides felt like ice. "He was on the roof of my house. I saw him."

The unspoken understanding didn't cross his lips. And he knows who I am.

In the distance, a siren began to wail.

Several blocks away, a man slipped into a blue Honda, started the car, and slowly pulled out onto the street. He was smiling.

He had wanted a challenge, but this was even better than he'd hoped. The diminutive detective was a miniature James Bond, it seemed - acting quickly, thinking strategically, dropping his enemies with the help of unexpected gadgets. Watching it unfold in front of him had been better than a movie.

He spared a brief moment of regret for being forced to kill the three idiot thugs he had hired, but if it came to a choice between what kind of evidence he had to leave behind, a few shell casings were far less damaging than witnesses who would spill all at the first sign of pressure. And since he had ended up pulling the trigger anyway, he had decided to take a shot at the old man. It wasn't an instant kill shot, unfortunately, but even so. Perhaps he had managed to deprive the little Bond of his Q.

This evening's events meant escalation, he knew. He had partially revealed his hand, and the job had multiplied in difficulty exponentially.

Regardless, the hunt was on. The clever little fox might have evaded the hounds for the moment, but it was only a matter of time before he felt teeth at his throat.

Chapter Text

A/N: Good grief, what a week. I spent most of it passing kidney stones, yay. So I really, really hope this chapter is coherent, since I wrote most of it under the influence of really strong pain killers. -_- Enjoy!

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 04: Trail of Blood

18 months ago

Souichiro stormed into Sherry's office, his heart racing, cold sweat standing out on his skin. He had the file folder clenched, white knuckled, in his hand.

Sherry was at her computer looking at a three-dimensional model of the latest version of APTX, number 4869. "What do you want," she asked, her eyes never leaving the screen.

What do I want? he thought, barely containing his urge to lunge across the desk and throttle her. I want to be head of this project like I should be. If I were, this never would have happened.

But instead of giving in to such a barbaric urge, he tossed the file onto her desk. "You said the drug was ready for human testing," he said, "and they've chosen your first guinea pig."

"I never said the drug was ready," she said, still not looking at him. "That decision was taken out of my hands."

That made him pause. "Then who-"

"Who do you think?" she said, and she turned in her chair to face him. She looked down at the file on her desk. Paper-clipped to the edge was a man's ID photo, his name printed underneath. Her eyes widened, and she picked up the file. "Numabuchi Ki'ichiro?" She looked up. For the first time, he saw a flicker of something other than complete apathy when regarding him.

"My brother," he said. "He washed out of the assassination program. His file says they have no other use for him than... than..." He struggled to fight back the desperation that was creeping into his voice. "You know that the drug isn't ready. This will kill him. He is my only living family. You have to do something."

She looked down at the file again. "What," she said, "do you imagine that I can do?"

"I don't know," he said. "More than me! You're the head of this damn project. Stop the testing. Find somebody else. Anybody else."

That familiar coolness entered her gaze again. "Somebody has to die for this drug, apparently. Who should die in his place, Numabuchi-san?"

Thousands of responses ran through is head, the first and foremost being, You, you cold-hearted, career-stealing bitch. Or better yet, how about your sister, who was dating the FBI agent mole? Then you can see how it feels to have your only sibling put to death with the drug you made with your own hands.

But saying the words that were in his heart wouldn't save Ki'ichiro. And even if he could think of an actual viable candidate, he knew any real suggestion he made would never be accepted. Not if the Boss had demanded human testing begin, over Sherry's objections. Not when the Boss had placed his brother's file at the top of the list of experimentation candidates.

"Please," he whispered.

Sherry looked up at him, unable to conceal her surprise. No doubt because he had never spoken to her with anything other than barely veiled contempt in all the time he'd known her.

"Please," he said again. He put his hands together in a pleading gesture and bowed low. "He's my brother. If you can't help him, then he is as good as dead. Please."

She was silent long enough that his back began to ache from bowing.

"Where is he now?" she said, finally.

He straightened. "He has already been transferred to the lab's cell block. I tried to see him, but the clearance codes have been changed and my ID card scan was rejected."

Sherry snorted mildly as she retrieved a small pad of note paper from her desk drawer. "Of course it was changed," she said, her voice as flat and emotionless as ever. Tearing off the top sheet from the pad, she set it on the desk, picked up a pen and started writing. "As far as the Organization is concerned, he is no longer your brother. He's not even a person. He's..." She glanced at the file. "Specimen 73. Anyone who might think otherwise wouldn't be granted access - especially you. So instead of fighting against the inevitable, I suggest you get used to the idea before this temporary clearance restriction becomes an official demotion."

And as she finished speaking, she reached into her pocket, pulled out an ID card, placed it on the paper she had written on, and slid it across the desk at him. "Now I suggest you get out of my office, get back to work, and let me continue with mine. Preferably uninterrupted," she said.

He stared at the paper and ID card, then looked up at her, eyes wide with shock. She met his gaze, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "Now, Numabuchi-san," she said.

Stunned as he was, her words pushed him into action. He bowed again, reaching out to palm the paper and the ID card, slipping them into his own pocket. "I'm very sorry for disturbing you," he said, and left her office.

It was only when he was well outside the building and walking down a public street that he finally pulled out the paper and ID card and gave them closer examination. The ID card was her personal clearance card, and on the paper she had written a note in the lab's encrypted shorthand known only to Sherry and a few of the top project scientists, including himself.

Family first, always. Code is seven-four-zero-two-nine-five-one-nine. Return the card to my dropbox in Arakawa City no later than 3 am tomorrow morning. If you don't, or if you get caught, I'll claim you stole it. Good luck.

Souichiro swallowed against the hard lump stuck in his throat. She had handed him the means to help his brother escape. It meant betraying the Organization and possibly signing his own death warrant if he was discovered, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

And apparently, a risk Sherry was willing to take as well.

Damn that girl. It was going to be really hard to keep hating her after this.

Present Day

Conan had seen a lot of blood over the years. He had seen his first corpse at age four when his father had brought him along on a murder case, and since then, he had personally examined so many bodies and had seen so much blood that he had stopped keeping track of it all.

But none of that blood had been as personal as this. None of that blood had been the blood of a lifelong friend, seeping through his fingers as he struggled to keep pressure on a wound that seemed far larger than his small hands could cover.

Agasa was still conscious, but only barely. He lay on his stomach, his head turned to the side. He was looking at Conan, but his eyes were starting to take on a glassy sheen.

"Stay with me, Professor," Conan said. "Come on, no falling asleep, right?"

"R... right," Agasa answered, his voice barely a whisper.

Haibara was kneeling next to Agasa's head, one hand resting on his cheek, the other holding her cell phone to her ear. She was still on the line with emergency services. "The paramedics are here," she said, as the red lights from the ambulance strobed through the windows.

"And the police?" Conan asked.

"Not yet."

Conan cursed. Even if the paramedics were here, they couldn't approach the house with the possibility of a shooter still out there until the police came and secured the scene. And Conan strongly suspected the shooter was long gone, which only made any further delay more frustrating.

He could hear the discordant rise-and-fall wail of more sirens approaching, and he strained to listen. To the untrained ear, an ambulance and police siren in Beika City sounded identical, but Conan could hear the difference. Police sirens had a slightly lower pitch. It was with no small relief that he heard that two of the closest sirens belonged to police vehicles. "They're almost here," he said.

Haibara moved the phone away from her ear and covered the speaker with her other hand. "What are you going to tell them?" she asked in a low voice. In spite of her calm tone, her expression was pinched and frightened. "If they realize that you were the real target of this disaster, they won't let you out of their sight again. Though at this point, I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing."

Conan frowned. It would be very bad for him if the police realized that this guy, whoever he was, was after him specifically - though it seemed that, in spite of casually murdering the three men sent to grab him, the shooter wanted him alive, though that was hardly comforting. "The only evidence that I was the target is that they tried to separate me from the Professor," he said, "and aside from the shooter, we two are the only people who heard that. Right, Agasa-hakase?"

Agasa didn't answer. His eyes had closed, his breathing was weak and erratic.

Conan felt his pulse race in response. "Dammit, no. Come on, Professor, wake up, help is almost here!" He looked down at his hands. His jacket that he had pressed against the wound was soaked through, and his hands were stained scarlet. His knees and shins were wet from the pool of red spreading on the floor beneath him. "Haibara, help," he said, his voice rising in panic. "He's losing too much blood."

She dropped her phone, ignoring the voice of the emergency worker on the other end of the line loudly asking to know what was going on, and rushed to his side, pressing both her hands over his, adding her meager strength to his own. She was shaking.

"The bullet was hollow point and it's torn open his femoral artery," she said, her voice hitching. "He's bleeding out."

Conan had suspected as much, but felt his stomach drop at her confirmation. "No. Not if we can help it. Don't give up."

She looked at him, the terror in her eyes exposed and raw, but she nodded.

The sirens drew closer, and he finally heard the squeal of breaking tires on the street in front of the house. He heard the shouts as the police found the bodies on the lawn; saw the silhouettes of several officers against the windows as they circled the house, securing the scene. Still, it seemed like another eternity before he heard the rush of footsteps approach and heard the pounding knock on the door.

"Police! Please, let us in, we're here with the paramedics!"

Haibara leaped up and rushed to the door, unlocking it and allowing the officers and EMTs inside.

Agasa was immediately surrounded by paramedics, but Conan didn't take his hands from Agasa's wound until he felt himself grabbed under his arms and lifted away. He would have protested, but an EMT immediately took his place. Amidst the sudden onslaught of noise and chatter, he could hear Haibara telling someone that the femoral artery had been hit, and that Agasa's blood type was O positive.

Whoever had picked him up had yet to release him, so he kicked his legs in the universal child language that meant not liking this, put me down right now. The person obliged, but before he could completely escape, he was gripped by the shoulders and forced to turn around. He found himself facing a young man; an officer that he recognized from the nearby residential police substation. Goto was his name, Conan remembered.

Officer Goto was looking at him with obvious concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Conan shook his head, glancing back over his shoulder at Agasa. The EMTs were struggling to stabilize him so that he could be moved to a waiting stretcher. "This blood isn't mine," he said.

"I see. What's your name?"

"Edogawa Conan," he said, struggling to maintain a civil tone as he tried to shrug out of the officer's grip. "Look, I need to make sure-"

"Edogawa Conan?" Goto asked, surprised. "Sleeping Kogoro's assistant?"

"Yes," Conan said, eager to latch on to anything that might give him more authority in the situation. "Now, if you'll just-"

"Don't worry, Conan-kun," Goto said in a voice obviously meant to sooth a frightened kid. "You're grandfather is in good hands. You did a good job taking care of him, but now you need to let the paramedics do their job so they can get him to a hospital, okay?"

"That's fine," Conan said sharply, knowing that his attitude was nothing like the shaken seven year old he was supposed to be, but not having the patience under the circumstances to fake it. "I have no intention of getting in their way, so please let go of me."

Officer Goto blinked, then opened his mouth as if to argue. Conan was ready to kick him hard in the shin if he did, but fortunately they were both spared the indignity when another local officer - Kinjo, if Conan remembered right - came to his rescue.

Officer Kinjo knelt down next to him. "Edogawa Conan, right?" he asked, and when Conan nodded, the officer handed him his smart phone. "Megure-keibu wants to talk to you."

That was finally enough to get Officer Goto to release him - apparently it wasn't every day that a first grader took a personal call from a police inspector at a crime scene. Conan gratefully took the phone stepped away from the well-meaning officer. He held the phone up to his ear. "Megure-keibu?"

"Conan-kun, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Listen," he said, looking over at where the EMTs were finally getting Agasa onto the stretcher. He fought back a grimace at the sight of the too-large pool of blood on the floor where his friend had been, and swallowed, trying really hard not to think of all the corpses he had seen resulting from similar gruesome stains. "It looks like they are ready to take Agasa-hakase to the hospital. I want to go with him. How far away are you?"

"We're still about fifteen minutes away," said Megure. "The traffic is pretty bad right now. I suppose you know that we need to ask you some questions, and I'd prefer that you stay at the scene."

Conan looked at the front door as the paramedics wheeled Agasa's stretcher out to the waiting ambulance at the front gate, feeling the need to be with his wounded friend, and the equally pressing need to find out who was behind all this.

Haibara was following the stretcher, but she glanced back and caught his eye. She apparently read his conflicted emotions in his expression. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll stay with him. You stay here and do what you need to do. I'll call you if there is any news."

He nodded at her, grateful and anxious, wondering if he was making the right decision as he watched an EMT help her climb into the ambulance.

"Okay," he said to Megure as the ambulance drove away, sirens wailing. "I'll wait for you here."

"Good. We'll see you in a few minutes."

"Who all is coming?" Conan asked.

"Shiratori-keiji is with me," Megure answered. "Sato-keiji and Takagi-keiji are on their way as well."

Conan suppressed a sigh. Shiratori thought he was a clever brat, but a brat all the same, and tended to get a little irritated whenever he inserted himself into active crime scenes. Sato and Takagi, on the other hand, he could work with.

"Okay," Conan said. "See you soon, Megure-keibu."

He handed the phone back to Officer Kinjo, choosing to ignore the stares he was receiving from both Kinjo and Goto.

He looked around for his own phones. They had fallen out of his jacket pockets when he had used the jacket to try and staunch Agasa's bleeding, and he had been too distracted until now to give them much thought. Both phones had been kicked out of the way; he found one under the kitchenette counter, and another by the door that led to the bathroom. He put the phones in the pockets of his shorts, then headed into the bathroom. He needed to wash the blood off his hands.

He didn't stand on the bathroom stool to reach the sink. He just turned on the faucet, reached up and stuck his hands under the water. He didn't want to watch the blood spiral down to the dark hole of the drain. Under other circumstances, he could have handled it. Any circumstance where it wasn't his friend's blood being washed away. His friend who, for all he knew, could be dying for trying to protect him.

No. He wasn't going to allow himself to think about that right now. Until he heard otherwise, Agasa was still alive and in the hands of people who would make sure he stayed that way.

When he was done, he dried off his hands and grabbed some tissues from the box on the counter, stuffing them into his pocket. The handkerchief he usually carried with him to avoid contaminating crime scenes with his own prints had been in his jacket, and he was pretty sure it was no longer usable.

By the time he slipped out of the bathroom, most of the first responders were busy outside putting up police tape and taking pictures of the scene. So, as unobtrusively as possible, he started to examine the bodies of the three men who had been sent to kidnap him.

He started with the man who had first come around the far side of the house, the one he had knocked out with the belt soccer ball. The man was still where he fell, but now very much dead instead of unconscious, thanks to the bullet to the chest. An instant kill shot. Conan turned around and looked up at the roof of his house where the shooter had been perched, half-hidden behind a gable. It wasn't too far away, but it wasn't exactly close either. Whoever this shooter was, he was very good - at least when it came to hitting a stationary target. Conan briefly considered thanking whatever god that might be listening that the shooter hadn't been as accurate when aiming at Agasa, but he decided to hold off on his gratitude until he knew for sure that his friend would be all right.

He got closer to the dead man and knelt down, half expecting someone to haul him up by the collar of his shirt and throw him out of the way for getting too close, but no one did, even though he could tell that some of the officers were watching him. He looked at the man's hands. Smudges of black oil. Skinned-up knuckles. No prominent callouses. A few drops of greenish liquid on the inside of the right arm. Conan knelt lower and sniffed. Antifreeze. He pulled out a pocketed tissue and dabbed at a drop, watching how it seeped into the fibers. Not pure antifreeze, but a 50/50 mix with water, the kind you would put in an aluminum radiator - the kind found on motorcycles. One old, not-very-well maintained motorcycle, if the flecks of rust on the man's pants were any indication.

So, before this guy's aborted stint at kidnapping, he had been attempting to be his own motorcycle mechanic - something he probably hadn't done before and wasn't very good at if the state of his callous-less fingers and scraped-up knuckles were anything to go by. Not to mention that he hadn't bothered washing off the splashes of antifreeze on his skin, which any real mechanic knew to do to avoid skin irritation and to keep ethylene glycol from absorbing through the skin and entering the blood stream. Though that hardly mattered now.

And what was this? A tattoo on his inner left wrist? It was a small tattoo, depicting a jawless skull pierced through the right eye socket with a dagger. Conan suppressed a grin as he recognized it. The only way identification could get any easier would be if the man actually had a wallet with ID on him, and as tempted as Conan was to start searching his pockets, he knew that was a sure fire way to get himself forcibly pulled away. He could wait for Megure and the others to do that search for him.

"Conan-kun!"

And speaking of... He turned to see Sato and Takagi walking toward him. He stood to greet them, and immediately saw their eyes widen in shock.

"What the hell?" Sato said, rushing to him and kneeling down. "You're covered in blood! Are you hurt?"

"No," he said, and looked down at himself. He really did look awful, he realized. His shoes and socks were stained, his knees and shins were covered in drying blood, and his white button-down shirt... well, calling it white now was definitely a stretch of the imagination. But you should have seen me before I washed my hands, he managed not to say. Instead, he said, "Agasa-hakase was shot in the hip and the bullet hit his femoral artery. I was trying to stop the bleeding. He's at the hospital now, but I don't know what's going on."

Sato regarded him seriously. "Then let's get this taken care of as soon as possible so that you can go be with him," she said.

Takagi already had his pen and notebook out. "Conan-kun," he said, "would you please tell us what happened, and what you've already figured out? It will probably expedite things considerably."

Conan looked at Takagi, surprised. Takagi was flat-out asking him what he had already deduced. Conan briefly considered reminding him that only yesterday he had told Conan not to go off "playing detective," but then he changed his mind. The situation had changed, and if Takagi was actively encouraging him to investigate, he wasn't going to argue.

Still, it left him feeling a bit uneasy as well. He didn't like not having some kind of cover on a case, whether it was hiding behind Sleeping Kogoro, or even just pretending to call "Shinichi-niichan." But Takagi had seen enough that he apparently trusted Conan's deductions on their own merit, and while it was undeniably nice to be appreciated for himself, it also left him feeling way too exposed.

Unfortunately, he really didn't have time to fake some kind of cover. So he recounted the events of that evening, telling them what had happened from the moment he and Agasa had stepped out of the house until the police arrived, but omitting any reference that implied he was the target rather than Agasa - and leaving out his use of his power shoes and stun-gun watch, of course. In his version of the story, Agasa was the hero, disabling two of the attackers before the shooter on the roof of the Kudo house killed the third.

Takagi finished writing in his notebook and looked at him. "Okay," he said, "so that's what happened, but what can you tell us about these guys?

"I've only had a chance to look at this guy," Conan said, pointing at the failed motorcycle mechanic. "But there's something I want to check. Could you look at the other two and check the inside of their left wrists?"

Sato went over to the gunman that he had tranquilized with his watch, and Takagi headed for the guy who had dropped his knife before getting a hole blown through his chest. "There's a tattoo here," Sato said. "A skull with a knife through the eye."

"Same here," Takagi said. He looked at Conan. "The other guy has one too, I take it. So are they gang members or something?"

"Exactly," Conan said. "They are from around here, but very small-time. They call themselves the Silent Daggers, and until now they haven't done much other than try to look scary and intimidating. Somebody hired them for this." He knelt down next to one of the fallen knives. "And supplied them with weapons as well, it looks like," he said.

Takagi knelt next to him and carefully picked up the knife with gloved hands. "What makes you think that?" he asked.

"Look at the knife," Conan said. "You can see the ripples on the blade, the folds in the steel. The same with the other knife. Look at kanji on the hilt - that's inlaid gold. These aren't knives you can buy at any old store. These knives are the work of a master craftsman. And the gun," he said, pointing at he firearm lying on the grass, "is a 4th generation Glock 17." He shook his head. "What are wannabe gangsters doing with weapons like these? Somebody supplied them, and my bet is on the same person who hired them."

The silence that followed that statement was heavy enough that Conan broke out of his train of thought and looked up to see Takagi and Sato both staring at him - not with surprise, but with knowing, amazed smiles that made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"Uh..." he said. "I... saw it on tv."

Takagi blinked, and Sato actually snorted, but they didn't contradict him.

"So," Sato said. "They were hired, but to do what?"

"I don't know," Conan lied. "The man on the roof shot this guy when he started to talk."

"Then the big question," Takagi said, "is who was the shooter on the roof?"

"Probably the same guy who called the police yesterday claiming that he killed Shinichi-niichan," Conan said.

Takagi nodded, frowning. "That's my thought as well. It can't be a coincidence that Agasa-hakase, neighbor and friend to the Kudos, is attacked the day after that strange phone call."

"I thought we might be dealing with some kind of professional," Sato said. "But if he's hiring amateurs, and then killing them before they can talk, well, it doesn't seem very well planned. He's probably an amateur as well."

"An amateur what?" asked Takagi. "Hitman? Blackmailer? We still don't know what this guy is really up to."

That very point bothered Conan more than he cared to admit. He brought his hand to his chin in a habitual, thoughtful gesture as he turned the problem over in his mind.

Hiring amateurs to carry out a hit or a kidnapping, while watching from the neighboring roof... what was the point? If this guy was former Black Org, it seemed like a pretty stupid mistake. Why not hire professionals? Maybe money was a problem? Maybe he couldn't afford to hire professionals? But no... those weapons were not acquired by someone with financial difficulties. Then why...?

And then it dawned on him.

He was being tested. That man on the roof wasn't there just to shoot some flunky if he started to talk. That man had sent these wannabe gangsters after him to see exactly what he would do. How he would react. How he would defend himself.

His ability was being measured.

And Conan had shown him everything. From the power shoes to the belt to the tranquilizer dart watch... everything.

"Conan-kun? Are you okay?"

Conan blinked and looked up at Sato. Her worried expression told him that his horrifying realization was written across his own face, plain as day.

"Uh... I was just thinking," Conan said, looking over at his house. "You know, if we can get onto that roof, there could still be shell casings. And I wonder how the shooter got up there. A ladder? Grappling hook? Did he break into the house?"

Sato looked at the roof, then looked at Takagi. "You're right," she said. "Let's go check it out."

"Agasa-hakase has the keys to get in," Conan said. "I'll go get them."

Without waiting for their response, he ran back into the house, quickly went to the downstairs lab, and closed the door behind him. Pulling his "Shinichi" phone out of his pocket he pressed his number two speed dial.

After a few rings, a familiar voice, heavy with an Osaka accent, answered. "Yo, Kudo, what's up? I was just about to start eating dinner, so this better be important."

"Well," Conan said, "the short version is that yesterday, some ex-Black Org guy called the police, claiming to have killed me with poison that night at Tropical Land, and then today hired some street thugs to try and kidnap me coming out of Agasa-hakase's house. I took out two of them with my gadgets, and when the last one tried to spill the beans, he killed them all from his vantage point on the roof of my house and shot Agasa-hakase in the hip, tearing his femoral artery. Agasa-hakase is currently at the hospital, hopefully not bleeding to death, and I'm in his basement lab calling you while the police investigate the triple-murder crime scene outside."

There was a sharp exhale of breath on the other end of the line. "Holy shit, Kudo. When you get in trouble, you never do it half-way, do you?"

Conan sighed. "Hattori... can you help me out?"

"Of course, buddy," Heiji said. "You know I've got your back."

"Thanks," Conan said, and he meant it. "I've got to get off the phone now, and I don't know when I'll be able to call, but I'll be texting as soon as I can get away from this circus, and I'll fill you in on all the details."

"And if I don't hear from you by tomorrow morning, I'm on my way to Tokyo, got it?"

Conan actually cracked a smile. "Got it."

It wasn't very far from the Mouri Detective Agency to the Agasa residence, but since Ran covered the distance at a full speed sprint, she was panting and out of breath by the time she reached the small side street - a street crowded with police vehicles and officers. The fear that was so intense it felt like it was crushing her chest increased the pressure a few notches.

"There has been a shooting at Agasa-hakase's house," Megure-keibu had told her over the phone. "We're on our way there now. I spoke to Conan-kun, and he's fine, but the professor was hit and is at Beika General undergoing emergency surgery. We need Conan-kun to make a statement, but as soon as we're through, you'll probably want to take him home."

It was all too much to process, and now that she was actually here, it wasn't getting any easier. But she did know one thing above all else - she had to see Conan and make sure he was really okay. She made her way through the maze of vehicles, the strobing of their red emergency lights giving her a headache, but she made it to Agasa's gate, only to be stopped by a large yellow X of police tape blocking the way, and an officer, who was holding out his hand to block her entrance.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you can't come in here."

"You don't understand," she said, "I'm here to get my... my..."

...my best friend since forever, whom I love, who has been somehow reduced to childhood, and who always seems to be so close, too close to mortal danger...

"She's here to pick up Edogawa Conan," said Megure-keibu, coming up next to her, along with Shiratori-keiji. "She's his guardian. You may let her through."

The officer stepped aside, and Ran cast a grateful glance at the inspector before climbing through the tape.

She suddenly wished they hadn't let her through.

There were bodies on Agasa's front lawn. Three dead bodies. And over by two of the bodies, Takagi-keiji was placing a wicked-looking knife into an evidence bag, while Sato-keiji did the same with a gun.

Ran stared, feeling sick. Here, in a place she knew almost as well as her own home... What on earth had happened here?

"Sato-keiji, Takagi-keiji, I got the keys for-" Conan ran out of Agasa's front door, a set of keys in one hand, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

"Ran... neechan," he said, his eyes wide with shock.

He was covered in blood. It was splattered across his shirt, his face, his glasses. He seemed to be completely coated in drying blood from the knees down.

But none of it was his. There were three corpses on the lawn, and Agasa-hakase was in emergency surgery, but Conan was okay, he was fine, and he was staring at her as she rushed to him and picked him up and held him close and cried.

He was tense in her arms. "Ran-neechan... it's okay. I'm okay."

She just shook her head, tears streaking her face. Nothing was okay. Absolutely nothing was okay.

Somewhere behind her, she heard Takagi-keiji's voice, soft and almost hesitant. "Megure-keibu... I already took down Conan-kun's statement."

Megure-keibu cleared his throat. "Well then, it should be fine for them to leave."

Sato-keiji came up next to her and put a comforting hand on her back. "Thank you for coming, Ran-kun," she said. "Conan-kun, may I have those keys, please? I'll make sure you get them back."

Conan handed Sato-keiji the keys - the keys to Shinichi's house next door, Ran realized, and she wondered what had happened over there that contributed to this horrible scene, but she didn't ask. All she wanted to do right now was get home. Once she was home, she could gather her wits and decide what to do next.

She didn't trust herself to speak - the tears just wouldn't stop, and she knew she was making a spectacle of herself - but still, she nodded her thanks to the police as she waked back across the yard, past the corpses, to the yellow X barring the way out. Shiratori-keiji lifted the tape out of the way so that she didn't have to release Conan to step through.

When they had made their way through the maze of police cars, Conan said, "Ran-neechan? You can put me do-"

"No," she said, and he fell silent.

After a moment, he said, "Are... are you going to carry me all the way home?"

"Yes."

Yes, I am going to carry you all the way home. You scared the life out of me, and I don't care if you are Shinichi, I am bloody well going to carry you all the way home and I'll be damned if I let you go before then.

Conan sighed, a sound of defeated resignation, and she felt the tension slowly leave his small body until he finally relaxed against her and rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I scared you."

At that, Ran felt the grip of fear that was crushing her insides loosen slightly. The seemingly-bottomless well of her tears finally dried up. She took a deep, shaky breath, loosened her grip on him just long enough to wipe her face with one hand, and smiled at him. "How about if we go home, get cleaned up, and head over to the hospital?" she said. "Dad is already over there waiting for us."

"That sounds like a good idea," he said. Then he paused and lifted his head to look at her. "Wait... you aren't going to carry me to the hospital too, are you?"

Her smile turned slightly impish. "Only if necessary."

He snorted, but smiled a little as he rested his head back on her shoulder. "I'll try not to make it necessary."

"Good." Her breath was still hitching from crying, so again, she inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. She felt like she was slowly regaining a measure of control. "That way, you can help me carry dinner," she said. "I made all this great curry, and no one has had a chance to eat it."

"Would it upset you too much," he asked, hesitantly, "if I said I wasn't very hungry?"

"Neither am I," she said. "After all that, who would be?" She laughed, rueful. "But nothing kills Dad's appetite, so we might as well put that food to good use."

"Heh. Okay."

She hugged him a little tighter. He didn't complain.

Maybe, she thought, there are still a few things that are okay.

A little over a mile away, a man lay on his stomach on the roof of a twelve story apartment building and watched through high-powered binoculars as the young woman made her way home with the little detective in her arms.

Well, he thought. Isn't this just perfect.

A/N: Well, I seem to be averaging about a 6,000 word chapter a week. Here's hoping I can keep it up, and I hope the direction I'm taking this story is keeping your interest. Next time, more Heiji! And less writing under the influence of pain killers (I hope)!

Chapter Text

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed, faved, and followed! I love you guys. You are awesome and I wouldn't be doing this without you. :)

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 05: Running to Ground

Time was running out.

The man opened the trunk of the blue Honda and quickly began to organize what he needed for the next step of the assignment, placing everything into a black briefcase. This would be the last step of the assignment, if all went well.

So far, luck had been on his side. He thought about how fortuitous it had been that, while he had been prepared to acquire the target the previous night, the opportunity had not presented itself. If it had, and he had made his move not knowing what he knew now, he would most likely have been incapacitated by the boy's quick thinking, reflexes and gadgets, and he would be in police custody right now.

After the events of tonight, he had a much better idea of who he was dealing with. He had witnessed the boy's abilities and identified his weakness. But the employer was right. If he made the mistake of underestimating the boy now, police custody, extradition, prison, possibly even execution... it could all still be in his future.

He would not underestimate the boy. But he had to act fast. If he didn't, the boy would have too much time to recover from the shock of the last attack. Too much time to prepare and plan. Too much time to gather his allies, not the least of which were his parents, who had connections with Interpol. The latest rumors in his communications network had placed the boy's parents somewhere in Europe. They would be on their way, if they weren't here already.

The more that time slipped away, the less likely he could handle this on his own. He could organize an extraction team if necessary, but he didn't want it to be necessary. Extraction teams, while more likely to succeed in a mission than a single operative, tended to lack subtlety, finesse, and challenge.

This next step was audacious and dangerous and could all go to hell with one misstep.

But that was also precisely why it could work.

Both their lives were on the line tonight, and it was time to see who would emerge the victor. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins, and he smiled.

Are you ready for me, little detective?

Heiji was at the check-in counter at the Kansai International Airport, checking his luggage and picking up his ticket for his flight to Tokyo that boarded in a half hour, when he got the first text from Kudo.

About damn time, he thought, pulling out his buzzing phone. Bastard calls me up just as I'm about to eat, and tells me he's being chased by murderous ex-Black Org kidnappers. I hope he doesn't think I'm actually going to wait around for him to fill me in on his latest plan before heading his direction.

He read the text: Ran and I just made it to Beika General. Hakase's been in surgery over an hour now, still no word on his condition.

Heiji blinked, then sent a text back: You're just barely getting to the hospital? What happened? He knew what the old man meant to Kudo, so something had to have prevented him from getting there sooner.

Had to go to Ran's to wash off blood and change clothes. Pay attention, I'm going to tell you everything and I need you to forward it to my parents. Ran's sitting next to me and she knows I'm texting you.

Wash off blood. Great, thought Heiji, grimacing at the mental image. And he wants me to forward texts to his parents so Ran doesn't get too suspicious while they're sitting there together in the hospital waiting room. What are their phone numbers? he asked. And hurry, I'm boarding a plane in about 20 minutes. I'll have to shut off my phone for an hour.He smirked a little, knowing that information alone would tell Kudo that he was already on his way.

He was halfway to his boarding gate when the next text came through. Kudo's text included the phone numbers for his parents, and started filling in the details on this latest disaster. Details like how much this mystery guy knew about him, including his real identity, and what some of his gadgets could do.

Heiji frowned at that. Kudo didn't lack for bravery and, small as he was, he could still take down criminals. But most of the time, Kudo's success in combat was because no one expected such a little boy to be so quick and agile in both mind and body. The gadgets the Professor had made for him helped make up for what he lacked in physical strength.

If what Kudo said was true, then whoever this guy was knew enough about him to not be taken by surprise. Kudo had been stripped of one of his biggest advantages when facing an opponent - being underestimated. Not good, Heiji thought. But at least Kudo seemed to be aware of his disadvantage, and that alone could give him a much-needed edge.

After sending all the details, Kudo sent him another text: I'm glad you're coming. Be careful.

You bet your ass I'm coming, he textedback. You be careful too. Don't do anything stupid.

Heiji sat down on one of the chairs near his boarding gate and glanced at a nearby clock. A little over ten minutes until boarding call. Another ten minutes until the plane was in the air, if there were no delays. The flight would take about an hour, and then it was another twenty minute ride by taxi to get to Beika City.

He was taking the fastest possible means to get from Osaka to Tokyo. And he really didn't like the twisting in the pit of his stomach that made him feel like it was taking too long.

Somewhere over the Sea of Japan, Kudo Yukiko felt her heart drop as she read the text message forwarded to her from Shin-chan's friend.

Agasa-kun had been shot protecting Shin-chan, and was now in the hospital, femoral artery hit, prognosis unknown. She clenched her jaw, her eyes stinging, and swallowed. It wouldn't do to start crying - not when she was in disguise with layers of latex and makeup on her face that aged her twenty years.

Yusaku was dozing next to her, also in disguise, thanks to her skill. Yes, it was a twelve hour flight - even longer thanks to the delays at the Brussels Airport - but how he could still sleep at a time like this, she couldn't understand.

She gently nudged him and, as he blinked awake, silently handed him her phone, giving him a look that said, Yes, my phone is on when it should be off during the flight, but read this now, it's important.

She was gratified that he took it without a word, his eyes taking in the content of the text in an instant, his expression turning grave. But before he could even turn to her to talk about it, the phone vibrated with another incoming text. Another. And another. Six more texts came through while Yusaku held her phone, and as he read each one, his countenance became more grim.

"What?" she whispered. "What is it?"

Yusaku sighed, handing her back her phone and rubbing at his eyes. "It seems our son may be in over his head."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Is it... them?" she asked. She couldn't help thinking about her old friend, Sharon Vineyard. But it was Chris Vineyard now, wasn't it? Or, as Shin-chan knew her... Vermouth.

Yusaku shook his head. "It doesn't seem like it, though it's possible this could be just as bad, if not worse."

"Worse?" Yukiko looked at Yusaku, wanting an explanation, but he already had that intense look on his face, his eyes burning as his gaze turned inward, and she knew his thoughts were parsing through the situation faster than she could comprehend, seeking for solutions.

She looked at her phone and read through the texts that had followed the first one. Only the actress in her kept her from showing in her expression the anxiety and fear she felt welling inside her chest.

Shin-chan, she thought. Your father and I are on our way, and your father is already thinking of ways to keep you safe. Please, please be okay until we get there.

Conan snorted as he read Hattori's last text message. Don't do anything stupid.

Right, he thought, closing his phone and sliding it into his jacket pocket. If anything, he felt over-paranoid. When he got cleaned up and had changed his clothes, he made sure he loaded up on almost every single gadget Agasa had ever invented for him, with the exception of his skateboard, since he walked to the hospital with Ran. He was wearing his tie, the suspenders, the belt, his re-loaded watch and his power shoes. He had both his cell phones in his jacket pockets, as well as tracking stickers, a Detective badge, and even the earring phone. He might be over-doing it, but he still knew far too little about whoever was after him, and he wanted to at least try to be ready for anything.

"Well," he said, looking up at Ran, "I told Heiji-niichan everything that's happened."

"What did he say?" Ran asked.

"He said he's getting on a flight to Tokyo as soon as possible. He'll probably be here in a couple of hours."

Kogoro, sitting a few seats down from them, glanced at him and mumbled something under his breath that didn't sound too pleased, but Ran smiled, relief lighting her eyes. "Oh, good," she said. "It will be good to have his help."

"Not necessarily," said Haibara. She was sitting in a chair across the hall from them.

Conan frowned at her. "Why do you say that?"

"Because," she said, "he's a friend of Kudo-kun, isn't he?" She glanced meaningfully down the hall to the double doors that led to emergency surgery, then looked back at him with her flat, half-lidded gaze. "Right now, with everything that's happened, being Kudo-kun's friend doesn't seem to be very safe."

Conan flinched at her words like a slap in the face, even as Kogoro sat up and leaned forward.

"That's right," Kogoro said, practically twitching from pent-up anxiety. "This is all that damn detective brat's fault."

Ran glared over Conan's head at her father. "Tousan! Don't you dare try to blame this on Shinichi! He didn't ask for this! Right now, he needs his friends to be backing him up and giving him their support."

Kogoro frowned and slumped back down in his chair.

But as much as Conan appreciated Ran sticking up for him, both Haibara's and Kogoro's words rang with too much truth. Truth that stung. Agasa... if it weren't for him, Agasa would never have been shot. He wouldn't be in surgery with his life hanging in the balance.

This unknown enemy might not be active Black Org, but he was clearly just as dangerous to the very people Conan cared for most.

Conan looked up at Ran. His need to protect her from all of this was overwhelming. "Maybe," he said, quietly. "Maybe the solution is to get all of Shinichi-niichan's friends someplace safe."

Haibara raised an eyebrow. "What do you propose? Have Jodi-sensei contact her FBI friends and have us all go to America under their witness protection program? Have them change our names and identities as we run and hide?"

Conan shook his head, knowing that she was referring to how she had turned down Jodi-sensei's offer to do just that. "It's not necessary to go all the way to America," he said. "But maybe there's a way to lay low for a while, a way to get out of harm's way until this guy can be found."

"I'm not leaving Agasa-hakase," Haibara said.

"Neither am I," Conan said, "but-"

"I'm not leaving either," said Ran, looking down at him, her face set with resolve.

Conan looked up at her in dismay. No, he thought. If anyone leaves town, it has to be you.

But she just stared right back at him, her expression and body language saying, Not a chance, bud.

"Now, wait a minute," Kogoro said. "The kid has a point, Ran. You don't have to leave until we know that Agasa-san will be alright, but as your father I would feel better knowing you are safe from whatever maniac is out to get that detective brat. Agasa-san was his neighbor, but you practically grew up with him."

"And I'm not going to abandon him now, when he needs me most," Ran said firmly.

Conan saw a vein pulse in Kogoro's forehead, and instinctively shrank away. This was not going to be good.

"You, abandon him?" Kogoro snapped, getting to his feet. "What about him abandoning you? Where has he been for the past several months? Where is he now that his next door neighbor has been shot? You say his friends should rally around him and back him up. Then tell me, Ran, where the hell is he?"

Conan felt every word like a blow, and it hurt far worse than when Kogoro actually rapped him on the head. Miserably, he slumped down, his hands resting on his knees, unable to look at anyone, least of all Ran.

And then she reached over and took his hand. Startled, he looked up at her. She wasn't looking at him, but was glaring angrily at her father, tears standing out in her eyes.

Kogoro glared right back, as if daring her to contradict him. She didn't. Couldn't, Conan knew, because Kogoro was right.

But she didn't back down, either. She just glared, and held tightly to Conan's hand.

Kogoro finally turned away. "Feh," he said. "I'll never understand why you don't just give up on that unreliable, absent..." He trailed off, and then threw up his hands in exasperation. "Dammit, I need a smoke." He stalked off and turned the hall corner, heading for the hospital entrance.

When he was gone, Ran wiped the tears from her eyes with her free hand.

"Ran-neechan," Conan whispered.

"It's okay, Conan-kun," she said. She smiled, but it seemed forced. "There's no way for me to make him understand."

Conan was hesitant to ask, but couldn't help himself. "Understand what?"

Ran laughed, and looked down at him, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes again. "That it's true - Shinichi might be gone. But... somehow I feel like he never really left me." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and Conan stared at her, eyes wide, his heart climbing up into his throat.

Then, before he could say anything, she released his hand and stood. "Excuse me," she said, struggling to maintain her composure. "I'm going to go find a washroom."

Conan watched, speechless, as she walked around the corner of the hall.

What the hell, he thought, his mind spinning. She... she's acting like she knows.

Or maybe that was just his fear talking. Or wishful thinking. A bit of both, probably.

"Kudo-kun."

Conan looked over at Haibara, Her knees were drawn up against her chest, and her face was turned away from him. She was staring at the double doors at the end of the hall. Her face was expressionless, but this time, Conan got the distinct impression that it was not a non-expression, but a mask... and that the mask was on the verge of cracking.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I'm sorry."

He sighed, and shook his head, struggling to push aside thoughts of whether or not Ran knew his secret.

"You're sorry?" he said, and there was no anger or accusation in his voice. "For what? For saying that my friends are in danger, just for being my friends?" His gaze followed hers to the doors behind which one of his closest friends was struggling for his life.

"There is only one truth, Haibara," he said. "You don't need to be sorry for speaking it."

Ran felt Conan's eyes on her back until she turned the corner. She kept walking until she found a washroom by the check-in station by the front entrance. She went inside, closed the door behind her, then she took a deep breath, leaning against the wall.

I said too much, she thought. He knows that I know. But how could I not say something after Tousan said those terrible things?

Conan had seemed to crumple before her eyes as her father had ranted against Shinichi for not being around, as if he felt each word like a dagger to the chest. Her heart ached for him, seeing his pain. She knew now, without a doubt, that Conan - Shinichi - was there for her the only way he could be. She understood that someone dangerous was after him, and that it was somehow connected to that night at Tropical Land, somehow connected to his current physical state. She understood that he didn't tell her the truth because the truth itself was dangerous.

In not telling her, he was trying to protect her, she realized. Well... she could accept that. Even appreciate it. But he would have to accept that she was going to do everything in her power to protect him as well.

She looked into the mirror above the sink. Her eyes were red, her skin splotchy and, in spite of her best efforts to prevent it, tears were running down her cheeks. She ran cold water in the sink, leaned over, and splashed some of it against her face. She didn't look any better, but she felt better. Then she moistened a paper towel, pressing it against her eyes to ease the burning ache. Too much crying today, she thought.

After a few minutes, she finally felt composed enough that she felt she could face both her father and Conan.

She left the washroom and looked toward the entrance. She could see her father through the glass doors. He was pacing, and smoking up a storm.

She sighed. She couldn't be too hard on him, she knew. If she weren't so certain in her conviction about Shinichi's true whereabouts, she might have said the very things he had said just a few minutes earlier. She had certainly been scared and frustrated enough to say very similar things over the past few months - many of them in Conan's presence, she thought with a wince.

But the bottom line, the reason her father was so angry and volatile at the moment, was that he was worried about Agasa.

But mostly, she knew, he was worried about her.

"Excuse me."

Ran turned to see an older man dressed in a white lab coat over a dress shirt, tie and slacks. The picture ID hospital badge identified him as Imanaka Yuichi, with hospital check-in administration. He was wearing white surgical gloves, and he held a clipboard with attached paperwork in one hand.

"Yes?" Ran said.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said, "but are you with the older gentleman who is in emergency surgery with the gunshot wound?"

She felt her pulse quicken. "I'm a friend," she said. "Why? Is there news? How is he?"

The man raised his free hand. "I'm sorry," he said, sympathy in his eyes. "I don't have that information. I believe he's still in surgery. I approached you because I was hoping you might be able to help me with some of his paperwork. All we have is his last name - not even an address or phone number." He gave her a hopeful smile. "Do you mind? Any information you could provide at the moment would be very helpful, and any information you don't have... well, I could give you the forms to fill out later. Would that be okay? Or is there someone closer to him to whom I should speak?"

Ran glanced briefly out the front entrance at her dad, who was still pacing, and who still looked mad enough to chew nails. "Sure," she said. "I'll be glad to do what I can, though I'm afraid it might not be very helpful."

"Wonderful," the man said, and he began flipping through the papers on his clipboard. "Now, let me see... insurance... waiver... interview sheet... where did I put the registration form?" He flipped through the papers a few more seconds before looking up sheepishly. "Um... I appear to have run out of registration forms. I don't suppose you'd mind following me to go grab one, would you? It will just take a minute."

"I don't mind."

"Oh, thank you," he said, bowing. "I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. Please, come this way."

She followed him past the check-in counters, past administration offices, and down a brightly lit hall. "In here," he said, opening a door and stepping aside to let her through. She walked through the doorway and saw that the room was lined with filing cabinets and boxes full of what appeared to be hospital records.

She heard the door close behind her, heard the clattering sound of the clipboard falling to the floor. And suddenly, too late, her instincts began screaming a warning and she realized she had been played for a fool. She spun, arms up in a ready stance, ready to pound the guy to a pulp.

He was standing out of reach in front of the closed door, his smile gone, his eyes cold. He was holding a strange rectangular device in his hand, and as she lunged at him, she heard a ftttzt sound, felt two tiny stabs of pain on her stomach, and suddenly she collapsed at his feet, crying out as every single muscle in her body cramped and spasmed.

He dropped the device (taser, she realized, as it continued to discharge and she convulsed, her own body betraying her) and he quickly tore strips of silver duct tape off a roll that had been sitting on a cabinet near the door. The first went over her mouth, the second bound her hands behind her back, the third, her feet. Then, even as the volts of electricity still ran through her, he took the entire roll and bound her arms to her sides, then bound her knees together, until she was completely trussed up.

When the taser finally ran out of juice, she lay, needing to gasp, breathing heavily through her nose since her mouth was sealed, bound so tight she do could little more than twitch. The man knelt down next to her, reached to her stomach and removed the two barbed wires that had hooked themselves through her shirt and into the tender skin beneath. Dazed and in pain, she glared at him with all the anger and hatred she could muster. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to cry - not from the barbs, and not from the rough handling as he dragged her none-too-gently to side of the room farthest from the door.

The man then walked to the corner and retrieved a black briefcase that was leaning against the wall. He came to sit next to her on the floor, opened the briefcase, and brought out a long, sheathed hunting knife, and what looked like a disposable cell phone.

The man turned to her and finally met her furious gaze as he unsheathed the knife. He smiled, thin and cold, as her eyes widened involuntarily with fear, her bravery flickering at the sight of the gleaming blade. But he set the knife down, and picked up the phone.

"Now," he said. "Let's send a message to that little boyfriend of yours and see if he'll come join us."

With that, Ran felt her heart freeze inside her chest with terror. No, she said, the plea forming behind her sealed lips. No, please, no, no...

Sato stood on the edge of the roof of the Kudo house, looking at the bullet casings in her gloved hand. Four shots fired, four casings found, three dead men and one man critically wounded.

Using the keys Conan had provided for them to enter the locked gate, she and Takagi had examined the entire exterior of the house that, frankly, was more of a full-fledged mansion. There had been no sign of a break-in, and no ladder was left behind, nor ladder impressions in the soft ground, but once she had climbed up using a ladder that Takagi found in the Kudo garage, it was easy to see where the claw marks of a sturdy grappling hook had dug into the roof tile. She was pretty sure that examination of the stone wall surrounding the house would yield a place with similar marks.

But something was bothering her. Something just wasn't adding up about this whole situation.

Takagi came around the corner of the house, saw her standing at the edge of the roof, and rushed toward the ladder to hold it steady for her. "Hold on, Sato-san," he said, and stopped cold as she jumped, landing on the grass and rolling to absorb the impact. She came up quickly into a standing position right next to Takagi.

He looked at her, blinking in a way that she would have thought cute, were they not at a triple-murder crime scene. "Ah... never mind," he said. "I'll go put the ladder away."

When Takagi finished, they headed back over to the Agasa estate, locking the Kudo gate behind them.

Megure was on the phone with the coroner, watching as the three dead men were zipped into body bags, so she walked over to Shiratori. "Where is that gun that I put in the evidence bag earlier?" she said. "I want to take a closer look at it."

"What for?" Shiratori asked. "Forensics will find out what we need with pulling prints."

"Just a hunch," she said. "The shooter used 9mm hollow point rounds. The gun I bagged was 9mm, I'd like to check just to see if the bullets are the same brand."

Shiratori raised an eyebrow, but gestured to the open trunk of a police vehicle.

Sato carefully retrieved the bagged gun from the evidence box, pulled the firearm from the bag with gloved hands, and ejected the magazine.

She blinked. "What the hell?"

Takagi and Shiratori walked up to her. "What's wrong?" Takagi asked.

"What's wrong is that this magazine is loaded with blanks, that's what's wrong," she said.

"Blanks?" Takagi shook his head, confused and pulled out his notebook. "What does that mean?"

Shiratori frowned. "Perhaps that the wielder did not want to take lethal action," he said.

"But that doesn't make sense," Takagi said. "If the shooter hired these guys and supplied them, then the shooter supplied the blanks..."

"How do you know the shooter supplied the blanks?" Shiratori asked, just as Megure walked up and joined them. "Maybe the guy who was given this gun replaced the bullets with blanks himself."

"What's going on?" Megure asked.

Sato filled him in. "But," she said, turning to Shiratori, "blanks are as difficult for civilians to purchase as bullets and firearms."

Shiratori nodded, conceding her point.

"So where does that leave us?" Megure asked. "If the shooter hired and supplied these gangsters, did he want them to take non-lethal action? That makes no sense, considering that he then went and shot everyone himself."

"Everyone except Conan-kun," Takagi said.

Sato turned to him, eyes wide. "What did you say?"

"Everyone except..." Takagi trailed off. "Wait. You don't think..."

"...that Conan-kun was the real target?" Sato said. "The blanks only make sense if someone was wanted alive, and Conan-kun was the only one the shooter didn't hit."

"Unless the shooter was aiming for Conan-kun, and Agasa-san got in the way," Megure said. "But still, the possibility..."

"Where is Conan-kun now?" Sato said.

"At the Mouri residence, or perhaps the hospital," said Takagi. He looked at Megure. Megure nodded at him and Sato.

"What are you waiting for?" Megure said. "Go find him."

Sato and Takagi raced for her car.

"See if you can get him on the phone," Sato said, as she slid into the driver's seat.

Takagi pulled out his phone and started dialing.

Conan looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, but recognized the gait as belonging to Kogoro, not Ran. He looked back down before Kogoro could come into view, still not sure he could look him in the face, but still watching from the corner of his eye.

"Where's Ran?" Kogoro demanded as soon as he turned the corner and saw that she wasn't there.

"She went to find a bathroom," Haibara said. "She looked pretty upset."

Kogoro looked abashed, but covered it quickly, sitting down in the chair he had previously occupied, folding his arms over his chest. "Why is this taking so long?" Kogoro said, scowling at nothing. "Why haven't we heard anything about Agasa-san? Did a doctor or anyone come out to talk to you while I was gone?"

Conan shook his head, but Haibara said, "Actually, the fact that we haven't heard anything yet could be a good sign. The longer he's alive means that they were able to control the bleeding, but he probably still needs surgery to repair any other damage the bullet caused. It might have struck bone, or it might have hit his lower organs. He could be in need of a laparotomy. He could still be in surgery for hours yet, but at this point, no news is good news."

Kogoro visibly relaxed. "Well," he said gruffly. "All right then."

The silence stretched around them, broken only by the constant background murmur of hospital noise. Conan found himself fidgeting, looking anxiously at the hall corner, waiting for Ran to come back. She had seemed pretty upset, but even so, she should have returned by now.

"I'm going to go find Ran," he said, sliding off his chair. "She might have gotten turned around in this big hospital."

Kogoro glanced at him and nodded.

"Don't you end up getting lost yourself," Haibara said, an almost-smile touching her lips.

He smiled back. "Not a chance. Back in a minute," he said, and headed down the hall and around the corner.

He quickly found the restroom by the check-in desk, and went to the door. He knocked softly. "Ran-neechan? Are you in there?"

There was no answer, and at that moment, his "Shinichi" phone began vibrating in his jacket pocket. He pulled it out, then frowned as he saw that it was a text from an unavailable number. Flipping open the phone, he read the text and felt his heart stutter in his chest.

I have your girlfriend, little detective. Do exactly as I say or she dies. Do not alert anyone. If you try to take me down I take her with me. Come to room 131 alone. Make sure you are not followed. Take off your watch and your belt and throw them in a trash receptacle on the way. You have 2 minutes to get here before I start cutting. Your complete cooperation will ensure her safety.

Conan's skin had gone cold, his fingers clutching his phone were white. Panic and terror clawed at his mind, but he forced it back as his thoughts raced.

Two minutes. Room 131. He knew the hospital layout. He started walking, quickly, but not so quickly that he might draw attention to himself. He took off his watch and his belt and threw them in a garbage can next to the check-in card stations.

He knew he was going like a lamb to the slaughter, but that didn't matter. This guy wanted him, hopefully, alive. The "why" at the moment was irrelevant. Ran was just a pawn to make him obey. And he would obey, because to do otherwise, and let Ran get hurt or killed, was unthinkable, and that's exactly what this man was counting on.

But that didn't mean he couldn't do anything. Already a plan had formed.

Room 131 was a storage room near the administration offices. Nice and inconspicuous. Only about two hours had passed since the shooting, which had only occurred because one of the gangsters tried to talk. Which meant that this guy had observed him, had predicted that he would come to the hospital, and in the space of less than two hours had planned this.

Enough time to lay an effective trap for him, Conan thought grimly. But not enough time to set up a remote hack into the hospital's security cameras. A storage room might be inconspicuous in the short term, but it was not the place for a plan that required a lot more time and equipment.

So while hospital security cameras might see him on the way to this room, this guy waiting for him in the storage room wouldn't.

He pulled the earring phone out of his pocket. The cell phones lit up and showed when a call connected. The earring phone did not.

He was almost there, running out of time. He dialed Hattori's number on the earring phone. The call went to voice mail - Hattori was already on the plane to Tokyo.

Without putting in the ear piece, he turned up the microphone volume and spoke quietly. "Hattori," he said. Dammit, his voice was shaking, but he didn't have time to do anything about it. "I'm at the hospital, he's got Ran, room 131, I have to go there alone or he'll hurt her. I'm leaving this call connected. Listen for anything."

And then he was standing in front of the door of room 131, and time was almost up. He slipped the earring phone into his pants pocket, reached up, and opened the door.

Across the room, Ran sat duct taped to a chair, barely able to move. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and she let out a muffled yell behind her taped mouth. Behind her, the man stood with a knife to her throat. Conan could see the ripples of folded steel in the blade from where he stood.

"Close the door," the man said, "slowly. No sudden moves."

Conan obeyed.

The man nodded. "Good. I want to see your hands at all times. Do exactly as I say, or I'll start giving her back to you in pieces." As he spoke, he brought the knife from Ran's throat up to the base of her ear lobe. The blade pressed gently into the tender flesh, and a drop of blood welled and slipped down to her chin.

Ran didn't make a sound, but Conan couldn't help but clench his fists. "I'll do as you say," he said, glaring. "You don't have to threaten her."

The man gave him a narrow, appraising look. "We'll see," he said. "Take off your jacket and your shoes and throw them over there." The man indicated the direction with a nod of his head.

Conan did so, all while staring at the man. Tall, muscular, clean-shaven, graying black hair. No visible scars or tattoos. Wearing hospital attire, including surgical gloves. Well, so much for fingerprints.

He couldn't bring himself to meet Ran's eyes. Her anguish as she watched him was palpable.

When he had thrown the jacket and shoes aside, the man frowned at him.

"Your glasses," the man said. "Tie and suspenders as well. Empty your pockets."

Conan cursed inwardly, but obeyed. After tossing his glasses, tie and suspenders to the side, he turned his pockets inside-out, taking the earring phone and throwing it on the pile, hoping that doing so didn't disconnect his call to Hattori's voice mail. He had hoped the man wouldn't strip him of gadgets he hadn't seen in action, but apparently the man was smart enough to make him get rid of anything that might be a hidden asset.

This did not bode well. Now he had nothing but what he was wearing - pants, socks, and button-down shirt.

"Now what?" he said. He was trying to put on a brave face for Ran, but inwardly, in a part of him that he was furiously trying to ignore, he was starting to feel very small, and very vulnerable. Which was exactly what this guy was trying to do to him, he knew.

"Now this," the man said, and with his foot, pushed a paper bag across the floor to him. "Open it."

Conan knelt next to the bag and opened it warily. Inside was a gray hooded sweatshirt, just his size, and a small capped hypodermic needle.

You have got to be kidding me, Conan thought, even as the man said, "Take off your shirt and put that on."

He did, but his movements had slowed with the dread that was filling him. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and he swallowed hard, struggling to steady his shaking fingers.

A low buzzing sounded from were his jacket lay on the floor. When the man narrowed his eyes at him and pressed the blade closer to Ran's cheek, he said, frantically, "It's just my phone. It's just someone trying to call me, I swear."

They stood, staring at each other until the buzzing stopped. About fifteen seconds later, the voice mail notification chimed.

Then, Ran's phone began to ring, muffled from where it was trapped under tape in her pocket.

"It seems someone is looking for you," the man said, and nodded at Conan, indicating that he should continue changing into the gray hoodie. "Best hurry, now."

Conan threw his white shirt aside and pulled the gray hoodie over his head. When he was finished, he glared at the man silently, knowing what was coming next.

"Now the needle," the man said. Conan picked up the hypodermic, desperately trying to block out Ran's muffled cries as she saw it.

"What is it?" Conan said..

"Just a tranquilizer. You're lucky my employer wants you alive."

Conan's eyebrows went up. "And who is your employer?"

"I guess you'll be finding out soon."

"I've never given myself a shot before," Conan said.

"Pinch the skin at your waist and stick it there," the man instructed. "Hurry, I'm losing my patience."

Icy fear was making its way up Conan's spine. He lifted his shirt and pinched the skin, holding the needle with his other hand. If he did this, he would probably never see Ran again. But if it would keep her safe...

"How do I know you won't hurt her when I'm out?" he said. Ran's muffled cries were turning into screams. "She's seen your face."

The man smirked. "You think this is my face?"

Conan just glared at him.

"I won't hurt her," the man said. "I swear. Now give yourself the damn shot before I change my mind."

Conan pulled the lid off the hypodermic with his teeth, and allowed himself one look at Ran. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was screaming at him through the tape. Her eyes pled with him not to do it.

"Ran," he said, looking her in the eye. "I'm sorry."

He stuck the needle in his skin and pushed the plunger. Numbing cold crept through him, and by the time he pulled the needle out, blackness was already swallowing his vision. He sank to his knees, his head swimming, the needle falling from his nerveless fingers.

I should have done this lying down, was his last coherent thought as he slumped forward. His head hit the floor with a crack, and he knew no more.

As Conan looked her in the eyes, needle in hand, Ran screamed at him and thought, with all her force of will, Don't you dare, don't you dare!

He dared. But at least he was apologetic about it, Ran thought, on the verge of hysteria as she watched him slump to the floor, unconscious.

No. No, Shinichi, you self-sacrificing jerk, no!

She barely noticed as the man took the knife away from her face. He took off the lab coat, pulled off the gloves, and then bent over and picked Conan up as if he weighed nothing.

Conan's head lolled as the man settled him against his chest in much the same way Ran had carried him home earlier that evening. The man pulled the hood over Conan's head, covering his hair and obscuring his face, then turned to her and winked. "Poor little guy. After such a rough day, he's all tuckered out."

Ran had never wanted to hurt someone so badly in all her life.

"Don't worry," the man said, taking a tissue out of his slacks pocket with one hand, using it to grasp the doorknob. "I'm sure someone will find you soon." With that, he walked out the door and closed it behind him.

And just like that, Conan was gone.

A/N: Feedback gives me writing energy, so let me know what you think. And thanks for reading. :)

Chapter Text

A/N: The title of this fic is finally relevant.

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 06: Bread Crumbs

The man carried the boy out of the hospital. Hardly anyone spared him a second glance. He was just some loving father, carrying his sleeping little son out to his car, after all, probably after visiting a sick friend or relative. They certainly were not a hired kidnapper and his drugged victim.

He walked, calm and casual, though he knew it was only a matter of time before someone found the girl, unbound her, and learned the whole sordid story. By then he planned to be long gone, but the clock was ticking.

The blue Honda was in the hospital parking garage, nestled nicely in a security camera blind spot. Walking to the car, he passed a young couple headed for the hospital entrance. They smiled at him, seeing exactly what he wanted them to see. Ah, how sweet, father and son. He smiled back.

Too easy, he thought.

Easy... but unnerving all the same. He glanced down at the boy as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. This kid who was not a kid. He would not soon forget the uncanny intelligence in those child eyes, the fearless glare, the careful, calculated obedience to each of his orders all to spare the girl harm. If he had harbored doubts that the small body in his arms contained the consciousness of the famous high school detective, Kudo Shinichi, they were completely gone now.

To think, it was all because of that shadowy syndicate. He didn't know much about that organization - just enough to know that they were not to be messed with. Now, more than ever, he knew to stay off their radar. Which meant that the sooner he was done with this job, the better.

As soon as he was sure that no one was around, he opened the trunk of the car and placed the boy inside. In less than a minute, he was pulling out of the garage onto the street and driving away.

He looked in the rearview mirror. No flashing lights. No sirens. No one following, even from a distance.

Well then. Time to make his delivery, get his paycheck, and be done with this insanity.

Ai sat on her chair, her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees, and stared down the hall at the double doors. It had been almost two and a half hours since Agasa had gone into emergency surgery, and still there had been no word on his condition.

But, as she had told Mouri-san, the fact that he was still alive was reassuring. In fact, it was apparently so reassuring that Mouri-san had allowed himself to relax enough that he was now dozing in his chair across the hall from her. Well, it was certainly an improvement over his anxious fidgeting from before. As long as he didn't start snoring.

Quietly, so as not to disturb him, she unfolded herself and slipped out of her chair and walked down the hall toward the hospital entrance. Time to find out where Kudo-kun and Ran-onee...

Ai closed her eyes for a moment, smiling a little at her mental slip.

That girl... she was so much like her sister Akemi in appearance and behavior. Ai found it difficult to be around Mouri-kun under the best of circumstances, because she was such a keen reminder of what she had lost.

And yet, ever since Mouri-kun had used her own body as a shield to protect her from Vermouth - had been willing to die to protect her - Ai found herself feeling more and more as if that girl was filling the Akemi-shaped hole inside her.

And she wanted it. But at the same time, she didn't. She didn't want to feel like her sister could be replaced. And at the same time, she knew she would do anything to keep Mouri-kun from suffering the same dark fate.

Ai pushed those thoughts aside. Right now, she had other concerns. Kudo-kun was late returning from his quest to retrieve Mouri-kun. Ai could think of several reasons this might be, and she was none too pleased with any of them. She had seen the look on that girl's face. She had heard the subtext to the girl's words about missing Shinichi as she held Kudo-kun's hand: Somehow, I feel like he never really left me.

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Mouri-kun knew, or at least strongly suspected, who Kudo-kun really was. And Kudo-kun had picked up on it as well. Which meant that he was probably in the midst of enacting some ridiculous, elaborate scheme to convince her that Conan and Shinichi really were separate people.

Or worse, he was telling her the truth, and putting her in danger. One more person who shouldn't know about the Black Org, but did. One more potential threat to be eliminated, if the Org ever found out.

The thought made her angry, though the emotion never made it to her face. Kudo-kun had better not be so reckless. Wasn't it enough that Agasa had been shot? Wasn't it enough that someone was actively out to get him at this very moment? If he put that girl's life at risk just to satisfy his personal needs...

But then, as far as personal needs went, it was probably as unselfish a need as one could have. She knew how hard it was for Kudo-kun to watch Mouri-kun worry and grieve over his absence when he was right in front of her. If he was telling her, it was for her relief, not his.

Ai sighed. What on earth was she going to do with those two?

She looked around the hospital lobby, trying to find some clue as to where either of them might have gone. She started to walk over to the check-in cubicles to ask a hospital employee if anyone had seen the wayward detective and his teenage guardian, when a flash of metal from the nearby trash receptacle opening caught her eye.

Was that... a belt buckle?

Wait, she thought, walking over to get a closer look. Was that Kudo-kun's belt buckle? She grabbed it and pulled it from the trash, her heart pounding. It was Kudo-kun's belt.

Suddenly Ai's previous theories about Kudo-kun's whereabouts went flying out the window, because there could only be one possible reason why one of Kudo-kun's precious gadgets, one that he had been wearing only minutes ago, was now in the trash.

She ran for the glass doors of the front entrance and burst outside, eyes scanning up and down the street, frantically looking for anyone holding a struggling or sleeping child; for anyone carrying a bag that looked like it would hold a small seven year old.

Nothing. Nobody suspicious, no one with an aura of menace... just people passing by.

How much time had passed since Kudo-kun had walked off to look for Mouri-kun? Twenty, twenty-five minutes? Far too much time.

And where was Mouri-kun?

Ai's mind raced. If the belt was in the trash near the hospital entrance, then Kudo-kun had been taken inside the hospital. And the hospital had security cameras.

First things first. She looped the belt around her own waist so that it wouldn't get lost, then pulled out her phone and dialed 110 for police emergency. "I need to report a kidnapping," she said, as soon as her call was answered. "Please contact Megure-keibu and tell him that Edogawa Conan was taken from Beika General Hospital within the last half hour. Hurry!"

She didn't stay on the line. Instead, she hung up and immediately dialed Kudo-kun's "Conan" phone. If he had been forced to ditch his belt, she had no doubt he had been forced to relinquish his phones as well, but where? She ran back inside, listening, expecting to hear the phone ring from the trash receptacle.

Nothing. But then, she realized, Kudo-kun had both his phones on silent, vibration only. Even if his phones were nearby, she wouldn't be able to hear them.

She rushed to the first check-in cubicle where a heavy-set man sat behind a computer. "Excuse me," she said, "have you seen a boy, about my size, dark hair, blue eyes, wearing glasses? He came this way a little while ago."

The man looked at her and shook his head. "Sorry, little girl. I haven't seen anyone like that."

"What about a girl, about seventeen years old, pretty face, long brown hair?"

"Hm." The man looked thoughtful, and Ai felt her heart leap in her chest. Oh please, she thought.

"Come to think of it," he said, "there was a girl like that who was up here earlier talking with one of the staff about some paperwork. They went back toward the administration offices."

Ai felt her eyes widen. "Have they come back yet?"

The man frowned. "I don't think so. That's odd..."

"Thank you!" Ai said, running in the direction he had indicated.

The man stood up and leaned over his desk. "Wait,"' he said, "You can't go back there alone!"

But before he could maneuver out of his chair and come after her, she was already out of sight.

Takagi came down the stairwell of the Mouri Detective Agency to where Sato-san was standing next to her car, phone to her ear.

"They're not here," he said.

"They still aren't answering their phones, either," Sato-san said. "I don't like this. Let's hurry to the hospital."

Takagi nodded, slipping into the passenger side seat. As he closed the door, his phone rang. It was Megure-keibu. "Takagi speaking," he said, answering.

"Have you found Conan-kun yet," the inspector asked him. Takagi blinked at the urgency, bordering on panic, in his voice.

"Not yet," he said. "He wasn't at the Mouri residence so we're headed to the hospital. What's going on?"

"We just received word that a call came in from someone at Beika General, claiming that Conan-kun has been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Takagi said, practically yelping. Sato-san gave him a look that was wide-eyed with alarm before she floored the gas, flinging him backward into his seat with the acceleration, even as she turned on the lights and siren. "We're on our way," he managed.

"Find whoever made that call," Megure-keibu said. "I'll be over there soon." He hung up.

Feeling numb, Takagi put his phone in his jacket pocket. "You were right," he said. "Conan-kun was the target all along."

"What good is being right if we're too late?" Sato-san said. Her hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. "Hang on." She took a sharp right turn, and Takagi could have sworn he felt the wheels on his side of the car leave the ground.

He hung on.

Ai ran through the halls of hospital administration, not daring to call out lest she attract an adult who would have her removed from the area. Instead, she called Mouri-kun's phone, listening, straining to hear an answering ring. She passed any door that had an inset window, and paused at any door that didn't, pressing her ear close. If Mouri-kun was in trouble too, she wouldn't be where someone could easily spot her just while walking down the hall.

The pieces of the puzzle were falling together in her head, and the picture that was forming filled her with fear. Mouri-kun went missing first. She was gone long enough that Kudo-kun had finally gone off to look for her.

The belt buckle was easily spotted, hanging deliberately out of the trash receptacle. If the kidnapper had been the one to toss the belt, he would have made sure it was well hidden. Which meant that... Kudo-kun had thrown the belt away himself? Why? To leave a trail of bread crumbs? But why deprive himself of one of his more potent weapons against an attacker? Why not use something else?

Mouri-kun's phone was ringing out to voice mail again. Ai hung up and dialed again as she turned the corner into a hall lined with windowless doors. Storage? She went to the first door, and pressed her ear against it, listening for the ring.

And, very faintly... there it was.

Ai reached up, grasped the doorknob, and threw open the door.

Mouri-kun was on the floor in the middle of the room, lying on her side, duct taped to a chair. Stunned and horrified as she was, Ai could tell that Mouri-kun had been attempting to inch her way toward the door.

Mouri-kun looked up into her face and let out a muffled cry behind her taped mouth. The cry spurred Ai into action and she rushed forward, kneeling down beside her.

"This will hurt," Ai said, as she reached over and grasped the edge of the tape covering Mouri-kun's mouth. Mouri-kun's red, wet eyes said she didn't care. "One, two, three," Ai counted, and she pulled the tape off in one quick movement.

Mouri-kun gasped, gulping deep breaths. "He... he took Shinichi," she said, her voice hoarse.

Ai blinked. "Shinichi?" she repeated. Oh no. It was true. Mouri-kun knew, and not only did she know, but with those words, she filled in the rest of Ai's mental picture. Kudo-kun, kidnapped by someone who threatened to harm Mouri-kun if he didn't cooperate. There was blood running down the side of her face from a cut at the base of her earlobe.

Mouri-kun looked at her, eyes wide. "Conan-kun," she said. "I... I meant Conan-kun. That man took him..." She stopped at the sound of quickly approaching footsteps.

Ai turned to see the heavy-set man from check-in, gasping for breath. "You," he said, looking at her. "You can't be..." He trailed off, shocked at the sight of Mouri-kun duct taped to the chair. "What the hell?"

"Call the police," Ai said sharply. "They might already be on their way. Tell them where we are, and that the boy I was asking you about earlier has been kidnapped. His name is Edogawa Conan, and he's probably already been taken out of the hospital." When he just stood there staring at her, she felt her temper flare. "What are you waiting for? Go!"

The man turned on his heel and left, leaving a string of shocked curses in his wake.

Ai turned back to Mouri-kun. "Help is on the way. We'll need scissors or a knife to get you out of all of that tape. Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "No. But Shi- Conan-kun..."

Ai closed her eyes a moment, and took a deep breath to collect herself. This was already a disaster, but it could get even worse if Mouri-kun, in her distraught and frazzled state, let Kudo-kun's secret slip when the police arrived.

Ai opened her eyes and met Mouri-kun's gaze. "You said, 'Shinichi,'" she said, and before Mouri-kun could protest, she said, "So, you know."

Mouri-kun looked at her, stunned, and then her eyes lit with understanding. "And you know," she said. "How... how do you know?"

Because I'm the one who made him the way he is, Ai thought. I'm the one responsible for the burden he bears. The burden you both bear.

Out loud, she said, "The same reason as you, apparently. I put the clues together and figured it out."

"Then... I'm not crazy."

"No," Ai said. "And you are also right in trying to keep this a secret, but you'll have to do a better job than you've been doing with me, especially when the police get here."

Mouri-kun bit her lip. "This is all connected, isn't it. That night at Tropical Land. Agasa-hakase getting shot. Shi- Conan-kun..."

"Listen, Ran-oneesan," Ai said, gently, but serious. "You need to get this straight, and quickly. He might be 'Shinichi' in your heart, but in your head, he must be Conan-kun. There is a good reason he never told you, and it's because just knowing puts your life in danger."

Ran was staring at her. "That blonde woman," she whispered. "The one who was trying to kill you that night at the docks. Was it because you know?"

Not quite, but close enough, Ai thought. "Yes," she said. "Do you understand how serious this is?"

Ran nodded, her eyes shifting away as they filled with tears. "Who did this? Why do they want him? Are they going to hurt him?"

"I don't know," Ai said.

"How are we going to find him?"

Ai frowned. It was a long-shot, but... "When he was taken, did he still have his glasses on?"

Ai didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't to see Ran's countenance practically shatter at the question. She sobbed and shook her head. "Over... over by the wall," she said.

Ai looked where Ran indicated and felt her stomach twist as she saw the pile of Kudo-kun's clothes and gadgets, including his tracking glasses. She stood and walked over to the pile, then knelt to examine it. Everything that Kudo-kun had been wearing was here, except for his pants, underwear and socks. And the watch. Where was the watch?

Quickly, she pocketed the voice changing bow tie. The police knew that Kudo-kun had gadgets - they had seen him tearing around on his jet-powered skateboard often enough - but they didn't know about the tie or the stun-gun watch, and Ai intended to make sure it stayed that way.

She picked up his discarded jacket and found his two phones in the inside pockets. She immediately confiscated his 'Shinichi' phone, and then checked his 'Conan' phone to make sure that any incriminating texts that he had sent to Hattori-kun had been deleted, before putting it back in the jacket pocket.

All this, while trying desperately, unsuccessfully to not think about the implications of this pile. Kudo-kun was defenseless. Whoever had taken him had stripped him of anything he could use to aid his escape. Unless, by some miracle, he had managed to keep his watch on him, hidden.

No, she realized. Far more likely that it was in the same garbage bin where she found the belt. If the kidnapper knew enough to disarm Kudo-kun this much, then he would have been especially wary of the belt and the watch.

She went back over to Ran and knelt next to her. "Ran-oneesan," she said, and paused as she realized that, somewhere in just the past few minutes, this girl had gone from being 'Mouri-kun' to 'Ran' in her own head. But time enough to ponder that later. She pulled out her handkerchief and used it to wipe the tears and blood from Ran's face.

Ran heaved a shuddering breath. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Ran-oneesan," Ai said. "I'm sorry, this is a difficult question, but I need to know. How was the kidnapper able to leave with Edogawa-kun without being noticed?"

Ran nodded tightly, putting up a valiant struggle against more tears. "The kidnapper had a knife to my face. He... he had Conan-kun put on a gray, hooded sweatshirt... and then forced him to drug himself with a tranquilizer."

Ai blinked, amazed. "He drugged himself?"

Ran nodded. "Only after he made the kidnapper promise not to hurt me."

Ai sighed. "Of course. That noble idiot."

"I know!" Ran agreed, equal parts tearful and enraged. "I know I should be grateful, because that man would have hurt me if he hadn't obeyed, but I... I just..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Stupid Shinichi!"

At that moment, Ai heard distant shouts from down the hall, and heard the approach of running footsteps. "We'll find him," Ai said. "Listen, the police are here. On top of that, Hattori-kun is on his way, and Kudo-kun's parents are flying in as well."

Ran looked at her in surprise when she mentioned Kudo-kun's parents, but before she could respond, Takagi-keiji appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Sato-keiji.

"Ran-kun!" Sato-keiji rushed forward and Ai got out of her way as she and Takagi-keiji righted Ran's chair. "Hold on," she said, pulling a pocket knife out of her jacket's inner pocket. "We'll get you out of that tape."

Takagi-keiji looked at Ai. "Ah," he said, "are you the one who made the first call about Conan-kun being kidnapped?"

"Yes," Ai said, and then proceeded to tell him what Ran had told her, about Conan being drugged, and how he was now wearing a gray hoodie. Takagi-keiji listened, pale and grim, quickly taking written notes of what she said.

Sato-keiji removed the tape from Ran's ankles, and began working at cutting the tape binding her knees. "Ran-kun," she said, "did you get a good look at the kidnapper? Do you think you could provide us with a description?"

"Yes," Ran said. "He never tried to hide his face. But then he told Conan-kun that it wasn't his real face."

Sato-keiji blinked. "He was disguised?"

Ran shook her head. "If he was wearing a mask or makeup, I couldn't tell. But when Conan-kun asked for a guarantee that he wouldn't hurt me, especially since I had seen his face, he said, 'You think this is my face?'"

Sato-keiji's mouth pinched in a frown that echoed exactly how Ai felt at that little revelation. As if things weren't complicated enough.

She watched as Takagi-keiji examined the rest of the room. He went first to Kudo-kun's pile of clothing and gadgets. When he had made a note of everything there, he went to the opposite corner of the room where a black briefcase lay open on the floor. Next to it was a discarded white lab coat. Takagi-keiji reached out with gloved hands and pulled off what Ai realized was a clip-on picture ID card.

He walked over and showed the ID to Ran. "Is this what he looked like?"

Ran glanced at the card briefly, and nodded once.

"The operative word being 'looked,'" Sato-keiji said, grimly. "Odds are that he doesn't look like that any more."

"What about fingerprints?" Takagi-keiji asked.

"He was wearing surgical gloves," Ran said.

Sato-keiji straightened. "Surgical gloves?" she said. Her eyes were wide. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ran said, looking surprised. "He took them off over there, but then he opened the door with a tissue."

Sato-keiji and Takagi-keiji stared at each other for a moment, before Takagi-keiji rushed back over to the fallen lab coat. He picked it up, and two latex surgical gloves fell onto the floor. He looked back at Sato-keiji, an amazed expression on his face.

But Ai was more interested in the look on Sato-keiji's face. The sudden, sharp grin she flashed was positively feral. "Call forensics," she said. Takagi-keiji nodded and pulled out his phone.

"What?" asked Ran. "What is it?"

"Most criminals use gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints when they commit their crimes," Sato-keiji said, as she resumed cutting away at the duct tape. "And some like to use surgical gloves because of the skin-tight fit and the dexterity they retain. But what they don't realize is that sometimes latex gloves are so thin, they can still leave prints behind. But that's not the best part."

Ai raised her eyebrows. "What is the best part?" she asked.

Sato-keiji put down her pocket knife and leaned back on her haunches. "How do people take off surgical gloves? Because of how tight they are, they have to peel them off like this." She pantomimed the action of removing the gloves. "In doing so, the gloves end up inside out. And sometimes," she said, grinning fiercely, "they retain a perfect hand print of the person who wore them."

"Ah!" Ran's eyes were wide, and Ai saw the first glimmer of real hope in her expression. "That means..."

"That means it doesn't matter how well this bastard disguised himself," Sato-keiji said. "If his prints exist anywhere in the database, we've got him."

And, with those words, against all of her better judgement, Ai allowed herself to feel a small spark of hope as well.

The client had rented a small house in the Suginami district. It was quiet, isolated, and, as far as the man could tell from the outside, still free from electronic surveillance. He went up and knocked on the front door. Inside, a light came on, and some twenty seconds later, the client opened the door.

"Job's done," he said.

The client looked shocked, but only for a moment before his expression transformed into one that would look more at home on a kid eager to open a birthday present. "Where is he?"

"Trunk of the car. Do you have my payment?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Would you like to come in?"

"I'll wait here, thanks."

The client disappeared inside, and a minute later came back with a briefcase. "It's all here."

"Open it."

The client did so with such eagerness to show him the money, the man wondered if the thought of double-crossing him had even entered the client's mind. With both of the client's hands occupied holding open the briefcase, he picked up a stack of bills and flipped through them. Legit. Good.

"This is acceptable," he said.

The client closed the briefcase. "Show me the boy, and it's yours."

Together they walked over to the blue Honda. The man took the keys and opened the trunk. The boy lay inside, still unconscious.

"You drugged him?" the client said, frowning with disapproval as he reached down with one hand and felt the pulse at the boy's throat.

"If I hadn't, there would have been complications. He's every bit as clever as you said."

"I hope you didn't use chloroform. That can be dangerous, especially for one so small."

"It's just a injected tranquilizer, but considering the dose and his body mass it should keep him out for another hour or so, and be out of his system completely within eight hours."

The client looked relieved, and straightened. "Ah, all right. That shouldn't be too much of a problem, then." He held out the briefcase. "Here you go. Thank you very much for your services."

The man took the briefcase and tossed the car keys at the client, who caught them clumsily. "Here you go," he said. "And please. Never contact me again." He turned and walked away.

"Wait," the client called after him. "Don't you need your car?"

"That's not my car," he called back without turning around.

He was very glad to have that particular job behind him. Now it was time to take his money and get the hell out of town.

Heiji remembered to turn his phone back on as he was on his way to baggage claim at the Tokyo Haneda Airport.

As he expected, there was a message from Kudo, but to his surprise, it was a voice mail, not a text. And, even more bizarre, the call came from Kudo's obsolete earring phone. What the hell was he doing still using that archaic gadget, he wondered.

When he reached the baggage claim turnstile, he decided to try and listen to the voice mail in spite of the noisy airport background noise while he waited for his luggage to appear.

"You have. One. New message," the computer voice informed him, "sent at. Eight. Twelve. p.m."

Heiji looked at his watch. That was almost an hour ago. Kudo had apparently called not long after his plane had left the ground.

"Hattori," Kudo's voice said, and the strange tone immediately caught his attention. "I'm at the hospital, he's got Ran, room 131, I have to go there alone or he'll hurt her. I'm leaving this call connected. Listen for anything."

Heiji blinked. "What?" he said, not quite able to believe what he had just heard. But of course, Kudo wasn't there to answer him. He was listening to the past. This had already happened. And Heiji stood there, next to the baggage claim, numb with disbelief, listening. Helpless to do anything but listen, as he heard Kudo enter the room where Neechan was being held; where a man threatened to cut her up if Kudo didn't obey. So of course he obeyed. He did everything the man asked, up to and including drugging himself so that he could be carried, unresisting, out of the hospital.

"What the hell?" Heiji yelled, practically vibrating with barely contained fury and fear. "What the hell, Kudo! I thought I told you not to do anything stupid!" He snapped his phone shut, ignoring the startled people who were suddenly giving him a wide berth, and realized that he was already running out to the street, leaving his luggage behind. Damn his luggage, he thought, hailing a taxi. He'd buy new luggage. Kudo was gone, and for all he knew, Neechan was still tied up in room 131 after having been forced to watch Kudo get kidnapped right before her eyes.

"Beika General Hospital," he said to the taxi driver, "as fast as you can without killing us or getting pulled over."

The driver obliged. And as soon as they were away from the airport, Heiji called his voicemail again, determined to listen to the entire message from beginning to end.

It wasn't any easier listening to it the second time. If anything, it was worse because he knew what was coming. And then, after the kidnapper left with Kudo, there were long minutes of silence broken only by the sound of Neechan's quiet, muffled sobs, and the thud and scrape of the chair she was probably bound to as she struggled against her bonds.

He didn't know how long the message was, but he knew it ended at some point for him to have received it at all. So it was with great relief that he heard the door open, meaning that someone had finally discovered Neechan. That meant that, contrary to his fears, she wasn't still tied up in that room.

"This will hurt," said a voice, and Heiji sat straight up in surprise. What the- Was that Haibara-san? "One, two, three," the voice counted, and it was unmistakably Haibara-san.

There was a tearing sound, a gasp, and then Neechan's voice said, "He... he took Shinichi."

It took Heiji every single ounce of his willpower not to shout a string of curses, snap his phone shut and toss it out the window. She knew. She knew, and Heiji knew damn well how those two felt about each other, and Kudo was gone and she knew and didn't this just take the bloody effing cake.

But somehow he didn't throw his phone out the window. He listened as Haibara-san and Neechan talked, listened as Haibara went to wherever Kudo had discarded the earring phone. There was the rustling sound of cloth being moved, a click, and then... it was over.

Heiji saved the message, closed the phone, and glanced at his watch. 9:37. A little under two hours since he had been texting Kudo at the Kansai International Airport.

Kudo's parents needed to know, of course. He wrote them both a text, summing up what he just found out in as concise language as possible. He pushed the 'send' button, and sighed.

He was the Great Detective of the West, but how things could go so badly wrong in less than two hours, he would never be able to figure out. He only hoped that in the time it was taking him to get to the hospital, things wouldn't get any worse.

Then he prayed to the gods of fate that they wouldn't take that as a challenge.

The plane was less than forty-five minutes away from landing when Yukiko got Heiji-kun's last text. She read it and found her worst fears realized. Not even the threat of ruining her disguise was able to prevent her from weeping, though she did manage it silently.

Yusaku took the phone from her limp fingers. He read the text, closed the phone, and put his arm around Yukiko. She turned and pressed her face against him, struggling to keep quiet.

"It will be alright," he whispered to her. "We planned for this, remember."

"Yes," she managed.

She knew the plan. When the plane landed, she and Yusaku would part ways. He had his resources, and she had hers. And she knew exactly what her first stop would be.

It was time to pay a visit to an old friend. A friend who used to go by the name of Sharon Vineyard.

Conan woke up, and the first thing that his sluggish brain was able to process was that he was cold. He was shivering. An acrid smell that he couldn't immediately identify stung his nose.

"Hm. You're awake. Sooner than expected. Good, good."

A stranger's voice. Conan opened his eyes and tried to take stock in spite of the fuzziness clinging to his mind. He was lying on his back, and a man, apparently the owner of the voice, was leaning over him, looking into his face. The man appeared to be around Agasa's age, but, unlike Agasa, he was thin and gaunt, his iron-gray hair cropped short. His cheeks were hollow, and the deep shadows under his eyes spoke of years of going without enough sleep.

Conan tried to sit up, which was how he learned that he couldn't. A glance down at himself revealed that he was wearing a thin hospital gown, and that his wrists and ankles were secured with white adjustable restraints that appeared to be built in to the gurney to which he was strapped. Worse yet, the strands of usually dark hair hanging around his eyes were now light brown, and suddenly he realized that the acrid smell stinging his nose was hair dye. His captor had dyed his hair while he was unconscious.

I think it's safe to panic now, he thought to himself. Especially since the room he was in looked nothing like a hospital and more like the living room of a small apartment, and the stranger looked nothing like a doctor - at least, not any doctor that he had ever met.

But panicking never really did anything except make a bad situation worse. He took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the fact that his pulse felt like it was racing a thousand beats per second. "Who are you?" he said.

The man straightened, an unreadable look on his face that reminded Conan, strangely, of Haibara. "You may call me Matsumara-san."

"Is that your real name?"

That actually provoked a smile. "Of course not."

"Hm. So you're the one who had me kidnapped."

"Very astute, little detective."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me why?"

Matsumara's smile widened. "Actually, I'd like to hear your deduction on the matter."

Conan frowned. "You know about that night at Tropical Land, and you know who I am. So you're Black Org... or you were."

Matsumara nodded. "Go on."

"You know about the drug that did this to me. You figured out that it shrank me instead of killing me, so you were probably on the team responsible for making it."

Matsumara raised his eyebrows. "Very good," he said.

Conan glared. "At first I thought this whole thing might be about using me as leverage with the Black Org, to keep them from hunting you down for leaving," he said, "but it's more complicated than that. You want to use me to research the drug, and use the drug as leverage."

"Close," Matsumara said. "Very close, but for a few minor qualifications. I must say, I'm impressed."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," Conan said flatly, looking down at his restraints. "So, this doesn't much look like a lab. How exactly do you intend to research the drug?"

"These are but temporary accommodations," Matsumara said. "I'm simply waiting for the tranquilizer to leave your system before preparing you for transport."

"Transport?" Conan asked. He didn't like the sound of that at all. The knot of panic twisting in his gut surged to the point where he was nauseous, but he forced it back. "Transport where?" He didn't really expect an answer, but any information was good information at this point.

Matsumara reached over and patted his arm. "Well, I am a doctor. You will be returning with me to a very nice hospital in a rural community where I have taken residence. Did you know that, thanks to government-led, tax based, technology diffusion through Japan, most rural hospitals and clinics are technologically better equipped than urban hospitals? I promise, you'll receive nothing but the best quality care available."

Conan felt his eyes widen involuntarily. "You're planning on setting me up as a patient? Don't you think someone will notice that you're holding a kidnapped kid prisoner in the middle of a hospital?"

"Ah, but you're not a kidnapped kid," Matsumara said, and his smile chilled Conan to the bone. "You are my dear nephew, son of my deceased brother, and the foreign wife who ran off and abandoned you when she found out that you suffered from severe epilepsy."

"What?" Conan's voice came out as a hoarse croak.

"Yes. Tragically, you recently suffered a series of grand mal seizures, and doctors were forced to put you into a medically induced coma to prevent further damage. Lucky for you, as your loving uncle, I am personally overseeing your transfer to my hospital, where I can oversee your care personally."

The fear was so strong, Conan could literally feel it surging through his veins in time with his heartbeat. This man, this former Black Org scientist, was going to put him into a coma. "Wait," he said, with what little remaining bravado he had left. "There's no reason you have to... to put me in a coma to run tests."

"Of course there's a reason," Matsumara said, reaching over and tapping him in the center of his forehead with an index finger. "You are altogether too smart for your own good. I have a lot of work to do. That drug was administered to twenty-seven different people, and every single one of them died. Except you. To you, it did this, and I intend to find out why. Somewhere inside that little body of yours lies the secret that makes the difference between death... and youth." He leaned back and shrugged. "I'm going to find out what makes you so special, Kudo-san, and I need to do it without constantly worrying that you're going to use your great detective mind to figure out how to escape. The simplest solution is to just take your brain offline, so to speak."

Conan stared at him, speechless for a moment. Then he swallowed. "Well," he said. "It sounds like a good plan. You've really thought things through. But it's not going to work."

"Really?" Matsumara sounded amused. "Why not?"

"Because the entire Tokyo police force is going to be looking for me, as well as my friends and my parents. They'll find you."

Matsumara actually laughed. "Find me? I've been hiding from the Black Org for over a year, and they haven't found me. What makes you think your friends will succeed where they haven't?"

"Because they are better than the Black Org," Conan said, and with that Matsumara frowned.

"We'll see," he said. Then he stood and went into the next room. Through the open doorway, Conan could see him packing clothes and toiletries into a large suitcase.

Conan tested the restraints, pulling with all his strength, but they didn't even budge. He stared at the ceiling, then closed his eyes.

Please, he begged to whatever benevolent gods might be listening. Please, let them find me.

Chapter Text

A/N: First, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I love you guys, and I hope to be able to respond personally to each one of you as soon as time allows.

Second... I'm so sorry for this being late! My kids and I came down with terrible colds almost immediately after posting the last chapter. Apparently I can write fine under the influence of pain killers while passing kidney stones, but a sinus headache will lay me low. :( Feeling better now, so hopefully the next chapter will be on schedule. And this chapter is extra-long, so hopefully that makes up for the lateness a little bit.

Now, on with the fic.

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 07: The Enemy of My Enemy

Ai felt utterly exhausted. Emotionally drained to the point where she almost felt completely numb, except for a low, ever-present thrum of fear, like an electrical current running through her body. Fear for Agasa-hakase, the man who, against all reason, had taken her in and was like a father to her, who was still in surgery. And fear for Kudo-kun, snatched right out of the hospital on behalf of someone whose motives she was terrified to examine too closely.

At least the police were done with their questions for the moment. Ai looked up at Ran, who was sitting next to her. Ran seemed incredibly weary as well, and yet she was as tight as an over-stretched violin string. Her fists were clenched in her lap, her eyes were wide, her gaze turned inward... and Ai wondered if Ran was re-living her ordeal of being abducted and being used to force Kudo-kun's compliance with his kidnapper. She had just spent almost an hour recounting the entire experience for the police and answering their questions. And Ai didn't know if her little pep-talk had helped, but Ran managed to get through it without slipping even once. She knew that her 'Conan-kun' was Kudo-kun, and yet she kept his secret safe.

And now all they could do was wait. Wait for doctors to bring news of Agasa-hakase. Wait for the police to run the prints on the latex gloves and see if they came up with a match. Wait for the police to interview possible witnesses and review security camera footage. Wait for them to finish processing the crime scenes here at the hospital and at Agasa's house. Wait and wait and wait, while who-knows-what happened to Kudo-kun. It was maddening.

She could hear Mouri-san's voice from down the hall and around the corner, raised as he spoke with Megure-keibu about the case. The man was nearly beside himself when he found out what happened. He had been so upset when he came upon the crime scene while Sato-keiji was still helping Ran out of the duct tape, he had made the mistake of raging against "that detective brat" again. Ran's response had been swift and angry.

"If you want to blame someone, Tousan," she had said, her voice flat and cold as ice, "blame the man who did this. Blame the man who took Conan-kun, blame the man who hired him. Blame them and find them and get Conan-kun back. But if you say one more thing about this being Shinichi's fault, I will never forgive you."

Mouri-san had wisely held his tongue after that, and was now doing his best to be useful to the investigation. Ai only hoped that he kept his impulsive, and usually wildly inaccurate deductions to a minimum. She knew that the man was capable of genuine competence on occasion, especially when the stakes were personal. And right now they were very personal.

"Ai-chan..."

Ai looked up to see Ran looking at her with a strange, pensive expression on her face. "What is it?" she asked.

"You're... like Shinichi, aren't you."

Ai blinked, her eyes going wide, her heart thudding with the unexpected threat of discovery. "Wh-what?"

"I've been thinking," Ran said, "about everything that has happened since that night at Tropical Land when Shinichi disappeared and Conan-kun appeared in his place. And to me, it's the only thing that makes sense." She smiled a little, but in her eyes, Ai could see sadness and fear. "You don't seem like a child, Ai-chan. You never have. And I already know that there are bad people trying to find you. I just want you to know... I will keep your secret safe."

Ai stared, not knowing what to say. Denial was the first thing to come to mind. Deny and deflect, do the same thing Kudo-kun had done whenever he thought Ran was getting too close to the truth. Lie, and pretend to be a confused little kid. But she had never been good at playing the child, probably because she had never had a real childhood. And, until recently, she had never really been around children at all.

Ai swallowed as she realized exactly what she had done when she had confirmed Ran's belief that Conan was Kudo-kun. Of course Ran would start making connections. Once one accepted the possibility of an adult being reduced to childhood, it wasn't all that difficult to figure out.

In a moment of terrible stress, she had done the very thing that she had told Kudo-kun he must never do, if he wanted to keep Ran safe. And while she had done it for the sole purpose of keeping Kudo-kun's secret safe - while she had only meant to loose a few drops of the deluge - she had still opened the floodgates.

There was no way to isolate Kudo-kun's personal secret; it was too interconnected with too many other secrets. Too interconnected with her secrets. There was no way to unveil just one without offering glimpses of everything else.

But, as she stared up at Ran, she knew she had to say something, because her continued silence was as good as affirmation. "I... I don't..."

"What is it?" Ran said, turning to her, her face etched in anguish. "What is it that you and Shinichi are hiding from? What is it that is so terrible that he couldn't tell me the truth? What is it that, even now, you don't want to tell me? I can see it in your face, Ai-chan. You're scared. Well, so am I. I'm terrified. But I don't even know what it is that I'm afraid of. I don't know who or what did this to you and Shinichi, I don't know why that lady tried to kill you, I don't know why Shinichi was kidnapped. And how can I even hope to do anything about it when I don't know anything?" Tears stood out in Ran's eyes, but didn't fall. She blinked them back, looking at Ai with an expression that was both pleading and determined.

Ai lowered her eyes, unable to look Ran in the face. After a long moment, she said, "If I tell you... you will be in danger. Kudo-kun kept everything from you to keep you safe." And so did I.

"I get that," Ran said, her voice low and steady. "I really do. And I was even ready to go along with it... until it didn't work! I was tased and tied up by a monster disguised as a hospital worker, held at knife point and used to force Shinichi to allow himself to be kidnapped."

Ran was trembling. "I keep asking myself," she whispered, "would I have been more on my guard if I knew the truth? Would I have naively followed that man to an isolated spot if I knew before hand what kind of people you're dealing with? Would I have gone through the door first?" She pounded her clenched fists in her lap in frustration. "If... if I had just refused to follow, if I had insisted on waiting in the lobby while he retrieved that form he claimed he needed, it would have stopped everything. He only succeeded in tricking me because I didn't know enough to be cautious. And because of that, he was able to take Shinichi."

Ai listened, her heart contracting painfully as Ran's words settled on her.

Knowing the truth hadn't saved Akemi, but then her sister was in too deep before she had even made the attempt to bargain with the Org for their lives. And the only reason Ai wasn't dead along with her was because her suicide attempt ended with her as a child instead of a corpse.

She and her sister had been raised in the Organization. Knowing the truth hadn't helped them. It had only brought them both pain and suffering.

But... was Ran right? If she had known about the Black Organization - if she lived with the daily paranoia that seemed to invade every aspect of Ai's own life - would she still have fallen into the kidnapper's trap? Or could Kudo-kun's abduction have been prevented?

"Please, Ai-chan..." Ran's voice cracked. "I can't bear not knowing any longer. If you know the truth... please tell me."

Ai looked up at Ran. Her heart was pounding. The floodgates were open. There was no going back. With what Ran already knew, knowing the rest of the truth could only help her. Right?

I hope I'm making the right decision. And if it turns out that I've made a terrible mistake, I can only hope that Kudo-kun forgives me.

"It's... a long story," she said at last.

Relief and gratitude flashed across Ran's face. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

"Well then." Ai took a deep breath. "It all began with the Black Organization, and a drug called Apotoxin 4869..."

Heiji had to admit that the police had done a thorough investigation of the crime scene before he even got to the hospital. Sato and Takagi had been nice enough to take him to the room where Kudo had been kidnapped, and had gone over the evidence with him.

The latex gloves were being processed for prints. Some officers had been assigned to investigate the three hunting knives - the two from the murder scene and the one left behind by the kidnapper. They were all created by the same craftsman, and they were tracking him down for a list of clients and purchases. Kudo's watch had been found in the trash bin near the entrance and had been bagged as evidence. The kidnapper's car and license plate had been identified - a 1986 blue Honda Civic that had been reported stolen almost three weeks ago. An APB had been sent out with the car description, the photo of the kidnapper from his fake hospital ID, and a description of Kudo and what he was wearing when last seen.

Heiji had searched the room thoroughly, and then had gone out to the parking garage, but, to his immense frustration, he didn't find anything that the police might have missed.

And now, here he stood in a cramped, dimly lit room, along side Mouri, Sato and Takagi. Shiratori sat in the room's only chair in front of a monitor, fast-forwarding through the hospital's security camera footage. Outside the room in the hall, the hospital administrator was speaking in a low voice to the security guard who had been on duty when Kudo had been snatched, and he did not sound happy - no doubt because this was going to be a public relations disaster.

"Here," Shiratori said, stopping the fast forward. The monitor showed a view of the hospital lobby. A few seconds passed, and then a man came into view, carrying a child cradled against his chest. Heiji felt his stomach twist. Kudo...

Kudo's face was mostly concealed by the hood of the gray sweater he was wearing, but a few strands of dark hair from his unruly bangs were visible. He was obviously deeply unconscious, from the almost boneless way he was slumped against his kidnapper.

The man carried Kudo across the lobby toward the exit, and when he was halfway there, he looked directly at the security camera... and winked.

Heiji clenched his fists and opened his mouth to spit curses at the man, but to his surprise, Mouri beat him to it.

"That bastard!" Mouri pounded his fist on the table, earning him an annoyed glance from Shiratori. "He doesn't even care that we've seen his face!"

"This is only confirming what we already know," Sato said. "He seems pretty confident that he won't get caught, even with everything he left behind."

"We've got to do something," Mouri insisted, and he turned on Heiji. "You, you're a hot-shot high school detective, is there anything you've figured out that you're not sharing with the rest of us?"

Heiji raised his hands. "Sorry, Mouri-san. From what I've seen, the police have covered everything."

"We might get some leads after the press release," Shiratori said.

"The press?" Heiji frowned. "Have they been notified?

"You didn't know?" Takagi said. "They've been here for almost a half hour. Megure-keibu is giving a statement right now, in front of the hospital."

"What?" Heiji turned on his heel and left the room, sidling past the hospital administrator and the security guard before breaking into a full run toward the elevator.

If the press were already involved, this was going to get messy. Kudo always kept his real name out of the news since being shrunk, but he hadn't been as successful giving "Conan" a low profile. He had headlined the news more than once, thanks to having aided Inspector Nakamori with a few Kaitou Kid heists. He had even been given full credit for outwitting Kid on the Blue Wonder heist, having figured out the trick behind Kid's "miraculous mid-air walk" and preventing Kid from escaping with the Blue Wonder. What was the press going to do once they found out that "Sleeping Kogoro's Prodigy Assistant" had been kidnapped?

And then there were the triple shooting murders in front of Agasa-hakase's house. There was no way that wouldn't make the news, and even if Megure-keibu didn't officially link the two incidents, any reporter worth their salt would make the connection.

Well, the good news about the press getting involved was that it would get Kudo's face out there, and maybe get him found sooner. The bad news was that... it would get Kudo's face out there, and possibly attract the attention of a certain Organization.

The elevator doors opened, and Heiji stepped through, blinking in surprise when Mouri joined him.

Heiji glanced over at him as the doors closed. "I gotta say," he said, "I didn't think you'd be this upset over this."

"Don't get me wrong," Mouri snapped without looking at him. "That freeloading brat is a nuisance. But he basically sacrificed himself so that madman wouldn't hurt Ran." He grit his teeth, scowling. "A normal kid would have been paralyzed with fear. But he saved Ran's life. And it's not the first time he's thrown himself on the sword for her. I'm not going to let some bastard hurt him if I can help it."

Heiji raised his eyebrows and stifled a smile, but said nothing. Interesting, he thought. Mouri would probably tear out his own tongue before admitting it, but it was obvious that he had come to care for Kudo. He wondered if that would carry over if Mouri ever found out who "Conan-kun" really was.

The elevator doors opened, and Heiji stepped out and headed quickly for the hospital entrance, followed close behind by Mouri. As they entered the lobby, he could see the press lights and flashing bulbs through the glass doors. Megure-keibu was standing in front of a portable podium, surrounded by a mob of reporters. Heiji pushed his way through the doors opposite Megure, anxious to get outside and hear exactly what information was being given to the public.

Megure seemed to be in the middle of his statement. "...was taken by this man," he said, holding up an enlarged picture from the fake ID. "Though we have reason to believe this is a disguise, and he may no longer look like this, anyone who has seen him, please contact the police. Again, Edogawa Conan was last seen wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, beige pants, and white socks. The kidnapper was seen driving a 1986 blue Honda Civic, license plate number Shinjuku 500, Se 89-32. If you have any information that might lead to the boy's safe return, please contact the police tip line. Now, are there any questions?"

"Inspector," said a young woman, leaning forward with her microphone, "there are reports that the triple homicide at the residence of Agasa Hiroshi earlier this evening is connected with this kidnapping. Is there any truth to that?"

Ouch, though Heiji. And there it is.

"That matter is still under investigation," said Megure.

Nice deflection, Heiji thought. But that won't hold them off forever.

"Has any motive been established?" said an older man, pushing forward through the crowd. "Have there been any ransom demands?"

"No ransom demands as yet," Megure said, "and we are still investigating possible motives."

Good luck with that, Heiji thought. There would be no ransom demands, and for the police to discern the kidnapper's motive, they would have to know about the Black Organization first.

"Edogawa Conan is known for being Sleeping Kogoro's assistant. Is it possible that this might be some kind of revenge against Sleeping Kogoro for criminals that have been arrested due to his involvement?"

And here comes the wild speculation, thought Heiji. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mouri fume.

"Again," said Megure, "we have yet to determine a motive, but-"

"But if that is the case," Mouri said, storming up to the podium, "rest assured, I will find this man and bring him to justice!"

The reporters literally went into a frenzy at Mouri's appearance. A flurry of flashes, and the mob of reporters surged forward, microphones outstretched. Heiji backed away, slipping quickly through the glass doors and into the lobby. The last thing he wanted was for someone to recognize him and drag him into that media circus. He had better things to do.

He took a deep breath and braced himself. He had done everything he could, but there was no more putting it off. It was time to check up on Neechan, and see how she was holding up.

It wasn't as hard as Ai thought it would be, telling Ran the truth. Ran listened patiently and attentively, without interrupting, and Ai was able to let it just pour out in a single, chronological narrative, beginning with her time at the Organization, with Akemi, with the creation of Apotoxin 4869.

Then Gin and Vodka attacking Kudo-kun at Tropical Land and feeding him the poison. How, afterward, she headed up the investigation when his body was never recovered, and found the evidence that he had shrunk during a search of the Kudo household; how she then changed his status from "Unknown" to "Deceased" to keep him safe.

She told of Akemi's attempted bargain for their freedom, and her death at the hands of Gin. Of her own suicide attempt that ended in escape; of collapsing in front of Kudo-kun's gate, and being discovered and taken in by Agasa-hakase.

And then how Kudo-kun had, time and again, saved her from discovery. How his careful plans and quick thinking had thwarted Pisco, Gin, and Vermouth in their attempts to re-capture or kill her. Of Kudo-kun's close calls and near misses in his efforts to take down the Organization.

And how she was working on an antidote, but thus far had only created a temporary cure, the results of which Ran had witnessed those few times when she had seen Kudo-kun as himself.

And Ran listened silently. Sometimes her eyes were wide with shock, sometimes they shone with tears. Sometimes her mouth gaped open in amazement, and other times she had both hands pressed against her lips in horror. But she didn't interrupt, not even to ask one of the hundreds of questions that must have been clamoring in her mind, and for that, Ai was grateful.

By the time she finished, she felt wrung out, like an old sponge that had every last drop of moisture squeezed away. She sat, looking down at her hands in her lap, feeling strangely light.

"Ai-chan," Ran said, and Ai looked at her in surprise. After everything she had revealed about her responsibility in this whole disaster, she was still Ai-chan?

"Thank you." Ran smiled tremulously. "Thank you so much. I can't tell you how much I..." She wiped her eyes with her fingers. "That must have been so hard for you."

Ai almost smiled. She should have known. If she was going to get recrimination over the role she had played in Kudo-kun's fate, it wouldn't come from Ran. The girl didn't seem to have it in her to hold a grudge. Ai shrugged. "Hard or not," she said, "it's what you asked for."

"Yes," said Ran. And she fell silent again. Ai glanced at her and saw that her gaze had turned inward, and she wondered what Ran was thinking about with her knew knowledge. Perhaps re-evaluating some of her past interactions with Kudo-kun. "Ai-chan," Ran said after a moment. "Do you think-?"

She broke off her question at the sound of approaching footsteps, and looked toward the end of the hall with a shocked, guilty expression on her face, looking for all the world like she had been caught doing something wrong. Ai wondered what she could have possibly been asking to make her look like that, and would have asked, but at that moment, Hattori Heiji came around the corner.

Ran jumped to her feet. "Heiji-kun," she said, obviously relieved.

Hattori-kun raised a hand in greeting as he walked up to them. "Yo, Neechan, Haibara-san." He looked back and forth between the two of them with a strange, calculating expression on his face, before finally looking at Ran.

"So..." he said, slowly, his Osakan drawl even more pronounced than usual. "Welcome to the 'People Who Figured It Out' club, Neechan."

Ran blinked. "What do you..." Then realization flashed across her face. "Wait. You know too? About-"

"Yeah," he said, somber. "I figured it out when we were at the Mycroft Hotel during the Holmes Freak murder case."

"More important than that," Ai said, giving Hattori-kun a narrow look. "How did you know that Ran-oneesan had figured it out?"

Hattori-kun pulled out his cell phone. "Kudo called me from the earring phone right before he went into the room where you were being held," he said gravely, looking at Ran. "He kept the call connected. I heard everything from that point until you," he said, nodding at Ai, "accidentally disconnected the call when you were looking through his things."

Ai frowned thoughtfully. "I see." And indeed, the look on his face expressed exactly how disturbing it was, to hear everything that was going on, yet be unable to do anything about it.

Ran was looking hard at Hattori-kun, and Ai could practically see her fitting the puzzle pieces together in her head. "It all makes sense now," she said after a long moment. "No wonder you two get along so well." She shook her head and sighed heavily. "Is there anyone else who knows?"

"Agasa-hakase knows," Hattori-kun said, "as well as Kudo's parents."

"And Vermouth," Ai added.

"Vermouth," Ran said, looking alarmed. "From the Black Organization? That woman who tried to kill you?"

Ai nodded. "For some reason, she seems reluctant to harm Kudo-kun. And you, for that matter. She could have easily killed us both that night at the docks, but she refused to shoot through you to get to me."

Ran blinked, looking confused. "I see," she said, though it was apparent that she was still turning that information over in her mind.

"Let's not forget the most important people who know," Hattori-kun said. "Kudo's kidnapper, and whoever hired him." He looked at Ai. "Kudo said the guy behind this is probably a former member of the Black Org. He knew about the poison and that night at Tropical Land, but drew attention to himself with the police - something an active member of the Org would never do, right?"

Ai nodded. "That is correct."

"That means," Hattori-kun said, crouching down to look at her at eye level, "right now, you are the closest link we have to being able to figure out who this guy is so we can get Kudo back."

Ai had been expecting this, but it was still upsetting. "I don't know who it is," she said. "I don't know of anyone who escaped before I did, and I have no way of knowing who escaped after. It could be anyone from the lab."

"And that narrows down the suspect pool right there, so let's start with that," Hattori-kun said, giving her an encouraging smile. "Make a list of people from the lab, and then let's see if we can narrow it down even more. And if we can't narrow it down, then we'll just start investigating each person one by one."

"That means you would definitely end up investigating active members of the Organization trying to find the one who isn't," she said, "which is something you don't do unless you have a death wish."

"If it would help us find Shinichi," said Ran, "then... then I would do it anyway."

Ai sighed. "Yes. And I would as well. I just want to make sure you both understand what we will be dealing-"

She broke off abruptly at the sound of approaching footsteps, and this time, as all three of them looked down the hall, she was quite sure they were all wearing identical, wide-eyed expressions of "being caught discussing something they shouldn't."

A man in blue medical scrubs came around the corner. "Excuse me," he said, looking at them. "Are you here with Agasa-san?"

"Yes," said Ran, and she stepped forward. "Do you have news?"

The man nodded. His ID tag identified him as Dr. Onodera. "Agasa-san is out of immediate danger," he said, and at those words, Ai felt the knot of fear that had coiled tight in her chest the moment she had heard the gunshots earlier that evening loosen slightly.

"He is in critical, but stable condition," the doctor continued, "but I'm afraid he has a long road of recovery in front of him. The bullet shattered the neck of his left femur just below the hip joint. When he has recovered from the blood loss, he will require hip replacement surgery."

Ran's eyes widened in dismay. "Oh no."

"When can we see him?" Ai asked.

"I'm afraid he's not allowed visitors while he's in ICU," the doctor said. "But depending on how quickly he improves, he could have visitors as soon as tomorrow evening. In the meantime, you all should go home and get some rest."

Ai looked up at Ran, who was wringing her hands. "That's probably for the best," she said, though she honestly didn't think she would be sleeping at all tonight.

"Sensei," Hattori-kun said. "I don't suppose you know of a way to leave the hospital besides the main front entrance? There's a media circus out front at the moment, and I think we'd all prefer to avoid it."

The doctor frowned. "Yes, I saw that," he said. "Both the north and south wings have their own entrances. You can leave through either of those."

"Thanks," he said, and as the doctor walked away, he turned to look at Ran. "I'll walk you home. You too, Haibara-san."

Ran turned to Ai. "You can't be thinking about going back to Agasa-hakase's house after what happened tonight, especially since you would be all by yourself. You should come and stay with me."

Ai smiled a little. "Thank you for the offer, but all my things are at his house. I probably won't be sleeping tonight anyway, so I should use the time to get some work done."

"Oh." Ran looked crestfallen. "Are you sure? If you change your mind..." And with that, Ai could see that Ran was actually the one who didn't want to be alone.

She sighed. "Well... I suppose if we stopped by the Professor's house first, I could pick up a few things."

Ran's face lit up. Really, Ai thought, with something approaching fondness. The girl wore every single emotion out in the open for every one to see.

"Well then," said Hattori-kun. "Let's get out of here. Agasa-hakase's first, then the detective agency."

The three of them headed out together, and Ai couldn't help but think that they were as disparate a group of people as one could imagine. That Kudo-kun had brought them together this way was nothing short of a wonder.

Yukiko sat on the couch in the luxurious penthouse apartment. The lights were off, but the curtains were open on the floor-to-ceiling window, offering a spectacular view of the Tokyo skyline, the glow from the city lights blotting out the stars on the horizon.

The age makeup had been abandoned at the hotel room. She needed to be herself for this. She lifted a porcelain cup of tea to her lips, and focused to steady her shaking hands. The tea was still scalding. She sipped it anyway, letting it burn her tongue.

She had been sitting in the dark for nearly twenty minutes when she finally heard a key in the front door deadbolt. She sat up straighter as the door opened, and found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. She looked beyond the gun to the backlit figure behind it, and smiled.

"Hello, Sharon," she said. "I made some tea."

The gun lowered, and the figure stepped through the door. "Yukiko." Vermouth's voice was cold. "I thought you might be that busybody FBI agent nosing about again. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"My son," Yukiko said, watching Vermouth very carefully. "Shin-chan has been abducted."

Even in the dark, she could see the surprise on Vermouth's face. Either it was a genuine emotion, or her acting skills had gotten better, but as quickly as the emotion surfaced, it was gone.

"Well," said Vermouth. "I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later, the way he sticks his nose into trouble constantly. A shame, really."

"Did you do it?" Yukiko asked bluntly, and Vermouth raised an eyebrow at her.

"As a matter of fact... no. Neither I nor my... associates are responsible for whatever disaster your son has gotten himself into. Now, if that's all you came for-"

"Actually, I have reason to believe that the person responsible was a former 'associate' of yours."

"Really." Vermouth crossed her arms, gun still hanging from her right hand. "And what reason is that, pray tell."

Yukiko took a sip of tea, then set the cup and saucer on the coffee table. "Whoever is responsible knows about Apotoxin 4869. They know about what happened to Shin-chan that night months ago at Tropical Land. They called the police with that information, claiming to have killed him, in an attempt to flush him out."

"They called the police?" Vermouth said, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes. Shin-chan came to the conclusion that the responsible party was a former member of your Organization. So tell me, Sharon, can you think who it might be? Who would have that information, and what reason would they have for abducting my son?"

Vermouth was silent for a long time. Yukiko met her gaze and didn't flinch.

"I... might know of someone," Vermouth said at last. "I will look into it."

Yukiko blinked. "You'll look into it? Sharon, if you know who has my son-"

"I said I would look into it," Vermouth said sharply. "This is my business now."

"Not just yours!" Yukiko said, alarmed. "My son-"

"Is in very serious trouble, if my suspicions are correct," Vermouth said, turning on her heel and walking back to the open door. "So you'd better pray that your son's deduction was wrong, and that I'm about to embark on a wild goose chase." She glanced over her shoulder. "Now, be a dear, Yukiko, and lock the door behind you when you leave."

And with that, she slammed the door, leaving Yukiko in darkness.

By the time Okazaki Hana's taxi pulled up in front of Matsumara's rental house, she saw that Isao's bicycle was already there, and Tsugumichi was ready with the ambulance, sitting in the driver's seat.

As she got out of the taxi and paid her fare, Matsumara came storming out the open front door. "Where have you been?" he demanded as the taxi drove off. "You know we've got a time table to keep! The kidnapping has already made the news."

"Yes," she said, "I was listening to the news on the way over. Your hired mercenary wasn't very subtle, was he? Killing three men, and wounding a fourth, all to snatch this kid. I'm surprised the police aren't pounding down your door already."

"They don't have anything that can lead to us," Matsumara said, scowling fiercely, "and I hired a professional. He got the job done, didn't he?"

Hana just shrugged. "So, where is this amazing shrinking detective?" she said.

"In the ambulance, awaiting your contribution to the team," he said. "Why don't you get started while Isao and I finish cleaning up?"

"By 'cleaning up,' do you mean 'wiping down fingerprints?'" she said.

Matsumara just glared, and went back into the house.

Sighing, Hana went over the driver's side of the ambulance and knocked on the window. Tsugumichi rolled down the window and grinned at her. "Hey, Okazaki-san," he said. "Are you ready for this? Unlocking the key to immortality and eternal youth?" He spread his hands in a grand, sweeping gesture.

"Sure, mister hot-shot geneticist," she said wryly. "And just think, all you have to do is crack his genetic code."

"Oh, is that all?" he said. "And what will you be doing while I'm slaving over my gene splicer?"

"I've got the easy job," she said. "I just have to make sure the guy sleeps through the whole thing."

Tsugumichi got a strange look on his face at that. "Maybe not as easy as you think," he said. "Have you met him yet?"

"I was just about to go and introduce myself," she said. "But why do you say that?"

Tsugumichi still had that funny look. "Eh..." he said, "probably nothing. Just... don't go all soft on us, okay?"

She snorted. "Me? Soft?"

Tsugumichi laughed. "You're right, what was I thinking. Well, have at it, Okazaki-san. But I gotta say, I don't envy you." And with that, he rolled up the window.

Huh, she thought. Well, that was odd. She headed to the back of the ambulance, opened the doors, and climbed inside, closing the doors behind her. The gurney was already secured, and her patient was safely strapped in.

Her first impression was of how small he was. She knew that he was supposed to be seven years old, physically, but he actually looked younger, more like five or six. It might just have been an illusion because of how dwarfed he looked in comparison to the size of the gurney he lay on, but still.

And he was looking at her. His face wore an expression of undisguised terror, and his wide, blue eyes shone with tears.

"Neechan," he said, and his young voice was small and tremulous. "I... I'm scared. Can you help me? Please?"

She stared at him. His plea was devastatingly effective, even going so far as to stir instincts within her that she had thought long dead and buried. He looked every bit the frightened child, and suddenly she understood what Tsugumichi had been talking about. Going soft indeed.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Nice try," she said. "But I already know all about you, Kudo-san."

When she said that, she was startled at how quickly his expression changed. One moment he was the scared child, and the next... it was like a mask literally dropped off his face. He stared at her, his gaze cool and calculating, and there was nothing childlike about it. He seemed to size her up, and she felt uncomfortably exposed by those piercing eyes. Then he turned his head and looked away.

"Eh," he said, and his voice, though still that of a child, had taken on a deeper timbre. "It was worth a shot."

Wow, she thought, smiling. What a piece of work. She had initially been skeptical about joining this crazy endeavor, but now, she had solid proof right in front of her eyes that Matsumara's claims were not only real, but possible. Fountain of Youth indeed.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Okazaki Hana, and I'm your personal anesthesiologist. Twenty-five years experience on the job."

He looked at her again. "Really?" he said, looking sour. "And in those twenty-five years, how many people have you put in medically induced comas?"

"That have needed it?" she said, unperturbed. "Several. But as you've already guessed, you'll be the first without major head trauma. But lucky you! That means you might come out of it without any brain damage."

He actually looked a little green at that, but that didn't keep him from glaring. "Right," he said, his tone biting. "Like any of you really intend to let me go once you've used me as your lab rat. You put me under, and you know I won't be coming out of it alive."

Her smile almost cracked at that. She knew what he said was a possibility, of course. Even likely. But she wasn't fully prepared for him to spell it out to her like that. He was smart, this one, and if she didn't keep her guard up, he would get under her skin.

Well, enough chit chat, it was time to get down to business. The ambulance was high-tech and had everything she needed. She started taking his vitals. Temperature via ear thermometer. Thirty-seven degrees celsius. Perfect. His respiration was good.

She took his wrist (so small!) in her hand and pressed two fingers against the vein to measure his pulse. It was racing. She glanced at his face. He was looking right at her, his eyes angry, his expression cold. But his heart rate betrayed his fear. He was putting on a good show, but he really was afraid, she realized.

Pushing that thought aside, she took his blood pressure, noting that it was higher than normal. Only to be expected.

Once that was taken care of, she briefly considered hooking him up to the EKG next, but then decided that could wait until after he was asleep. The way his heart was racing, she doubted it would help him relax any if she opened his hospital gown and started cleaning his skin with rubbing alcohol. So, IV next.

First she primed the IV line, then put on a fresh pair of latex gloves and tied a tourniquet around his upper left arm. She noticed that he tried to squirm at that point, but the restraints held him fast. She grasped the crook of his elbow and found a good vein, then quickly sterilized the skin with a bedatine solution. As soon as it was dry, she took the cannula and slid the needle into the vein. As soon as the blood showed, she inserted the catherter and withdrew the needle, then quickly applied an occlusive dressing, removed the tourniquet, and attached the IV tube to the catheter port.

"There," she said, pleased with her own skill and efficiency. "You're ready to go."

"Terrific," he grumbled.

And oh, that glare. If looks could kill, she thought, as she hung the sedative drip from the IV pole.

"What are you using?" he asked, eyeing the bag nervously. "Pentobarbital? Thiopental? You know that those drugs are used for euthanasia, right? And lethal injection execution?"

It was so unsettling, hearing those words spoken by such a young voice. "Yes, I am aware," she said shortly. "And this is Propofol. Newer and better." She hooked the drip into his IV.

He felt the effects immediately, because he suddenly pulled against his restraints, his eyes wide with panic. But the drug was fast acting, and his struggles weakened quickly.

"You... don't have to... do this," he said, his words slurring as his eyes lost focus. "P...please..."

At that, she almost broke. That simple, genuine plea was a thousand times more devastating than the childish act he had put on at the start, and it nearly undid her completely. She almost turned away, but then she froze.

Just... don't go soft on us...

Soft. She wasn't soft, or weak. She had seen worse. She had lived worse. And she had the scars to prove it.

She forced herself to watch. He was fighting it with everything he had, his restrained hands reaching for her even as his eyes rolled, then slowly closed. The tension seemed to leech from his small body until, finally, he was limp as a rag doll.

She let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

Without another thought, she went to the back of the ambulance and threw open the doors. Mastumara and Isao were both coming out of the house, and they looked at her, startled.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" she practically snarled. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Is he under?" Matsumara asked.

"Yes," she said. "Now get your ass in here and help me intubate him. As deep as I'm taking him, he's going to need a respirator." Not exactly the way she was supposed to talk to her boss, she knew, but at this point she didn't care. Fortunately, Matsumara didn't argue, and he quickly climbed in the back, while Isao went around front to the passenger side and got in. As soon as Matsumara closed the back doors, Tsugumichi started the vehicle, and they were on their way.

Over he next few minutes, she and Matsumara successfully intubated the boy, hooked him up to the respirator and the EKG, then fitted him with an arterial line, a catheter, and a nasogastric tube.

Hana managed all of this in spite of the fact that her knees were shaking like willows in a strong wind. Matsumara didn't seem to notice.

When they were done, the boy looked like any other coma patient she had tended to during her twenty-five oh-so-prestigious years as an anesthesiologist.

"Excellent work, Okazaki-san," Matsumara said, settling himself down on his side of the gurney. "I think we're off to a good start."

"Sure," she said, as she sat down. The boy lay between them. She turned away and closed her eyes, hopefully communicating to Matsumara that she wasn't in the mood to chat. It was a five hour drive to Kami'ichi, near the northern coast, and she didn't want to fill it with conversation, work-related or otherwise.

But even with her eyes closed, she could hear the whirr of the respirator, forcing air into the boy's lungs, and there was no way to block out the steady beat of his heart monitor.

At least his pulse had slowed down. Perhaps, she thought, wherever he drifted now, he wasn't afraid any more.

But somehow, she doubted it.

It was well into the early morning hours when Vermouth walked into the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters. She waved greetings to several officers until she finally spotted Takagi. He was slumped over his desk filling out paperwork, and, if the shadows under his eyes were any indication, the young man was in desperate need of sleep.

Perfect.

"Hey, Takagi," she said, walking up to him. He straightened and blinked at her a moment as if clearing his vision.

"Chiba?" he said. "I thought you were in Yokohama visiting your grandmother."

"How could I stay away after what went down yesterday," she replied. "I don't suppose you'd mind filling me in?"

"Not at all," Takagi said, and he proceeded to do just that.

Vermouth listened attentively.

"Any word from forensics on those glove prints?" she asked, when he had finished.

"Not yet, but we should be hearing from them soon," Takagi said.

"Great," said Vermouth, "thanks." With that, she walked over to Chiba's desk, turned on his computer, entered his password, and waited.

Less than twenty minutes later, forensics apparently found the match they were looking for. An Interpol Wanted Poster popped up on Chiba's screen.

WORLD-WIDE NOTICE: WANTED BY GREAT BRITAIN, JAPAN, SOUTH KOREA, THAILAND, UNITED STATES

INTERPOL

Connecting Police for a Safer World

KENKO, NAITO

Present Family Name: Kenko

Forename: Naito

Sex: Male

Date of Birth: 8/12/1963

Place of Birth: Kushiro, Hokkaido, Japan

Languages Spoken: English, Japanese, Korean

Nationality: Japanese

OFFENCES:

Assassination, Kidnapping, Weapons Smuggling, Drug Running

Across the room, Takagi's chair scraped the floor as he stood abruptly. "Holy- Hey, Chiba, did you see this?"

"Yeah," Vermouth called back. "I'm printing it out now."

"Where's Megure-keibu?" Takagi said, snatching at the printout. "He's got to see this!" He rushed down the hall toward the inspector's office.

Sighing, Vermouth sent another copy to the printer. She turned off Chiba's computer, grabbed the printout of the Wanted poster, then walked casually out of the building.

Several minutes later, a few blocks away, and looking much more like herself, she slipped her motorcycle helmet on, straddled her Harley-Davidson V-Rod, and sped off into the night, a wicked smile on her face.

"Now, Kenko Naito," she murmured to herself. "Where have you taken my Silver Bullet?"

Chapter Text

Fic Notes: I love the movies (gah, I can't wait to get my hands on a subbed version of Private Eye in the Distant Sea!), but since they are not considered canon, I'm using the manga as the basis for this fic. In other words, I'm working with the premise that Kid does not know Conan's secret.

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 08: Unexpected Alliances

Kuroba Kaito was never bored.

He could appear to be bored if necessary, of course, but even during the most mind-numbing school lectures, he could always find ways to occupy his mind. If his teacher was going over material that he already knew - which was more often than not - he would use a fraction of his mind to pay attention just in case he was called upon for an answer.

Another small portion of his mind plotted the best way to go about discovering the color of Aoko's panties, because honestly, his day just wasn't complete without him being chased around the school by his mop-wielding childhood friend.

The rest of his brain power, however, was always engaged in expertly and meticulously crafting new magic and illusions. The best tricks he concocted, he would file away for later when he was alone at home, whereupon he would turn the ideas into workable reality. And when he wasn't actively inventing new illusions, he would fill any empty hours by practicing his slight-of-hand and quick-change routines.

And that was before Kaitou Kid.

When he had taken up the mantle of Kaitou Kid, the possibility of him ever getting bored dwindled from slight to nil. Now, not only did he have new magic to create, but there were heists to plan. Confounding riddles to create. Pandora candidates to track down. Security systems to crack. An entire police force and an over-enthusiastic inspector to foil. And, more recently, a seven-year-old detective - who almost certainly was more than what he seemed - to outwit.

Life was good, and Kaito often found himself thinking that the only possible way life could get any sweeter would be if he finally found the Pandora and was able to destroy it right in front of the dumbfounded eyes of his father's murderers.

Now all he had to do was find the blasted gem. No likely candidates had surfaced in Japan recently. Even Suzuki Jirokichi hadn't acquired anything of interest lately, and Kaito was starting to wonder if maybe it was time for the Kaitou Kid to take another trip abroad and reaffirm his "internationally famous" status. There was an old, ridiculously large sapphire that had recently surfaced and was currently on display at the Kunstkamera in Saint Petersburg. He might need to brush up on his Russian to write a proper heist note, but that would be a proper challenge.

In the meantime, he needed to replenish his supply of flash bombs, smoke grenades and sleeping gas capsules. Which was why he was currently ensconced in his father's secret room playing with dangerous chemicals - always pure fun in and of itself.

He was in the middle of mixing his homemade concoction of potassium chlorate for his flash powder recipe, loudly and dramatically humming along with Wagner's Ride of the Valkeries that was blasting over his mp3 stereo, when his cell phone rang.

Frowning slightly at the interruption, he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the time and the caller. Almost 11 at night, and the caller was Aoko. Huh. She usually didn't call this late. He paused the music, flipped open the phone and answered. "Oi, Aoko, isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Very funny, Kaito." Hm, she sounded serious. "What are you doing right now?" she asked.

Kaito glanced down at the beaker where his sodium chlorate and potassium chloride were currently exchanging ions. "Chemistry. Why?"

"You're a Kaitou Kid fan, right?" For once, he couldn't hear any trace of the usual distaste in Aoko's tone, and he stifled a surprised smile. She could pretend she didn't like Kid for the sake of her dad all she wanted, but there was a grudging admiration there as well - maybe even the slightest hint of enthusiasm. It was one of the few things that eased the sting of hiding the truth from her.

"Well, I don't know if I'd go so far as to call myself a fan," he said, playing casual. "Why do you ask?"

"You might want to turn on the news," she said. "You know that smart little boy who has foiled Kid on his last few heists?"

Oh boy, did he know. He was not likely to soon forget the impact of that little maniac's soccer ball, the ever-present threat of his tranquilizer watch, nor the sheer cunning that hid behind that deceptively innocent child face. Tantei-kun was the closest thing he had to a true nemesis... and it was glorious. "Sure, Edogawa Conan," he said, all nonchalance. "What's he done now, brought down an international crime ring?"

"Hardly," Aoko said, and Kaito heard an underlying anxiety surfacing in her voice that made him pause. "He's been kidnapped."

Kaito felt his jaw drop. "What?"

"It's all over the news," Aoko said, her voice starting to wobble slightly. "It happened just a couple of hours ago. And someone even shot the old man who was looking after him! I can't believe it, that poor little boy... why would anyone-?"

Kaito didn't hear the rest. He was already out of the secret room and on his way to the living room. He grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, flipping channels until he reached the news.

Two talking heads were arguing. "-police are claiming that there is no connection between the earlier triple homicide that also critically wounded Agasa Hiroshi, and Edogawa Conan's kidnapping," said a man whose subtitle declared him to be the station's crime analyst. "I think it's clear that they are hiding something."

"Absolutely not," said his counterpart - also a crime analyst, apparently. "Megure-keibu specifically stated that the homicide was still under investigation. Right now I think the more important issue is the fact that this kidnapper was in disguise, able to credibly pass himself off as a hospital employee and have no fear of the security cameras. Considering who the victim is, and what he's known for, I think it's reasonable to guess that this might be the work of the Kaitou Kid."

Kaito felt his eye twitch. Distantly, he could hear Aoko calling his name. "Aoko," he said flatly, "I'm going to have to call you back." He hung up on her startled protest.

"Ridiculous," the first man was saying. "Kaitou Kid is known for not putting anyone in harm's way. How could he have been involved in the earlier shooting?"

"He wasn't," the other man declared. "I told you, the two incidents are completely unrelated."

"I think that it is far more likely that the incidents are related, and that this is a case of revenge against Sleeping Kogoro-"

Kaito turned off the tv and threw the remote onto the couch.

He wasn't shaking. His hands were loose at his sides and his face was a perfect mask of control. He could practically feel the persona of Kid settling on him as he stood there for the space of five heartbeats, and then he was moving with purposeful strides back to the secret room.

Masks. Latex. Spirit gum. Makeup. Props, powders, smoke pellets, gas capsules, rope, transparent wire, card gun. The blue shirt, scarlet tie and white suit of the uniform, of course, but over that, clothes as dark as shadow. Kaitou Kid was never seen, after all, until he wanted to be seen.

A little over an hour later, when Kaitou Kid left the Kuroba household under the cover of darkness, the only part of him that was visible was the flash of his grin, sharp as a knife.

Some murderous bastard had kidnapped Tantei-kun, his only worthy nemesis.

Some murderous bastard was going to be very sorry.

When Kudo Yusaku returned home, he discovered in a matter of minutes what the police had missed a few hours earlier - someone had recently broken into his house.

He couldn't blame the police for missing the evidence. But one of the glass panes on the ground level kitchen window had been recently replaced. It was too new, and too clean, and while the culprit had made an admirable effort to make the glass match the other panes, there was nothing he could do about the brand new window putty applied to hold the new glass in place. It stood out in stark contrast to the decades-old putty holding the other panes.

So, someone had not only broken into his house, but had made an effort to keep up an appearance of normalcy - at least from the outside.

The inside was a different matter.

The house was much as Yusaku remembered it, though much less lived-in. Shinichi had all but abandoned the place after having ten years shaved off of his age, though he and Ran-kun still returned once a month to clean, for which Yusaku was grateful. Too much dust made him sneeze, and he was already uncomfortable enough since he was still in the old-age makeup that Yukiko had applied when they were in Belgium.

Perhaps, thought Yusaku, entering the library and seeing how the first level was in disarray and the second level had been completely ransacked, if Shinichi came to clean more often, he would have been alerted to the danger he was in all the sooner.

Yusaku climbed the stairs to the second level library balcony. While the ground level housed his vast collection of reference books and mysteries, both fictitious and non, the upper level was far more personal. This was where his own personal case files were kept, as well as family histories and photo albums.

One particular photo album had been utterly violated, and he recognized it immediately. Yukiko had lovingly and faithfully kept a record of Shinichi's first several years of life, organizing photos and mementos. Yusaku picked it up from where it had been callously discarded. The thin layer of dust that had accumulated on the open pages indicated that the ransacking had taken place about a week and a half ago.

Most of the photos of Shinichi had been stolen. And, as he turned the pages, he came across an envelope, labeled in Yukiko's meticulous writing: Shin-chan's First Haircut. The envelope had been torn open, and the lock of Shinichi's hair was missing.

Yusaku closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose over his glasses - a gesture that he had witnessed his son unconsciously mirror ever since the boy had taken to donning unnecessary eyewear.

It was as he feared, then. Shinichi had indeed been abducted by someone formerly affiliated with the Black Organization, but they weren't interested in using him for ransom, blackmail or leverage. Not if they had gone through the trouble of obtaining a DNA sample from before his transformation back into childhood. They would obviously be using it to compare it to his current DNA, to see if the Apotoxin had managed to alter him on that molecular level.

Yusaku took a deep breath and forced that thought aside, before continuing his investigation. He needed to know what else had been taken - what else his son's kidnapper knew.

All of Shinichi's newspaper clippings from his exploits as a high school detective were missing, of course, as well as all his yearly school pictures, and his yearbooks from both junior high and high school.

He was kneeling over yet another scrapbook, in the process of discovering that Shinichi's report cards and test scores had been taken as well, when Yukiko called.

"Sharon knows who has him," Yukiko said, and Yusaku had to admire the steadiness in her voice, especially since he knew how badly this was affecting her. "She knows who has him, but not where he is hiding."

"I didn't think she would," Yusaku said, "since, if she did, he would have been killed a while ago. Remember, we were never depending on her to find Shinichi for us. Just to verify that the Black Org didn't have him, which we already suspected."

"What are we going to do now?" Yukiko asked.

"I think," Yusaku said, getting to his feet and brushing off his slacks, "that it is time I had a discussion with Haibara-san."

Ran was silent on the walk from Agasa-hakase's house back to her home above the detective agency. Heiji-kun and Ai-chan walked a little ahead of her, discussing, in subdued voices, the people who had once been Ai-chan's subordinates in the Black Organization. Heiji-kun had Ai-chan's bag slung over his shoulder, and a notepad he had picked up at the Professor's house. He was writing down names as Ai-chan listed each person, giving brief descriptions of each and answering Heiji-kun's questions.

Ran tried to pay attention, but her brain wasn't having any of it, spinning in useless circles.

Conan-kun is Shinichi, she thought. He has always been Shinichi. Shinichi never left, he was always with me, I was right, and now it doesn't matter because he's gone, and what if I never see him again? Who is this former member of the Black Org, and why did they go through all this trouble to take him? They might want him alive, but what are they doing to him? He's so smart and brave and fierce, but so fragile, just a child now, oh gods what if they hurt him? How will we find him? And what will I do if we can't?

Whenever she closed her eyes, even for a moment, all she could see was the kidnapper picking up Shinichi's small, unconscious form from off the floor, and that damned grin and wink as he took Shinichi away, and she couldn't do anything to stop him...

At least she seemed beyond tears now. A terrifying numbness had settled on her like a cloak, and she felt like she was moving in slow motion through a thick fog.

So it was with some surprise that she found herself at the bottom of the detective agency stairwell. Heiji-kun and Ai-chan had stopped talking and were looking at her, waiting for her to climb the stairs first.

"Ah," she said, blinking, "sorry, I was... sorry." And she went to climb the stairs, but Heiji-kun's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Neechan," he said, looking at her with open concern. "You okay?"

She tried a smile, but it got lost somewhere between the effort and the execution. "I... let's get inside, shall we?"

Heiji-kun let go of her shoulder and nodded, but his expression didn't change.

She walked up the stairs with an automation borne of long habit, and slipped her key into the apartment door lock. She opened the door and stepped into darkness. Father wasn't home yet, and she didn't know if he would be making it home at all tonight. The glowing digital numbers of the clock on the shelf informed her that it was almost half past one in the morning. And then Heiji-kun and Ai-chan stepped in after her and turned on the light. Ai-chan closed the door behind them, and locked it.

Ran took a deep breath. "I'll go move Co.. Shi... Conan-kun's futon into my room for you, Ai-chan," she said. "Is anyone hungry? There's curry..." that she had made for Shinichi "...and... and I could make some tea..."

She felt on the verge of falling apart, like she was already broken and was only being held together by bits of string and glue, and she felt suddenly, terribly embarrassed that Heiji-kun and Ai-chan were there watching her as she crumbled. But at the same time, she couldn't bear for either of them to leave.

Heiji-kun stared at her for a moment with an evaluating look, before his open concern faded into a forced smile. "I could go for some curry," he said. "I skipped out on dinner to catch my flight and I'm starving."

"Just tea for me," said Ai-chan. "Thank you, Ran-oneesan."

Ran nodded and quickly went to her father's room to get the futon, feeling grateful. She was half afraid that Heiji-kun and Ai-chan would try to stop her; would tell her to sit down, relax, try to get some sleep or other such nonsense. But instead, they both seemed to understand that right now, the only thing that was holding her together was doing something. Anything. Even something as innocuous as making up a bed or warming up leftovers or making tea.

Ai watched Ran disappear into her father's bedroom, and exchanged a glance with Hattori-kun, who had sat on the couch. It was obvious the poor girl was in shock, and who could blame her? In just the space of a few hours, she had not only confirmed that her suspicions that Edogawa-kun was Kudo-kun, but she had also been helpless to stop his abduction, and then immediately afterward learned of the existence of the Black Organization behind it all.

"You're not planning on leaving, are you?" Ai asked Hattori-kun.

Hattori-kun shook his head. "I booked a hotel, but somehow I don't think Neechan will object to me crashing on her couch tonight. Just doesn't seem right to leave you two alone after everything that's gone down."

Ai nodded her approval, just as Ran reappeared from her father's room, dragging Kudo-kun's futon and comforter to her own room. Hattori-kun made to stand up as if to help her, but Ai gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks. She knew what it was like to experience loss on a devastating, personal scale. The only thing that ever came close to helping her feel better was doing something productive. She wasn't about to deprive Ran of that.

A few minutes later, as Hattori-kun was enthusiastically eating the curry that Ran had warmed up for him, and Ran was pouring green tea for Ai, someone knocked on the front door.

Ai looked up, startled, as Ran and Hattori-kun both exchanged deer-in-the-headlights looks. After a moment, Ran went to move toward the front door, but Hattori-kun quickly stood and silently waved her back, taking it upon himself to handle whoever had decided to drop by at nearly 2 am.

"Who is it?" he said, obviously trying to sound intimidating, and not doing a half bad job of it, Ai thought.

The immediate, muffled answer came through the door. "Kudo Yusaku," said the voice, "though I am currently in disguise thanks to my lovely wife, so please do not be alarmed when you open the door and see an old man, Heiji-kun."

Ai felt her eyes widen involuntarily. Kudo-kun's father? Here? She had met his mother before, but whenever Kudo-kun's mother had been in town, his father had always been conspicuously absent, which only made his presence here now all the more alarming.

Hattori-kun glanced back at Ran, both of them looking taken aback, but Ran nodded at Hattori-kun, and after a moment's hesitation, he opened the door.

The man that stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him, stood far taller than his apparent age, but Ai could immediately see that he was indeed in disguise, for the latex around his eyes and the edges of his neck was starting to peel.

Hattori-kun apparently noticed it as well. "Kudo-san?" he said, peering at him intently as if trying to see the real man through the disguise. Whatever he saw there apparently convinced him of the truth of the man's identity, and he relaxed. "Your mask is starting to come off around the edges."

"Well, yes," Kudo-san said, "I'm afraid I've been wearing this thing since... well, I suppose it's going on almost eighteen hours now. I suppose I should have given Yukiko the chance to do some touch-ups when we arrived in Tokyo, but I'm afraid we've both been a bit preoccupied."

Ran stepped forward, looking pale. "You came because of Shinichi, didn't you."

Kudo-san looked at her somberly. "Yes." He sighed. "And I can see from your expression that you know the truth of the matter at last," he said. "Who told you?"

Ai spoke up. "She figured it out for herself," she said, "but I confirmed it."

Kudo-san turned and looked at her, and any doubts she might have had about his identity vanished in that moment. Kudo-kun had his father's eyes, and those eyes were sizing her up with a very familiar, evaluating expression. No wonder Hattori-kun had relaxed so quickly after letting the man inside.

"Haibara-san," Kudo-san said with a slight bow. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Is it really?" Ai said, before she could stop herself, and she looked down, feeling herself flush a little. But how could this man genuinely think it was a pleasure to meet her when he knew exactly who was responsible for his son's predicament? "My apologies, Kudo-san," she said, struggling to regain her mask of composure. "But I'm sure you understand that without me, your son would not be in such terrible danger."

Kudo-san knelt down so that he was on eye level with her, but Ai couldn't lift her head to meet his gaze.

"Let me tell you what I understand, Haibara-san," he said, his voice gentle and not unkind. "I understand that you were a prisoner of the Black Organization since birth. I understand that they required you to create the Apotoxin, and that your choice was between obedience and death. I understand that, after Shinichi was poisoned, you discovered that he was still alive - and yet, though you did not know him, you did not betray him. And I understand that when obedience to the Organization became impossible, you chose death... but were instead granted escape." He paused. "Am I wrong?"

Ai swallowed against the tightness in her throat, and blinked back the sting of tears. Still unable to lift her gaze, she shook her head.

Kudo-san made a satisfied "hm" sound, then continued. "I also understand," he said, "that you have been working tirelessly on a cure for Shinichi with the limited resources you have available. I understand that you have, on more than one occasion, attempted to sacrifice yourself to save his life. I understand that you have been a good and loyal friend to my son. Have I missed the mark yet?"

"No," she whispered.

"Then believe me," Kudo-san said, "when I say that it is a pleasure to meet you, Haibara-san."

She looked up then, and, remarkably, kept her composure intact. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Kudo-san," she said.

To her surprise, the smile he gave her had a self-deprecating tinge to it. "I hope you still feel that way at the end of our visit," he said, and for the first time, Ai realized that Kudo-san had come here to see her, not Ran or Hattori-kun. Sudden dread filled the pit of her stomach.

"I need to ask you some questions," he said, his tone apologetic. "And they will be hard, but necessary if we are going to find Shinichi."

But of course Kudo-san had come to address the elephant in the room - the very ever-present thing she had been trying desperately not to think about. She shuddered.

"Would you prefer to talk in private?" Kudo-san asked. He was asking if she didn't want Ran and Hattori-kun to hear.

"No," she said. "It's alright." Hattori-kun had already figured it out, but he would need to hear more to put his detective skills to work in the right direction. And Ran... Ai didn't want her to hear, but after tonight she had no intention of underestimating Ran's inner strength. Ran might be devastated, but she would still want to know.

Hattori-kun leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest, his eyes downcast, looking grim.

And Ran was looking back and forth between her and Kudo-san, realization dawning in her expression. "You both know why Shinichi was kidnapped," she said. "You know what they want from him."

"Yes," Ai said. "I... I think so."

Ran sank down onto a chair next to the couch, her pale skin looking downright gray. "A former Black Org who worked on the drug... They want to find out why he... he shrank instead of died?"

"Yes."

"But... but how?"

"That is precisely what we need to discuss," Kudo-san said, sitting as well.

Ai looked at him. "What do you need?" she asked, trying to steel herself.

Kudo-san sighed. "I need you... to think like them."

Ai blinked at him. "I don't understand. Why can't you think like them?" she said. "Isn't that what detectives are supposed to do? Understand the criminal mind in order to catch them?"

"Yes," Kudo-san said. "But while I understand why they took Shinichi, I do not understand what, exactly, they intend to do with him to achieve their goal. And if you can tell me that... then we will have something substantial to work with."

Ai looked at him, realizing just what he was asking. Her hands felt like ice, and her head ached. "You do understand that not thinking like them is the only thing that kept me sane, right?"

"I'm sorry," Kudo-san said.

In other words, she thought, he understood completely, but was still asking her to do it anyway to save his son. To save Kudo-kun.

She leaned forward and put her head in her hands. "Ask," she said, and with that word, she clamped down hard on her emotions, her empathy, her compassion - anything that might keep her from being as brutal as necessary.

Far in the back of her mind, she could hear the death screams of a small white rabbit echoing in her lab; could see its eyes rolling madly, could see it twitch in agony... all while knowing that she was responsible.

And now, she had to imagine herself as Kudo-kun's abductor. She had to think of Kudo-kun - not as her friend, not as the person who had gone above and beyond to help her find peace of mind and even a measure of salvation... but as a lab subject. A non-person. A means to an end.

Think like a monster to catch a monster.

And it wouldn't scare her so much if it weren't so damn easy.

She was looking at her hands folded primly in her lap. All the color seemed to have drained out of the world and everything was shades of gray. Her peripheral vision had faded to black, and Kudo-san's voice seemed to be coming to her from a great distance.

They've done their research, Kudo-san was saying. They know about Shinichi and his detective work, they have his test scores, they stole his pre-Apotoxin DNA. Knowing what you know of him, what would you do to keep him from escaping? What procedures would you do? What equipment would you need? Can you do it alone, or do you need to recruit accomplices? Is this something that you can do in complete privacy, or will you need access to laboratories and medical equipment?

And it was all too easy to answer. Why, she would keep him drugged, of course; she would never give him a chance to even think of a way to escape.

Procedures? She would need plenty of tissue samples, stem cells from bone marrow and brain, a sampling of the hypothalamus... So many tests to run, so many experiments to perform... Somatic stem cells, as opposed to embryonic stem cells, were tricky to find sometimes - isolating them from mature tissue could be difficult, and ideally she would need to have samples from each of the subject's organs...

She would need access to high-tech medical equipment. An MRI and CT scanner and more, and she would purchase it through the black market or just outright have it stolen from a hospital, though the logistics of such theft would be a nightmare and it would be all too easy to get caught. The black market would be easier, but outrageously expensive.

And speaking of which, how much money did she have? Enough to hire a mercenary to kidnap her subject, but what did that leave her with? What were her financial resources? She was on the run from the Black Org, so she couldn't be engaging in any financial endeavors that could attract their attention...

Accomplices? Oh yes, she would definitely need to recruit accomplices - experts in neurology, biochemistry, genetics. She would need an anesthesiologist to keep the subject incapacitated. If she didn't want to accidentally lobotomize the subject during brain biopsies, she would need someone adept at brain surgery, though that was a secondary concern. Scar tissue on the brain could lead to seizures, but that wouldn't be a problem if the subject was sedated deeply enough.

And she would find these accomplices by looking for the brilliant-but-disaffected in university medical programs. By going to hospitals and finding the older ones nearing the end of their careers, the ones being unwillingly usurped by up-and-coming youngsters. She would find the kind of people who wouldn't mind discarding the Hippocratic Oath in exchange for a promise of youth, and perhaps even immortality.

She would find the kind of people who could look at a seven year-old child and see a lab rat to be kept alive only as long as he was useful...

Ai didn't realize that Kudo-san was calling her name until he reached out and took her by the shoulders and shook her a little. She looked up, blinking at him owlishly, wondering at the worried look on his face, when suddenly color bled back into the gray world again, and sound came crashing in, assaulting her senses.

"Haibara-san," Kudo-san was saying, gently but urgently. "It's enough. You're done, come back. It's enough."

Come back? Where had she gone?

And then she remembered. Part of her was amazed at how adeptly she was able to dissociate herself so completely in order to give Kudo-san the answers he needed.

The rest of her looked up at Kudo-san, horror welling inside her as she saw how pale his skin was under the peeling latex of his disguise. He released her shoulders as he saw her come back to herself.

She looked over at Ran, sitting in her chair, her eyes wide with fear, her hands clamped over her mouth as if holding back a scream. Understandable, since she had just spelled out, in gruesome detail, what Kudo-kun's abductor had in mind for him. And Hattori-kun, still leaning against the wall, looking at the floor, his fists clenched knuckle-white.

"I..." Her eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. "I'm so sorry."

And then she burst into tears.

In an instant, Ran was there, gathering her into an embrace, and Ai turned to her, clutching at her, weeping and shuddering, though it seemed as if Ran was shaking just as much as she was. The sensory memory that washed over her was overwhelming.

Oneechan...

"Kudo-san," Ran said, her voice tremulous. "Did you find out what you needed?"

"Yes." Kudo-san's voice was soft and full of regret. "Thank you, Haibara-san."

"What will you do now?" Ran asked, smoothing Ai's hair with one hand. Ai, for her part, didn't look up or pull away, embarrassed at her tears, perfectly content with Ran taking over the conversation, because as far as she was concerned, she didn't want to say another word for the rest of the night.

"First, I am going to check the black market," Kudo-san said. "See if anyone has been buying up medical equipment and supplies. Heiji-kun?"

"Yes sir," said Hattori-kun, "I'm going to start looking into any hospital thefts in Japan, and check with universities about their best and most brilliant sociopaths who have either dropped out, or are suddenly spending way too much time in the lab."

Kudo-san snorted softly. "I can see why Shinichi likes you."

"We can't go to the police with this, can we," Ran said.

"No, we can't," Kudo-san said. "Nor should they know that I'm even in Japan. Hence the disguise. It would raise too many questions. Yukiko may make an appearance as Edogawa Fumiyo, however, so don't be surprised if she does."

"Right," Hattori-kun said. "Don't need to give anyone more of a reason to go digging into Conan's non-existent background."

"Then it's up to us to find Shinichi," Ran said, and Ai listened with amazement at the angry, hard steel in her voice. Such a change from how lost Ran had seemed earlier. "Tell me what I can do to help. I can make phone calls, do legwork..."

"That's a good idea," Hattori-kun said. "You can start calling the hospitals."

"Okay."

Ai let the conversation wash over her. Part of her was glad that her ordeal was already bearing fruit. Kudo-san was right - as terrible as it was, it had been helpful. The other part of her was just exhausted, right down to the bone.

She was so tired that when the tendrils of sleep reached out to claim her while she was still held in Ran's arms, she didn't even bother fighting it.

Somehow she knew that Ran wouldn't mind.

Kaitou Kid had a fool-proof method for infiltrating the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters. He always made sure he had a current copy of the duty roster, including which officers were currently on vacation. Then, after choosing the target he intended to impersonate, he would send one of his doves to spy on the real thing, usually with a micro-camera, or at least a listening device, to make sure they never accidentally crossed paths.

Kid had a recent picture on his phone, sent less than a half hour ago, of Chiba-keiji sleeping in the guest room of his grandmother's house in Yokohama.

Which is why he was taken completely off guard when, on his way to make himself a digital copy of the Edogawa Conan kidnapping police file, Takagi-keiji caught sight of him in the hall and came up to him with a puzzled smile.

"Hey, Chiba," Takagi said, and Kid caught a glimpse of the paper he had in his hand - an Interpol wanted poster. "Uh, when did you change your clothes?"

Kid tore his eyes away from the wanted poster, blinked at Takagi, then quickly came up with a brilliant rejoinder: "Huh?"

Takagi's smile became even more bemused. "That's not what you were wearing ten minutes ago," he said, and Kid realized, with no small amount of alarm, that he was impersonating an officer that was probably in the building at that very moment - regardless of his photo evidence to the contrary.

"Oh," he said, his wit finally shifting into proper gear. "I spilled my coffee. Managed to get it all over myself. Luckily I left a change of clothes in my locker."

Inwardly, he was cursing. This was bad, very bad. What was Chiba doing here? How had he gotten here so quickly? It was impossible! Regardless, Takagi had obviously seen Chiba, and Kid needed to get out of the building as soon as possible before he was caught.

Even sooner than that, he realized, as Sato-keiji came around the corner at the end of the hall. Her eyes widened perceptibly as she saw him.

"Ah," Kid said, patting at his pockets. "I think I left my phone at my locker. I'll be right back." He made himself scarce as quickly as he could without being even more suspicious than he already was.

And before Takagi-keiji could realize that he had pilfered the Interpol Wanted poster right out of his hand.

"Was that Chiba?" Sato said, walking up to Takagi-kun. "I thought he was in Yokohama."

"He was," Takagi-kun said, "but he said that he saw Conan-kun's kidnapping on the news and decided to come back." He frowned. "But he's acting strange."

"Strange how?" Sato asked.

"Well, he changed his clothes from what he was wearing just a few minutes ago. Said he spilled coffee on himself. Didn't he say he was trying to cut caffeine out of his - Hey!"

Sato looked at Takagi-kun, startled. "Hey, what?" Takagi-kun was looking at his hands, then turning and looking at the surrounding floor.

"What happened to the paper I just had in my hand?" he said, utterly flummoxed.

That was too much for Sato. Maybe it was because she was feeling hyper paranoid after everything that had happened over the past nine hours. Maybe she was just exhausted. But a sudden hunch was weighing heavily in her gut and she had long ago learned never to ignore her hunches.

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Chiba-kun's number. It rang five times, and she almost thought it would go to voice mail, when Chiba-kun finally picked up.

"Mmm, Sato-san?" he said, obviously groggy. "What is it? Is something wrong? It's almost three o'clock in the morning."

"Where are you?" she asked. "Right at this very moment."

"Uh... in bed."

"At your grandmother's in Yokohama?"

"Yes..." Chiba-kun said hesitantly. "Sato-san, what is going on?"

But she was already turning to Takagi-kun, who was looking more alarmed by the moment as he listened to her end of the conversation. "Go!" she said. "Catch that guy, he's not Chiba-kun!"

Takagi-kun took off running. Sato followed close behind.

"What?" Chiba-kun was saying, sounding a lot more awake. "Who's not me? What's happening over there?"

"I'll call you back!"

One man in disguise had already kidnapped Conan-kun, and she would be damned if she let another man in disguise waltz in and out of headquarters like he owned the place.

Kid didn't mind the occasional close call. As an adrenaline junkie, sometimes there was nothing more satisfying than just barely escaping by the skin of his teeth.

But that one had been a little too close for comfort.

He had almost been caught right in Tokyo police headquarters, of all places. That would have been it for him. Go directly to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

He had made his way to the locker room, ducked into a corner, and had pulled a quick-change into a uniformed traffic officer just in time for Takagi-keiji and Sato-keiji to come racing into the room and demand that he join in the search for the fake Chiba.

He had been only too happy to oblige. And if his search happened to take him outside, and if he suddenly vanished into the shadows... well, even better.

Now he was safe on a rooftop several blocks away, looking at the Interpol wanted poster he had snatched out of Takagi-keiji's hand.

This was the man who had kidnapped Tantei-kun? He shook his head in amazement. An internationally-wanted assassin had been hired to kidnap a seven year-old. What in the world had Tantei-kun gotten himself into?

He pushed that thought aside for a moment as he reached for his phone to deal with something else that was bothering him. What was Chiba-keiji doing at police headquarters when he should have been asleep at his grandmother's?

His surveillance dove was still at the residence in Yokohama, sending pictures to his phone every five minutes. He flipped through the pictures, his frown deepening.

What the hell? There was Chiba-keiji, asleep, at the same time Takagi-keiji was confronting him at headquarters. And there he was, sitting up in bed, talking on the phone, looking rather alarmed. And there he was, fully dressed and climbing into his car.

Well, Kid realized, if Chiba-keiji wasn't at police headquarters before, he probably would be within the hour.

But what did that mean? Takagi-keiji had obviously seen Chiba-keiji in the building right before he had showed up...

Kid's eyes widened. "No way," he said. But it was the only thing that made any sense. Someone else had been there before him, disguised as Chiba. Someone good enough in the art of disguise to not get caught.

Someone, presumably, who was after exactly the same thing he was after.

He looked at the Interpol wanted poster again, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. This was turning out to be bigger than he thought, and Tantei-kun was at the center of it all.

Folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket, he stood and leaped off the edge of the roof, deploying his glider and angling himself toward Beika City.

It was time to learn just how deep this crazy rabbit hole went.

"Wait," said Megure-keibu, scowling over Sato's shoulder as she sat at her computer. "You're saying that two different people, disguised as Chiba, infiltrated police headquarters tonight?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Sato gestured wearily to the surveillance footage playing on her monitor. "Here's the first one, coming through the main entrance. He walks into the offices, approaches Takagi-kun, goes over to Chiba-kun's workstation, logs into his computer, and waits for the results of fingerprints that forensics pulled of the kidnapper's gloves. As soon as he gets it, he leaves."

Megure-keibu groaned.

"And here," Sato continued. "Less than ten minutes later, we have Chiba number two, walking right through the front door again. After Takagi-kun confronts him in the hall, he takes off to the men's locker room... and then he just disappears. We can't find any other visual record of him. Oh, and we think he got away with Takagi-kun's copy of Kenko Naito's wanted poster."

"This is ridiculous," Megure-keibu muttered. "I do not want to have to institute a face-pulling policy at the front door to check for masks. Bad enough that Nakamori does it at the Kid heists."

"Um..." said Takagi-kun. "Do you think one of the Chibas might have been Kaitou Kid?"

"At this point, I'm not ruling anything out," Megure-keibu said. "He's got the connection to Conan-kun, and he seemed to be after information on his kidnapper, so it's certainly possible. But that still leaves us with the other one. They obviously were not working together. And it doesn't really answer the question of why we have two Chiba impersonators in the first place."

"Yeah, that's what I'd like to know," said a distinctly disgruntled voice, and Sato, Takagi-kun and Megure-keibu turned to see Chiba-kun walking up to them. He looked uncharacteristically put-out.

Takagi-kun blinked, before reaching out and tugging hard on Chiba-kun's cheek.

"Ow, owowow, stop it!" Chiba-kun squawked, pushing Takagi-kun away. "I'm me, let go!"

Takagi-kun smiled sheepishly. "Sorry... just thought it best to make sure."

"Welcome back, Chiba-kun," Megure-keibu said. "Sorry that you had to cut your vacation short."

Chiba-kun just nodded, rubbing his sore cheek.

"Now," Megure-keibu said, turning to address all of them. "Get on this. I want Conan-kun found. I want this Kenko Naito found. I want whoever hired him found. I want to find out who impersonated Chiba-kun. I need answers, and I need them yesterday."

"Yes sir," Sato chorused with Takagi-kun and Chiba-kun.

The lights of the apartment above the Mouri Detective Agency were, unsurprisingly, still on when Kid lit on the roof of a building across the street, even though it was getting close to four a.m.

The first order of business was to set up surveillance. If anyone would be on the inside track of what was happening with the investigation into Tantei-kun's abduction, it would be Sleeping Kogoro. So he sent one of his doves, equipped with micro-camera and listening device, to hang out on the telephone wire right outside the apartment window.

Kid was about to settle himself in for a few good hours of eavesdropping before the sun rose, when he heard the apartment front door open and close. A moment later, an old man emerged from the stairwell.

Kid raised his night vision binoculars and zoomed in on the man, then leaned forward in surprise. What the hell...

This man was in disguise, and, from the obvious peeling around the neck and eyes, he had been wearing the disguise too long without bothering to touch up or repair the mask.

Altogether too many people going around in disguises today, Kid thought irritably. So, who was this guy, and what had he been doing at the Mouri residence? Only one way to find out. Time for a little surreptitious rooftop tailing.

The disguised man stopped just outside the stairwell, pausing to pull a cigarette and lighter from his coat pocket. As he lit the cigarette and took a long pull, he looked up at where Kid's dove sat perched on the wire.

But instead of just a normal passing glance that any normal person would give, the man peered at the dove long enough to make Kid's mouth go dry. Are you kidding me? he thought. Does he know? How could he possibly know?

At that point, he fully expected the man to look directly at his hiding place on the roof across the street, point dramatically, and loudly declare, Aha, I found you, Kaitou Kid! But instead, the man just smiled a little, then turned and walked off.

Oh no you don't, thought Kid. He had to know who this guy was. Plan A, tail the guy by rooftop, was still in effect.

It wasn't long before the man led him down a small side street. Kid found that he had to abandon rooftops in favor of the tall stone walls and trees that surrounded the large, expensive houses in this area. He held himself back, crouching in shadow on the wall at the end of the street, watching the man through his night vision binoculars as the man stopped in front of a wrought iron gate, produced a key, and let himself in.

Don't tell me that's actually where he lives, Kid thought, creeping closer. It couldn't be that easy.

He zoomed in on the nameplate mounted on the gate: Kudo.

He blinked. Kudo. As in, Kudo Shinichi, that high school detective who almost caught him at the clock tower heist, and then seemed to vanish from the public eye shortly after? No way. Could the man in the peeling latex disguise actually be him?

If it was, then odds were the guy knew exactly what he was looking at when he examined the dove, Kid realized. And if that was the case, the guy undoubtedly knew he was being followed as well.

Was this a trap, then? A crazy, elaborate set-up to catch him?

Huh. Well, Kid had walked into traps before.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly googled a satellite view street map and pinpointed the Kudo house. From the birds-eye view, Kid could see at least four different escape routes, should the masked man try to pull anything. There was a large maple tree in the neighboring yard that would make an ideal surveillance perch. He prepped his spring-loaded grappling hook, palmed a few flash bombs and sleeping gas capsules, and readied himself for some serious spur-of-the-moment improvisation.

As he made his way silently across the wall toward the neighbor's house, he spotted the police tape crossed over the gate. He stared. Now, this was just wrong, he thought, as he recognized the house as the one that had been splashed across the news channels earlier as the location of the triple homicide. This was where Mister Wanted-by-Interpol had made his first attempt to kidnap Tantei-kun, and had shot the man taking care of him.

And it was right next door to the Kudo house, where the masked man had gone after leaving the Mouri residence.

Kid frowned. The coincidences were piling up all over the place. And Kid didn't believe in coincidence.

He silently dropped down to the street and crossed to the taped-over gate, slipping through. Even in the dark, even without the night vision binoculars, he could see the three large patches of dried blood on the lawn. He walked past them to the maple tree near the Kudo property, then climbed the tree, quick and agile as a squirrel, without stirring a single leaf.

There, on the other side of the wall, sitting on the front steps of the Kudo house, the masked man sat, smoking a new cigarette. And, although Kid was confident that he was perfectly concealed in shadow, the man looked up and right at him.

"Kaitou Kid," he said softly, and Kid felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. "You can come down if you like. I promise I've laid no snare to entrap you."

Kid made sure his Poker Face was firmly in place. "And who are you that I should believe your promises?" he said casually.

The man behind the peeling latex tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the spot where Kid was hidden. "The son of Kuroba Toichi can trust me to keep his secrets," the man said. "The question is, can he keep mine?"

Kid felt his skin go cold. Who was this guy?

"You knew my father?" he said.

The man nodded. "I did."

"You were friends?"

"Yes. Though, on certain occasions, more like friendly rivals."

Kid had to ask, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer now. "Who are you?"

"You didn't answer my question," the man said, and Kid quickly thought back over their conversation.

"I am very good at keeping secrets," he answered. "I will keep yours, provided that doing so doesn't endanger anyone."

The man smiled at that, then reached up and pulled off his mask and the attached gray wig, revealing a much younger man beneath. Kid, unsurprised, recognized the man in an instant, since his picture was on the back cover of every single copy of his Night Baron novels.

Kudo Yusaku gestured for him to come out of the tree. Kid did so, dropping silently into the Kudo yard, shedding his dark clothes in a flash, to reveal himself in full white Kaitou Kid regalia.

Kudo-san smiled. "Ah, that never stops being impressive. Your father did that as well."

Kid found himself struggling to keep his Poker Face intact. "So," he said, "you obviously know plenty of my secrets. And the secret that you wish me to keep safe is that... you're back in Japan?" He knew that Kudo-san had a reputation for dodging his editors, but wasn't this a bit much?

To his surprise, Kudo-san's smile strained and faltered. "Not quite," he said. He took another pull on his cigarette and blew out the smoke. "My son was kidnapped tonight."

Kid stared at him. "Edogawa Conan is your son?" he finally managed.

"Yes."

This was huge, he realized. No wonder Kudo-san had sworn him to secrecy. And no wonder that little kid was so adept at thwarting his heists, with Kudo Yusaku as his father and Kudo Shinichi as his older brother.

"So," he said, trying to wrap his mind around it, "you have two sons..."

"No."

That completely threw him for a loop. "Wait... isn't Kudo Shinichi your son?"

A hint of a smile was showing on Kudo-san's face again. "Yes, he is."

"So you have two sons."

"I have one son," Kudo-san said, looking directly at him, and his expression was one of someone waiting for the other shoe to drop. Put the pieces together, Kaitou Kid, that expression said.

So Kid thought about it. And, after a moment, all the pieces of the puzzle fell together with such startling clarity, it took all his self control to keep his Poker Face from shattering.

"Edogawa Conan... is Kudo Shinichi," he said. He half expected Kudo-san to laugh at his conclusion, but instead he just nodded once.

Wow, thought Kid. Well. That pretty much explained everything.

Except... "How?" he asked.

"That," said Kudo-san, getting to his feet, "is a long story. But if you'll come inside, I will tell you what I know."

Kid internally weighed the risks of this still being a trap, against the rabid curiosity that was gnawing at him.

Curiosity won. Kid followed Kudo-san inside his house, and tried not to think about how many cats had been killed this way.

Almost an hour later, Kid found himself sitting across the kitchen table from Kudo-san, staring into a cup of tea that had gone cold. Any fears or suspicions he might have had about this being a trap were long gone. They had all been replaced by a new fear.

If everything Kudo-san said was true - and at this point he had no reason to doubt the man - then Tantei-kun, who was Kudo Shinichi, who was his best and most wonderful nemesis, was facing a fate so terrible it made his head spin.

He was really starting to hate people obsessed with immortality, he decided.

"Kudo-san," he said at last. "I don't suppose you would be willing to accept the services of a phantom thief in the search for your son?"

Kudo Yusaku met his gaze with eyes that seemed terribly weary, but determined.

"It would be my honor to accept," he said, and extended his hand across the table.

Kid took the offered hand, and shook it solemnly.

A/N: I really wanted to end this chapter by getting back to Shinichi, but since it's already running long at around 9,000 words, I guess that scene will start the next chapter.

Sorry if Kid hogged most of the spotlight in this chapter. I guess he's making up for not making an appearance in the first seven.

So, next time: What's going on with Shinichi? Vermouth confronts Kenko Naito? Heiji, Ran, Ai and Kaito. Oh my!

Please oh please review!

Chapter Text

A/N: And again, I'm late, but again, this is an extra-long chapter. (At this rate, they all may be "extra-long" from here on out. Maybe this is standard, and the earlier chapters are just extra-short.) Also, Halloween! It's a big deal for my kids and me, so a lot of my free time was spent making costumes. Sorry!

Fic Notes: If anyone is curious as to when this fic takes place in the manga time line, I set it right before London. It's pretty much an alternate time line from there on out. Now, on with the fic.

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 09: Dead Man Walking

Shinichi found himself lying on his back on the ocean floor. The pressure of the icy water crushed him against the sand bed. It was dark. The surface was so far above him that only the barest hint of diffused light seemed to filter through to where he lay.

What am I doing here?

He felt alarmed at how difficult it was to form even that one hazy thought. A profound sense of wrongness filled him. Every instinct he possessed tugged at him, telling him to escape, to leave this place... but he couldn't seem to move. His diminutive child body was too weak, and the ocean was too heavy.

Wait... what? That couldn't be, because he knew that water pressure, no matter how deep he was, couldn't actually crush him or pin him to the ocean floor. Then again, it could still kill him by compressing the gasses in his body, making his own oxygen toxic if he went too deep without scuba gear...

And... he was wearing scuba gear, he realized. He could feel the breathing apparatus over his nose and in his mouth, down his throat... and it was really uncomfortable. He tried to raise his hand to feel it, maybe adjust it to be more comfortable, but again found he couldn't move. Impossible or not, it really did feel like the whole ocean was weighing down on him.

What am I doing here? he thought again, with a bit more clarity. How did I get here? I haven't been scuba diving since that trip to Hawaii with my parents when I was fourteen. And why can't I move?

None of this was making any sense. He had to think. He had to clear his mind. What was the last thing he remembered?

As soon as the question formed, the memory presented itself, and Shinichi felt suddenly hollow.

Oh. Right. Kidnapped. Ex-Black Org guy. Induced coma.

Well, that explained why his body didn't seem to be responding to the normal laws of physics...

He had once read that people in medically induced comas would often have intensely vivid dreams and nightmares, sometimes completely disconnected from real life, but sometimes based on what was happening around them in the waking world. Sometimes the dreams were so vivid that when they came out of the coma, they had difficulty distinguishing dream from reality.

Well, he didn't know if he was ever going to come out of this coma, and this was one hell of a vivid dream, but at least he was aware of what was happening. He wasn't really pinned to the ocean floor surrounded by freezing water. But out in the real world, he was probably very cold and still restrained, and it was translating into... this. Damn, but he hated dream logic.

Well... perhaps being aware of what actually was going on would allow him to take control of this hallucination. I'm not really here, he thought. I can move if I want. I can get up if I want. I can make this ocean disappear, or swim to the surface as fast as I want without worrying about getting the bends. I can think myself back into my house, or at school, on the peak of Everest, or on a moon of Saturn. This is my mind, dammit, and I'll dream what I want.

But apparently his mind wasn't cooperating, because nothing happened.

Or rather, something did happen, but not anything he expected. Gradually, from all around him, he could hear faint voices filtering through the water. He strained to hear what they were saying, but the words seemed like strange, echoing gibberish to him.

The voices rose and ebbed, seeming to alternate between whispers and shouting. Sometimes the voices seemed to be right next to him, and other times they were distant, but even when they were at their closest and loudest, he couldn't understand what they were saying. The language was garbled, slipping around him, just beyond the edges of his comprehension. It was frustrating, and not a little freaky.

And his sense of time was messed up as well, because if he tried to think about it, he couldn't tell how long he had been here, trapped and unmoving at the bottom of this dream sea. Minutes? Hours? Worst of all, though he was lucid enough to know that he was dreaming, none of his efforts to take control of his own mental landscape seemed to be amounting to anything.

He seemed capable of recalling facts and memories well enough. But he was also figuring out that, thanks to the barbiturates in his system that kept him trapped in this coma dreamscape, there was also a great deal of his own mind to which he no longer had conscious access. And that, frankly, scared the hell out of him. His mind had always been his best and most precious asset. Without all of it at his command, he felt vulnerable, felt stripped bare.

But mostly, he felt angry. Angry at these people who were monstrous enough to do this to him, and angry at himself for being so thoroughly caught in their trap.

Is this how I'm going to be until they finally kill me? he wondered. He knew from every single murder scene he had ever encountered that there were plenty of terrible ways to die, but he could also think of many he would prefer over lingering indefinitely in this nightmarishly dark, cold limbo.

It was while contemplating this grim thought that he suddenly realized that he could move again. The pressure pinning him to the ocean floor was gone.

Finally! Not wanting to waste this unexpected moment of freedom, he did what he had wanted to do almost from the moment he found himself here - he reached up and yanked that annoying, uncomfortable scuba apparatus off his face.

He wasn't expecting the searing pain that ripped through his throat, nor the fact that he suddenly couldn't breath. The voices were loud and urgent now, and even as he was panicking over his inability to expand his own lungs, the ocean melted away, and he found himself in a brightly-lit hospital room. Too bright. His eyes hurt.

He could vaguely sense that he was hanging limply in someone's arms, but he couldn't make out their face. Colors seemed to bleed together, and he felt like he was looking at a runny watercolor painting. And still, he struggled to breathe, only a little relieved when he managed to suck in a small, ragged breath. Another. And another, barely holding off the sensation of complete suffocation.

The person holding him placed him on a bed, and almost immediately he felt his wrists pinned down by sturdy restraints. He could make out two other people in the room, though they were moving so fast they seemed to blur and jitter before his unfocused vision. The voices were swirling around him, angry, upset... but now he was catching actual, understandable words.

"...manage that? ...supposed to be... coma..."

"...doesn't mean... dead... respond... pain stimuli..."

Someone grasped his head and lifted it slightly, tilting it back, and before he could wonder what was happening, someone else was prying his mouth open and pushing a narrow, ribbed tube down his raw, burning throat.

It was only then that he realized that what he had mistaken for scuba gear had actually been a respirator. And he had managed to tear it out of himself the moment his hands were free.

He was almost grateful when the respirator was fully hooked up again, because breathing became immensely easier. But how bad off was he that an automatic body function like breathing had to be machine-assisted? Just how much of his brain was... offline, so to speak?

He could feel something tugging the skin at the inner crook of his left elbow, and he tried to focus on the person who was standing there, adjusting his IV lines, but his eyes refused to work properly. He was staring, trying to force the person's features into something other than a distorted blur, when the person leaned toward him, reaching toward his face. The hand that touched him, cool palm flat against his forehead, hesitated for a moment before moving down to brush against his eyelids, forcing his eyes closed and consigning him to darkness.

Darkness, but not oblivion. The pain in his throat was white hot and throbbing, and he embraced it, using it to help him focus. He could still hear the voices, now low and murmuring. Voices that didn't belong to a dream, but to the very people who had brought him here. And now, finally, he could make out what they were saying.

Better yet, he knew he could open his eyes and catch glimpses of the real world, which was far better than being trapped in a dream. So he lay there, listening to the sounds of his heart monitor, the hiss of the respirator helping him breathe, and the voices of his captors.

As helpless as he was, they couldn't stop him from listening, or even seeing, if he could open his eyes again. They couldn't stop him from finding out exactly what they had planned for him, as terrible as it might be. Knowing was always better than not knowing in his opinion, so whatever part of his mind he had left to him, he would damn well use it.

It might be a small victory, but right now he would take what he could get.

Hana had witnessed coma patients do surprising things over the years, but even she was taken aback when, just seconds after removing the restraints from the gurney so that she could transfer the boy to the hospital bed, the boy reached up and tore the ventilator right out of his throat. He immediately began struggling for air.

She cursed, quickly placing the boy on the bed. "Restrain his other hand," she said to Matsumara, as she strapped down his left wrist. Isao was already sidling past Matsumara, moving toward the top of the bed and grabbing the boy's head, getting it into position for re-intubation.

"How the hell did he manage that?" Matsumara said, pulling the right wrist restraint tight, then moving on to the restrain the boy's legs. "I thought he was supposed to be in a coma."

"He is in a coma," Hana snapped back. "That doesn't mean he's dead. He can still respond to pain stimuli." She met Isao's gaze, and he nodded, letting her know that the boy was ready. She pried opened the boy's mouth and pushed the tube back down his throat. Isao finished making sure the respirator was working, and that the boy was once again breathing without difficulty.

"Well," said Matsumara," can't you make it so that he doesn't respond to pain stimuli?"

"That depends," she said, not even making an effort to hide her irritation. "How quickly do you want his kidneys to fail? We're already pumping a ton of drugs into his system. We may have to put him on dialysis as it is, with everything you've got planned, but I was operating under the assumption that you want him alive and healthy as long as possible." She moved to check his IVs.

Matsumara frowned, but nodded his acceptance. Then, glancing at the boy, he cursed in surprise. "His eyes are open."

She looked and saw that it was true. The boy seemed to be looking right at her, hazy blue peering from heavy-lidded eyes. She caught herself before she smiled, lest Matsumara misconstrue it as something other than amazement. Eye opening in response to pain. On the Glasgow Coma Scale, this would mean the boy was probably functioning around a score of eight, which, while still indicating a severe impairment of consciousness, was higher than she expected. Apparently the kid was still fighting.

Well, good, she thought. Strong will to live. He might make it out of this alive yet.

"Don't worry," she said to Matsumara. "Opening his eyes, especially in response to pain stimuli, is well within the norm. You haven't been around many coma patients, have you." She reached over and slid her hand over the boy's face, gently closing his eyes.

"Is this going to be a problem every time we move him?" Matsumara asked. "I've got him scheduled for a CT scan and an MRI this afternoon so that we can do the brain biopsy tomorrow."

"I doubt he'll try to remove the respirator again," she said, "because that had to have hurt like hell, and he'll be feeling that for a while. But it would probably be a good idea to keep an eye on his hands. He might try to pull out his IV lines. But if you're worried about him making some great escape, let me put your mind at ease. He might be able to move a little, but he's not going anywhere."

Matsumara looked only slightly mollified and seemed ready to argue, when Tsugumichi came in from parking the ambulance. Or rather, he rushed in and quickly closed the door behind him. Hana raised an eyebrow at the barely-veiled expression of panic on his face.

"Um, guys," he said, and Hana saw that he had his tablet in hand, and that it was paused on a recent news feed. "You need to see this." He pressed play.

The breaking news story showed an Interpol wanted poster, complete with photos and description of a certain mercenary by the name of Kenko Naito, who had just been positively identified by police as the kidnapper of Edogawa Conan. A massive manhunt was currently underway.

Hana crossed her arms and looked pointedly at Matsumara, who looked a bit shell shocked. "A real professional, you said. Let's see, it's..." She looked at the clock on the wall. "5:42 am, less than ten hours after the kidnapping, and your professional has already been identified by the police. Why do I suddenly feel not so secure any more?"

"It doesn't matter," Matsuara said, but he was definitely lacking his usual bluster. "Even if he's caught, he doesn't have any information that could lead to us."

"Are you sure about that?" said Isao. The soft-spoken neurologist was still at the head of the boy's bed, and he did not look happy.

"If my former employers haven't found me yet, there is no way the police will," Matsumara said with slightly more confidence.

"How do you know they haven't found you?" Tsugumichi asked. "Maybe they have. Maybe they are just... biding their time, or something."

At that, Matsumara actually laughed. "The Organization never bides its time," he said. "If they knew where I was, I would be dead, it's as simple as that. So," he said, with a sickly, knowing smile, "if you happen to stumble over my corpse at some point, you'll know the jig is up and that it's time to head for the hills. Now, if you'll excuse me, I actually have a real job here, and I need to start my rounds."

Hana stared after him as he left the room, wondering if it was too late to back out of this whole mess. She looked down at the kidnapped boy she had personally drugged to the gills. He looked very pale, and very small.

Yeah, she thought. Far too late for regrets now. Might as well see it through.

Tsugumichi sighed. "Well, I'm going back to my apartment to finish getting unpacked," he said. "You two want to go get some breakfast later?"

"I'll take you up on that," said Isao.

"Not me," said Hana. "I've got guard duty." She nodded at the boy.

"We can bring you something back," said Tsugumichi.

"Nah, I'm good, thanks. I'll just grab something at the cafeteria."

"All right, see you later."

Hana watched them leave. They were all acting so casual. Hey, we just kidnapped a seventeen year old kid who looks like a freaking kindergartner, and now we're going to perform unnecessary surgery and experiment on him for the foreseeable future. Hey, there's a massive manhunt going on to catch the guy we hired to grab the kid. Now, who wants some breakfast?

Sighing, she sat down and leaned back in the comfortable reclining chair that was meant for patient visitors. (Sorry, kid, no visitors for you, just us mad scientists here to wring the secrets of eternal youth from your little body.) Maybe if she was lucky, she could catch a couple of hours sleep before Matsumara came back and started the first round of tests...

The boy's eyes were open again. He was looking at her.

She sat up in surprise. Spontaneous eye opening without pain stimuli indicated a higher level of consciousness than she initially assessed. And that... was not good.

She stood and walked to his bedside, watching his unsteady eye movements as he struggled to track her. She frowned. "You really are fighting it," she said, somewhat awed. With the amount of Propofol in his system, he shouldn't be able to open his eyes without some kind of outside stimulus, let alone follow her motion. Really, his determination was a bit frightening.

"You should stop," she said. "Don't fight it. If I have to increase the dosage to take you deeper, it will wreak havoc on your kidneys, and you really don't need dialysis on top of everything else."

He just stared at her - hazy, unfocused, but undoubtedly aware. She wondered if he would be capable of speaking, were the respirator not in the way. It was not a thought she cared to contemplate further.

She reached out and closed his eyes again. She briefly considered taping them closed - sometimes doctors did that for coma patients so that their eyes wouldn't dry out - but decided she didn't want to admit to Matsumara that she found the boy's open eyes disturbing. Well within the norm, she had said.

She went and sat back down in the chair, turning so that she was facing away from him. Sleep deprivation always left her feeling overly-emotional, and she was determined to fix that as soon as possible.

And if the boy opened his eyes again in the meantime, she didn't want to know.

The mercenary who preferred to think of himself as being nameless woke with a start to the sound of his name being spoken, which, in his experience, had always been a very bad thing.

This proved to be no exception. He had fallen asleep in his motel room around midnight with the television on, watching the news coverage of the kidnapping. Now it was a little after five am, and, as he woke, there on the tv was an old photo of his real face, subtitled with his real name. A name that he hadn't used in almost two decades.

There, along with his name, were his personal details such as his birth date, birth place, a few of the languages he spoke, the crimes for which he was wanted, and the countries that wanted him, all on an Interpol flyer, as the newscaster informed the public that he was wanted for the triple shooting homicide in Beika, and the kidnapping of Edogawa Conan.

Well, shit.

He hadn't stayed alive as long as he had by wasting time wondering how he had been discovered. He had obviously made a mistake somewhere along the way for his identity to be found out so quickly, but he didn't have time to dwell on that either. Time enough to do both when he was safely out of the country. Just getting out of town was no longer an option.

He had a safe-house in Sao Paulo where he could lay low for a while. All he had to do was get there. The quickest way would be by plane, of course, but now that the heat was on, he would need a fresh new identity.

So, disguise first.

He didn't really have anything in the way of clothes - only what he had packed with him. But that would be a priority as soon as the stores were open. He'd need something bright, preferably garish bordering on ridiculous. Something that screamed "look at me" and at the same time made people uncomfortable enough to avert their eyes. Either way, nobody expected the subject of a nationwide manhunt to dress like he wanted to be noticed.

A quick haircut and temporary hair dye in the bathroom, then latex prosthetics to alter his chin and jaw line. A larger nose and a wider mouth and shaved eyebrows, and finally his appearance was different enough from his own, and from the disguise he used the night before, that he felt comfortable moving on to the next step.

There were several people in the greater Tokyo area who were capable of crafting fake IDs, passports and travel documents, and he knew them all. The best by far was a man named Kurofuji Sadasoke. He could forge anything right down to the watermark and holographic foil. He was the go-to man for anyone with a less-than-legal mind set in need of something that could pass for the real thing. And if you paid up front in cash, he could have everything ready for you in less than two hours.

Time to pay him an early-morning visit.

Kabukicho, Tokyo's very own infamous red-light district, was known as the sleepless town. The mercenary, who was not feeling as nameless as he preferred at the moment, hated coming to this part of the Shinjuku district. He hated the bright lights, the countless love hotels, the host and hostess clubs, the 24-hour arcades and karaoke bars.

Worst yet were the touts on the sidewalks, scanning the crowds for easy marks, trying to lure people into their bars where the unfortunate fools would then be served spiked drinks and have their wallets stolen, or be charged tens of thousands of yen for just one drink. And since at the moment he was trying very hard to not look like a hardened soldier of fortune, but rather a down-and-out salaryman carrying a worn briefcase, he was being approached by touts on nearly every block. Only in Kabukicho could you find people trying to drag you into bars just before six am.

There were also plenty of innocuous-seeming stores and restaurants, but he knew that almost all of them were run by one yakuza organization or another.

Kurofuji Sadasoke owned a sports footwear store, which served as the perfect front for his far more profitable fake ID business. It was with no small relief that the mercenary finally made it to the small storefront without being accosted by yet another tout. The store windows were dark, as were the windows of the apartment above the store, and the door was locked.

There was, however an intercom. He pressed the button and was surprised at how quickly a voice answered. "Yeah, what is it?"

"I need to purchase some running shoes," he said.

"Sure, sure. Be right down."

Less than a minute later, Kurofuji was unlocking the front door and ushering him in without bothering to turn on the lights. He was a thin, mousy-looking man, but his gaze was sharp and clear. "So," he said. "Running shoes, eh? You want the whole package, I presume?"

The mercenary frowned. "You're pretty up-front and relaxed about this. Aren't you worried I might be an undercover cop?"

Kurofuji just laughed. "I have connections," he said. "The cops leave me alone."

He raised an eyebrow. "Those must be some connections."

"Indeed they are," Kurofuji said, smirking mildly. "So, as I was saying, full package?"

"Yes, and I need it as soon as possible."

"Rush job? Two mil, cash up front."

He handed over the briefcase, which contained about a quarter of the payout for the kidnapping job. "Two and a half mil, cash," he said, handing over the key as well. "Give me your best work."

Kurofuji gave him an appraising look, then unlocked the briefcase and looked inside. "Huh. All right then. Follow me."

Kurofuji led him through the shoe displays to the back stockroom. After moving a few boxes to uncover a keypad, he entered a code, and a featureless gray door in the back wall slid open.

They walked through into what could only be described as a waiting room, with cushioned chairs lining the one side of the room just left of the door, facing a wall-mounted flat screen tv. There was a water cooler with hot and cold water dispensers, and a table with styrofoam cups, a coffee maker, and boxes of tea. The opposite end of the room was set up to be a small photo studio, with a camera on a tripod and a chair sitting in front of changeable backdrops. There was even a rack of clothes. The far wall had another inset door with a keypad lock.

The door slid closed behind them. "Pick a couple of shirts," Kurofuji said, pointing him to the clothes rack. "Don't want to be wearing the same thing for your ID and passport photos, right?"

He didn't bother to answer, but he did pick the two loudest shirts on the rack.

"Heh, going for obnoxious, are you?" Kurofuji said, grinning. "You must be in trouble."

As he took off his shirt, he saw Kurofuji's eyes go straight to the handgun in his waistband, but it didn't seem to shake him. Not surprising, considering his usual clientele.

When the photos were taken, Kurofuji removed the memory stick from the camera, then waved him over to the cushioned chairs.

"Make yourself at home," he said. "This will take me a couple of hours. Kick back, take a nap, watch tv, whatever, but don't bother me while I'm working." With that, he punched in a code for the next door. When it opened and he stepped through, there was the briefest glimpse of what appeared to be a photo lab before it slid shut again.

Alone, with nothing to do but wait. He turned on the tv just in time to see the Morning Satellite News give way to Piramekino 640. Not willing to endure children's television, he turned the tv off, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

About a half hour had passed and he was almost starting to doze, when the door that led back out to the sports footwear store slid open.

He sat up, feeling an electric jolt of surprise as the man who had hired him to kidnap Kudo Shinichi, a.k.a. Edogawa Conan, walked through the door.

In an instant he was on his feet, gun drawn and pointed right at his former client's chest. "What the hell are you doing here?" he growled, even as his mind raced. How did anyone, let alone this man, know he was here? Had he been followed? And how had he gotten through the passcode-locked door? "I thought I told you never to contact me again."

To his further shock, his former client threw his head back and laughed with a young, feminine voice that had absolutely no business coming from that old man's throat. "Well, that answers that question," the voice said, as the former client reached up and grabbed the loose skin just above his collar bone and proceeded to rip his face off.

It still took him a moment to process that it had been a mask. One of the most amazing, realistic masks he had ever seen, but still, a mask. The woman underneath the mask threw it aside as she shook out her long, pale blonde tresses. She looked at him, light blue eyes flashing as she smirked. "Kenko-san, I presume," she said.

"Who the hell are you?" His oh-shit-meter was off the scale, and he considered just shooting the woman and getting the hell out, but he wanted answers. "Why were you in that disguise?" And what an amazingly thorough disguise. It was extremely disconcerting to see a young woman's face above the narrow, stooping contours of an old man's body.

"Why... to see if you recognized him as the man who hired you, of course," she said, seemingly unperturbed over the fact that his gun was still leveled at her. "Which you verified beautifully with your reaction. And you can call me Vermouth."

Vermouth. His former client had told him about her. She was a member of that syndicate that shrank Kudo. The syndicate that also wanted his former client dead.

Maybe he wasn't in as much trouble as he thought. "What do you want?" he said. His gun never wavered.

"To make a deal, of course," she said. "You need to get out of the country without being caught by authorities. I need to know everything you know about the man who hired you to kidnap Edogawa Conan." She smiled. "I believe we can help each other."

He stared at her. "You can help me leave the country? How?"

She tilted her head coquettishly. "How does a private jet sound? Surely better and far more safe than trying to book a flight on public airlines."

"Can it get me to Brazil?" he asked.

She blinked, and looked thoughtful for a second. "It would need to refuel in Munich or Paris, but yes."

It did sound good. Too good. "When?"

"As soon as Kurofuji-san is through working up your documents."

Ah. Things were starting to make sense, such as how Kurofuji was able to operate without fear of police shutting him down, and how this woman had known he was here in the first place. "I take it he contacted you," he said.

"Actually, I contacted him first," she said. "As soon as the police figured out who you were, I knew you would be needing a new identity and a means to leave. I simply contacted those in the Tokyo area who are in the business of creating false identities, and asked that they inform me if any new clients suddenly showed up. And here you are."

"Here I am," he said, hoping he was successful in hiding his unease. Who was she, that she could call in favors like that? He realized he was still holding her at gunpoint, and lowered his weapon. She didn't even seem to notice, still looking right into his face without a shred of fear.

"So," she said. "Do we have a deal?"

"What if I give you the information I have," he said, "and you decide that it's not worth a private jet to Brazil?"

For the first time, a slight frown creased her brow. "You sound like you don't have very much."

"I have an address," he said. "The address of a rental house where we met for all of our meetings and transactions. And I highly doubt that he is there any more."

She regarded him thoughtfully. "I actually didn't expect even that much," she said. "So, you can give me an address. What about how he contacted you? And can you accurately recollect the details of each of your meetings? Can you give me that?"

"Yes," he said, realizing that he had more to bargain with than he thought. "Is that enough?"

Her mouth twisted in a half smile. "I believe so."

"Then do we have a deal?" he asked, hardly able to believe that this might work.

"Yes," she said. "So, Kenko-san, please tell me what you know."

His natural caution made him pause. "How do I know you will follow through on your end of the deal once I've given you the information you want?" he said.

"My dear Kenko-san," she said, her voice all smooth silk. "My organization wouldn't get very far if we betrayed those willing to work with us. And we certainly don't mind rewarding those who help us." Her eyes narrowed, and there was suddenly venom under the silk. "We have been looking for this man for a very long time, Kenko-san. The trail has been cold for months. Your information is vital to us once again catching his scent. You tell me what you know, and as soon as your documents are ready, I will take you wherever you need to go to pick up your belongings, then take you straight to our private air strip. You can fly out of the country without even encountering anyone who might question you."

He could feel the deadly sincerity in her words, see it in her face, and he realized that he believed her.

"All right," he said. "Let's get started, then. Do you need to write any of this down?"

She shook her head, her expression relaxing into a smile. She was, he thought, quite stunningly beautiful. He wondered if the body under her manish disguise matched her face.

"I have an excellent memory," she said, and she glanced over to the table with the coffee maker, boxes of tea, and styrofoam cups. "Though, before we get started, I think I would like some tea." She walked over to the table. "Would you like some, Kenko-san?"

He blinked as he realized she was offering to make him a drink so that they could sit and he could share secrets that would lead to his former client's demise. He stifled a smile. Nothing civilized skullduggery more than tea. "Sure," he said.

He returned his gun to his waistband holster, then sat down on one of the soft chairs while she dispensed hot water into two styrofoam cups, then draped a bag of tea into each. "Sorry, not exactly tea ceremony," she said with a wry smile as she sat down next to him, and he laughed, taking her offered cup.

"So, how about that address first," she said.

He took a sip of his tea, which, at the moment, tasted more like bitter water. He supposed he should probably let it steep longer. "It's in the Suginami district," he said, then rattled off the address. When she didn't ask him to repeat it, he went on to tell her about how the client had contacted the mercenary network to which he belonged with his job offer, and how he and several of his colleagues had literally drawn straws to see who would get the job. By the time he was through with that, the water in his cup had darkened considerably with the tea, and he took another sip. Ah, much better.

Vermouth was listening raptly, leaning toward him on the arm rest of her chair, her chin resting in her hand.

So, sipping his tea, he told her about the first meeting with the client and how the client had presented him with pages upon pages of documentation on the target, Edogawa Conan, who was, unbelievably, supposed to be Kudo Shinichi, the high school detective. He laughed as he told her how he had believed the client to be stark raving mad at first, but hey, a job was a job, and... and... was it getting warm in here?

Vermouth just shook her head. "I'm fine," she said. "Please, go on."

But no, he was sure it was getting... uncomfortably warm. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, and realized that his face and neck were sweating. He was about to stand and see if there was something wrong with the room's temperature controls, when suddenly his heart spasmed painfully in his rib cage. He clutched at his chest in shock as he found it suddenly difficult to breathe, even as the rest of his body started burning. It felt like someone had ignited a white hot flame in each of his cells, and as he staggered to his feet, his cup falling from his hand, he turned his horrified, furious gaze on the woman.

"You bitch," he ground out, gasping. "Y... you poisoned me."

She stood and looked at him, her expression blank, her eyes blue chips of ice as the agony blazing through him sent him to his knees.

"I wonder, Kenko-san," she said softly, "are you of the same quality as my Silver Bullet? If so, you have nothing to fear. But somehow..." She smiled without warmth as she looked at him trembling on the floor. "I don't think you are."

The inner fire consumed him, his heart felt like it was an exploding star, and the pain blotted out all but one last, desperate instinct. With the last of his fading strength, he pulled the gun from his waistband and shot her, point blank, in the chest.

The last thing he saw before the darkness consumed him was the shock on the woman's face as she fell back and hit the floor.

He died smiling.

Vermouth sat up, wincing, one arm wrapped around her chest, as the door to the lab slid open and Kurofuji rushed in, his eyes wide as he saw the dead mercenary on the floor.

"Vermouth-sama," he said, hurrying to her side, but she waved him off.

"I'm fine," she said, though, as she got to her feet, the stabbing pain just under her left breast said otherwise. That bastard. In spite of the flack jacket she was wearing under her Numabuchi Souichiro disguise, the bullet impact had undoubtedly broken a rib.

Fortunately, she had developed a rather high tolerance for pain.

Kurofuji looked back at the dead man. "I take it that this means I don't need to finish this job," he said, the corner of his mouth turned up in a wry grin.

"And you can even keep the money," Vermouth said.

Kurofuji bowed deeply. "You are too generous, Vermouth-sama."

"Hmf," she said, stepping lightly over Kenko's corpse. "I'll send someone by to clean this up and to make sure that he's found... somewhere else."

"Thank you, Vermouth-sama."

"Don't mention it," she said, and fixed him with a look. "Really. Don't."

"Of course, Vermouth-sama."

Her yellow De Tomaso Pantera was parked right in front of the shoe store. She slid carefully into the driver's seat, grateful that she had decided not to ride her Harley Davidson. Leaning over a bike with a broken rib was not fun. She reached over to the passenger side seat and retrieved a bag that held several brand new disposable pre-paid cell phones, then used a knife from the glove compartment to cut one free of its plastic casing.

I have an address, she typed into a text message, followed by the information.

She had briefly considered investigating the house on her own, but why go through all the trouble when there were so many bright young detective minds who could do the work for her, and with a greater chance of success?

This is the house where your son was taken immediately after he was kidnapped, she typed. Good luck.

Use this information wisely, Yukiko, she thought. Because I will be watching. I am not done with this yet. Not by a long shot.

Heiji didn't even realize he had fallen asleep until his phone rang. Startled, he sat straight up before he was even fully awake, then blinked groggily as he took in his surroundings and his memories fell back into place.

Not my room. Not home. Mouri living room. The couch. I'm in Tokyo. Kudo was kidnapped. Kudo's dad was here. And my damn phone won't stop ringing.

Groaning, he rubbed one hand over his face as the other reached for the source of the offending noise. Checking the caller ID, he groaned again.

Kazuha. Crap. He was in trouble.

He answered hesitantly. "Uh, yo, Kaz-"

"AHOU!"

Heiji winced, pulling the phone away from his ear.

"Where the hell are you? I've been waiting for almost fifteen minutes, and we're going to be late for school!"

"Where do you think I am, ahou!" he snapped back. "Haven't you seen the news? Ku-Conan-kun called me last night saying he was in trouble and I got on the first flight out to Tokyo, and I still wasn't in time to help! He got snatched by that psycho before my plane even touched down!"

The sudden silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

"Wh... what?" The timidness in Kazuha's voice was even more scary than her temper.

Heiji mentally kicked himself. She didn't know. She had probably gone to bed early, then woke up, got ready for school and went to meet him at their usual spot so they could walk to school together, only to find that he was nowhere around. She had no idea about any of the crap that had gone down since last night.

"Ah... look," he said, "things are pretty bad right now..."

"Conan-kun was kidnapped?"

The tremor in her voice made Heiji swallow. She'd better not start crying... "Uh, yeah, it's kind of a long story," he said. "But I'm gonna find him, okay? You, uh... you should get to school so you won't be late."

"Ahou!" she said, and he winced again because there were definitely tears in her voice. "How can I go to school and act like nothing is wrong after you tell me that?"

"Well, what else can you do?" he said, exasperated. "Just go back home and mope?"

"I could come and help you look for Conan-kun," she said.

"No. Absolutely not," Heiji said.

"Why not?" Kazuha said. The tears in her voice had been all too quickly replaced with stubbornness.

"Because it's dangerous! Look..." Heiji ran one hand through his hair. "This guy who took Conan-kun, he shot and killed three people and wounded Agasa-hakase in a bad way." And that was just the hired help, he thought.

"If Conan-kun was kidnapped, then you're at the Mouri's, right? Is Ran-chan there?"

Heiji frowned. "Of course she is, but that's not-"

"Then I'm coming. Poor Ran-chan, she must be out of her mind with-"

"Kazuha!"

The silence that met his shout was hurt and angry.

"Please," Heiji said, struggling for calm. "If you come out here, both your dad and my dad will have my head on a stick. If you want to help, there are plenty of things you can do right there at home."

"Like what?" The skepticism in her voice was palpable.

He took a deep breath. "Like... calling hospitals and seeing if they've had any recent equipment or medicine thefts," he said. "That's what Neechan's going to be doing, as soon as she wakes up."

"Hospitals? Why hospitals? What does medical equipment theft have to do with Conan-kun being kidnapped?"

Crap. Heiji thought furiously, trying to think of an explanation that didn't involve giving away Kudo's secret. Well, see, Kazuha, the reason Kudo was kidnapped is because some crazy scientist wants to figure out why he turned into a little kid, and so we're looking for someone who has the equipment to perform the necessary experiments...

Yeah, not happening.

Unfortunately, no credible alternate explanations were coming to mind. He had always been a terrible liar, and if anyone would call him on it, it would be Kazuha.

"I... can't tell you that," he said finally. "At least, not right now. All I can say is that it is relevant, and if you could help Neechan make those phone calls, it would be a big help."

Kazuha was silent for a long moment. "Okay," she said. "But when Ran-chan wakes up, I want to talk to her, okay?"

"Uh, sure," Heiji said, hoping his relief wasn't too evident in his voice. "I'll have her call you. Then you two can... coordinate which hospitals to call or something."

"Thanks. Um... Heiji?"

"Yeah?" Uh-oh. That tone in her voice always made him a bit nervous.

"Are you wearing the charm I made you?"

What kind of question was that? "Of course I am."

"Good. Don't take it off, okay?"

He blinked. "Why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, her voice bordering on sarcastic. "Maybe because you might get a feeling that someone is going to get hurt, so you give it to them to keep them safe from getting stabbed by a serial killer, and then you end up getting shot in the stomach by a corrupt police officer."

Heiji snorted. "I hope you're not saying that you're upset that I saved Conan-kun's life by letting him borrow my charm that one time."

"Of course not," she said. "I'm saying that if you get one of your premonitions about someone, tell me, and I'll make them a charm of their own so you don't have to give yours away."

"That wasn't a premonition," Heiji said, scowling. "It was just a hunch."

"Right. A hunch you had after you had a dream about Conan-kun being stabbed a week before it happened."

Now she was being smug. And even worse, she was right.

Heiji sighed. More than once, he had envied Kudo his clear, scientific certainty that everything in the world could be explained rationally. Because, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that Kudo's world-view was logically the correct one... he couldn't completely shake the feeling that there was a layer lying just under the surface of rational reality that defied explanation.

"Hey," said Kazuha, sounding concerned at his long silence. "You haven't had another dream, have you?" She gasped. "Heiji, did you dream about Conan-kun's kidnapping?"

"No!" he said. "Of course not." If he had, he sure as hell would have been in Tokyo a lot sooner, and maybe he actually could have prevented the abduction.

But, now that he thought about it... there was that dream he'd had... maybe a week or so ago? There was nothing really alarming about it - not like the one where he'd dreamed of Kudo being stabbed to death. It was just... strange.

He'd dreamed he was in a morgue. He had been in lots of morgues, and this one didn't seem any different. White, sterile, cold, with rows of dead bodies on tables covered in white sheets. Nothing unusual.

Except that Kudo was sitting on the floor in a corner of the room, his small, thin arms wrapped around his legs, his legs curled against his chest.

In the dream, he had walked up to Kudo, and Kudo had looked up at him, a neutral, almost bored look on his face.

"So you're here," Kudo had said.

And that was it. The whole dream. Nothing scary or earth-shattering. Nothing that seemed like a warning of oncoming violence or misfortune. Just his subconscious saying, Hey, you and Kudo sure do manage to find a lot of dead bodies, don'tcha. And he couldn't really argue with that.

"Well, you'll tell me if you do?" said Kazuha.

"Huh?" Heiji tried to re-rail his train of thought. "Do what?"

Kazuha sighed. "Have another dream."

"I dream all the time," he said lightly. "You want a nightly report or something?"

"You know exactly what I mean, ahou."

"Yeah, yeah," he said irritably. "If by some remote chance I should have one of those dreams, I'll let you know." Dammit, if Kudo were here, he would be laughing at him.

"Good." Kazuha sighed. "Well, I'm late for school. I guess I'll go anyway, it will give me something to do other than worry. I'll pick up your homework for you, okay?"

"Mm-hm," Heiji said, still feeling grouchy.

"You be sure to have Ran-chan call me as soon as she wakes up. I can slip out of class and take her call."

"Yeah, okay."

"Talk to you later!" Kazuha hung up.

Heiji glared at his phone in lieu of Kazuha, and didn't feel any better for it. He briefly considered trying to go back to sleep since he hadn't gotten much rest, but after that call he was plenty awake.

He glanced over at Neechan's closed bedroom door, a little amazed that he hadn't managed to wake up Neechan or Haibara-san. Just as well. By the time Kudo-san had left around four am, both girls were completely exhausted.

Well, since he was awake, he might as well start being productive. He headed for the kitchen, and was in the middle of re-heating some curry for an impromptu breakfast when there was a knock at the front door.

Now what? he wondered. Well, at least whoever it was came at a somewhat reasonable hour. He hoped it wasn't a client for Mouri-san, or worse, a reporter. "Who is it?" he said when he got to the door.

"Kuroba Kaito," came the answer. The name didn't ring any bells.

"If you're looking for Mouri-san, he's not here," Heiji said, anxious for this guy to leave so he could eat and get to work.

"Actually, I'm looking for Hattori Heiji."

So, a total stranger was looking for him and somehow knew he was here. Definitely worth looking into. He opened the door.

And found himself staring at a guy around his age who was almost the spitting image of Kudo. Adult Kudo. Yeah, the hair was different, sticking up all over, and so was the way he held himself, but still, the similarities were uncanny. He looked more like Kudo than even his kendo rival, Okita, who basically looked like Kudo with a pony tail.

"Who did you say you were?" he said, his eyes narrowing.

The guy blinked at him, bemused. "Kuroba Kaito," he repeated, and then he grinned. "Sorry, did I forget to mention that Kudo Yusaku sent me?"

Kudo-san? That could explain things. "You a relative of his?"

"Just a friend of the family," Kuroba said, still grinning. "Kudo-san knows my parents. So... Hattori Heiji, I presume?"

"Yeah, that's me." Heiji couldn't stop staring at this guy with open suspicion. Aside from the freaky resemblance to Kudo, there was something about him that was just... He couldn't even put his finger on it.

And the guy wasn't stupid, because the look on his face said he was amused by the unsettling effect he was having. "Can I come in? Or would you like to interrogate me out here in the stairwell?"

Frankly, Heiji preferred the latter option. "Why did Kudo-san send you?" he asked.

Kuroba gave a long-suffering sigh. "He just came into some information about his son that he wanted me to share with you. Information that would probably best be discussed behind closed doors," he added meaningfully.

Heiji processed that for a moment. "Wait here," he said. He closed the door, shutting the guy outside, then went back into the kitchen where a set of keys hung from a hook on the wall. He grabbed the keys, hurried back to the front door and opened it, stepping out into the stairwell before closing and locking the door behind him.

"Come on," he said, gesturing to Kuroba. "We'll talk down in the office."

What he didn't say was that there was no way in hell he wanted to let that guy into the Mouri apartment. The last thing Neechan needed after last night was to come out of her bedroom and see a Kudo look-alike hanging out in her living room.

He unlocked and opened the door to the detective agency and waved Kuroba in before entering himself and closing the door behind him. "Alright," he said, turning to face Kuroba. "Closed door. Now, what did Kudo-san tell you?"

Kuroba smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes. "First, let's get the big question out of the way. Yes, I know that Edogawa Conan is, in fact, Kudo Shinichi, and I know how and why."

Heiji nodded, having suspected as much when Kuroba said that Kudo-san gave him "information about his son." He couldn't say he was happy about this guy knowing Kudo's secret, and he suspected Kudo wouldn't be happy either, but he could take that up with his dad after he was rescued.

"What information did he want you to share with me?" he asked, wanting to cut to the chase.

"An address." With a twist of his wrist, Kuroba produced a folded slip of paper between two fingers, seemingly out of thin air. "He apparently has it on very good authority that this is where his son was taken immediately after being abducted last night. He wants us to go check it out."

Heiji stared at him. "'Us,'" he said flatly.

Kuroba's grin was infuriatingly gleeful. "Us," he repeated.

Heiji stifled a groan.

It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning, and already he didn't like the way this day was going.

To be continued.

A/N: Shinichi's experiences, including him ripping out his respirator because he thought it was scuba gear, are based on true stories told by people who have been in medically induced comas.

Next time: Well, I have a ton of stuff planned, but at this point I'm hesitant to predict how much will fit into one chapter. I promised some Detective Boys last time, and their scene just didn't fit. But I feel pretty safe in guaranteeing Heiji, Kaito, Ran and Ai. And more Shinichi and the bad guys.

Please review? Please please please? :)

Chapter Text

A/N: I know this chapter is very late. But guess what? I'm making up for it (sort of) by having it be twice as long! It's just over 13,000 words, so let's pretend it's really two 6,500 word chapters, okay? ^_^

I didn't actually have much writing time this month. We shall blame my daughter's science fair project. Fortunately, I have Thanksgiving weekend all to myself, so this chapter comes to you courtesy of three days of uninterrupted writing time.

I'm honestly not sure how December is going to treat me. But I will be optimistic and try to get a normal chapter out in a decent amount of time.

Thank you all for reading, faving, following and reviewing! I honestly would not have the stamina to keep this up if it were not for those of you who take the time to let me know what you think. I love you guys. :)

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 10: Cruel Realities

Mouri Kogoro was not a man who turned down media attention. Ever. It was his personal philosophy that any and all media exposure was a good thing, because being on tv led to wonderful things. It led to jobs, which led to money. It led to being recognized and being invited to parties attended by high ranking politicians and celebrities. It led to personal guest appearances on Yoko Okino's television show, which, in his opinion, was pretty much the pinnacle of success.

But after a night of non-stop interviews with reporters from every single tv station and news outlet in the greater Tokyo area, he was seriously starting to re-think his policy.

The same questions, over and over. Who do you think was behind the kidnapping? Tell us about your cases, Sleeping Kogoro. Any recent ones that might lead to a vendetta against you? Any old ones that might have resulted in someone finally breaking and lashing out in revenge?

And he answered the questions. At first, he recounted cases in detail, as if he were telling some fantastic adventure story. But as the night wore on, that quickly wore thin. Not for the reporters, who were eating it up, but for him. Because he knew something that they didn't. Something he wasn't about to tell them.

There was no possible way that the brat's kidnapping had anything to do with him. Because the kidnapper had captured Ran. The bastard had tied her up and had her at his mercy... and then he had left her behind.

Kogoro knew that anyone who was out to seriously hurt him or get revenge would have taken Ran and left the brat. It was that simple.

Megure-keibu had kept Ran's involvement out of the press release, and for that he was grateful. Ran had already been through so much, and he didn't want these vultures of the press any where near her. And if keeping the press attention on himself was what he had to do to keep her safe and out of the public eye, then he would damn well do it, no matter how bone tired he was.

The reporters had stayed, interviewing him into the early morning hours. The hospital administrator - most likely in an attempt to court some kind of favorable press coverage in the face of this public relations disaster - had set up a comfortable room in the administration offices for the interviews to take place.

It was close to three am when things started to finally wind down to the point where Kogoro finally had a hope of escaping this circus and going home. The doctor in charge of Agasa-hakase's surgery - which had apparently gone well, to his relief - told him that Ran had left hours earlier, with the Osaka brat promising to walk her home safely. He was grateful for that, but he was anxious to see to Ran's well-being himself.

Then, just after three am, the police announced that the kidnapper had been identified. His name was Kenko Naito, and he was a mercenary for hire, wanted by Interpol not only for kidnapping, but for gun and drug smuggling and assassination. This news whipped the reporters back into a feeding frenzy, and any hope he had of going home any time soon was lost in that moment.

How do you feel about this new development? What enemies do you have with the connections to hire a mercenary? Tell us what this all means, Great Detective Sleeping Kogoro!

And he bluffed and played at being wise and knowledgeable. He put forth several plausible theories that the reporters latched on to like leeches.

But in reality he had no idea what it meant. Other than that someone, somewhere, had wanted to kidnap the brat very badly. And he had no idea why. Yes, though he loathed to admit it, the kid was remarkably clever. Yes, he was considered a prodigy. But that alone explained nothing.

Somehow, the brat had gotten into some kind of trouble that he knew nothing about. That was a problem, because if he wanted to have any hope of finding the kid, he needed to know what that trouble was. And right now, the only person he could think of who might possibly know more about the kid than he did was currently recovering from surgery in the intensive care unit.

When Agasa-hakase regained consciousness and was finally allowed visitors, Kogoro had a lot of questions for him.

It was close to seven am when the second wave of frenzied reporters finally started dispersing, and by that time, Kogoro was desperately hoping for a chance to live up to his nickname. But not until he got home and could check on Ran.

In the meantime, while the last of the tv reporters were packing up their equipment, he was going to lean back in this rather comfortable chair that the hospital administrator provided for him, and ease his aching back.

And he was sure that no one would mind if he closed his tired, burning eyes for a moment. Just a moment to regroup so that he could walk home.

Just a moment...

Mitsuhiko's parents never gave him a ride to school.

His usual morning routine consisted of waking up to the sound of his Kamen Yaiba alarm clock at 6 am, getting dressed, brushing his hair and washing his face, and then joining his parents and older sister for breakfast.

At breakfast, his parents would discuss their plans for the day and enquire after him and his sister. And if, in his after-school plans, he mentioned his fellow Shounen Tantei-dan, then they would inevitably caution him to be careful and not get into trouble. And he would assure them that yes he would, and no he wouldn't, and be silently grateful that they both remained ignorant of just how many times the Shounen Tantei-dan had been in real, mortal danger.

After breakfast, his parents would both leave for their teaching jobs, and he would brush his teeth and then either read a book or watch morning cartoons until it was time to leave for school. He would meet Ayumi-chan and Genta-kun at their usual corner and they would walk the rest of the way to school together and meet up with Haibara-san and Conan-kun at the Teitan Elementary School entrance. It was the same routine almost every morning.

But this morning, at breakfast, the routine had been utterly destroyed when his parents grimly informed him that, the previous night, Agasa-hakase had been shot and was in the Intensive Care Unit at Beika General, that Conan-kun had been kidnapped from the same hospital, and that both crimes had been perpetrated by an internationally-wanted criminal-for-hire who was still at large.

They also informed him that they had spoken with both Ayumi-chan's and Genta-kun's parents, and that all Shounen Tantei-dan activities were suspended until further notice.

And that is why Mitsuhiko's mother had found a substitute professor for her first class of the day and was currently driving him to school, lecturing him on the perils of stranger danger.

Mitsuhiko did his best to pay attention, answering when his mother asked him a question, nodding when appropriate... but it was all stuff he already knew, and he couldn't really focus on what she was saying anyway - not when he was still reeling from her morning announcement.

He still couldn't believe it. Agasa-hakase, shot, and Conan-kun kidnapped. His first anxious, horrified thought upon hearing the news immediately had been for Ayumi-chan and Haibara-san. Ayumi-chan would be devastated, he knew. He wondered if she found out last night, or if she was finding out this morning, just like him. And Haibara-san... Agasa-hakase was her guardian. What would she do, with him in the hospital? Was she all by herself with nobody to take care of her?

And Conan-kun. Kidnapped. He was still trying to wrap his brain around the concept. How had anyone managed to kidnap Conan-kun right out of the hospital? He was so smart, and he always seemed to be one step ahead of the bad guys. Plus he had all those cool gadgets that the professor made for him. And still, someone managed to get the better of him?

As usual, Mitsuhiko found his thoughts about Conan-kun to be a convoluted, confusing mixture of admiration and envy, and he sighed. And now, on top of that, there was fear. Fear for what might be happening to Conan-kun. Fear that he might not be found.

And then there was his own uncharitable hope that, with Conan-kun missing, the girls would turn to him during this crisis.

It wasn't nice, and he hated himself a little for feeling that way, but he couldn't help it. It was hard not to be jealous. Until Conan-kun had shown up a few months ago, he had been generally accepted as being the smartest, most capable kid in class. And, as he knew all too well, Ayumi-chan liked smart.

But Conan-kun was more than just smart. He was incredibly brave, too. Mitsuhiko noticed how, whenever the Shounen Tantei-dan were in danger, Conan-kun would always place himself between them and whatever or whoever was threatening them. He was smallest in stature, but biggest in courage.

And Mitsuhiko almost always, without fail, followed Conan-kun's lead. But then, how could he not? Conan-kun was the one who always saw the connections that everyone, even adults, missed. He was the one who inevitably solved the mysteries they found. And he was the one who always found a way to save them whenever they got into serious trouble - even if he got hurt in the process, like when those robbers shot him in the cave.

For months now, Mitsuhiko felt like he was standing in the immense shadow of a boy who was almost a full head shorter than him. It was hard not to be a little resentful.

And yet, in spite of all of that, he also found it impossible to dislike Conan-kun. Because, while Conan-kun was sometimes impatient with him and the other kids in a way that usually only adults were, he was also generous and sincere in his appreciation when they were able to notice a clue first, or help him in any way. Getting praise from Conan-kun for being clever was always high praise indeed, and it never failed to make Mitsuhiko feel proud.

Conan-kun wasn't stingy with his encyclopedic knowledge, either. He always answered Mitsuhiko's questions, and taught him amazing things about detective work, forensics, first aid... pretty much anything Mitsuhiko wanted to know about.

And when Conan-kun was being brave in the face of danger, it helped him to feel brave too. Once, when he had asked Conan-kun how he could be so brave when things were so scary, Conan-kun had said, "Being brave isn't the lack of fear, Mitsuhiko-kun. It's doing what you know is right, like standing up for yourself or someone else, even when you're afraid. Especially when you're afraid."

Conan-kun was probably being very brave right now. He was probably busy figuring out a way to escape from his kidnapper, if he hadn't managed to do so already. And if Conan-kun was being brave, then he needed to be brave too, because right now he was really afraid. Envious he might be of Conan-kun's amazing intellect... but Conan-kun was more than just the smartest kid he knew. Conan-kun was one of his very best friends. And the thought that he might never see him again because he had been taken by some crazy kidnapper was too scary to think about.

His mother pulled the car up next to the elementary school, and he could see Ayumi-chan and Genta-kun waiting for him just through the gate... but his mother wasn't finished with him yet.

If you see a strange man approach you, run away, find a teacher or a police officer, she said, for probably the sixth time since leaving the house. Come straight home after school. Do not, absolutely do not think about playing detective with your friends and trying to solve the mystery of Conan-kun's kidnapping, it's too dangerous, it's beyond you, leave it to the police.

Yes, Okaa-sama. I will, Okaa-sama. I won't, Okaa-sama. Please excuse me, I'm going to be late, Okaa-sama.

She finally, reluctantly let him get out of the car, and he all but sprinted through the school gates to his friends.

As he approached, he was unsurprised to see that Ayumi-chan had been crying. Her eyes were red, her face was wet, and her chin was trembling. Mitsuhiko's heart broke for her, even as that small, traitorous and slightly irrational part of him wondered if she would cry for him that way if he had been the one kidnapped.

"Good morning," he said, though his voice said that it was anything but.

Genta-kun frowned, looking over Mitsuhiko's shoulder. "If your mom drove you to school, you gotta know about Conan-kun and Agasa-hakase, right?"

Mitsuhiko nodded. "I'm afraid so."

Genta-kun crossed his massive arms over his chest, a severe expression settling on his broad face. "This sucks," he said. "Me and Ayumi-chan have been grounded from being detectives and trying to find Conan-kun."

"I have as well," Mitsuhiko said glumly. "And my mother told me that we can't visit Hakase until he's feeling better."

Ayumi-chan sniffled. "Just like when Conan-kun was shot," she said. "We couldn't visit him for days."

Mitsuhiko nodded. And that reminded him... He bit his lip and looked around, hoping to catch sight of a familiar head of strawberry-blonde hair. "Have either of you seen Haibara-san yet?"

"Nuh-uh," said Genta-kun. "But I thought she would be at the hospital with Hakase, since she's like his daughter."

"Oh, I hope so," said Ayumi-chan. "I hate to think of her being at home all alone."

"I'm not sure that being at the hospital all alone is much better," said Mitsuhiko, pulling out his phone. "I'll call her and make sure she's okay."

The other two watched him anxiously as he held his phone to his ear, listening to it ring. The call went to voicemail, and he frowned. "I'm going to call the hospital," he said, looking up the number on his phone and dialing Beika General's patient services. A woman answered, and he asked her if Haibara Ai was there, since her guardian, Agasa Hiroshi, was in ICU. The woman put him on hold for a minute, then came back on the line and told him that Haibara-san had apparently gone home the night before.

"So she is home all alone," Ayumi-chan said. "That's terrible! We should go and at least make sure she's okay."

Mitsuhiko looked at his watch. "We don't have time to get there and back before school starts. Maybe we could check on her after school? Oh, wait," he said, remembering his mother's instructions to come straight home. He sighed, feeling despondent. "I forgot, I can't."

"Me neither," said Genta-kun. "Hey," he said, his expression lighting up. "What if we went over there during lunch?"

Mitsuhiko blinked at him. "Are you seriously suggesting skipping lunch?" he said, incredulously.

"Not skipping," Genta-kun said, apparently offended at the very idea. "We could eat along the way."

Mitsuhiko frowned. "My mother says that it's very rude to be seen eating while walking down the street," he said. "Only foreign tourists who don't know any better do that. And besides, we're not supposed to leave school grounds until school is out."

Genta-kun glowered at him. "Look, do you want to find out if Haibara-san is okay or not?"

"Of course I do," Mitsuhiko said, irritated, "but if we get caught sneaking out during lunch, we'll be in a lot of trouble."

"So let's not get caught," said Ayumi-chan, and Mitsuhiko looked at her, surprised. "I'm worried about Ai-chan," she said. "And it only takes ten minutes to walk to Hakase's house. We could get there, check on her and eat lunch, and be back before class starts again."

Well, if Ayumi-chan was for it... "Very well," Mitsuhiko said. "We shall do it."

The news of Conan-kun's kidnapping had spread like wildfire through the school, and when Mitsuhiko entered his classroom, he saw that his fellow first graders were all uncharacteristically quiet, huddled in small groups like conspirators, speaking to each other only in whispers, occasionally casting wide-eyed glances at him and Ayumi-chan and Genta-kun. He ignored them, just sitting down at his desk, trying to think of a good way to get to Hakase's house during lunch period without getting caught. Nothing especially brilliant was coming to mind.

When Kobayashi-sensei entered the classroom, everyone fell silent and quietly went to their own desks. Mitsuhiko couldn't help but notice that their tender-hearted teacher - and self-proclaimed manager of the Shounen Tantei-dan - looked like she had been crying. Her eyes were red and her face was splotchy, even though she was obviously trying to smile. But when she stood behind her desk, her gaze immediately went to Conan-kun's conspicuously empty seat, and the smile slid right off her face.

She visibly swallowed and took a deep breath before looking at the rest of her students and attempting to smile again. "Good morning, class," she said, and before she could say anything else, one of the boys a few rows over raised his hand. "Um... yes, Takuma-kun?"

"Sensei, is it true that Conan-kun was kidnapped by a bad guy?"

She blinked at him. Mitsuhiko watched with concern as she grasped the edge of her desk as if to steady herself. "Yes," she said. "I'm afraid so." Another hand went up. "Yes, Daisuke-kun?"

"Did Shiratori-keiji tell you all about it? Can you tell us what he said?"

Mitsuhiko frowned at the personal, presumptuous question, but Kobayashi-sensei just said, "We talked about it, yes, but I only know what information has already been released to the public. It's against protocol for a police officer to discuss the unreleased details of a case with civilians."

"Even though he's your boyfriend?" Daisuke-kun asked.

Kobayashi-sensei flushed a little. "Yes." More hands went up, and she shook her head. "Now, children," she said. "We need to start on our morning lesson."

There were several disappointed groans, and she sighed. "I know that this is very upsetting," she said gently, "and that many of you want to talk about it. Conan-kun is a special part of our class, and this is very frightening for all of us. But we still have to do our lessons. If we have time at the end of the day, we can talk more about it then, okay?"

She was answered by reluctant murmurs of assent.

Mitsuhiko heard a soft sniffle, and glanced over at Ayumi-chan. She was trying to put on a brave face, but there were still tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Mitsuhiko reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his handkerchief, reaching across the aisle to hand it to her. She took it with a grateful smile and wiped her eyes before returning it to him.

He carefully folded the handkerchief and almost reverently put it back in his pocket. Ayumi-chan's tears were practically sacred. Even if they were for Conan-kun.

The wait until lunch period seemed to take forever. Not knowing if Haibara-san was all right was starting to make him feel anxious and antsy. All through third period, he struggled not to fidget.

Finally, lunch period came. He met with Ayumi-chan and Genta-kun under a tree near the school gate.

"We have about fifty-five minutes before we have to be back in class," Mitsuhiko said, checking his watch. "Are you both ready?" He looked around the school yard to make sure nobody was paying attention to them.

"Yeah," said Genta-kun. "Let's hurry and get to Hakase's, 'cause I'm starving."

And so, as casually as possible, the three of them strolled out the gate.

As they walked down the street toward the corner that would take them to Agasa-hakase's side street, Mitsuhiko couldn't help but notice how very out of place they looked. Three elementary school children wearing the book bags that held their lunches, walking down the street in the middle of a school day.

"Mitsuhiko-kun," Genta-kun said, giving him an annoyed look. "You're suspicious-looking. Stop acting like you're gonna get caught doing something bad."

We are going to get caught doing something bad, Mitsuhiko wanted to say, but he didn't, because even though he felt utterly conspicuous, hardly anyone was out on the street, and the few people that were didn't even look their direction.

To his amazement, their luck held out. They made it to Agasa-hakase's side street without incident.

As they got closer to Hakase's gate, he saw that there was police tape lying on the ground right in the entrance. It looked as though at one point the tape had criss-crossed the gate, but that someone had torn it down in the meantime.

Strange, he thought, as they stepped over it and walked through the gate. Whoever tore it down didn't bother to clean it up. And why was it there in the first place?

"Hey," said Genta-kun, "look, there's dried blood on the lawn. There, there and there. This must be where the kidnapper guy killed those three gangsters."

"What?" said Mitsuhiko, stumbling to a halt to look at where Genta-kun had pointed. There were indeed dark, dried patches on blood on Agasa-hakase's lawn. "I didn't know about that!"

"It was on the news," Ayumi-chan said. She had her arms wrapped around herself as if she had a chill. "The kidnapper tried to get Conan-kun here first. When he shot Hakase, he also killed the three guys he'd sent to kidnap Conan-kun because he thought they were going to tell on him. That's why he ended up kidnapping Conan-kun at the hospital instead."

Mitsuhiko stared at her. "I... my parents didn't tell me any of that," he said. Three murders, a shooting, and a kidnapping? For someone to go through such trouble just to grab a little kid... what had Conan-kun got himself into?

And then something else dawned on him - the way Conan-kun had been acting so strange and nervous the day before.

"He knew," Mitsuhiko said with horrified realization.

"What? Who knew?" asked Ayumi-chan.

"Conan-kun!" Mitsuhiko said. "Remember yesterday how we noticed he was acting nervous and jumpy? He wasn't nervous about going to the dentist, he knew some bad guys were after him!"

Genta-kun and Ayumi-chan both looked at him with identical expressions of shock.

"But... why didn't he tell us?" Genta-kun said, frowning.

Mitsuhiko sighed. "Why do you think?" he said, pointing to the dried blood.

Ayumi-chan paled. "He didn't want us to get hurt," she said.

Genta-kun scowled and clenched his fists. "But that's stupid," he said. "So he got caught up in another mystery that he didn't let us in on, and now he's kidnapped when we could have helped him!"

Mitsuhiko wanted to agree with Genta-kun. Conan-kun was always going off to solve mysteries without them, and he found it just as irritating as Genta-kun did.

But, looking at the large, dark patches of blood staining the grass, he couldn't help but be grateful to Conan-kun for going out of his way to keep them out of... whatever this was. And it was bad. Something so bad that three guys had been killed right on Agasa-hakase's front lawn.

"Come on," he said, feeling a sudden surge of urgency amidst his uneasiness. "Let's hurry and make sure Haibara-san is okay." And get back to school before we get caught sniffing around a crime scene, he thought.

They ran up to the front door of the house. Genta-kun rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He rang it again. "Haibara-san?" he called.

Mitsuhiko stepped forward. "Maybe she can't hear the doorbell," he said, and reached up to knock loudly on the door.

The door wasn't latched, because as soon as he hit it, it swung open.

There on the floor, just on the other side of a disturbingly large pool of dried blood, a man lay sprawled on his stomach. His face was turned toward the open door, and Mitsuhiko could see, even from where he stood in the doorway, that the man's eyes and mouth were frozen wide open in a rictus of death.

Ayumi-chan let out a startled scream and clutched at him, but Mitsuhiko couldn't even react, because Genta-kun staggered back a step, his eyes bulging.

"Th-that's the guy!" Genta-kun said, pointing, his hand shaking. "From the wanted poster they showed on the news! That's the guy who kidnapped Conan-kun!"

Ayumi-chan let go of Mitsuhiko, the shock of stumbling upon a dead body passing quickly, and she let out a little gasp as she took a closer look at the man. "You're right," she said. "But... if that's him, then where is Conan-kun?"

"If that's him," Mitsuhiko echoed, "then where is Haibara-san?"

The three of them looked at each other, and Mitsuhiko could tell from the expressions on the other two that they were all thinking the same thing: the kidnapper was here, dead. What if Conan-kun and Haibara-san were close by, but hurt or scared or trapped or tied up and somehow unable to get help?

"I'll check the basement," Mitsuhiko said. "Genta-kun, you check the second floor, Ayumi-chan, you check the main floor. Don't anybody touch the body, and if you have to open a closed door, use your handkerchief."

The other two nodded, expressions grave, and they all took off running in separate directions.

The door to the basement lab was locked. Frustrated, scared, he pounded on the door. "Haibara-san? Conan-kun?" He pressed his ear to the door, listening for any sound. Nothing.

He could hear Genta-kun and Ayumi-chan calling for their missing friends, could hear their footsteps as they ran from room to room. Blocked from the basement, he ran back upstairs to help. Genta-kun was on the balcony that surrounded the center common room.

"The basement's locked, I can't get in," Mitsuhiko said. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing," Genta-kun said.

Ayumi-chan rushed out of the hall that led to the bathroom. "I don't think Ai-chan is here," she said. "Her toothbrush is missing, and so is her bag that she brings when we go camping."

"Really?" Mitsuhiko said, a feeling of relief washing over him. "Then... she probably stayed somewhere else last night." His relief was short-lived. That was only one friend, and only partially accounted for. "Any sign of Conan-kun?"

"Nuh-uh," Genta-kun said, coming down the balcony stairs. Ayumi-chan shook her head, looking upset.

Mitsuhiko looked over at the dead body of the kidnapper and felt his heart sink as realization set in. "We need to call the police," he said, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Mitsuhiko-kun," Ayumi-chan said, her tone a little apprehensive. "Could you maybe call Takagi-keiji directly instead of 119?" She flushed a little. "He... might not yell at us."

Mitsuhiko nodded ruefully. Any chance of them not getting in trouble for sneaking out of school disappeared the moment Agasa-hakase's front door swung open and showed them the body.

The school administrators would not be happy. Kobayashi-sensei would not be happy. And he was pretty sure that there was absolutely no way to convince his parents that their off-school-grounds excursion had nothing to do with the Shounen Tantei-dan and trying to find Conan-kun, since, technically, that's exactly what it ended up being.

Yes, he foresaw that he would be grounded at least a month for this.

Mitsuhiko took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed the call button.

Ran woke up, groggy and disoriented, to the sound of a knock on her bedroom door.

"Neechan? Haibara-san?" Heiji-kun's voice.

"Um, yes," she said, struggling to sit up. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? It didn't feel like very long; exhaustion clung to her like cobwebs. On the futon next to her bed, Ai-chan stirred as well.

"Sorry to wake you," Heiji-kun said, "but Kudo-san sent someone over with a lead, and we're going to go check it out."

The word "lead" was all it took for a surge of adrenaline to incinerate the cobwebs, and she practically leaped out bed and threw open her bedroom door before Heiji-kun had time to finish his sentence. He blinked at her in shock, and for the briefest moment, she was aware that she must be a sight in her rumpled blue flannel pajamas and bed-mussed hair.

"A lead," she said. "What is it?"

Heiji-kun took a step back in the face of her intensity. "Uh... it's an address," he said. "Apparently Kudo-san believes it's where Kudo was taken last night right after the abduction."

"Okay," she said. She glanced back at Ai-chan, who looked wide awake, and just as anxious and determined as she felt. "Give us ten minutes, and we'll be ready to go."

"Oh, uh..." Heiji glanced toward the front door, a strange look on his face, and then back at her. "You don't really need to come..."

He trailed off as she fixed him with a look.

"But hey, the more the merrier, eh?" he said quickly. He gave a nervous laugh. "Uh, okay, meet us downstairs in the café as soon as you're ready. And, um..." Again, that strange expression crossed his face.

"What is it?" Ran asked. "Just tell me, Heiji-kun."

He looked at her, and sighed. "Well... this guy who came by with the lead. His name is Kuroba Kaito." He paused as if waiting for her to recognize the name, and when she obviously didn't, he continued. "He looks almost exactly like Kudo. The grown-up version."

She blinked.

"Seriously, they could be twins, except for the hair," he continued, and he scratched the back of his head. "It's kinda creepy, actually. So, since you're coming, just... be ready for that."

"Okay," she said slowly, not quite sure how else to respond to something like that. "I will. Thank you for letting me know."

Heiji-kun sighed. "Actually, that's not all." He glanced over at Ai-chan. "He knows everything."

Ai-chan came and stood next to Ran. "Define 'everything,'" she said.

"Everything. The Black Org, the Apotoxin, that Conan-kun is Kudo... everything."

Her eyes narrowed. "How?"

"He says that Kudo-san told him. Apparently his family and the Kudos go way back, and Kudo-san recruited him to help us."

Ai-chan crossed her arms, looking none too pleased. "And you took him at his word?"

"Of course not," Heiji-kun said irritably. "I called Kudo-san, and he verified that this Kuroba guy and his lead are both legit."

"And you're sure you spoke to Kudo-san?" Ai-chan's gaze was challenging, but Ran could see a hint of fear in her eyes as well.

"Pretty sure," Heiji-kun said, "unless someone mugged him, stole his phone, and was able to imitate his voice perfectly."

"I know people who are capable of doing just that," Ai-chan said coldly, and Ran realized with a chill that she was referring to Vermouth.

"Look," Heiji-kun said, "I admit, my instincts are telling me that there's something weird about this guy, beyond him looking like Kudo, but he doesn't seem like Black Org to me."

"And you're the best judge of that, are you?" Ai-chan said.

Heiji-kun snorted. "No, that would be you. So if you and Neesan are coming with us, maybe you could feel him out and see if he's trying to lead us into a trap. But this address is the best thing we've got right now that might help us find Kudo sooner rather than later, so, trap or not, I'm willing to risk it."

Ai-chan gazed at him in stony silence for a moment. "Fine," she said. "We'll be down in... ten minutes?" She looked up at Ran, and Ran nodded.

Heiji-kun looked relieved. "Okay," he said, "see you in a few." He headed for the front door.

When he was gone, Ran looked down at Ai-chan. "You don't really think this guy, or whoever sent him, might be Vermouth in disguise, do you?" She was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that the Black Org woman had managed to successfully impersonate Ariade-sensei for weeks on end.

Ai-chan shrugged. "It's within the realm of possibility, and I like to err on the side of caution, especially since she would like nothing more than to see me dead."

Ran paled. "But... I thought you said that she promised Shinichi that she wouldn't come after you any more."

"She promised to not kill me, she didn't promise to leave me alone. Besides, Vermouth promising not to kill is like a coiled viper promising not to strike. And I've no doubt she's heard about Kudo-kun's kidnapping by now. It would be like her to try something while he's missing."

The bland, almost apathetic way that Ai-chan spoke about her own possible murder left Ran feeling cold and angry. "I won't let her touch you," she said.

Ai-chan looked at her, shocked in the face of her vehemence. Then she smiled. "Thank you, Ran-oneesan. Now, let's get ready before Hattori-kun thinks we've changed our minds about going with him."

It took less than ten minutes to get ready, and during that time, Ran found herself performing some amazing mental gymnastics.

She thought about Vermouth, who wouldn't shoot through her to kill Ai-chan. She thought about Heiji-kun's lead, and the mysterious Shinichi look-alike who brought it who might or might not have been sent by Kudo-san. She thought about calling a taxi to take them to the address, then wondered if Heiji-kun had already called a taxi, then wondered if they would split the cab fare, then wondered how far away the address was. She thought about making breakfast or skipping breakfast, and what she should make for dinner later, or if she should just warm up leftovers. She thought about her dad, and wondered where he was right now. Was he still with the police? Was he still at the hospital?

She thought about anything and everything she could to keep from thinking about Shinichi, trapped in the body of a small child and in the hands of monsters.

That one terrible thought seemed to be taking up most of her brain, and it was all she could do to keep from staring right into that abyss of fear and despair and letting it swallow her whole. She had to continue to distract herself from it by any means necessary, or she wouldn't be able to function.

So. Get dressed. Wash face. Brush teeth. Run a comb through hair. Done.

Ai-chan was already waiting for her at the front door when she finished making herself presentable. "Are you ready?" Ai-chan asked.

"Almost," Ran said. Grabbing the notepad and pen that sat next to the living room phone, she wrote a quick note to her dad, letting him know that she was okay, that she was going to be out helping Heiji-kun with the investigation, and to call her if he needed anything. "There," she said, putting the pen down and grabbing her jacket that had her phone and wallet. "Let's go."

They walked down the stairs to the street and went into the Poirot Café. Heiji-kun was standing by the picture window, talking on the phone. Azusa-chan was busy back in the kitchen. And as for the Shinichi look-alike... well, she was grateful that Heiji-kun had let her know about him in advance.

He was sitting in one of the booths looking at something on his smart phone, and sipping coffee from an oversized mug. His resemblance to Shinichi was undeniable... but as she looked at him, a memory from a few months back clicked in her head.

"Oh!" she said. "I've seen you before."

He looked up at her and blinked. "Eh?"

She flushed a little, embarrassed at her forwardness. "I'm sorry," she said, "that wasn't polite. I'm Mouri Ran, and this is Haibara Ai. Pleased to meet you."

He stood, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Kuroba Kaito," he said. "Likewise. So you've seen me before?" He smiled, seemingly completely at ease, but there was a hint of something behind his eyes... "Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said. "It was a few months ago. I remember it clearly because it was right around the time of the Kaitou Kid heist where he tried to steal the Black Star Pearl."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh... really?" he said, glancing briefly over at Heiji-kun.

"Yes," she said, wondering why he seemed a little discomfited. "The first time, it was just before the heist. My friend and I were shopping in the Shibuya district, it was raining, and I saw you and another girl walking next to each other. You were holding an umbrella and I... I thought you were Shinichi, and that he was..." She trailed off, blushing as she remembered talking about her fears that Shinichi was cheating on her - and in front of Conan-kun, no less. No wonder he had been so adamant that she was mistaken.

"Well," she continued, smiling a little, "obviously you weren't Shinichi, and I realized it when I saw you again in the same area after the heist without an umbrella covering your hair. My friend and I saw you with that girl and I realized my mistake."

"Ah, you must be referring to my friend, Aoko," he said, grinning, and whatever it was that she thought she had seen lurking in the back of his eyes was gone. "We've been friends since we were kids, and whenever she wants to go shopping in Shibuya, she always drags me along with her."

Ran was about to ask him if he was related to the Kudos, because the resemblance was so strong, but Heiji-kun walked up to them at that moment. "I called a taxi," he said. "It should be here in less than five. Oh, and Neechan, before I forget and Kazuha kills me for it, she wants you to call her. She wants to help with making phone calls to hospitals, and I told her to coordinate with you."

"Okay," she said, and then, as she was reaching into her pocket for her phone, she paused uncertainly. "Oh, um... did you tell her?"

"About Kudo?" Heiji-kun shook his head, frowning. "No way. Knowing is dangerous, Neechan. The less people who know about his secret, the better. Kudo's going to blow a gasket when he finds out that you know. I'm not going to drag Kazuha into this mess any deeper than I have to."

"Which is very wise of you, Hattori-kun," Ai-chan said. Ran looked down at her and saw that she was giving Kuroba Kaito a very narrow look. "But I have to wonder if Kudo-san shares that wisdom if he is willing to share the secret so freely with virtual strangers."

Kuroba met Ai-chan's challenging gaze. "First of all," he said mildly, "I'm not a virtual stranger. Kudo-kun's parents and my parents have been friends longer than we've been alive. And second, it seems to me that with Kudo-kun's life in danger, and you not being able to go to the police with your investigation, you could use all the willing help you can get."

Ai-chan frowned, but reluctantly nodded, conceding his point. Her suspicious glare didn't lessen, however, though Kuroba seemed immune to it.

It was only when he turned his grin on Ran, and raised an enquiring eyebrow, that she realized she had been openly gawking at him. Even knowing who he was, it was hard not to look and silently catalogue the similarities between him and Shinichi. "Sorry," she said, "I... I don't mean to stare, but..."

"But I look like him, I know," Kuroba said, his smirk fading. "I don't mean to upset you."

"But that's just it," she said. "I thought I might be upset, but I'm not, because even though you look like Shinichi..." She smiled. "Well, you don't feel like him."

He looked surprised at that, but then he grinned again. She was starting to think that this grin was his default expression.

"Speaking of," Heiji-kun said, looking down at Ai-chan. "What's the verdict, Haibara-san? Does he feel like Black Org?"

Ai-chan turned her half-lidded glare on Heiji-kun for a moment, before turning away. "No," she said. "But that doesn't mean he's trustworthy."

"You wound me, ojousan," Kuroba said, dramatically clutching at his heart. "Very well, then. I shall make it my mission to earn your trust."

Heiji-kun snorted, then sauntered back over to the window, hands in his pockets, humming the theme to Mission: Impossible. Kuroba laughed. Ai-chan simply crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

Ran got the distinct impression that the alliance with Kuroba had been accepted, albeit reluctantly. With that apparently settled, Ran pulled out her phone to call Kazuha-chan... and saw that she had eleven missed calls, eight new voice mails, and five text messages - all from Sonoko.

She winced as she remembered that she and Ai-chan had silenced their phones the night before while the police questioned them. That she had completely forgotten to turn the sound back on was a testament to her state of mind. Of course Sonoko had heard about Conan-kun's kidnapping, and of course she would have been trying to contact her to talk about it and offer her a shoulder to cry on. It's what best friends did.

But what could Ran even say to her? Was it only two days ago, on Sunday afternoon, that she and Sonoko had gone shopping together? And she had bought the ice cream that she had shared with Conan-kun that night, right before Megure-keibu and Takagi-keiji came to tell her about the anonymous tip that started this nightmare. Since then, her life had been turned completely upside-down.

Sonoko, sorry for not getting back to you sooner, but hey, guess what? Conan-kun is Shinichi. No, really. See, there's this drug that either kills you or, if you're really lucky, strips a decade off your age. It was created by a massive crime syndicate called the Black Organization. Oh, and by the way, if they ever find out that you know about their existence, they will kill you...

Suddenly, with crystal clarity, she understood on a whole new level why Heiji-kun refused to tell Kazuha-chan and - more importantly - why Shinichi had never told her. She had understood why on an intellectual level, but now, as she found herself with the same dilemma that he faced on a daily basis, she felt it viscerally. The thought of Sonoko knowing about the Black Org filled her with a growing dread that made her stomach clench.

This truth was dangerous, and it was a danger she couldn't inflict on someone she cared about.

How often had Shinichi wanted to tell her the truth about what had happened to him, but fear for her safety kept him silent? Day in and day out, for months on end, he had played the child; had endured the humiliation of being treated like a little boy by almost everyone he knew, and still, he guarded his secret with every scrap of cunning he possessed.

More than anything, she wanted to take his hands in hers, look him in the eyes and tell him that she understood - that she knew what he had suffered for her sake. And that she loved him for it.

But first, she had to find him.

As for Sonoko, she would be in class by now. She sent her a quick text explaining how she had turned off her phone the night before, that she was okay, and she would talk to her after school. Maybe by then she would figure out what to say to her.

Ai-chan saw her looking at her phone, and pulled her own phone out of her pocket. Her brows drew together in a slight frown.

"Did you miss some calls too?" Ran asked.

"Mitsuhiko-kun called me before school started." Ai-chan sighed, looking troubled. "No doubt the children have heard the news. I should give each of them a call when school gets out and make sure they're okay."

Ran nodded. Those poor kids, she thought. Conan-kun was their friend, and Agasa-hakase was practically a grandfather to them. She wondered how they were handling this.

"Taxi's here," Heiji-kun said, heading out the café door. "Let's go."

Ran immediately went after him, followed by Ai-chan and Kuroba-kun, and they all piled into the taxi. She sat between Heiji-kun and Ai-chan, with Kuroba-kun sitting on Ai-chan's other side. It was a little cramped, but they managed to fit. Heiji-kun gave the driver the address, and they were on their way. Hopefully to find clues that would lead them to Shinichi.

The thought made Ran excited and scared at the same time. What if they didn't find anything? Or what if they did, but it wasn't enough? How much time did Shinichi have before his captors did something terrible to him? How much time did they have to rescue him before...

She closed her eyes, unable to complete the thought.

"Neechan," Heiji-kun said, "you call Kazuha yet?" He gave her a rather sheepish look. "Seriously, if you don't, she'll yell at me so loud you'll hear her from Osaka."

"Ah, sorry," Ran said. Her phone was still in her hand, and she quickly dialed Kazuha's number, feeling grateful. It would be wonderful if following this lead made the time-consuming task of calling the thousands of hospitals across Japan unnecessary. But talking to Kazuha and making a plan in the meantime would hopefully keep her mind occupied enough that she wouldn't have time to dwell on all the terrifying unknowns lurking in her mind.

Kaito sat in the back of the taxi, looking out his window. He couldn't help but feel Tantei-han's occasional, suspicious glances from the other side of the vehicle, so piercing they felt like they might burn holes in the back of his head.

Ah, he just loved detectives. They were great fun to mess with, and Hattori Heiji, the Great Detective of the West, was proving no different.

Still, he needed to be careful. He wasn't sure what he had done to put Hattori on high alert the moment they had met face to face - well, other than bearing a striking resemblance to the missing Tantei-kun's adult self - but he would have to resist the temptation to flaunt his personal mystery. They already had a serious investigation on their hands, and he didn't want to give Hattori any reason to think that he was a puzzle that needed solving as well.

No Kaitou Kid here, no sir. Just your perfectly normal, average genius magician high schooler.

Traffic was good, since it was mid-morning. Too late for the morning rush hour, and too early for lunch. So although the address was in Suginami, which was quite a distance from Beika, it ended up only being a twenty minute drive. The time might have passed in awkward silence, were it not for Mouri-chan chatting on the phone with Hattori's girlfriend. Apparently they were planning to call hospitals to enquire about the possible theft of medicine or medical equipment. A gargantuan, but necessary task, apparently. He didn't envy them.

The address ended up belonging to one of four small houses that lined the north side of a dead-end side street. The south side of the street was lined with an eight foot tall brick wall, on the other side of which was a small park. The house they were looking for was second from the end, and set toward the back on the property, with a long, wide driveway and a virtual forest of trees in the front yard.

They all exited the cab, and as Hattori paid the driver, Kaito couldn't help but notice how absolutely vacant the house seemed. If Tantei-kun had been brought here last night, he certainly wasn't here now. But then, they hadn't expected him to still be here. They would be looking for clues to see who had him, and where he had been taken from here.

Hattori frowned at the house as the taxi drove away, then turned to the girls. "Kuroba-kun and I are going to investigate the house," he said. "Neechan, Chisai-Neechan, you two mind going to the neighbors, seeing if anyone is home, and if they can tell us anything about who was staying here?"

Haibara-chan raised an eyebrow at the "Chisai-Neechan," and Kaito stifled a grin. Little Big Sister indeed.

"Sure," Mouri-chan said. "You'll come get us if you find anything, right?"

"'Course," Hattori said, then turned to Kaito. "You got a handkerchief or something you can use? I don't want you touching anything with bare hands."

Kaito responded by pulling a clean, neatly pressed white handkerchief from his jacket pocket. "Will this do?"

Hattori gave him another strange, calculating look, and Kaito was suddenly very glad he hadn't pulled out one of his "KK" monogrammed handkerchiefs.

"Yeah," Hattori said. "Come on." He headed down the driveway toward the house. Kaito followed obediently, wondering just how Hattori thought their partnership was going to work.

When they got the front door, Hattori pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and tried the doorknob. It was locked, of course.

Kaito quickly said, "I'm going to check the back door. Why don't you start seeing if any of the windows are open?" And before Hattori could protest, he took off, not waiting to see if Hattori was going to check the windows or not.

The back door was locked as well, but Kaito picked the lock in record time, just in case Hattori had decided to follow him. There were some skills Hattori just didn't need to know he possessed.

He opened the door and strode through the house, making note of the kitchen, a bedroom, a good-sized bathroom, and living room. He unlocked the front door and opened it with his handkerchief to see Hattori, at the front window, staring at him in surprise.

"Back door was unlocked," he said, grinning. "Come on in."

If Hattori was suspicious of his means of entry, he didn't show it, apparently too glad to have easy access to the inside. Immediately, he dropped to his knees, examining the floor.

The living room was carpeted with light brown half-inch pile that had been recently vacuumed. The vacuum tread had eliminated foot prints, but there were four distinct rectangle marks, about three centimeters wide and eight centimeters long, that the vacuum couldn't erase. Each of the marks seemed to form the corners of a much larger rectangle. Hattori ran his finger down into one of the indentations, then sat back on his haunches, his brows creased in thought.

"So what made those marks?" Kaito asked.

"A gurney," Hattori said, without hesitation.

Kaito was surprised, but didn't show it. "How do you figure?"

"These marks in the carpet were made by wheels," Hattori said. "See how it's deepest in the center, but tapers up on both ends. And these two marks are parallel to each other, while those two over there are skewed in different directions. Those were the wheels that allowed whoever was pushing the gurney to steer."

"And it sat here long enough to make marks that a vacuum couldn't erase," Kaito said.

"Right," said Hattori, getting to his feet. "Check the bathroom. If you find anything, don't touch it, just let me know. I'm gonna take a look at the bedroom."

Kaito nodded, and headed into the bathroom, hands in his pockets.

At first glance, the bathroom was pristine. White and blue marbled tile on the floor, white walls, bathtub and toilet, a white sink set into a long marbled counter top over light-stained oak cupboards, with an equally long mirror mounted on the wall. The chrome fixtures and faucets were polished and gleaming. A narrow, pebbled glass window was in the wall over the bath near the ceiling. The window was open, but the screen was closed.

Someone had evidently done a decent job of cleaning, and he doubted he would find anything. But still he started scanning the room, his sharp eyes covering every centimeter, looking for something, anything out of place.

And there, on the floor, next to the bath, he saw something. Kneeling down, he saw a light dusting of white powder, no larger than a five yen coin, that was almost completely camouflaged by the marble tile. And, not far from it, a small drop of brown liquid no larger than the size of a pin head.

"Hattori-kun," he called. "Found something."

Hattori quickly came into the bathroom and knelt next to him. "What is it?"

"Look at this." He reached down and stuck his index finger into the very edge of the powder, rubbed it between his fingers, and sniffed it. "Hair bleach powder. L'oreal Quick Blue, if I'm not mistaken. And this..." He took his handkerchief and dabbed a corner into the brown liquid dot. He sniffed again and wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable scent of ammonia. "Hair dye. Ash blonde, from the look of it. And fresh. Someone used this less than a day ago."

Hattori stared at him for a long moment, before dabbing his own finger into the edge of the powder and sniffing it. Then he stared at Kaito again. "How do you know?"

"My mom likes to lighten her hair whenever she goes on a trip to Europe or America," Kaito lied smoothly. "Japanese hair is difficult to dye. The most effective way is to use powder bleach mixed with a creme developer to strip the hair of color, and then use a standard permanent hair dye. This ash blonde usually ends up looking light brown."

"What about grey hair?" Hattori said. "I found several short grey hairs on the bed sheet behind the pillows."

"Grey hair doesn't need bleach," Kaito said, and when he did, he could see in Hattori's angry expression that he was coming to the same conclusion he had.

Hattori stood abruptly. "Let's check the kitchen. Then I want to find where this guy put his trash."

"Did you find anything else in the bedroom?" Kaito asked, following Hattori into the living room.

"One of the pillows is missing off the bed," Hattori said.

He might have said more... but at that moment, the front door opened, and a short, middle-aged woman stepped through.

Her eyes widened in shock as she saw them. Hattori froze, looking amazingly caught-in-the-act guilty, but Kaito had too much experience in this kind of thing to be thrown for a loop.

He was already smiling, stepping toward her even as she demanded, in a shrill voice that bordered on a scream, "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"

"Madam," he said, instinctively oozing Kid charm. "We are terribly sorry for this intrusion. Am I correct in assuming that, while you own this house, you do not live here?"

As expected, his friendly, up-front manner took her off guard. "Yes," she said. "I... I use this house as a rental."

"And we are here investigating your most recent tenant," he said. "We have reason to suspect that he was involved in some unsavory business dealings."

She blinked at him. "Who are you?" she said, curious, but no longer afraid. Perfect. "How did you even get in here?"

"Ah, my apologies," Kaito said. "Allow me to introduce my comrade, Hattori Heiji, from Osaka. He is a famous high school detective, known there as the Great Detective of the West."

Stunned, the woman looked over at Hattori, who was looking almost as shell shocked as she was. "Oh," she said, obviously not recognizing the name. She turned back to Kaito. "And you are?"

"Kudo Shinichi," he said.

She gasped, even has Hattori's head whipped around to stare at him.

"Kudo Shinichi?" the woman said, her eyes wide. "The Heisei Holmes? The Savior of the Tokyo Police?"

"At your service," he said, bowing politely and completely ignoring Hattori's glare. Sheesh, if looks could kill... "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

The woman's demeanor had completely changed. "Not at all," she said. "But... I recognize you now, from the newspaper. I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you before, but I was so surprised to find you here..."

"It's no problem," he assured her. "Please, if you would like to take a seat..."

He led her over to the living room sofa, and as she sat, he took a seat in the chair across from her. Hattori didn't move from where he was standing, but at least he seemed to have the sense to start playing along and had stopped openly glaring at him.

A little less than a half hour later, he and Hattori walked out the front door, having found out that Gushiken Miho had rented her house to a man who claimed to be very private. She never saw him in person, but had sent him the required paperwork to a post office box, and he signed the lease under the obviously false name of Kase Kiyomasu.

"Kase-san" had stayed in the house for a little under a month, but he had paid for a full month in advance with cash sent to her office in a thick manilla envelope. She had received an email from him yesterday evening informing her that he would be vacating the house that night, and while he left her house in perfect condition, she could keep the deposit. And yes, now that she thought about it, it was all very suspicious, and she should have known that he was some sort of criminal up to no good.

On top of that, she was more than happy to provide the address for the neighborhood trash drop-off point, which was conveniently just around the block, and she promised not to tell anyone that Kudo had been there because this investigation was all part of a top secret case, and wasn't that just thrilling.

It had all gone extremely well, but for some reason, now that they were out of the house and walking up the driveway, Hattori was radiating a fury so intense he could feel it a good two meters away. Two meters had seemed a relatively safe distance, but he was starting to change his mind.

"Problem?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Who the hell are you?" Hattori practically snarled. "And if you dare say that you're Kudo, I will punch you in the face."

Kaito looked at him. "I'm Kuroba Kaito," he said. "Pretty sure I told you that when we met."

"You know exactly what I mean," Hattori said. "What you did back there-"

"What I did back there was save us from getting arrested for breaking and entering," he said, "not to mention obtaining some valuable intel on Kudo's kidnapper. And I'm not going to apologize for impersonating Kudo to do it, because if she wasn't impressed with you, a famous great detective, she sure as hell wasn't going to be impressed by a nobody like me. I'm sure you realize just how lucky we are that Kudo is still as famous as he is, and that she just happened to be a fan."

Hattori's glare relaxed a bit, and Kaito could tell, with no small sense of relief, that Hattori was actually seeing the sense in what he said.

"Dammit," Hattori said at last, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just... don't do that again."

"No promises," Kaito said. "Besides, even after all that, we still don't have an inkling of where that bastard took Kudo after he left here last night."

At that, a strange, contemplative look crossed Hattori's face, and Kaito stopped in his tracks. "Wait," he said. "Are you kidding me? Did you figure it out?"

Hattori seemed to chew on the inside of his cheek for a moment before he replied. "I... have a theory," he said. "But I need more proof."

"Ah," said Kaito. "Is that why we're going garbage hunting?"

Hattori just nodded.

"Want to tell me what we're looking for?"

"I'll know it when I see it."

Kaito rolled his eyes. Detectives, he thought. But this was good. Perhaps this lead would actually take them somewhere.

When they got to the end of the driveway, they saw the girls walking up the street toward them. When the girls saw them, they both broke into a run to meet up with them.

"Find out anything good?" Kaito asked as they met on the sidewalk.

Mouri-chan nodded, her eyes bright. "No one was home at those two houses," she said, pointing toward the first two houses on the street, "but there's a lady in the house at the end. She says she never saw anyone or anything until last night when she was walking home late, around eleven o'clock. When she walked passed, she said the lights were on in the house, and there were two vehicles in the driveway - a blue car, and an ambulance."

Hattori froze. "An ambulance?" he said. "She's sure it was an ambulance, and not... not just a van or something?"

Haibara-chan looked up at him. "She said that the ambulance left a little after midnight last night, because the driver turned on the flashing red lights, and she could see them from her living room. No siren, though."

Hattori smiled then, but combined with the grim, burning look in his eyes, it was not a comforting expression. "Call Kazuha," he said to Mouri-chan. "Tell her to hold off on making any phone calls until we get back to her." He turned to Kaito. "Come on, let's hurry," he said, and then he took off down the street.

Mouri-chan looked after him in shock. "Where is he going?"

"To the trash pick-up point around the corner, apparently," Kaito said, sighing. "Meet us there when you're done."

"Okay," she said, pulling out her phone, and Kaito hurried after Hattori.

By the time he caught up with the detective, Hattori was already digging through a large pile of clear plastic bags piled at the side of the road. He supposed they should count themselves lucky that the trash collectors hadn't been by yet.

"How are you going to find this guy's trash in all of this?" he asked.

"These are combustibles," Hattori said, pulling out another bag and examining its contents. "Look for a bag that has an empty box of ash blonde hair dye."

Of course, Kaito thought with a shrug, and he joined in the search. He had sorted through eight bags, not finding anything promising, when he pulled out a large bag that immediately caught his attention. "Hey," he said, "I think I found your missing pillow."

Without a word, Hattori took the bag from him and began working on the knot tied in the plastic. When he opened it, he reached inside and pulled out the pillow. "It's wet," Hattori said, and then he scowled. "Look at this," he said, handing the damp pillow to Kaito.

Kaito examined it and saw that, on one long end of the pillow, there was a brown stain that smelled of ammonia. Hair dye, he realized, and he frowned. If he had suspected before that Kudo had been the recipient of the dye job, this confirmed it. He could see it in his mind's eye - an unconscious child lying in the bathtub, this pillow lifting his upper back and neck so that his head hung back, making it easy for his captor to bleach and dye his hair without struggle or mess.

The question was, why? If the look on Hattori's face was any indication, he had already figured it out, and yet he was still going through the open garbage bag. A moment later, he pulled out a long, white butcher's apron - also stained with hair dye, he saw. So the kidnapper wore this to keep his own clothes clean. Great.

But Hattori wasn't looking at the front of the apron, he was looking at the ties that went in the back. There were creases in the fabric where the ties had been pulled together and knotted, and Hattori used them to recreate the knot. When he finished, he held up the apron by the neck and looked at where the knot fell in the back. "Huh," Hattori said. "Thought so. Skinny bastard."

Only then did Kaito realize that Hattori had used the apron figure out the kidnapper's physical build. Wow, he thought. Not bad.

"What's going on?" Kaito turned to see Mouri-chan and Haibara-chan walking up to them. "Did you find anything?"

Hattori re-tied the garbage bag and dropped it back into the pile, then brushed his hands on his pant legs as he stood. "The kidnapper dyed Kudo's hair," he said, "and used an actual ambulance to transport him to the next location."

"And that means what, exactly?" Kaito said, feeling rather impatient. Honestly, detectives and their 'big reveals.' Just once, couldn't they talk about things as they figured them out?

"Why dye his hair?" Hattori said. "They already have him. The only reason to dye his hair is to disguise him, and the only reason to disguise him at this point is because people who are not part of their plan are going to see him." He turned to Mouri-chan. "We shouldn't be calling hospitals about equipment theft," he said. "We need to be asking about any new seven-year-old patients. The kidnappers already have all the equipment they need because they are hiding him in plain sight."

Mouri-chan inhaled sharply, and Kaito felt his own eyes widen. Son of a bitch, he thought. Hattori's right. But before he could comment, Hattori was already turning to Haibara-chan."

"I need to know," Hattori said, "on your team for working on the drug, was there a man, around one hundred eighty centimeters tall, abnormally thin, with short cropped grey hair?"

Haibara-chan looked at Hattori, stunned, before she suddenly went pale. Slowly, she nodded. "Numabuchi Souichiro," she said. "He... he took Kudo-kun?"

Hattori frowned. "Numabuchi... why does that name sound familiar?"

"Because," Haibara-chan said, looking down and clenching her fists. "You met his brother a few months ago. Numabuchi Ki'ichiro."

Now it was Hattori's turned to look stunned. "The serial killer Kudo and I caught in Osaka?"

"That would be him, yes."

"Holy shit," Hattori said, and then glanced between her and Mouri-chan. "Uh, sorry."

Mouri-chan just shook her head. She had both of her hands pressed over her heart, and tears were standing out in her eyes.

Kaito stepped toward her, feeling concerned. "Hey," he said, "you okay?"

She nodded, swallowing hard. "It's just... it's all a bit much to take in," she said. "But it's good. We know where to start looking now."

"I need to let Kudo-san know," Hattori said, pulling out his phone. He took a few steps away from the group as he dialed. "Kudo-san," he said after a moment. "Hattori here. I have some news." They listened as he relayed everything they had learned.

When Hattori finished, he stood in silence, listening to whatever Kudo-san was saying in return. To Kaito's surprise, Hattori's eyes suddenly narrowed. "What?" he said. "Are you kidding? Sorry, 'course you're not, but... what the hell? When did this happen?" Hattori looked at his watch. "Shit. Okay. Yeah, we're gonna head back soon and we'll touch base then. Later." He hung up and looked over at them, eyes wide.

"What the hell was that all about?" Kaito asked.

"Kudo-san... he said that the Shounen-Tanteidan went over to Agasa-hakase's during their lunch hour, and they found the corpse of the mercenary hired to kidnap Kudo, right inside Hakase's house. Preliminary reports from the police are saying it looks like he died of a heart attack, but no one is sure how or when he got there, or why he was there in the first place." Hattori gave Haibara-chan a questioning look.

Her eyes were wide, her pupils shrank to the size of pinheads, and she was shaking. "Vermouth," she whispered. Mouri-chan gasped, and put a protective hand on Haibara-chan's shoulder.

When she said that, Hattori turned on Kaito so fast that he took an instinctive step back. "Did Kudo-san ever tell you where this lead came from?" Hattori asked, and Kaito shook his head.

Hattori scowled. "I think it's time to ask him about it. In person," he added.

Kaito looked at the terrified little-girl-who-wasn't, and found himself in perfect agreement.

Hana got about three hours of sleep reclining in the hospital room's visitors chair, and she woke up feeling a lot more like herself. Emotions firmly tamped down. She was clear-headed and under control.

And a good thing too, because as she sat up and stretched, wincing at the creaking in her joints, she saw that the boy's eyes were open yet again. He was watching her, slits of blue peering from under heavy lids. And more than that, both of his hands, strapped down at the wrists, were moving restlessly, his small fingers sliding back and forth against the bed sheet.

She looked at him for a moment, then she looked at the clock. Almost nine am. She had some time to kill before the boy had to be ready for his CT scan and MRI, so she pulled a paperback novel out of her bag - The Elephant Vanishes, by Haruki Murakami - flipped open to her bookmark, and started reading.

She had just reached the part where the couple, up late craving food, decide to rob a McDonalds, when Matsumara opened the door and came striding in. He stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at the boy; at his moving hands and his open eyes as he slowly dragged his heavy-lidded gaze to look right back.

Matsumara scowled. "This is unacceptable, Okazaki-san," he said, turning to her.

She sighed, and closed her book.

"I don't care how 'standard' this is," he continued. "Having him looking around is bad enough, but moving his hands? The whole point of putting this kid in a coma was to make it impossible for him to escape."

Hana somehow managed to not roll her eyes. "I told you," she said, "he's not going anywhere."

"That's not the point," Matsumara said, calm and cold. "I don't think you fully appreciate how smart he is. If he can move around like this, some well-meaning nurse will come in to check on him, and he'll start tapping out a message in morse code."

Hana almost laughed at him, but the quiet seriousness in his voice, as opposed to the usual loud, anxious rants he had been prone to before getting the boy safely to the hospital, stopped her. Now he was seeming more like the confident, self-possessed man she had listened to when he first approached her to be part of his team.

Suddenly uncertain, she glanced over at the boy, and saw that his hands had abruptly stilled.

He was listening, she realized. He was listening, and he understood, and he realized that he was in danger.

Matsumara followed her gaze. "Do you see? Do you understand now? He needs to be much deeper than this. He needs to be completely insensate."

She pressed her lips together into a thin line. "His kidneys could take serious damage under that much medication," she said.

"Then we will put him on dialysis if we have to. But he must be made incapable of communicating, even if it's just with his eyes or fingers."

She looked at the boy again. He looked back at her. And perhaps she was just projecting her own expectations at this point, but... she thought she saw a touch of fear in his hazy eyes.

She looked away. "Very well," she said.

Matsumara relaxed. "Thank you," he said. "Isao-san and I will come back in an hour for the CT and MRI. Isao-san will also be by later in the day to perform a Lumbar Puncture to get a sample of spinal fluid. Do you mind helping him with that?"

"Not at all."

He nodded at her, and then left.

She sighed and got to her feet, wincing at the pops and crackling noises her body made as she straightened. As she walked over to the IV stand and started to make preparations to increase the boy's sedation, she saw him moving again out of the corner of her eye.

She looked down and saw that his fingers on the hand nearest to her were straining in her direction.

No, stop, the gesture seemed to say.

She refocused her attention on the task at hand. That, more than anything, proved to her that Matsumara was right.

"Sorry, kiddo," she said, not bothering to look at him again. "Looks like you're headed all the way down to the bottom of the rabbit hole."

Shinichi watched, full of dread, as Okazaki Hana did something to his IV. A fresh wave of cold seemed to flood through his veins, and he would have shivered if he could have.

Once again, she reached over to his face and gently pushed his eyelids closed. He fought to open them, once again using the burning pain in his throat as a means to focus his will into an act of defiance... but the drug flooding through him was a black tide, and the pain was not enough to push it back.

Or... maybe it was. He could see, though he couldn't remember opening his eyes. The hospital room surrounded him. Okazaki was sleeping in the chair again. He moved his hands experimentally, and they obeyed.

And then, the door to his room opened, and a nurse came through the door, and he looked at her, filled with a sudden wild hope. Help me, he said, and she said Okay.

She came over to him and freed his arms and legs, and helped him to sit up. She pulled the IVs from his arms, and pulled the respirator from his throat, though it didn't hurt more or less. This way, she said, and he climbed out of the bed and followed. And if she didn't have a face, it didn't really matter, because she was helping him escape.

And then he was in the hallway of the hospital, and he turned to thank her, but she was gone. And now, more than anything, he needed to find a way out. He needed to leave, and get back home to Ran because the last time he had seen her, she had been tied up and crying and she had to be so worried about him.

But as he stood out in the hallway and looked around for a doctor or a nurse or even a visitor who could show him the way out, he couldn't see anyone like that. Instead, down at the end of the hallway, several tall figures dressed in black clothes started coming out of the rooms.

A surge of terror and adrenaline filled him as the figures in black all turned in his direction and started coming toward him. He turned and ran.

And there was a door, and he stood on tiptoes and opened it, his heart beating in his throat, and behind the door there was a long, curving stairway that led down, and he ran down the stairs as fast as he could, certain that the figures in black would soon be following. And moments later, he could hear slow, heavy footsteps coming down the stairs after him.

And for a very long while, there was nothing but darkness and the curving stairs and the sound of the footsteps following him down.

But then, finally, there was a door. A plain white door, and he reached up and turned the knob as the footsteps came up right behind him, and there was a brush of thick fingers at his throat as he pushed through the door and slammed it behind him.

And then there was silence.

He turned around and looked at the room he was in.

He was in the morgue. He had been in lots of morgues, and this one didn't seem any different. White, sterile, cold, with rows of dead bodies on tables covered in white sheets.

Slowly, he started walking through the tables. It was cold in here, very cold, but that only made sense because bodies needed to be stored at a temperature between -10 and -50 degrees celsius.

He needed to find a way out. But he couldn't find a door. In fact, he realized with alarm, he couldn't even find the door through which he had entered. So he kept wandering through the tables, through the bodies, looking for the exit.

Who were all these dead people, he wondered, and as he did, he saw that one of the bodies had a pale, grey foot uncovered. On the foot, a toe tag. He walked closer. On the toe tag, a name. Kudo Shinichi, the tag said.

He looked at the body. His head ached; felt like it was being pinched in a vice. He reached up and pulled back the sheet, and his own dead, white face stared back at him.

He found himself backing up, his eyes wide, unable to look away, until he backed into a wall and stopped. He slid down the wall until he was sitting, then wrapped his arms around his legs, and clenched his eyes shut.

I'm dreaming, he said. I'm dreaming.

Wake up, he told himself. You've got to wake up. Just open your eyes, really open your eyes and wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up...

A/N: Shinichi's coma nightmares are actually pretty tame compared to some of the real stories I've read.

This has not been proof-read. My apologies for any typos or other errors. At some point I will go back and fix them.

Next time: Oh heck, I don't know. Well, I do, but after writing all that I'm too fried to summarize right now. ^^;

Please review? My muse desperately needs it. This chapter beat her up pretty badly. Seriously, she's sulking in the corner sporting a black eye and not speaking to me. Help!

Chapter Text

A/N: Well, those of you who read all of my angsty, emo posting on my ff net profile page know why this is so very, very late. I didn't manage to write a single word of fic the entire month of December. I only started writing this chapter five days ago when my muse finally forgave me for being so whiney, and got the creative juices flowing again.

Many, many thanks to those of you who reviewed chapter 10. Reading your reviews helped get me back on track, so you can definitely take credit for the continuation of this fic. Here's hoping you won't regret it. :)

Story Notes: Uh-oh. I think my canon-divergence is showing.

The Case of the Missing Detective

File 11: Kriegspiel

Jodie knew that trying to contact Rena Mizunashi, a.k.a. "Kir" of the Black Organization, was dangerous under the best of circumstances. The very attempt put Kir at risk. If anyone from the Organization discovered that Kir was secretly communicating with the FBI, her own CIA non-official cover would be exposed and her life would be forfeit.

Shuu had sacrificed his life to protect Kir's secret and restore her credibility within the Black Org, and had given the FBI a valuable source of intel in the process. The last thing Jodie wanted was to destroy that precious, tenuous link. But if ever she needed inside info about the Org, it was now.

It had been seventeen hours since Conan-kun had been abducted from Beika General Hospital. Fifteen hours since Jodie had seen it on the news, and nearly as long since she had sent Kir a text from her new cell phone requesting information, in spite of the risk.

She paced the living room of her apartment, fighting the urge to chew on her thumbnail - a nervous habit she thought she had overcome, until recently. The television was on, but muted, showing a young female reporter standing at the end of Professor Agasa's street, a swarm of police cars behind her. A red "Breaking News" subtitle announced that the mercenary hired to abduct Conan had been found dead of an apparent heart attack, right at the scene of the first kidnapping attempt. Mystery Deepens! the ticker proclaimed. Why did he return? And where is Edogawa Conan?

She wanted to be there. She wanted to be in the thick of the investigation. But it wasn't possible. The police knew she was FBI - supposedly disgraced after screwing up a mission in the US, and here in Japan on sabbatical. But then there was the unfortunate incident when Agent Camel had been a murder suspect, and she had come to his rescue, concocting a cover story on the spot that had her fellow FBI agent in Japan only because he was her lover and had followed her here out of concern for her well-being.

Inspector Megure and Detective Takagi were no fools, and both had expressed open suspicion about her impromptu cover story. She couldn't afford to raise any more suspicion that she or any of her fellow agents were in Japan as anything other than tourists. If she did, she could completely expose the FBI's presence in Japan, create an international incident, and get herself and her fellow agents kicked out of the country before they could take down the Organization, destroying decades of work.

Fifteen hours. What was taking Kir so long to respond?

Please, she thought for the thousandth time. Please don't let her have been found out because of my text.

She knelt next to the table where her laptop sat open and checked to see if any of her fellow agents had found anything yet; if any of them had noticed Black Org activity, or had discovered any leads on what had happened to Conan-kun. The computer was still depressingly devoid of any new messages or emails. Her phone sat next to the laptop, dark and silent.

Her stomach rumbled, and she frowned. It was past lunch time, but with her stomach twisting with anxiety, she had no appetite. Still, if she didn't force herself to eat something, she would regret it. She pushed herself to her feet, went to the fridge, and pulled out a canned protein drink. She could choke that down, at least.

As she swallowed the last of the chalky, vaguely strawberry-flavored liquid, her phone rang. Starting in surprise, she dropped the empty can, rushed back to the table, snatched up the phone and answered. "Hello?"

"I don't have much time, so listen closely," Kir's voice said.

"Okay," Jodie said. Her head was almost swimming with relief, and she forced herself to focus.

"The Org is not behind the kidnapping. I investigated, and not only is there no evidence, the news story isn't even stirring any interest on any level, either being completely ignored or just dismissed as inconsequential. As far as I can tell, the boy is still of no concern to the Organization."

Jodie closed her eyes. Okay. At least they didn't have him. But then who did, and why? "What about Vermouth?" she asked. They both knew that Vermouth had been keeping her eye on Conan-kun for a long time.

"The Boss has had her busy with other projects. If she's involved, she's acting on her own."

Jodie frowned. That was hardly comforting.

"That's not all," Kir said, her voice low and urgent. "I was planning to contact you soon anyway, because something big has come up. A member of the Organization has been promoted to the upper echelons, and is on the move."

Jodie swallowed the question that wanted to escape her mouth, and didn't interrupt, listening intently. A new high-level Org member? Definitely bad news.

"This person is extremely skilled at investigation and intel gathering, and has a reputation for having a keen insight that's almost a sixth sense. Code name, Bourbon. So be careful."

Before Jodie could even acknowledge that she understood, the line went dead. She looked at her phone, the time of the call - 51.98 seconds - blinking before the screen went black.

Bourbon. Investigation and intel gathering. Jodie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and glanced back at the television. On the screen, behind the reporter, the police tape and the stone wall, she could see the top level of Professor Agasa's house through the trees. Was activating this new agent another Org attempt to track down Ai-chan, a.k.a. Sherry? Conan-kun had told her that Vermouth had given up the chase. Had this new agent been dispatched to complete Vermouth's failed mission?

Jodie bit her lower lip, and briefly clenched her fists. If Conan-kun hadn't been kidnapped last night, she would be calling him right now, warning him of this new danger, urging him to protect his quiet, stubborn little friend who reminded her so much of herself at that age.

Grabbing the remote off her end table, she turned off the television, then grabbed her keys and coat as she headed out the door. As she locked up behind her, she hit the first number on her phone's speed dial.

James answered after the second ring. "Jodie-kun," he said, "did you hear back from-"

"Yes," Jodie said. "Meet me in front of my building as soon as possible. Oh, and I need to borrow your car."

"Hm," James said. "Rather than borrowing, I think you should let me drive."

Jodie sighed. James preferred to chauffeur her around, and she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust her driving skills, or if he just couldn't bear to have anyone else behind the wheel of his Mercedes. Her own car had been hijacked by Vermouth during the incident at the docks, abandoned in a forest, and then confiscated by the police as evidence in a case that led exactly nowhere. So as far as transportation went, she didn't have much of a choice. "Fine," she said, her tone long-suffering.

"I'll be there in five," said James. "I look forward to hearing your report."

Jodie smiled, one eyebrow raised, and wondered if James would feel the same way once she had given her report and had informed him of her plan of action - one that could protect Ai-chan, and allow her to get involved in finding Conan-kun at the same time.

Five minutes after learning what Heiji-kun and Kaito-kun had discovered at the address where his abducted son had been taken the previous night, Kudo Yusaku walked out the front doors of the Park Hyatt Tokyo Hotel and stepped into a waiting taxi.

"Where to, sir?"

"The Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare, please."

The driver glanced back at him for a moment. Yusaku observed as the driver took in his immaculate, expensive suit and drew conclusions about his social importance and potential wealth, yet showed no hint of recognition. Understandable, since the driver, Fuganaga Yuuto, wasn't much of a reader, apparently preferring to spend his off hours drinking at a sports bar in Shinagawa with his two best friends from high school before going home to his three cats, one of which was apparently expecting a litter of kittens any day now.

"Yes sir," the driver said, after that momentary glance.

As the taxi pulled away from the curb, Yusaku's smart phone chimed in his vest pocket. He withdrew it to see a text from Kaito-kun.

Hattori-kun and I would like to know more about the tip you gave us. Can we meet?

He raised an eyebrow. Kaito-kun had a streak of diplomacy, it seemed. Yusaku rather doubted the tone of the text would be as civil if Heiji-kun had sent it. After all, who else but the dead mercenary found at Agasa's could be the source of the tip? The boys would put two and two together and want answers, of course.

I am currently on an important errand, he sent back. But my wife has the answers you're looking for. You'll find her waiting for you at the Poirot Café.

With that taken care of, Yusaku quickly scanned through the phone's pages of contacts, and dialed.

"This is Yunokawa," a man's voice answered. "Kudo-san... is it really you?"

"It's really me, Senior Vice Minister-sama," Yusaku said, smiling.

"Well, how wonderful! I almost didn't believe what my caller ID was showing me. Are you back in Japan?"

"Yes. But I am afraid this is not a social call. I need to meet with you as soon as possible regarding a matter of utmost urgency."

"... I see. Can you come to my office at the Ministry?"

"I'm on my way there now, actually."

There was a mild huff of air. "Of course you are. I will inform Reception to expect you, and my assistant will bring you to my office."

"Thank you very much, Yunokawa-sama. I am in your debt."

"Actually, I believe I'm in yours," Yunokawa said seriously. "I'll see you soon, Kudo-san."

When the call ended, Yusaku slid his phone into his inner vest pocket, stifling the urge to sigh. He was lucky. Minister Yunokawa could have been in meetings all day, or could have been out of town altogether. If that had been the case, there were other people in the Ministry that Yusaku could contact, but none of them had as much political clout - or ability to grant unorthodox favours - as Yunokawa.

He looked out the window, silently, almost unconsciously making note of the people, the buildings, the vehicles... He closed his eyes, and, unbidden, the image of his son filled his mind.

Knowing what he knew about Shinichi's captors, it was only through long-practiced metal discipline that he was able to keep his thoughts from cycling through all the terrible possibilities of what might be happening to his son.

Be strong, Shinichi. I will find you. Until then, fight. Don't let them break you.

The little park was just around the block from the house where Shinichi had been taken. Ran sat on a bench. Ai-chan sat next to her, her face pale, her arms wrapped around herself as if she felt chilled. Ran suppressed the urge to pull the girl into a hug, unsure of whether or not Ai-chan would appreciate such a gesture.

Heiji-kun and Kuroba-kun were over on the sidewalk by the street, and Heiji-kun looked ready to explode. He was pacing back and forth, muttering curses under his breath, pausing only to look up and down the street to see if the taxi was coming, then resuming his pacing when he saw it wasn't. Ran was almost sure she could see a vein pulsing in his forehead.

Kuroba-kun, on the other hand, seemed the picture of nonchalance as he tapped a text into his smart phone.

Heiji-kun paused long enough to scowl at the phone. "You tell Kudo-san that if he met with who I think he met with-"

Kuroba-kun held up a hand, cutting off Heiji-kun's rant. "Let me handle this." He looked up and met Heiji-kun's furious gaze. "Please."

Heiji-kun clenched his jaw, turned away sharply, and stomped off to glare at the street again.

Ran sat silently, watching all of this, while inside, pieces of memory kept clicking into place. Memories that had seemed completely innocuous until now.

She thought about New York, sitting in the back of Shinichi's mom's Jaguar, listing to Sharon Vineyard tell the story of how her daughter, Chris, had shown up to her father's grave disguised as the dead man himself when Sharon was there leaving flowers.

Ran thought it a cruel joke at the time. A terrible thing for a daughter to do to her grieving mother.

But now Ran realized the joke was on her. Sharon was Chris Vineyard, and Chris Vineyard was Vermouth. There had never been a feud between mother and estranged daughter. It was all a lie. A cover story. A bit of interesting, but invented gossip for Sharon's fans.

Kuroba-kun's phone chimed. "That was quick," he said, looking a little surprised. Then he read the text, and his surprise turned to a half-lidded expression of mild irritation.

"What did he say?" Heiji demanded. "Will he meet us?"

Kuroba-kun shoved his phone back into his pocket. "He says he's on an errand, that his wife is waiting for us back at the café, and that she'll answer our questions about the tip he gave us."

And then Ran understood. "Of course," she said, her eyes widening. Chills ran through her as everything fell into place.

Kuroba-kun and Heiji-kun both turned to her. "Of course, what?" Heiji-kun said.

She looked up at him. "Shinichi's mother and Sharon Vineyard... Vermouth. They were friends." She felt Ai-chan start beside her.

"Friends?" Heiji-kun's anger turned to incredulity. "Friends how?"

Ran shook her head slightly, her gaze turned inward as she remembered. "Shinichi and I... his mom took us on a trip to New York, and Sharon was there. She got us tickets for a Broadway musical... and when we met her, Shinichi's mom said that she and Sharon had studied the art of disguise together from a famous Japanese magician... but that Sharon was so much better at it than she was..."

And then Ran thought about Ariade-sensei, and how Vermouth had gone undetected disguised as the doctor for weeks...

Kuroba-kun had gone very still. She looked at him, and he was staring at her intently. "Did she mention," he said, his voice almost bland in comparison to the look in his eyes, "who the Japanese magician was?"

"No," she said. "Why?"

He looked away, his face an expressionless mask, and for a few moments she thought he wasn't going to answer her.

"My father was a famous magician," he said at last. "And he was very good at the art of disguise."

As many questions as that one statement brought to mind, only one came to the forefront. "... Was?" she asked quietly.

He didn't look at her. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down the street as casual as if he was just waiting for their taxi. "He's dead."

Ran felt her mouth go dry. She swallowed, and the words I'm sorry were on her lips, when Heiji-kun spoke first.

"Kuroba," Heiji-kun said, his brow furrowed. "Kuroba..." His eyes widened. "Your father was Kuroba Toichi."

The name struck a familiar chord in Ran. She looked at Kuroba-kun, who simply nodded once, still looking down the street.

"I remember," Heiji-kun said, frowning thoughtfully. "Eight years ago... there was a stage accident-"

"It was no accident," Kuroba-kun said, turning sharply to face Heiji-kun. His eyes were burning. "My father was murdered."

Heiji-kun's brow furrowed. "Murdered?"

Kuroba-kun glared at Heiji-kun, as if daring him to contradict him, but Ran recognized that Heiji-kun wasn't arguing, but had instinctively gone into investigative mode.

"Yes," Kuroba-kun said. "Murdered.

"Do you know who-"

"A man named Snake," Kuroba-kun said shortly. "Dresses in dark clothes and works for a mysterious organization. And no, I don't know if it's the Black Org, or another shadowy underground syndicate obsessed with immortality."

Heiji-kun raised an eyebrow. "Immortality?"

Kuroba-kun sighed. "There's this artifact they're after..." he said, and then he waved the question away in exasperation. "But that's not the point! We're getting off track. Look, what have we just learned?"

He turned to Ran. "We know that Kudo-kun's parents and my parents have known each other since before any of us were born. We know that Kudo-kun's mom was friends with Vermouth back when they were being taught the art of disguise - probably from my dad."

"It... might have been a different magician," Ran offered hesitantly.

Kuroba-kun shook his head. "Not likely. And, again, not the point. Where did Kudo-san get the tip that led us here? From his wife, apparently. Where did she get it? Her son, who has deep connections with the Black Organization, is kidnapped. Who is the first suspect that comes to mind? Why, her old friend - who's not so friendly any more."

Kuroba-kun began pacing, emphasizing his words with broad, theatrical gestures. "Kudo-kun's mom confronts Vermouth. Where's my son, she says! But Vermouth doesn't know, because the Org's not behind it. Oh, but it is! says Kudo-san, because we think the man behind my son's abduction used to work for you!"

Kuroba-kun pointed dramatically to the imaginary Vermouth he was conversing with, and Ran suddenly felt like she was watching a play - a one-man performance, with Kuroba-kun acting all the parts.

"And suddenly!" Kuroba-kun continued, "Vermouth is very interested in finding this man as well. So interested in fact that, in less that one night, she uses her Black Org connections to find this hired mercenary. Oh yes, she's that good. All the cops in Tokyo are trying to find him, but she knows how the criminal thinks. She knows what he's going to do to try to disappear. And she finds him."

Ran found herself leaning forward, her eyes wide, completely caught up in Kuroba-kun's narrative.

"Vermouth confronts the mercenary," Kuroba-kun continued, crouching and reaching out, almost as if to grapple with some invisible assailant. "Maybe she threatens him. She demands that he tell her what he knows, or he faces torture and death! ... Or maybe," he said, straightening as another idea seemed to occur to him. "Maybe... she makes promises - money, power, a ticket out of town, who knows. All he has to do is point the way to the man who hired him." Kuroba-kun smiled grimly. "But whatever she does, it works, because she gets the address of this house where he delivered Kudo-kun to his employer last night." Kuroba-kun looked toward the house. It wasn't visible with the trees and the brick wall that surrounded the park obscuring the view, but to Ran, it seemed like he could see it anyway.

"And then," Kuroba-kun said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, "she poisons him with a remarkable, undetectable drug, that she just happens to have on hand, that makes his death look like a heart attack. Then she sends Kudo-kun's mom the address, and it gets passed to us through Kudo-san. But that's not all," he said, turning on his heel and looking at Ai-chan. "Just to make sure that we know exactly who we're dealing with, she has the mercenary's body dumped right in the home of the one person she despises most of all, but has promised not to harm." He grinned without warmth. "Just her little way of saying, Hi."

Ran looked down at Ai-chan, worried about her reaction to Kuroba-kun's performance... but Ai-chan was staring, not in fear, but almost with morbid fascination. Ran looked over at Heiji-kun, who was also staring, but his expression was unreadable.

They stayed that way for the space of a few moments, before Kuroba-kun blinked, then straightened. He cleared his throat, and then looked over at Heiji-kun.

"Well," he said, "did I miss anything?"

Heiji-kun just stared at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. Finally, he said, slowly, "Are you sure you're not a detective?"

Kuroba-kun's face expressed one moment of shock, before he grinned, almost manic, his eyes sparkling with laughter. "Pretty sure," he said.

"You certainly have a flair for the dramatic," Ai-chan said, her voice dry, but a slight smile on her face. "I almost felt like I needed to applaud there at the end."

Kuroba-kun just shrugged. "I can't help it. It's in my blood. My mom is a magician too."

"And what about you?" Ai-chan asked. "Are you a magician as well?"

"Eh," he said, "I dabble a bit." With that, he waved his hand with a flourish, and produced a white carnation out of thin air. He bowed to Ai-chan. "For you, ojousan."

"Hmph," Ai-chan said, trying to look unimpressed and failing as she took the flower. "Not bad, I guess."

Kuroba-kun clutched his chest. "Again, she wounds me with words."

"If you guys are through with your little outdoor production," Heiji-kun said, "the taxi's here."

They all piled into the back of a taxi for the second time that day. And Ran couldn't help but notice that, the entire drive back to Beika, Heiji-kun watched Kuroba-kun with narrowed, thoughtful eyes the entire time.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice," Yusaku said, bowing to Minister Yunokawa. The Minister bowed as well, and gestured for him to sit in the plush chair on the other side of the large mahogany desk.

"Of course, Kudo-san," he said, settling himself into his own chair. "Please. What can I do for you?"

"I'm afraid my request may seem unusual."

The Minister laughed shortly. "Knowing you, that does not come as a surprise."

"I... will be asking a great deal of you. But I assure you, I would not ask were it not..." Yusaku paused, and cleared his throat. "To put it bluntly, a life is on the line, and time is of the essence."

The humor faded from the Minister's eyes, replaced with open concern. "If it is within my power, I will do it."

Yusaku nodded his thanks. "There is a doctor," he said, "who is currently employed somewhere in one of Japan's hospitals. He was hired within the past year, and he is working under a false name, under false pretenses. I have strong evidence that his medical practice is unscrupulous in the extreme."

The Minister frowned. "Exactly how unscrupulous are we talking?"

"Biochemical and surgical human experimentation on unwilling participants."

The Minister paled. "I see." He seemed to ponder that for a moment, and Yusaku saw him cast a glance over at a bookshelf where, nestled between recent medical journals and encyclopedias, a lone, dog-eared copy of Tsuneishi Keiichi's book, Unit 731: The True Story Behind the Biological Weapons Crimes sat in a scandalously observable spot.

"And he is doing this now?" the Minister asked.

"Possibly as we speak," Yusaku said. "As I mentioned, a life currently hangs in the balance."

"Who's life?"

Yusaku met the Minister's gaze. "I am not at liberty to say. But believe me when I tell you that he is far from the first victim of this doctor's research."

The Minister heaved a deep breath and leaned back in his seat. "What do you need from me?"

"I need the records of all physicians who have been hired at hospitals in Japan within the past twelve months. Specifically, university hospitals with labs and research facilities and any smaller hospitals within driving distance. I need copies of the hiring records, as well as photo IDs if possible. This is where I will start my search."

"Start?"

"Minister..." Yusaku leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him. "The man I am looking for is working at a hospital in Japan right now. If he is not at a university hospital, or somewhere close by, then I will expand my search to each and every one of Japan's 8,605 hospitals, and 99,547 medical clinics. But I hope my deduction is correct, because time is of the essence, and if I do not find this doctor soon, the... the young man who his at his mercy may not emerge whole, if he emerges at all."

Yusaku felt as though he had kept his voice remarkably steady, but the Minister peered at him intently all the same.

"You know this young man personally, don't you."

Denial was rather pointless after his little speech, he supposed. "I do," he said.

"You will find this monster and bring him to justice?"

"I will."

"Can you do it... quietly?" The Minister passed his hand over his eyes. "I would prefer if the world not know that we have a burgeoning Ishii Shiro hiding within the Japanese medical system."

"I would very much prefer it that way as well," Yusaku said.

"Very well." The Minister sat up straight and placed both hands flat on the table in front of him. "I will get you what you need. And when you find this so-called doctor, I wish to know exactly how he managed to defeat our rigorous screening processes. Please expect to hear from me within the next day or so."

Yusaku understood the dismissal, and got to his feet before bowing deeply. "Thank you, Minister Yunokawa. You have my deepest, most sincere gratitude."

And then, as he was walking to the door, the Minister's voice stopped him.

"Kudo-san, I was wondering if you could tell me... what happened to your son, Shinichi?"

"My son," Yusaku echoed. He stood stiffly, not turning around.

"Yes. He was so prominent in the news, helping the police solve some of their toughest cases, and then he seemed to vanish. Has been traveling with you and your wife?"

"Traveling?" Yusaku said. "Yes."

"Well, I hope he comes back soon. I'm glad you're back, Kudo-san, but when you leave again, it would be nice to know there's still a Kudo here to have our backs."

Yusaku turned and managed a slight smile. "I will be sure to pass your sentiments on to him, Minister. Thank you again for your help."

He left quickly, then, closing the office door behind him.

Matsumara had assured Hana that their cover story was rock solid, but she still found her heart climbing into her throat the first time an unknown nurse came into the room.

She was young, probably just a year or two into her residency. "Excuse me," she said as she entered. "Okazaki-sensei? I'm here to take Akio-kun to his CT scan appointment. Isao-sensei is ready for him."

It startled Hana to hear the boy called by that name, especially since she had done her best to avoid thinking of him by any name at all. But then, the boy was supposed to Matsumara's nephew, his brother's son. Matsumara Akio. Not Kudo Shinichi, or even Edogawa Conan. Those identities were gone. Erased. Whoever or whatever he might have been before, now he was just a specimen with a false name that would allow her fellow conspirators to conduct their experiments with impunity.

Still, not completely without risk. Normally, a CT technician would handle the scan rather than the neurosurgeon himself, but they couldn't chance anyone outside their group seeing the boy's real brain scans. He was supposed to be a child who suffered from status epilepticus; who was being kept in a coma to prevent a state of persistent tonic-clonic seizures caused by a tumor and lesions. The fact that his brain was healthy would be immediately, glaringly obvious to anyone who saw the real scans.

Isao already had the scans of a lesioned brain prepared for the boy's file, and that wasn't all. Matsumara had helped prepare falsified MRIs, x-rays, blood test results... The course of the boy's "illness" had been carefully plotted in advance to allow for tests and surgeries without arousing suspicion.

The nurse wheeled in a narrow gurney, and Hana got to her feet to help maneuver the IV stand and the respirator. "So, this is Matsumara-sensei's nephew?" the nurse said, looking at the boy with an expression full of pity as she pulled the blanket down and unstrapped his wrists and ankles. "The poor thing. They were saying at the nurses station that his father died and his mother abandoned him?"

"Yes," Hana agreed. Well, gossip was apparently ensuring that the cover story was being shared with hospital personnel.

The nurse sighed as she carefully lifted the boy from the bed and placed him on the gurney, while Hana made sure none of his lines tangled. "Well, it's a good thing Matsumara-sensei had him brought here. Isao-sensei will fix him right up, I'm sure. He's one of the best."

Hana made a noncommittal noise, and tried not to think about how, tomorrow, Isao would be drilling a hole in the boy's skull and poking a biopsy needle through his brain all the way down to the tiny, almond-shaped hypothalamus, under the pretense of getting a tumor sample.

It was a safe procedure, she reminded herself. Stereotactic biopsies were very precise, with the CT scan and MRI providing exact three-dimensional coordinates in the brain. The scans taken today would be fed into a computer and then super-imposed over a live feed during the surgery, and then it was a simple matter of inserting the needle, obtaining the tissue sample, removing the needle and stitching up the scalp. And chances of complications, such as bleeding or scarring, were minimal.

Which was good, since there would be at least three more biopsies after tomorrow's procedure, for other areas of the brain that held Isao's interest.

Mastumara was waiting in the CT control room with Isao when she helped the nurse wheel the boy into the scanner room. Hana didn't like the look on either of their faces.

Fantastic. They had bad news again.

When the boy was situated on the scanner bed, Matsumara dismissed the nurse, and Hana joined him and Isao in the control room so that she wouldn't be exposed to the scan's radiation burst. "Okay," she said, her hands on her hips. "Something has happened. Let's hear it."

"The mercenary he hired," Isao said, in a low, hissing whisper. "Some kids found his dead body at the scene of the first kidnapping attempt."

Hana cursed. Her stomach suddenly felt like a ball of lead. "Don't tell me. He was murdered."

"It's worse than that," Isao said. He was more irritable than she had ever seen him. "The news is reporting he died of an apparent heart attack."

Hana looked at Matsumara. The fact that he seemed completely unperturbed did nothing to ease her mind. "Your former employers?" she asked. "The apotoxin?"

He looked through the glass window at the boy on the scanner bed and shook his head. "The Org doesn't know about him. If they knew who he was, he would have been captured or killed months ago. They have no reason to be interested in his kidnapping or his kidnapper."

"So how do you explain your mercenary's death?" Hana demanded.

He looked at her and shrugged. "Apparently he had a heart attack," he said.

"Right at the site of the first kidnapping attempt," Isao pointed out again. "Why did he go back? What if he talked to someone?"

"It doesn't matter," Matsumara said, his voice still maddeningly calm. "He didn't have any information that could lead to us."

"Other than the address of where we all gathered last night," Isao practically snarled.

"Which will lead them exactly nowhere," Matsumara said, glaring sidelong at Isao. "You and I made sure of that. Now, are we going to continue arguing over inconsequential distractions, or are we going to get down to business?"

Isao muttered something under his breath, before turning to the control panel and starting the scan.

The CT scan didn't take long; less than five minutes. And then they were on to the next appointment in the next room.

The MRI took almost a full hour, since Matsumara wanted a full body scan, not just one of the brain. Once the MRI machine started up, Matsumara left, claiming that he needed to return to whatever business he had elsewhere in the hospital. Isao stayed in the control room. Hana, on the other hand, sat next to the machine, managing the IV drips and respirator as the boy entered the imaging chamber.

The noise was terrible. It was like sitting next to a construction zone, and she was soon regretting not bringing earplugs. The banging, the clanking, the buzzing and beeping as the machine slowly took its pictures were maddening. She watched the boy inside the chamber, but other than the rise and fall of his chest, he lay limp and unmoving on the table in spite of the relentless cacophony.

Well, kid, she thought. The merc who snatched you is dead. Maybe of a heart attack, but then again... maybe he was murdered. What do you think? Would you be able to solve this mystery with that detective mind of yours?

Then again, she thought, heaving a sigh, it was quite possible he wasn't thinking of anything at all, as deep into a coma as she had him. At least Matsumara couldn't complain about the kid's level of consciousness now.

Still, she was glad when the MRI was finally over so she could get the boy back to his room, back on his bed, and properly hooked up to an EEG where she could monitor his brain's burst suppression pattern. It was comforting to have visual evidence that the boy's sedation level was right where it was supposed to be.

After monitoring the EEG for several minutes, she grabbed her purse and dry swallowed a couple of aspirin for the headache she had developed sitting next to the MRI machine. A trip to the cafeteria staved off starvation, and when she returned to the room, she watched the EEG again until she was satisfied that nothing had changed for the worse, then settled into the visitor's chair and went back to reading her book.

About an hour or so later, Isao came into the room wheeling a tray with the tools for the lumbar puncture procedure. She couldn't help but notice that he looked a lot less angry and a lot more thoughtful than when she had left him in the MRI room.

"You look like you've got a lot on your mind," she said, getting to her feet. She went to one of the supply cupboards and started to prepare a topical anesthetic needle. "Did you decide that the dead mercenary wasn't worth worrying about?"

He glanced at her, but he seemed distracted. "Hm? Yes... well, no... I mean, yes, that's definitely a bad business with the mercenary. I was just..."

"... thinking about something else completely?" she asked, a little amused. Isao usually wasn't one to act like the absent-minded professor.

His gaze cleared a bit. "Sorry. I was just looking at the MRI." He looked over at the boy. "I only gave it a cursory look-over... I plan to examine it in detail after I get the spinal fluid sample, but..." He shook his head. "His brain has fully mature blood-brain barriers. It's remarkable. I really need to verify this, but his brain... his entire nervous system looks like it could belong to a mature adult, and yet his skin, his heart and lungs... possibly all his other systems have regressed to childhood."

"Well," said Hana, "you read his file. He certainly seems to have retained his adult memories and cognitive abilities. And all you have to do is look at him to see what happened to the rest of him."

"Yes, well, it's one thing to read a file, it's quite another to see the anatomical evidence."

The expression on Isao's face as he looked at the small child lying on the bed reminded Hana, uncomfortably, of a friend she once had years ago who loved taking apart machines to see how they worked.

Suddenly anxious to get this particular task over with, Hana went to the boy's bed and carefully turned him onto his right side, then folded his legs against his chest so that his back curved and the bones in his lower spine separated. Then she pulled back the hospital gown so that his back was exposed.

Isao, taking her cue, examined the boy's spine briefly before marking a spot between the L4 and L5 vertebrae with a pen. When he stepped back, Hana moved in and cleaned the boy's entire back with bedatine solution. As soon as it was dry, she injected her prepared needle of one percent solution lidocaine anesthetic through the skin and into the subcutaneous tissue to numb the area.

With that done, she moved around to the other side of the bed, reached out and held the boy in his curled-up position so that Isao could insert the 20 gauge spinal needle and start to collect the spinal fluid.

As the needle slid into his spine, Hana felt the boy's muscles tense, and she tightened her grip, holding him still. He made a small noise; a soft moan, deep in his throat around the respirator, and Hana swallowed against the sudden urge to talk to him - Hush, it's all right, it will be over soon.

"Soon" was actually a little over twenty minutes as Isao filled five vials of fluid, and Hana was relieved that, after that initial first reaction to pain, the boy stayed silent and unmoving for the rest of the procedure.

"That's it," Isao finally announced, and Hana released the boy, moving back to the other side of the bed as Isao removed the spinal needle. He didn't stay to chat, taking his samples, leaving Hana to clean and bandage the needle site.

With that done, she once again closed the hospital gown and gently rolled the boy onto his back.

His eyes were open slightly. But, unlike before, there was nothing alert or aware in his heavy gaze. She quickly reached out and brushed his eyelids closed for the fourth time that day.

"You might have a bit of a headache after that," she said, and looked over at the EEG.

A flat line. Then a sharp burst of brain activity. Line. Another burst, disrupting the line into peaks and valleys... Line...

"Tomorrow will be worse," she said, not really knowing if she was talking to the boy or to herself. "I'll do what I can so that it's not so bad... but I can't make any promises."

She sank down into the visitor's chair, feeling old and achy. The clock on the wall informed her that the late afternoon was creeping into evening. Was the day almost gone already?

She tried reading her book, but after looking at the same paragraph for several minutes without seeing it, she gave up.

Night found her lost in thought, staring at the boy, watching the rise and fall of his chest in time with the hiss-gasp of the respirator.

Shinichi wasn't sure exactly when he realized that the other bodies in the morgue belonged to pretty much everyone he cared about.

He first noticed the fall of long, dark hair spilling out from under a thin white sheet. Then he recognized her profile, the sheet clinging to the contours of her face, and he wanted to scream her name, but though he mouthed the word, nothing came out, and his throat burned.

Because he was dreaming. Just dreaming. It wasn't real.

So he tried to walk away. Then he saw the four small bodies lined up next to each other on separate tables and he recognized the distinctive shapes of Haibara, Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta.

And the only splash of color in the cold, sterile white of the room was where Agasa's sheet was stained with red, wet blood.

And there was Hattori. On a table next to him, Kazuha. There were Ran's parents. There were his own parents. Takagi-keiji, Sato-keiji and the other police. Kobayashi-sensei and the children from his first grade class. All lying dead on cold tables beneath white sheets.

And he knew he was dreaming. He knew because one moment he would be wandering through the rows of bodies, recognizing them one by one, and the next, he was sitting curled against the wall looking into the dead face of his adult body again.

And he would stand and try to go and cover the face with the sheet he had pulled back, but somehow, in the few meters that separated him from his corpse, he would get lost on the way and end up wandering through the row and rows of tables again.

And sometimes there were doors in the room. But they were always closed, and if he got too close, he was overwhelmed by the sense that something terrible was waiting behind them.

And sometimes there were windows, and there was always a dark, faceless figure on the other side watching him, and fear would claw its way up his throat leaving searing pain in its wake.

And sometimes there were voices, distorted and tinny, as if they were being piped into the room through an old, faulty PA system.

And sometimes he forgot that he was dreaming.

He would forget, and then it was all real, and everyone he loved was dead, and he was trapped and lost and unable to escape no matter which way he went. Until finally he would turn a corner, and there was his corpse with the sheet pulled down, and he would once again find himself sitting curled up against the wall in a corner of the room, looking at his body... and he would remember again. He was dreaming. Only dreaming.

And he would be afraid because he had forgotten. How could he forget? And he would promise himself that he wouldn't forget, and then things would get foggy and strange, and a single moment of time would stretch and bend and he would be wandering and it would start all over again.

But then, while he was wandering... something new.

A door. Open. Through it, impenetrable darkness. And a terrible noise. Growling, rumbling, screeching... and he was pulled unwillingly through the door into the darkness and noise, and he pressed his hands against his ears but nothing blocked it out and his head ached and it lasted forever...

And then he was in the morgue again. And as he stood amidst the endless rows of corpses, he couldn't move, and suddenly he knew without looking that Gin was standing behind him, towering over him. And even with his back turned he saw the sadistic grin on Gin's face, the cold light in his eyes, and then Gin slipped a knife into his back.

To his surprise, the pain wasn't sharp, but rather a dull, deep ache near the base of his spine. And then Gin was gone, and he was alone with the dead, with the knife still embedded in his back.

And he was lying on his side on the floor, curled up, the ache in his spine radiating icy cold. And for a moment, he felt warm hands on him, and saw a face that he almost recognized, but left him feeling dread. And the hands rolled him onto his back, and he realized he was laying on one of the morgue tables, a white sheet pulled up to his chin.

And a distant, tinny voice crackled over the PA system: You might have a bit of a headache after that...

And the voice was right. His head throbbed, and his spine ached, and he wanted nothing more than to climb down from the table and escape this place, but he couldn't move.

And then he remembered that he was dreaming.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Jodie knew that going anywhere near Professor Agasa's house while the police were still there was a very bad idea. Instead, she had James drive her to the street where Conan-kun and Mouri-san lived, parking far away enough to observe the detective agency without being seen.

When Jodie was certain that there wasn't a police presence around, she left James in the car and walked over to the agency. She knocked on both the agency and apartment doors, but no one answered. Not really a surprise. She suspected that Mouri-san and her father were with the police helping with the investigation - only to be expected under the circumstances. But they were also her best chance of finding where Ai-chan was staying at the moment. The girl needed to be warned about the latest Black Org activity. And if, in the process, Jodie was able to glean some information about the investigation into Conan-kun's kidnapping, all the better.

So... she decided that she and James would stake out the agency and wait for Mouri-san to come home.

Jodie stopped in the Poirot Café on the way back to the car and ordered a couple of coffees... and couldn't help but notice a woman sitting in one of the booths. She was plump, dark-haired, nicely dressed, and was carefully dabbing at her red, wet eyes with a white handkerchief.

Jodie eyed her with concern. The poor woman was obviously very distressed over something. Once Jodie received and paid for her coffees, she couldn't help but stop at the woman's booth.

"Excuse me," she said, feeling very much the nosy American, but she couldn't bring herself to just walk away without trying to help. "Are you alright?"

The woman looked up at her, surprised. "Oh," she said, tearful and flustered. "No. Well... no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you... I'm trying not to make a fuss and I'm not doing a very good job, I suppose."

Jodie smiled. "You didn't disturb me," she said. "You just seem like you could use help. I'm sorry, let me introduce myself. I'm Jodie Starling."

The woman nodded, offering a hesitant, watery smile. "Edogawa Fumiyo," she said. "Pleased to meet you."

Jodie stared. "Edogawa?" she said, almost choking on the word. "As in... Edogawa Conan?"

The woman somehow managed to look miserable and embarrassed at the same time. "He... is my son," she managed.

Jodie shook her head, completely stunned. "I'm sorry," she said. "I... I know him." That seemed completely inadequate to describe the strange friendship and working relationship she had with Conan-kun, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. Hey, before he was kidnapped, your seven-year-old son was working with me to take down a murderous criminal organization. Hope you don't mind.

Edogawa-san looked up at her, understanding flashing across her face. "Oh," she said, "are you Jodie-sensei?"

"Yes," Jodie said with relief. If Conan-kun had told his mother about her, then perhaps she didn't need to try to explain. "Yes, I'm Jodie-sensei. Though I'm not a high school English teacher at the moment."

"Please," said Edogawa-san, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Sit down." Jodie gratefully complied, setting the coffees down on the table. "Conan has told me a lot about you," Edogawa-san said, then lowered her voice to a near-whisper. "Are you still with the FBI?"

Jodie blinked in shock. Somehow it hadn't occurred to her that Conan-kun would tell his mother about his... extra-curricular activities. Especially since he seemed so determined to keep them hidden from Mouri-san. "Er... yes," she said.

Edogawa-san leaned forward, her eyes anxious. "Please... can you help find him?"

And, as Edogawa-san leaned forward, Jodie saw something that made her skin go cold.

There, at the corner of the woman's left eye, where tears had left faint tracks of mascara, there was a tiny, peeling corner of latex.

Several things then happened at once.

Jodie reached inside her jacket and drew her pistol, pointing it right in the woman's shocked face.

The bell over the café door jingled as it opened.

Snarling, gun never wavering, Jodie reached over with one hand and grabbed the woman's cheek, felt the stretch and give of a latex mask, and pulled.

Behind her, she inexplicably heard Mouri-san's voice yell, "Jodie-sensei, don't...!"

The mask tore free... and a woman - who quite definitely was not Vermouth - fell heavily back into her seat, her eyes wide, her hands raised in submission.

Jodie blinked. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded incredulously.

And then Mouri-san was there, and Ai-chan next to her. Behind them, the dark-skinned Osakan detective, and another boy she didn't recognize but who looked vaguely familiar.

"Kudo-san," Mouri-san was saying, "are you okay?"

"Kudo-san?" Jodie echoed. Hesitantly, still glaring with suspicion, she pointed her gun at the floor.

The woman got shakily to her feet, a small, almost sheepish smile on her face.

"Calm down, everyone," she said. "I can explain everything."

A/N: Next time! Yukiko explains everything. Several detectives and a thief are exceptionally clever. Shinichi has a really bad day. And at some point, Heiji takes a nap.

Please excuse the lack of proof-reading. I wanted to get this out as soon as possible for those of you who have been waiting so long.

Please review? :)