This was nothing new; a muddled case with a misguided deduction somehow proving itself correct as its delivered from the mouth of a half conscious teenager who struggles to speak in a manner that would otherwise hide the extent of his injuries. His father, Heizo Hattori, watches as his son is yet again loaded into an ambulance, the smirk of a child who knew too much for his own good still strung across his face, though it would crack on occasional, the obvious pain from whatever injury, this time, a stab to the abdomen and two bullet wounds to the back and shoulder, seemed to be the least of the boy's troubles.

Heizo Hattori watched with what seemed like uncaring eyes as he watched the ambulance leave as quick as it had come, transporting his son to the nearest hospital to be treated. His cold eyes followed the flashing lights as long as they were visible, though due to age and the setting sun, it wasn't very long. The father merely muses to himself as the sirens fled into the night, 'This isn't the first time...he'll be okay.'

"He lost a lot of blood..." A doctor explains for the upteenth time for Heiji's parents. Like always, Shizuka is tense, though she shows no fear as she nods to what is being told to her. Heizo stands a few steps behind his wife, not a single thing about his demeanor had changed since the crime scene; same scowl, same closed eyes, same posture. One would even say that he didn't care for his son during moments like these.

However, that was not the case at all.

Behind the stern expression and complete distaste for having more medical bills that needed to be paid off, Heizo was hard at work, maintaining the cold stare ahead of him, as his thoughts began to betray him.

Every time he wound up in this situation, he would began to think; What if Heiji wasn't going to be okay...how many more cases like this until Heizo would round the corner of a murder scene to find his son laying within the police tape, unseeing eyes looking up at his father, the smirk of a job well done wiped off his face, never to grace his features again.

Heizo couldn't help himself as he began to think back to those lifeless eyes; they were only made up in his own mind, and yet, they wouldn't leave him alone; They were always in the back of his mind, coming in to view more and more every case that came up.

'They aren't real...he's not dead!' Heizo would repeat over and over to himself, clenching a fist as the image would return to him, making the scowl on his face twitch ever so slightly in the corner.

Those thoughts would never leave him. Even after the doctor had told him his son would be okay, he couldn't relax. He knew his boy better than any one of those doctors; he would be up the second he caught word of another case, no matter how much he should be resting.

It what Heiji always did.

Heizo had only discussed his fears for his son once. It had been shortly after he had punched him during a case; Mouri had pulled him aside at some point, still riled up at what he had just witnessed.

"You didn't have to punch him." He stressed yet again, Heizo getting rather irritated with the statement he had already heard twice now.

"Mouri, can I ask you something?" Heizo, ignoring the previous statement, looks up at the man. Mouri is a father much like himself, albeit, his child was way more well-behaved. None the less, he had to understand in some shape or form. Mouri raises an eyebrow at the other man, though he nods, the punching completely forgotten about.

"What would you do...if you were in my position?" Heizo tries to word his statement as simply as he can and yet, Mouri is still confused by it, more so because of the person it was coming from.

"In your position? I wouldn't hit my child for one th-"

"No, no. That's not what I meant...what would you do...if you knew your child was in danger because of something they loved to do? Would you let it continue?" Heizo's hands find his pants pockets, one eye opening enough to let the detective know the importance of his question. Mouri rubs the back of his neck, finding the whole conversation a tad awkward,

"Heizo, you're not going to get your son to give up being a detective; it's as plain and simple as that." Mouri locks his fingers behind his neck, adding a nonchalant tone to his phrase. The other man simply shakes his head, both eyes opening to look at the detective.

"That's my boy out there, almost getting himself killed because he can't stop to think a minute...reminds me of myself, actually...it's times like these where I wish he had been more like his mother." Heizo closes both eyes again, adding a small laugh to the end of his statement to conceal the regret in his voice. Mouri is none the wiser as he slaps the other male on the shoulder,

"As a parent, all you can do is be there for him. Let him make his own mistakes and intervene when you have to." Mouri conjured up some type of text book advice before returning back to the crime, having absolutely no interest in carrying out the conversation any further.

Back to his current situation, Heizo thinks back to that advice; it was pretty surprising to hear Mouri of all people utter it, but he was right. All he could do now was sit back and let his son figure this one out.

Even so, Heizo still found himself sitting beside his son's bed, looking over at his sleep face, eyes closed, smirked softened at the onslaught of sleep, alive and for the most part, safe.

When everyone else left the room that night, Heizo stayed behind, eventually lifting his son in to his arms, letting his sternness melt in to what he truly was.

A father who was scared to death for his child.

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