I don't really think the first four chapters anything to do with the actual plot, but if you want to read them, by all means.

All characters, Detective Conan, belong to Gosho Aoyama.

--Part 1, Haibara Ai's POV, Memories--

I couldn't believe it. Another day, another case. Not only that, but the children were, once again, exposed to death. Actually, it wasn't that unbelievable, if you knew what 'normal' is to me. Despite this, I still know how horrible it is that they wander around everyday after a case, as if it was a simple theft case that he solved.

I yawned, rubbing my eyes against the bright screen of the computer, breaking out of my musings. I reached over groggily to some papers by the computer, knocking over the cold coffee Hakase had given me before he went off to bed.

I cursed under my breath with a sigh. "What luck." I hopped off my chair. I stretched, rubbing the back of my neck. "I suppose it's about time to stop, ne?" I asked myself aloud with a thankful smile.

I crossed my arms, looking at the mess. I'm too tired. I ignored the pleads my body made for rest and scooped up the wet papers scattered around the computer. Gathering the papers together, I spread them out so they wouldn't stick. Hopefully I can still read the print when they dry off.

Ready for bed, I hurriedly saved everything and turned off the computer. It's not as if I'm any closer to his cure. Leaving the soiled papers, I took the coffee mug with me up the stairs. I yawned again, almost tripping over the steps.

My fist clenched. "This is getting annoying…" I sighed again, rubbing my temples as I cautiously made my way to the kitchen. After leaving the cup in the sink, I made my way upstairs to my room.

While walking, my mind once again wandered back to the case Kudo-kun had solved. A simple case was given to the Detective Boys--a Kamen Yaiba doll was lost at the park--but, as usual, a body happened to appear in front of us. Like the 'hero' that he was, he had to step in and solve the case. I scoffed at his insensibility.

Was I always exposed to death the way those children are? When I was eight—the first time I was eight—was death following me around every corner? True, there was an invisible hold on me when I was young, but I never actually saw a dead body until I came back to Japan.

But then I remember the reason my childhood was free of detectives and murders. Oneesan. I smiled fondly at the thought of my older sister. I closed my eyes, letting go of my memories. Had my mind actually wandered off so far that I hadn't even noticed I was atop the staircase?

"Well," I laughed to myself, passing an open window at my left. I suppose what's done is done…can't be helped.

I brushed my hair back with my hand continued on my journey to my bed. I lied on the cold sheets with little expression and even less concern. I yawned once more, before closing my eyes, memories of the day and oneesan still clouded in my head.

--End Part 1, Memories--

Let's try it on for size, shall we?