AN: OK, so this is my first (and possibly last) Case Closed/Detective Conan fic. The inspiration came from my friend Shanon, after we watched The Fourteenth Target. She said (and I swear these are her exact words) "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if Nins had been nice and had stopped to help Kevie?" And although I'm still confused as to why she called Nina "Nins" and Kevin "Kevie" I actually started thinking along the same lines. And well, thus came about this little story here.

Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan or any of its associated characters/themes. They are the property of Gosho Aoyama.

(Nina POV)

I was speeding down the all but deserted streets in my car, enjoying the freedom that driving brought me. It always relaxed me after a long day at work to be able to drive like this. Some called it dangerous. I called it simply living life to the fullest. A beeping noise brought me out of my reverie and I glanced down at my cell phone, ringing away on the seat next to me. A name flashed on the small screen readout. Jason Block. I smiled as I answered, though it was a fake one. Just another actor guy who wanted me for my looks, money, and fame. Not for me. All the same, when he asked me on a date for the following night I didn't say no. After all, a girl has to at least try, right?

"I'll see you at seven--"

Just then I noticed that the light up ahead was flashing red. I let out a gasp as I slammed my foot down on the brake pedal, snapping the phone closed in my haste and tossing it on the passenger seat. The brakes screeched as they attempted to stop the car, though I realized I had acted a split second too late. My car continued into the intersection, before coming to a full stop. I had somehow managed to give the wheel a sharp turn to the left so I was angled away from any possible incoming traffic.

Much to my horror a guy on a motorcycle popped out of nowhere, swerved to avoid my car, and ended up crashing right in front of me. The guy went skidding on his helmet and back numerous feet before he staggered upright. My heart pounding in my chest part of my brain told me to just drive away. He couldn't be that hurt, right? He had stood up and everything. Not that he looked like he was even remotely alright. His body shook. He looked like he was going to collapse at any moment.

I couldn't just leave him there. It wouldn't be right. Unbuckling my seat belt I wrenched the door open and was on the street at a jog. Or at least, the kind of jog you can manage when you're wearing three inches stiletto heals. As I neared him I started to hyperventilate. What if he attacked me for running him off the road? I was more than a little tempted to run back to my car, but I held my ground.

"Are you okay? God, I'm sorry, but you appeared out of nowhere. I didn't see the light in time to stop, and then you came up, and I'm sorry!" I realized I was rambling and took a deep breath, trying to sooth my frazzled nerves. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked, in what I hoped was a more modulated tone.

The helmeted man turned his covered face toward me. "A-ambulance," he gritted out, before all of a sudden he fell forward towards the ground.

And like any girl would in this kind of situation, I screamed.

Two hours later I was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for the doctor. After the motorcycle man had passed out I had called an ambulance, just like he had said, waiting with him until it had come. I had then followed it to the hospital in my own car, where I met with police, to explain what happened. Before leaving they said they would get back to me in a day or two, depending on what happened with the man.

I didn't know why I was waiting for news on the guy -- I didn't even know him. But... for some reason I just couldn't seem to get my body to get up from this uncomfortable chair and leave. I guess it was a guilty conscience. Or it could have been that I was just in too much shock to walk.

Looking up I met my reflection in the large glass doors that made up the entrance to the hospital. At this time of night... what time was it? My eyes flicked to my watch. Twelve... midnight. My eyes traveled back to my reflection of their own accord. I looked like hell warmed over. My red hair was messed, and not at all in a good way. My eyes were wide, and still held a horror-filled quality. My makeup was horrendous, my lipstick gone, and my mascara and eyeliner missing, from when I had washed my face earlier in the restroom.

"Miss...Oliver?"

I lifted my head up to see a doctor in a long white lab coat standing a few feet away from me. The first thing I noticed was that his expression was grim. My stomach dropped at that. Staggering to my feet I fixed him with an incredulous stare.

"Oh god, he's dead, isn't he?" My voice trembled as I spoke. If the public saw me now my career would be over, not that I cared at the moment.

The doctor shook his head. "No... not dead... But he is still unconscious. Surgery went well, so now it's all just a matter of time. We won't know if there has been permanent damage until he wakes up."

If he wakes up. The unspoken words hung in the air between us. Breathing a sigh I ran a hand through my hair. At least he wasn't dead. Yet, that obnoxious part of my brain chimed in. "Can... I see him?"

"Under normal circumstances I would say no, since you are not family... but since these are not normal circumstances, I will grant you a few minutes. Follow me." He turned and led me down a hallway. The walk was silent, neither of us having anything to say. When he stopped he turned to face me again. "Five minutes, Miss Oliver."

I nodded dumbly as he walked away. I was standing staring at the door, both wanting and not wanting to go into the room. A small paper insert had been placed into the slot next to the door. Kevin Simms. So that was his name. I had been wondering. It didn't seem right to keep calling him 'the guy' or 'motorcycle man'. Taking a deep breath I forced myself to open the door and walk the few steps into the small hospital room. Like the rest of the establishment the room was a sterile white color, with hardly any furnishings. A hospital bed, a small bedside table in the corner, no window, and lots of machines.

Just looking at the machines that were beeping away, connected to the man -- Simms, I reminded myself -- Simms's body, made my blood run cold. A lump formed in my throat as I stepped cautiously closer to the bed. Now that he wasn't wearing that horrid motorcycle outfit and helmet I could get a good look at the man I had nearly killed.

I couldn't tell his height from this position, but I could see other things quite well. He looked... well, terrible was the word that came to mind. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, and he was oddly still. Despite being asleep there were none of the signs I was used to seeing in men. No snoring, no rising or falling of his chest, no occasional twitch. It was unnerving to look at him. I turned away, unable to bear staring at him any longer.

"I'm sorry... I really am," I murmured, though he couldn't hear me. "I... I have to go."

And I did, only making one final stop at the nurses desk. "I want him moved to a better room," I told the nurse on duty. "Send me the bill, will you?"

I had no idea why I was making the offer. It was going to cost me a fortune. But... seeing that man... Kevin Simms, in that awful little room... hadn't felt right to me. He deserved a better room.

"I'll be back to visit tomorrow. Call me if his condition changes."

After giving her my cell phone number I left. Left the hospital, got in my car, and drove back -- at a slower speed than normal -- to my empty apartment.

EN: Hopefully I didn't do too badly so far... I know this is a much different Nina Oliver than was in the movie, but since this story is AU anyway, I figured why not change her for the better? Tell me what you think!