TRAITORS TO BLACK

WARNINGS & TAGS

I do not and never will own any rights to Detective Conan/Case Closed and/or its characters. No profit is made off of this. As some authors have said before me, "these are not my toys, I am merely abusing them."

This is not a happy story, nor will it ever actually be. This is a continuation of one of my stories, (or rather a would be sequel to the end) of a work in progress called A New Method of Persuasion (s/5737621), posted under the pen name Hittocere (u/944983). This one is here because it is not finalized to be the sequel, and because it will contain HEAVY Spoilers to it. In addition this is written in 1st Person instead of 3rd Person, there will be a version of both at some point I think because of my displeasure at writing 1st person.

Unlike A New Method of Persuasion, this work is unbeta'd. It can also be read without reading ANMoP beforehand, seeing as most events in this take place during parts that are not yet written for ANMoP.

!IMPORTANT! TAGS!

Main Pairing... unresolved Gin/Shinichi

1st person point of view

Pre-established- Gin does NOT want to kill Shinichi.

The Black Organization has been disbanded, (further information will become available as the story progresses.) Not all of the former members were killed/arrested.

PART ONE- DREAMS GO BY

As I thought about it, it seemed sad that such a man would be left alone as he was. With the time of our rendezvous fast approaching I realized that while I knew Gin very well on some levels I had no clue about the man's past or what he was truly capable of anymore, besides illegal activities. He was strong, and wise for his age on the strangest things. Paranoid beyond a doubt, but absolutely stunning to behold as a person when you weren't looking down the wrong end of one of his guns.

I smiled looking down at the materials laid out before me, this was the only thing I could honestly think of to get for the man. Since those days when he, Vermouth, and Vodka left the Black Organization a laundry list of events had transpired. Gin had been very nearly paralyzed in a vicious explosion, before which he had so kindly thrown myself, Vermouth, and Vodka (and not necessarily that order) out before it could explode. His left leg had gotten caught on the frame of the car making him unable to escape the explosion in time.

As a result he had spent six months in the hospital in a coma. He was given a haircut as well, (that nurse somehow survived the experience) I had warned the nurse not to cut more than three inches off even if it was singed from the blast that crippled his leg. She didn't believe me... I think Vermouth managed smuggle her out before Gin realized it was her...

Had it been anyone else in a coma the three of us might have been worried, but each of us had seen Gin's will to live tested. Something about the man kept him going, and when he finally woke up six months later I was there. Vodka and Vermouth came in shortly after, we spent the next hour teasing Gin about his new haircut and testing the waters with his memory.

Satisfied that he wasn't in any danger and that his wounds had sufficiently healed he was released into my care. Vermouth made some sort of joke about a closet that had the two former assassins turning tomato red, I couldn't help but smile away like an idiot during the whole ride. It came to no one's surprise that Gin's first request was to go to a shooting range after being newly released from the hospital.

After a rather obnoxious firefight at the range I was allowed to finally take him home. I dropped Vermouth and Vodka to their car, and turned to face the now strangely quiet blond in the front seat. At first I thought that was just him moping at the fact I was driving, because certainly he wouldn't be allowed to do so for a week. It was when he asked me to take him to an address that I had never heard of that I became confused. It wasn't until later when I asked Vermouth if she knew what was so special about the address that I became upset. But there's a reason for that, but not just yet...

So I helped Gin up the stairs, much to his irritation of course, to this address that I had never heard of. He directed me towards the proper door, and I felt rather stupid standing there knocking on the door of this unfamiliar apartment with Gin's arm slung around my shoulder. When Haibara answered I didn't feel nearly so out of place, but still something was off. The look on her face was pure shock, and at first I thought this was her new place. When Gin asked me to pass him over to Haibara with his cheeks slightly red I felt my earlier confusion return with a vengeance.

This wouldn't have been so upsetting if the door hadn't been practically slammed in my face. This certainly hadn't been how I expected this day to go, the idea that Gin had been secretly seeing Haibara behind my back didn't irritate me so much as break my heart. It was hard for me to rationalize that I spent an entire week crying over it, but according to both Agasa hakase and Vermouth I did manage to. It was during that time I stopped calling her Haibara, and she became Sherry. Another ghost... just like... I must not think of her.

Sherry had of course taken an antidote to the Apotoxin, but she looked a lot older than I suspected she actually was. It was as if she had aged additional years in those overly long six months... Though Gin hadn't even seemed relieved to see her when I thought back on it, its been almost seven years since then. I hadn't seen Gin since that day, well... that was up until a couple of weeks ago when he walked (with his limp) into my office.

I think that was the happiest moment I've had in years truth be told, to see him walk through the door and straight up to me. He didn't smile, but then again Gin never did. It was that neutral expression that meant he cared. It might not have meant quite so much, except that I had accepted the offer that Jodie sensei had made for all of us after we brought down the Black Org. Chris Vineyard had done the most damage, her and the fabled Silver Bullet, not Akai Shuichi as they had thought, but me. Kudou Shinichi, the Heisei Holmes.

I have been working as a private detective in America for the last four years, I could almost pass for an American when speaking English now. The first three I spent working with Jodie sensei and her lot as a highly paid consultant for the government. I had worked myself to the bone, trying to forget all the tragedies, I had even stopped sending messages to my parents. In return they stopped sending them, well most of them… My father never stopped writing riddles to test me with. In every novel he left one, as his dutiful son I did solve them, and laughed at his expense. Still, I had never came across any riddle however more difficult than the man that walked in that day.

A/N: There's always more to it...