I have a love hate relationship with this chapter.

Raiting: M for violent, blood, swearing, and dark them.

Summery: Finally he reached his goal, but there's still so much that he has to do, and the memory's haunt him, his sapphire eyes dulled a long time ago, no longer shined the way he loved. Each day go's by and he secretly hopes for his twisted luck to end, but the world just loves to mess with him. (I changed it)

Pairing: KidCon (Kaishin)

don't own DC or MK


And I've lost who I am,

and I can't understand.

Why my heart is so broken,

rejecting your love, without,

love gone wrong,

lifeless words carry on.

But I know, all I know,

is that the end's beginning.

-Shattered by Trading Yesterday


6 Years Later Ch 2

They never found his body.

It had been six years but still nothing, the coast guards had given up the search years ago. Everyone else thought KID was dead at the bottom of the sea, but no body meantthat there was at least some hope that he could still be alive. He refused to believe that the thief was dead, but it had been 6 years.

He remembered when he was finally allowed to leave after lying to Nakamori. He went to his real home, completely skipping over the detective agency. He couldn't deal with Ran;he knew he would shatter under her gaze right then.

So he locked ever window and door leading into the house, shutting himself in to rot in his guilt.

One too many people had come poking around, but the only one that could break the locks was Kaito. The ShonenTanteidan (someone must have tipped them off) were some of the first. They hadn't made any progress camping out in front of the house for a day. The next were his parents who had keys; they tried to get him out of his room with no results.

Ran had even knocked on the door once.

Only when Heiji came smashing his door down with Haibara in tow was when he was dragged out of his room, half dead.

He remembered them trying to talk to him but it didn't work.

He spent weeks in a deep depression only getting up when absolutely necessary. It was about three weeks from the incident when Kaito's mom had come looking for him. Sheknew about him being Shinichi or, more accurately, they were forced to tell her after she had caught them eating each other's faces out. She had taken it surprisingly well and had stopped in her pursuit of beating her son over the head with a slipper.

At the time, she looked as bad as he did when he opened the door. The look in his eyes said it all, but she had to make sure.

She just had to.

"C-Conan please, is Kaito—?"

He didn't say anything, he couldn't. He hadn't spoken in weeks, but he felt the guilt weigh down his body as he forced himself to say something.

"I'm sorry."

His voice was dead, raspy, and lifeless, as he stared blankly at the ground.

The woman broke down in front of him holding her face in her hands. He stood there unsure of what to do, but shesuddenly pulled him into her arms, crying on his shoulder. Conan tensed up, but he slowly hugged back, burying his face in the woman's coat.

He cried silently with her as she sobbed on his shoulder.

It was about five years later when things took a turn.

"My my, how have you been Cool Guy?"

"Vermouth!" He shot up from the hospital bed he had been laying in, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

"Now, now, don't look so mean. I just wanted to see how my silver bullet has been," she closed the door behind her as she walked closer to the bed. "My, how you've grown."

"What the hell do you want," he spat.

The last time he saw the woman was two years ago on a case where Heiji took a bullet for him. He was still angry at Heiji for that.

"That's no way to talk to someone who came all the way here to give you important information."

He stopped himself from snapping back at her. Processing what she said, thinking over the pros and cons.

Really, it wasn't like he had anything to lose.

So he decided to listen to her.

And here he was now, more than likely walking to his death.

Ten minutes, and 25 seconds until the meet up with Vermouth, and all that mattered was getting that memory chip into his laptop and hitting enter. He could care less about whathappened to him after.

He walked down the crowded street. It was the eveningrush hour and faceless people crowded the sidewalks. Every few minutes, a person would bump into him due to his short stature.

It was just another long-term side effect from the Haibara had concluded was that he would never be as tall as he was as Shinichi, which was obviously just great. It was good to know that he'd always be short.

Speaking of poison, it had been about three years since Haibara told him that it would be impossible to make an antidote. His body had gotten too used to the temporary cure that it wouldn't do anything to his body anymore, other than cause more damage

Really, he saw it coming with the way she'd been acting.

Five minutes and 47 seconds.

He rounded the corner going south, and the mess of people started to thin out, but it was still fairly packed. Walking for half a block, he stopped in front of a building, walking through the double doors, ignoring the few people that gave him looks. He made his way to the elevator and pressed the button. He stuck something to the wall. The doors opened.

Getting in, he pressed the button for Floor 59, the top floor. He held down the close door button so he wouldn't be stopped at any other floors.

The ride up felt like hours as the second hand ticked on his watch. At some point, his eyes slid closed, and he felt like he was floating.

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open to Floor 59. His eyes snapped open, throwing his mind back to reality. He walked out the doors, ignoring the dizziness he felt.

He checked his watch.

One minute, 06 seconds.

Walking down the open corridor, passing doors andempty rooms and bland blue wallpaper, he reached the end of the hall. Without hesitating, he pushed the double doors open letting them slam against the walls. The large room was empty, the only thing in it was a paneled window that stretched to the ends of the room, looking over the street far below.

Standing in the middle of the room, looking at his watch, he waited.

.

.

.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2—

"Good to see you made it, Cool Guy."

And there she was, walking through the same doors he had.

He turned his head towards her and said, "I was the one who was early." Voice flat, he gripped the strap of the bag, his one eye narrowed, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm referring to the fact that you showed up," she smirked.

Of course he knew that, but he played along. She calmly walked closer to the teen. The detective braced himself,expecting her to attack him.

"Here," she simply said, dropping a memory card in his hand.

"Eh?" Conan blinked, confused.

"Remember the deal we made? This is what you wanted," she said.

He looked up at her, "Y-you're just going to give it to me?"

The blonde crossed her arms, "I stick to my word, don't I?"

There was an awkward silence as he realized she was serious.

Swiftly he pulled his small laptop out and had the memory card in the USB port. He almost smashed the Enter key.

The loading screen came up, and he took a shaky breath as he realized he'd stopped breathing.

He had no time to catch his breath before Vermouth spoked up.

"You have 32 seconds," Vermouth said abruptly.

Ah... there it was, the strings attached.

"But it will take at least five minutes to transfer all the data," he said, staring down at the screen, the light glare off his glasses making his face unreadable.

She was already walking back out of the room.

Stopping at the door, the woman looked back at him, a strange look in her eyes.

"I guess that means you'll have to stay alive for that long," she said.

Something clicked in his head. He laughed, it was broken.

"Ha— I don't know if I should thank you, or hate you," the teen called, but she was already gone.

Looked like he'd have to count down again; he looked at his watch and, for a single second, he waited to regain his bearings.

The question wasn't whether or not he could stay alive; it was whether or not he was prepared to live.

7

6—He grabbed the light weight laptop off the ground, and he powered up his sneakers while he was bent over.

5

4—The detective bolted—using the extra boost from his shoes—from his spot to the doors, crashing through them without slowing down.

There was no sign of Vermouth.

3

2

1—

The building rocked from what felt like an explosion, and the lights flickered. He stopped momentarily as the shock wave passed, and, regaining his footing, he continued running. He didn't bother with the elevator; running past it, he went for the emergency staircase, glancing at the laptop.

Four minutes, 28 seconds.

Dropping his skateboard, he set off down the stairs gripping the laptop against his chest. He jumped down each flight of stairs, pushing off the walls to make the turns, he was glad this buildings stair way was wider then normal. He'd just made it to the 43rd floor when he ran into someone he did not want to see: Vodka.

He flew straight over the man's head. Landing, he pushed off the wall and was down the next set, gone in a second as the Black Organization member gaped.

Shinichi could feel himself sweat. Vodka had definitely seen him, and the only reason he wasn't dead with a bullet in his head was that it wasn't everyday a teenager on a jet-powered skateboard with an open laptop in hand flew down the stairs. He laughed to himself at the strangeness of it all. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he just hoped Vodka hadn't seen too much of his face, and that Gin was far away.

He quickly glanced at the time.

Three minutes and 41 seconds.

Thirty more floors to go. Finally reaching the lobby, he looked again at the time.

One minute, 56 seconds.

He kicked up his skateboard, leaning on the wall. The back exit was a few meters away, a quick dash to the right just beside him. He clicked a tab on the laptop and a screen was pulled up, the little camera he had stuck to the wall by the elevator.

The lobby was seemingly empty, but he could see them from the angle of the camera, two men in black hiding behind pillars. He needed a distraction.

He silently reached for the doorknob, laying low. He opened the door a crack before standing behind the wall and letting the door slowly creak open in the quiet lobby. Looking back at the screen, the men tensed before both emerged from behind the pillars and shot their guns at the door.

Quickly, as they fired off their bullets, Conan took a small round capsule out of his pocket and threw it on the ground in front of the door. It burst open, creating a red puddle that looked like blood.

Living with a Phantom Thief for a while meant he'd picked up a few tricks, but he knew that Kaito would never use something like this. It was too gruesome.

After they stopped firing, one started walking closer. Conan shot his watch as soon as the man looked around the corner. As the man slumped to the ground, he kicked off one of his soccer balls that ricocheted off the wall and out what was left of the door, right into the other man's face. He fell over unconscious.

Having taken care of them, he made for the back exit, looking at the time.

One minute 32 seconds.

Bang!

A shot rang out, and pain blossomed from his shoulder as he staggered to the ground. Wasting no time, he shakily got back up. Making a move to avoid the next shot that just barely grazed his head, he kept a firm hold on the laptop, grip never wavering.

"So you're the one," a voice side.

Conan didn't bother trying to recognize the voice. He threw himself at the exit, and his one eye met the other man's eyes for just a second. The detective felt his blood run cold. The one person who had been standing in a blind spot the whole time, Gin.

He had been too careless.

Smashing though the door, shielding the laptop, he scrambled to get up on the skateboard. He could hear Gin's footsteps coming closer. Barely managing to get on the board, he sped out of the parking lot at full power.

One minute 21 seconds.

He could hear the muffled shots behind him and, sharply cutting a corner, he sped down an alley. He ignored his bleeding shoulder. From the amount he was losing, the bullet probably hadn't hit an artery, so it wasn't an immediate problem. There was a bang behind him. A motorcycle was coming up on him.

'Shit.'

Gin was coming after him.

He swerved around corners trying to stick to empty streets shadowed by skyscrapers so no innocent bystander got hurt. Gin had started firing, trying to shoot him off the skateboard. Conan made sure the laptop was shielded by his body.

Turning a corner, he was suddenly draped in a golden light. The light of the setting sun consumed his whole bodyand, in that one small moment, he was blinded with a sense of melancholy. His throat tightened up, and he couldn't help but turn his head down the alleyway at just the right angle that the sun reflected off the wet ground and onto the walls around him, creating a light mist.

His wrists started to throb as a passing thought flew through his head: Wouldn't this be a nice end for Conan Edogawa...


Stepping off a helicopter a mile away, Vermouth looked at the time on her phone. Moving away from the noise of the blades, she switched over to her contact list and clicked a name. Holding the phone up she waited for the person to pick up, after a few seconds someone did.

"Moshi moshi?"


*Buzzz*

His breath caught in his throat as he snapped out of his daze, gasping like he'd forgotten how to breathe. The light that was blinding him vanished in an instant and the high-pitched noise of his skateboard slowly came back to him.

A shiver went up his spine as he tried to regain his bearings, remember what he was doing and where he was. Facing forward and turning a corner he almost didn't make, hearing two shots that buried themselves into the wall behind him…

He looked at the time.

58 secon

*Buzzz*

Almost losing his balance on the board, he jolted in surprise, his cell phone vibrating against his leg.

'Who?'

Against his better judgment he looked at his phone, flinching from the pain in his shoulder as he moved his arm.

'Ran Mouri' the call display read.

'How did she—?'

He hadn't given her this number. He felt guilt swell up in his chest and throat.

"Oh, Ran," he whispered.

Five months after the cruise, she had come hunting him down. He hadn't bothered to pick up her calls to Shinichi's phone or Conan's.

He didn't know what possessed him to tell her the truth when she asked for answers. It was unnecessary; she had already started moving on. He was probably unconsciously seeking out her warmth.

It was a stupid move a selfish one that should never have happened, but did.

She had walked out, completely silent, and hadn't talked to him for a long time. Truthfully, he was avoiding her too.

He couldn't face her.

He was surprise when she forgave him a couple years later, after one of his incidents. It was strange, their relationship now. There were times when she referred to him as her little brother and times when she would call him Shinichi, even though he told her not to.

He laughed bitterly at the memories. He wondered what would of happen if he had told her from the beginning. Would his relationship with Kaito have been different?

The phone buzzed again in his hand. This obviously wasn't the best time to talk, but he might not get another chance, so he carefully answered it, swallowing his pain from his shoulder back.

"This isn't the best time to talk, Ran." He turned another corner, checking the time.

"You're doing something dangerous right now, aren't you?" she said, sounding worried.

"You could say that." Another sharp corner.

"I swear if you get hurt—"

A bullet grazed his leg, tearing his shorts.

"I'm fine; don't worry."

"You're lying. You said you'd stop lying."

"Sorry, I try," he really does.

"... Kaito wouldn't want this." she said suddenly.

"You don't know that," he kept his voice flat.

"No... But I know you, and if Kaito loved you as much as you loved him, he wouldn't want you doing this, Shinichi..."

He could feel his throat tighten up, like he had swallowed cotton balls.

"...This is who I am, Ran; I'm sorry." he said bittersweetly.

"Don't you dare die, Shini—!"

The phone against his ear smashed into a thousand pieces as a bullet cut right though it and along his cheek. He slowly let his arm fall slack as he glared behind him.

'Impatient bastard.'

He turned sharply down a few different streets, and managed to get some space between him and Gin. Finally he made it to an emptier part of the city with rundown homes and empty warehouses.

17 seconds.

Almost there, he called Jodie on his glasses.

"It's almost done, you'll be getting it any second now," his voice strained from the pain. He'd likely pass out soon.

"Cool Guy, are you hurt?" She yelled.

"I'll be fine; Gin's on my tail though—"

"Where are you?" she demanded, cutting him off.

"Uhh," he quickly checked for any street names, finding none. "I'm by the west side of Tokyo, the rundown area, near the old Heavenly Host elementary scho—"

'Bang'

One of the wheels on his skateboard was smashed, along with some wiring, cutting him off as it suddenly stopped. He flew forward, hitting the ground his glasses flew off his face. He rolled. Lying there, he twitched, trying to get his limbs to move.

The laptop.

He looked around, spotting it a few feet away, open and running. The screen was cracked, but it was still counting down.

7

6

5

4

3

2

1— 'Bang'

A bullet shot through the screen, but it was too late. The files were gone and in the FBI's database now, and that's all that mattered

He won.

A boot was driven into his head, pushing his cheek into the concrete.

"What's your name?" Gin sounded truly pissed off.

Conan's vision started to darken. He wondered if he should tell him, show him that he had won in the end.

He smiled bitterly, just managing to speak.

"Like I'd tell you." The world went dark.

To Be Continued

Edited 3/24/15