A/N: yet another fic that was started in 2015/2016 and finished today. i guess i'm on a roll! (hopefully it'll last) now back to real life :'(
oOo
Tropical Land, Shinichi, a million years ago. Ran doesn't need to think to remember that day. To do so would be as ridiculous as asking her to indicate which is her left hand, or to assume that seeing her name written in bubble letters will suddenly render it unreadable (the latter of which might actually be probable, seeing as a certain detective jerk has notoriously ugly handwriting-but back to the point).
If Ran doesn't need to think to remember, Shinichi needs to remember it to exist. It's like that old vaguely fairytale-like saying that someone (Hattori? Mom?) probably force-fed him into believing some time or the other: if one half forgets, the other remembers it for them. But saying that reminds him again that he's assuming they were ever a pair. Or that they could ever be one again.
Recently he's been feeling worse and worse (big surprise), but-"You know what the worst thing is?" he says sullenly, and is somewhat bothered when he realizes that he's more annoyed that he can't reach the TV remote than the fact that his feet don't touch the ground.
Haibara raises an eyebrow.
"It's not even like some holiday's coming up, or like I haven't called-I called her yesterday, for God's sakes. Or it could be that the first few days after a call are particularly bad; that's happened to me before, you know, post-call depression, PTSD, the works. She's not really, say, drifting away. I mean, she's not drifting closer, but she's-she's not drifting anywhere. I-" He cuts off when he realizes, too late (like always), that he's rambling. "Sorry. I don't know what got into me."
"Don't worry," says Haibara, cool as always, and flips another page in her fashion magazine. "It's normal for you to feel this way. You've been subjected to something that is both unfair and illogical, and though you've tried to persuade yourself that you've accepted it in order to overcome it you've realized that if you accept it you'll never win. Hence, the rambling, and the need for a psychiatrist."
Shinichi blinks.
"Go on." She puts the magazine down and motions (albeit rather disinterestedly) for him to continue.
Shinichi appreciates the effort, but Conan says nothing more but a quiet "Thanks," trudging out the door with a heart that alternates light and heavy in his chest. It's at times like these that he really needs to see Ran, guilty or otherwise, and as always he knows that one smile from her will distract him enough to forget about it all, even if it's just for a little while.
oOo
He comes home to the smell of curry (what else? What else is new in this life?) and Kogorou's socks on his futon. "I understand the need for constancy, but this might just drive me insane," he grumbles, brow creased in irritation.
"Conan-kun?"
And just like that, his bad mood evaporates for the half-guilty, half-pleased daze he seems to be entering more and more often around her.
"Want to help me cook?" she laughs, waving a pair of giant chopsticks in his face.
Shinichi's a genius at everything except for two things: love and cooking, and he knows his boundaries very, very well. He's also become better at compartmentalizing, and so the guilt doesn't really taint the schoolboy-like flutter he still feels as she pulls his (tiny) hand and leads them to the kitchen.
...okay, so it's still there, but more like an unwelcome presence than a threat-a hated old whining relative, perhaps, but harmless and self-suffocating. At least for now.
Even Shinichi has to smile at the sight of the small little apron Ran's somehow scrounged out of some old closet, blue strings faded and frayed at the edges. The child-size whisk and mixing bowl; the Kamen Yaiba bowl he knows she must have spent what little she's saved this week on.
"I know this is a little...well, it's something that normally girls are expected to do, but I wouldn't want you to starve. Or live on ramen and Welcome Burger, which is the same thing," she laughs ruefully. I miss this, she doesn't say, but Shinichi knows there's a part of Ran that yearns to be young and free again in the kitchen with her mother, young and without responsibility for a liberty that's spread all too thin.
"No, it's fine," says Conan, voice a bit too thick. "Thank you, Ran-neechan!" He dashes straight over to the Kamen Yaiba bowl and breaks out into a huge grin. "I love it!" I love you.
Ran rolls her eyes good-naturedly and ruffles his hair. "Mou, Conan-kun, that isn't until the last step. We have to actually cook the curry first."
I'll pay you back somehow, thinks Shinichi, and jumps when his phone rings. "Hakase?" he says, somewhat annoyed. Back in the kitchen, Ran's humming as she washes the utensils, like she always does. She shouldn't have to; this is the 21st century, but she's too damn nice and he can't reach the stupid counter and her father (bless his soul) is still such an obtuse jerk sometimes-
"Shinichi-kun. Subaru-san says he has something to discuss with you: he's picked up something, and they may be on the move tonight." He's referring to the precautionary bugs they had placed by chance near several major security firms after one of the FBI's anonymous tips. He should be glad. Dammit, he is glad-except for Ran, who has to look so happy when she's living a second-hand life in a second-rate home while waiting day-in and day-out for two inconsiderate men: one who's always home, and one who never is.
"Tonight? You're sure?" A month ago he probably wouldn't even have hesitated, would have thrown on his shoes without as much as a goodbye, but recently it's all started to seem like an endless sequence of tunnels.
A pause. "Shinichi-kun?" says the professor confusedly, and Shinichi takes one last look at Ran.
"Alright. I'll see you, then." A sigh, then he pushes down his self-loathing. What's one more sin to add to the rest of them? He's got a life sentence anyway.
(Somewhere a tiny part of him suggests that maybe this is why Kid is so lax about committing another heist, then another, then another. God, he hates him-not because he's a criminal, per se, but because he reminds Shinichi that, in many ways, he's a criminal, too.)
"Ran-neechan?" He hesitates. What now, genius? New videogame that excites you so much more than spending time with her? Or, even worse, some Detective Boys playdate that's important enough to take precedence but not important enough to remind you to do her the courtesy of letting her know ahead of time?
"You have to go, don't you," she smiles, and Conan doesn't miss how she doesn't meet his eyes. "It's okay. We can do this some other time, hmm? Go out and have fun."
I have the most fun with you is stuck in his throat. Has always been stuck in his throat, starting from the first time around. I want to stay with you forever lurks somewhere nearby, but that means leaving her right now. (Paradoxes have never disliked interfering in his life.) "I'm sorry, Ran-neechan," he says, willing the tears to go away more out of fear that she'll worry about him than any need to convince her that he cares.
"It's okay," she says, and it's a combination of the fading sunlight outside and the knowledge that she'll be eating that curry alone (on Fridays Kogorou has mahjong all night long) that makes him reach out and give her one last hug.
"Thank you," he says simply. Wills that someday, when she realizes just exactly who's saying it, she'll understand why, then high-tails it out of there before she sees him cry in earnest. Because he doesn't cry. He can't.
oOo
He's halfway there when he realizes that there's one person who could make Ran feel better today, and nearly falls off his skateboard as he swerves to the side. Shinichi should have her number saved-they'd been elementary school classmates, for God's sakes, and she's tried calling him many a time when Ran seemed particularly upset-there. Suzuki Sonoko. "Hey-"
"Why the heck are you calling me when you should be calling your wife? God, I really don't understand what she sees in you-"
All of a sudden Shinichi realizes he hasn't yet thought of a plausible excuse for Shinichi to know that Ran's eating alone today. Dammit, he should have called as Conan-why, oh why did he not bother thinking this through-
"-are you even listening to me? Kudou-kun?!"
"Listen, uh, I heard from the kid-" Great one, Kudou, great one-now she's going to wonder why you talked to Conan and didn't phone her directly. "-that Ran's been kinda down lately. Why don't you take her on some girls' shopping trip or whatever it is you do?"
A pause. "...so you do care."
"Of course," he says indignantly. "I-"
"You're married, right right right. Gosh, you're just embarrassed, aren't you? Worrying over her like some mother hen? I bet you didn't want to let her know-"
"I gotta go," he mumbles, fighting down a flush. He's revising his list of dislikes: it's bad enough that Haibara's almost always right, but he really HATES it on the off chance that the Suzuki girl is.
"Oh, ho, I'm sure Ran would be pleased-"
"I'm hanging up."
"You really-" Click.
Shinichi grins, then does a double-take as he looks at his watch. Shoot. He was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. Oh god oh god oh god. He cruises over the streets and arrives with the expected apologetic air, remembering just in time to wipe the smile from his lips.
oOo
Ran returns bright-eyed and exhausted, dark brown bangs slicked to her forehead, collapsing on the tatami with an assortment of shopping bags that leave red and white stripes on her arms. (Her long, smooth, lean arms, thinks Shinichi, and looks away abruptly, face flushing.)
He's long since returned from the professor's-turns out it was some false wiring with the equipment, but Subaru-san had wanted to share some intel on what he'd deduced about the Org's base anyway-and is quietly mopping the floor, dishes stacked and gleaming with the help of a stepstool that he found tucked away behind the bathroom closet.
"Oh, Conan-kun," she says breathlessly. "Thank you so much-you really don't have to-"
"Sorry for running out on you, Ran-neechan." Again.
"I told you not to worry about it, Conan-kun," she says, kneeling so they're face-to-face and patting his shoulder gently. "You're only a child once, you see, so as long as it's not too late I'm fine if you really want to check out the Professor's new game, or if you want to hang out with your friends-honestly, Shinichi was always the same way-" Her hand stills.
She's beautiful, thinks Shinichi, and in the same thought: I can't look at her.
"Shinichi-" she tries again, eyes shimmering, and has to look away. "Oh, by the way, Conan-kun, Sonoko told me Shinichi called you and-and-"
"He was worried about you," says Conan stiffly.
"Did he say anything about coming back?" she says, eyes darting back and forth in a pretense of nonchalance. "If he hasn't, that's okay-I mean, you probably have more interest in learning his detective skills-"
"He misses you a lot, Ran-neechan, and he says he'll be back as soon as he can. He wants you to be happy."
"Oh." The hand falls from his shoulder. He looks up and suddenly she's crying. "I'm-sorry, Conan-kun, I-oneesan is really happy right now, so don't-" She swallows, then turns to go in. "Thanks for looking out for me, Conan-kun. I know you were worried, too."
Conan smiles. "Oyasumi, Ran-neechan!" he chokes out, and, for the second time that day, rushes away before his mask crumbles.
oOo
Night comes to him in a hazy fog of not-dreams and whispers, punctuated by Kogorou's undisguisable fumbling in the darkness and the putrid stink of alcohol that settles in the room like a second blanket. Of filth. Shinichi remembers when it used to bother him-when actually-seven-years-old Shinichi would dream mock-heroically of taking Ran away from the downward spiral that's plagued her father ever since her parents first started fighting-and wonders now when he accepted it as normal. When he, too, began to see it as a natural consequence: come on, Ran, there's no use in chiding your father; he's just lazy and that's all he'll ever be.
There's a flicker of light seeping in the crack under the door, and Shinichi knows that Ran can't sleep again. This is perhaps the third time in the week, perhaps the fifth time, he doesn't know because they are all the same, because he can never sleep either, not really, because even when he does sleep he sees nothing but hate and desperation threatening to choke him alive. He pads out into the darkness, tiny slippered feet going tap-tap-tap-tap, caught between going to her as Conan or sympathizing with her silently from the shadows (for once, for once, he needs to be Shinichi).
Beep. "I would say I hate you, but that's not true," says Ran, silhouetted against the scant moonlight, one hand curled around the receiver. "I-" Jabs at some button furiously, and the automated voice of Shinichi's answering machine speaks: Delete message? Message deleted.
A long silence, and Shinichi knows she's called him and started the process all over again. It was easy enough for him to figure out what she was up to-hell, he's not a detective for nothing, and the exact same thing had happened with Haibara and her sister last year-but this is Ran, smiling, warm, big-hearted Ran, who's always there for him when he falls, and Shinichi is not dead. Does not, like Akemi, have an excuse for never being around.
Does not, like Akemi, have any excuse for continuing to perpetrate the lie.
The whole not-telling-Ran-to-protect-her is a sham. Shinichi knows this, had realized it months ago, really, when Conan celebrated his eighth birthday. It's the problem with lies: by the time he's realized what he's doing, it means too much for him to stop. He can't break the news to her, for God's sakes-he damn well confessed to her in London, his pride won't allow him to see her fuss over him daily and cry and wear herself out and refuse to speak to him for weeks, months, years. A lifetime.
It's not that he doesn't believe in her, he tells himself, it's that he doesn't trust himself. It's that he doesn't deserve her-never has-and just for once he wants to-
Dammit, Shinichi, you hypocrite, curses Conan, watching Ran cry for the thousandth time that month, and steps out into the light, arms open as Ran smiles shakily and comes over to give him a hug.
She's warm, a comforting presence against his flimsy cartoon pajamas. Biting her lip, Ran tries and fails miserably to look like she's okay. "Mou, Conan-kun-it's past your bedtime," she says, casting a glance at the clock over the TV. 2:28 AM.
It's past yours, too, thinks Shinichi, and just as quickly realizes what it means that she doesn't have one: no one cares. "You can tell me," he says softly, knowing that he's pretty much sealing his death sentence. "Ran-neechan, you're always sad now. I don't want to see you sad." Especially not over Shinichi-niichan.
Ran makes a sort of surprised, choked sound, halfway between a giggle and a gasp. "Conan-kun's growing up! You've gotten so good at reading me, hmm? What would I do without you?"
Of course, you idiot, it's been thirteen years. Although I'm not half as good at reading you as you are at reading me. "What did Shinichi-niichan do this time?"
Ran sighs, and pulls back to look him in the eye. "Nothing. I just miss him."
Oh.
"It's hard to explain. Maybe once you have someone you really like-" Ran pauses, no doubt remembering the first time she'd told Conan about Shinichi. "Well, you just, kind of always want to be with them, or know what they're doing, and see what they see, but no matter how much you hear them talk about it it's just not the same, you know? It's not the same as seeing them there. Or if you-if you used to see them all the time, and now you're suddenly in the same places you've always been together, only they're not there and no one notices-it gets really hard, Conan-kun. I'm sure you miss your okaa-san and otou-san, right, Conan-kun?"
He murmurs something between a yes and a no.
"It's kind of like that. Shinichi was my first real friend, and I was scared to death of losing him because he was so smart. I-"
Shinichi hops off the couch to grab her the box of tissues and distract her, because he knows Ran is about to start going down the wrong path. Is about to re-explore that childhood fear that haunts her greatest nightmares-that she'll never be good enough, that everyone she loves will leave her, that she's destined to be somewhere in between, always waiting, always hoping. "I think Shinichi-niichan knows how much you care about him," he says slowly, knowing that every word he says now will come back to haunt them when the truth's finally out in the open. "He mentions a lot about how much you've done for him-" Great, I'm turning into a romantic sap. "-and I know he really really really wants to come back, and he doesn't want to hurt you, because he really cares, and he appreciates all that you've done. You're very special to him. I would know," he adds slowly, smiling a bit ironically. He's so dead.
Ran's not looking at him by the end of his speech, a trembling hand over her mouth, fighting to hold back the tears again. "Did he-Shinichi said that?" Recognizes the deja vu of this exact situation, these exact words, this scenario that's been played out a hundred different times, but looks at him all the same.
"Yeah. He's said it before, lots of times."
Ran laughs, a sad sort of surrender. "Because I don't see him that often, everything just seems so surreal. Sometimes I feel like I dreamed it-" And you need me to repeat it to remember, thinks Shinichi. "-and speaking of dreams, you should be in bed, Conan-kun. Ayumi-chan told me you have a kanji test tomorrow?"
"Oh, I completely forgot!" As if I could screw up writing 'cow' or 'sea' or 'feather.' "Ran-neechan, you should go to sleep, too."
"If Conan-kun tells me to, how can I not?" Ran gives him one last squeeze, and leads him back to Kogorou's bedroom door. "Thanks for listening to me, Conan-kun. I just tend to get emotional at night, that's all-you don't need to worry, okay?"
"Tell me next time," says Shinichi-says Conan. I don't like it when you're alone. You told me not to leave you alone. Damn the repercussions.
"Alright," says Ran. "Well, I'm sure Shinichi will be back soon anyway. Nothing can ever keep him for long."
"But you still miss him."
"Not as much, now that I have you," says Ran, leaning down to give him a quick good-night kiss on the cheek, and melts away into the corridor. "Oyasumi, Conan-kun!"
Oh, God, thinks Shinichi-he's never going to be able to make it up to her. He's dug his own grave, is only making it deeper, because he's long lost track of which way is up. He misses Shinichi-niichan too, arguably even more than Ran. "Misses" seems too light a word.
But words have never been enough.
oOo
"Haibara."
"Yes, Mr. Degenerating Detective?"
"What even-"
"I don't have a new antidote for you."
Shinichi's heart falls, even though he wasn't expecting anything, really. "I wasn't going to ask."
"If you say so." She yawns, padding into the kitchen to make herself more coffee.
"Why shouldn't I tell her?"
Haibara freezes, one hand halfway to the mug that is somehow inconveniently placed on the top shelf. "...Kudou-kun. What's with you?"
"I don't get it," Conan–Shinichi–Conan says, taking off his glasses, barely retaining enough energy to not slam them down on the counter and break them. Agasa made these for him. They're not a sign of his curse. It would be unfair to take out his frustration on them-who is he kidding, they are a sign of his curse. "Can't we tell her to be inconspicuous? We risk our lives every time Subaru-san calls us over, every time we go to check out whatever place some international police organization is staking out this time."
Haibara doesn't answer, turning to face him with her arms crossed, lips pressed so tight they're bloodless.
"What if I die tomorrow? What if she dies tomorrow? What's the use, then?" Shinichi presses the heel of one hand into his forehead, fighting off yet another migraine. "What if we're slated to die in a month, or something? Wouldn't it be better to just–stop lying?"
"Never took you to be someone to believe in fate," Haibara says finally, coffee forgotten.
"Yeah, well," Shinichi says, voice hollow now. "I don't know when I stopped believing I could change mine."
Maybe in the earlier months it wouldn't have been so bad. Maybe if he could afford to be more optimistic. Maybe if he didn't get so worked up over some new lead, only to have it fizzle out before his eyes like old-time fireworks on a rainy night. He can't take it anymore, the rush and the fall, the ecstasy and despair.
"You know the boss's name now," Haibara says, probably trying to show him how far he's come, but it only makes him round on her, furious.
"You knew it from the beginning. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I-"
"Don't give me any of that bullshit," Shinichi says, not bothering to keep his voice down, and now Agasa will definitely wake up, but he doesn't care. "Knowledge putting me in danger? Getting myself and everyone around me killed? I keep on poking my head into their business–have been since Day 1 of Edogawa Conan. That would've put everyone around me in danger no matter what."
"So you're desperate to run off and tell her everything now," Haibara says, a trace of hurt passing over her eyes before it's sealed behind coldness yet again. "If we're all going to be killed anyway, how does knowing make it any better?"
"How does–maybe it'd at least give her a chance to fight." With me. "Maybe we could spend more time saying goodbye than explaining why and apologizing. Maybe, if I can't protect her, she'll at least die knowing why." It says something about his mental state that he's even mentioning Ran's death, hypothetical as it is. He's always told himself he wouldn't let it happen.
Now, he knows that he can try all he wants, but that doesn't mean he'll get what he wants.
"Shinichi?" Agasa is saying, rubbing blearily at his eyes while Shinichi and Haibara–Shiho–stare each other down. Something tells Shinichi that once he leaves he will never be friends with her again.
"When did Subaru-san say we should meet up again next?" he says. He hates how his voice is so childish. He hates how he can never make any scene have the gravity it deserves, trapped as he is.
"...I'm not sure," Agasa returns hesitantly. "We could ask him again? He seems to be busy recently."
"I'm telling Ran," Shinichi says, watching as Agasa gapes. "I'll make sure no one's listening in. But I'm not changing my mind."
He walks out before either of them say anything back.
oOo
"Hey, Meitantei, I can't say I'm exactly thrilled to be spending time with you while I'm off-duty-"
"This is the place," Shinichi says brusquely, watching as Kid takes in the layer of dust over all of Shinichi's belongings. Subaru-san–Akai-san–had tidied up the common areas. Shinichi's room, though, remains untouched, a time capsule of things he'd taken for granted, an endless reproach of his arrogant naivete.
"I guess you had slightly better fashion taste when you were-" Kid starts to say, wincing as Conan kicks him in the shin.
DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT! he types out furiously on his phone, thrusting the screen in the irritating thief's face. Just check this room. Is it safe?
Kid raises an eyebrow, as if questioning his sanity, but acquiesces, pulling out various gadgets and getting to work. Some of the devices Shinichi recognizes; some of them he doesn't. Either way he's sure that if Akai, Agasa, and Kid all deem his room to be free of any bugs, it should be safe enough to talk in.
Shinichi hasn't lost his senses–if the organization were to bug any room, it would be his. Even if three experts pronounce it safe, he'd still be better off explaining somewhere else. But he's so tired of running a marathon when he really hadn't set out to run off anywhere at all. He needs to be here to remember who he is, to fight inevitability and not just slink away into the shadows, complacent in the knowledge that the chances of Ran getting killed are a lot slimmer if Conan doesn't go around causing trouble.
"You're good," Kid says finally. Waves a hand, and he's just another teenager in nondescript dark clothing, hands in his pockets. "So? Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?"
"Ha," Shinichi says. "No, but thank you."
Kid splutters. "Wait, I thought–you don't have something to tell me? About why you're small? Or what you want me to do?"
"No," Shinichi says, then grins. "Figures you'd assume everything was about you."
"But you-"
"Unless you're volunteering yourself to help?"
Kid scowls. "You owe me. And now you owe me even more."
"Well, are you going to tell me why you steal?"
"Stop it with the non-sequiturs," Kid says, clearly annoyed that Shinichi had just used him for his skills. A trace of the teenager Shinichi suspects him to be has begun to bleed out from around the facade of the infamous thief, but Shinichi isn't focused on that tonight.
"I have other priorities right now," Shinichi says, straightening. "You can let me know if you're interested in helping."
Then, he turns and calmly walks out of the room, out of the house, leaving a very startled kaitou behind.
oOo
In the end, Ran's reaction is much more subdued than he'd thought. When he says as much, she looks at him–looks through him. "'If you eliminate the impossible,'" she starts to say, quoting him. Whatever remains, however improbable, is the truth.
"I understand if you hate me," he tries, but even that doesn't garner a response.
"I don't hate you," she says, closing her eyes. "I'm disappointed in you."
Shinichi swallows. Knowing how she feels doesn't make this any easier, but at least he can stop thinking about it now.
"For someone so insistent upon the truth," Ran says, "you sure spent a long time living a lie." Making me live a lie goes unsaid.
Many other things go unsaid. Shinichi doesn't explain that he was scared, that he's tired, that it's breaking him. Ran doesn't argue that he should've told her sooner, or thank him for doing it now and not while one or both of them is bleeding out. Maybe they'll be okay in the future, but nothing will ever erase the fact that he was ready to deny her the right to live in reality. Would have made her live the same lie he's living, up until the very end, if not for the overwhelming guilt at having to witness her breakdowns.
"You were right," Shinichi says, hanging his head. "I was too arrogant for my own good."
"Was," Ran agrees. "But you're different now."
"Am I?"
"You've grown up, I think," Ran says, and eight-year-old Edogawa Conan, who'd never been expecting to hear that, starts to cry for the first time.
oOo
