You'll Never Know

Written: September 2004

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

Author's note: The best part about writing this, besides pretending I was working in class, was picking out everyone's Christmas presents.

Dedication: To my big sister Puddle. She loves Christmas and winter more than anyone will ever know. Or care to hear about.

You'll Never Know

By Pedal

Every so often I trotted. Eventually, I'd just fall into the same slow stride, snapped to attention by another gust of frozen air. I was still only halfway home, and it was hard to tell the difference between ten minutes and three hours when it's that cold. And maybe when you're in love. Either amount of time seems like forever, standing, waiting, needing to see him. Then the house lit up, and I ran. My heart took a jump and must've escaped to go ahead of me. I couldn't have been very fast, due to the fact my body was chilled and as mobile as hard clay. As well as running at my greatest possible speed, given the situation, I ran as gracefully as possible, which involved stumbling and zigzagging along his walk. It didn't matter, though. As long as I got to him.

When I stumbled right into his house, the warmth of it, if only for a second, felt like his arms around me. I could even smell him. It wasn't much warmer compared to outside than five or ten degrees, but it warmed me more than what could've been possible. Then the lights had to go out.

Maybe he was trying to ease the pain of having to go away again by making it dark. Maybe he was being his weird, annoying self. As soon as his hand touched mine, though, I could tell he'd be leaving again, right away. Just like always. I wished he could've really held me in his arms.

I hated it. I hated this new routine that we had fallen helplessly into. He called when I could never get a hold of him. I saw him more rarely than that, but I never really saw him. Were we ever going to see each other again? How much longer was he going to make me wait for him? How much longer would this stupid case steal him from me?

Then there was Conan, all of a sudden. He was always there, always reminding me of Shinichi. Reminding me that, no matter how badly I wanted him back, he couldn't be with me. It was a horrible thing to say, but I looked at Conan and wanted to cry because sometimes all he was was Shinichi not being there. I didn't understand it, and the only reasoning I could solidly uphold was that Conan was supposed to be my little guardian angel while Shinichi was gone.

Then that's why I started running again after slowing down. I played with my hands the whole way home, admiring the mittens Shinichi had given me for Christmas and attempting in the least to make my hands a decent temperature. I kept remembering my little guardian at home and ran for him, but then I fell back into a long, complicated train of thought that focused on only Shinichi, making me drop into a slow, painful walk. I couldn't exactly afford to get any colder than I had, and I couldn't help but notice that Shinichi was the one who let me. Conan finally overtook my thoughts and quickly urged me the rest of the way home, the exercise warming me a bit more before entering our apartment.

Besides Conan's blatant absence, I was relieved to see the office empty. If it hadn't been for the blaring TV in Dad's bedroom, I might've panicked. At least he was home and in bed. Sneaking into his room, I turned the little TV off, which was a news report on Kimura Tatsuya's death, along with the one lamp that sat on the nightstand. After failing to pull the blanket out from underneath him, I retreated to a closet to get another one. I draped it over him and shut the bedroom's door upon leaving, but not before kissing his cheek. As I shuffled backwards into the office, I whispered, "Goodnight, Daddy."

"Conan-kun?" I asked the apartment loudly, knowing that Dad was passed out for the night and not caring if he did wake up. When I found Conan's room empty, my heart made that jump again, with the exception of worry rather than enthusiasm. "Conan-kun!" Padding quickly to the window, I slammed my hip on Dad's desk, causing me to stop and curl slightly in pain. As I straightened up, I became aware of three badly wrapped packages sitting on the desk, replacing the usual of take out boxes and beer cans.

All I recall thinking right then was, 'Dad actually remembered Christmas!' Really every year after he and Mom got divorced, he did, but I always got more and more doubtful that one year, it would slip his mind.

Two of the packages were shapeless and each the size of soccer balls, and the other a small box or book. In front of them, there was a legal pad with two notes scribbled lazily. The first one was from Conan, who most likely prodded Dad to participate in the holiday:

Ran-neechan,

I'm at Dr. Agasa's tonight. Shinichi-niichan took me there after the Karaoke bar.

Thank you so much for everything. Have the best Christmas ever!

Conan

The handwriting was almost neat, but forced. Like if someone who usually wrote in all capital letters tried lowercase. Then I shook my head, reminding myself that this was just little Conan, not anyone older. Every kid had suspiciously neat handwriting just before they broke off to develop his or her own style.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself after knowing Conan was safe, I read Dad's note, which was less hasty:

Sweetie,

Hope you had fun with your little boyfriend, Kudou. It's been a couple hours since you came back from the karaoke murder, but I trust you to be back home and read this before the sun's up. And as you can see, the brat's off our hands and with his own family for the night. Merry Christmas, Hon.

Love, Dad

My eyes stung as I read the second note. The lighting was indeed poor, but I had to blink back tears at the first two sentences. The only time I actually got to see, if that's what it can be called, Shinichi was the five minutes before I was on my way home. The couple hours Dad mentioned, plus one more, were spent waiting.

Smiling and pushing some hair behind my still frozen ear, I read the tags on the presents. All three were for me, but only two were from Dad. One of the lumpy ones didn't say who it was from, so I guessed Conan, but he would've written so.

I unwrapped the small rectangular package first, peeling the tape neatly so I wouldn't make any excess noise or mess. Out slid a VHS tape of an old movie Dad and I loved. I bit my lip in anticipation, reaching for Dad's other gift. It was much noisier, so I freed the little captive as quickly as possible. Large sky blue eyes stared up at me over a little plastic pink nose. Giggling silently, I hugged the stuffed animal to me, feeling a thousand times better. The toy took the size and shape of a cat. Its feet and belly were full of beans, making it limp, and its white fur and cotton stuffed head and back made it all wonderfully soft.

Finally, I opened the last present after setting down the cat. A scarf unrolled in my hands after I pulled it out. I couldn't tell if it was hand-knit or store-bought, the craftsmanship was so excellent. It matched my skirt in color, a rich deep red. It was much thicker than the green one I had been wearing that night and even softer than the cat. I held it to my face to feel it, and it smelled freshly washed, not stale, like if it had been bought. When I pictured Shinichi in my head with a pair of knitting needles, I laughed noiselessly.

A yawn caught me, and I almost collapsed. Shinichi's phantom hand warmed mine when I raised it to my mouth to yawn. My face and ears went hot, dramatically heating my cold skin. The only time before that that our hands touched was at the theme park, on the roller coaster. Well, touched like that, anyway.

Making sure I set Shinichi's, Dad's, and Conan's presents from me out on the desk, I went to my room. They weren't wrapped, but stuffed into an oversized department store shopping bag. They'd know which present was each theirs.

For Shinichi, there was a teddy bear dressed like Sherlock Holmes, cloak and all. A tiny plastic magnifying glass was stitched to its paw as well. I knew he might never get it, but I forgot it in the bag when I left it out.

Dad's was a two-disc CD of his favorite pop star. It was the same concert recording of the tour Yoko was on when he solved her case. Just before we bid her farewell, her manager gave me the CD, so I kept it to myself until the next gift-giving occasion.

I got a three-inch thick comic book for Conan. He always read them after we returned from a case if he didn't go straight to bed, so I figured he could use some more. Every little boy needed plenty of comics. Not that he wouldn't like the comics, but Conan wasn't really like every other little boy.

After taking the cat with me into my room, I went to bed. I fell asleep within ten minutes, but made sure to pull a blanket over myself. I was still wearing my turtleneck, stockings, and skirt from the party. The stuffed cat was in my arms as I drifted off, and I hoped that somehow, the teddy bear would be gone in the morning.

I dreamt about Shinichi. Of course I did; what did you expect? I dreamt he died.

"I'm so sorry, Ran. I never meant for it to go this way. I did the best I could. I'm sorry," he said. And he was sorry over and over. "I love you," he told me, trying not to die.

Everything was dark. We were on the grass next to a building. I found him laying there, but he was hurt, bleeding all over. There were no visible wounds. His ears and his eyes bled, like he was crying. Shinichi never cried. His eyes were tired and scared and his skin was dark below them. Those bold, clear blue eyes struggled to stay open, but they finally became lost. I was holding him the whole time, and my heart stopped simply from the pain of losing him.

The obnoxious scraping of a chair along the floor of the office booted me into consciousness the following day. The sun was barely up, so I opted to fall back asleep, but then I heard something that no matter what, I'd never be able to ignore.

"Hello, Inspector Megure? This is Kudou Shinichi."

A strong, dizzying pain in my chest snapped me awake. His voice was rushed, but still very casual. I could tell he was on the phone. "Shinichi," I said as loudly as I could with my sudden loss of breath.

"Hey, Inspector, I just wanted to make sure that I wouldn't be mentioned in any reports of this case... Yeah..."

As soon as I pretty much tripped out of my bed, I attempted to open my bedroom door. It wouldn't budge. The chair! "Shinichi!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, pounding just hard enough to not break the door.

"Huh? No, that was Ran. I'm at her place... I was told that I needed to receive a Christmas present... Of course not!... No, I wish." It was obvious he was smiling, grinning like an idiot. The tone with which he spoke was practically just a laugh. "We're just friends."

Just friends? Okay, he was going to get it. "Shinichi! Let me out! You knew I wouldn't bust my own door! Shinichi!" I tried to sound as angry as I could to cover the shakiness of my voice. Maybe I'd actually get to see him.

"Alright, thanks again!" The phone clacked smoothly as it was set back on the cradle. Footsteps. "Not so loud, Ran. It's only seven-thirty. Your dad's still asleep." I jumped. I wasn't expecting him to be that close to me.

"You know for a fact that a stampede of elephants couldn't wake Dad up at this hour!" I screamed, then cringed.

No, my head was screaming back, you can't keep doing this. My temper died, and I grew quiet, hoping he'd only get closer to the door. "Shinichi, please." My voice weakened and broke even more. "Am I ever going to see you?"

I never fell apart this quickly. My heart beat sickly, making my head feel compressed. I saw stars and had to try not to fall back asleep. His response sounded a little surprised. The most difficult thing in the world was to surprise him. "Ran, please don't--"

Conan's voice cut him off, surprising myself. Why did it surprise me so much? He had to be the one to tell Shinichi to come get his present. "Why can't she come out?" asked Conan innocently.

Shinichi sighed, telling him, "It'll just be more difficult for us to say goodbye again." Just like the night before. I scratched the door as I put my hands into fists again. My forehead rested above them.

The silence then was so great I could just about hear Conan blinking in confusion. "Oh... Okay. She's already really sad, though," he answered.

"Conan-kun's right, Shinichi. It hurts so much already," I said as harshly as possible, fighting tears.

Conan's voice was suddenly worried. "Are you hurt, Ran-neechan?"

"If people are sad enough, they hurt inside," came Shinichi's melancholy explanation. Right then, I could practically see Shinichi kneeling down to Conan. In a stage whisper, he told him, "I'm also a coward. I can't stand to see her cry."

By now, I was fisting away my tears before they had a chance to fall. I was dizzy and hot. When I glanced over to my mirror for just a second, my ears were bright red, but my face was as white as the stuffed cat. That was probably because I needed to be sick; I might have been if I had eaten anything recently. My chest's insides were whirling sporadically, my heart bustling about on its own again, with no pattern, upsetting its neighbors. "Then just talk, Shinichi. Let me hear your voice. Please, you can talk about Sherlock Holmes, anything. Anything just as long as I can listen to you. As long as you're so close."

"That reminds me, Ran. That bear was a good joke--it's really cute. Thanks." Then he was quiet again.

I forced a smile upon myself. "Yeah, and thank you for the gloves. They're perfect." Silence.

Just as I opened my mouth to make him say something, Conan prompted Shinichi, "Sing a song for her."

Coughing slightly, I choked out something halfway between a chuckle and a sob. Shinichi and I both countered Conan at the same that Shinichi was tone deaf.

Conan's laugh that followed sounded strained, as if he was being given a dirty look. "Alright," said Shinichi; then louder, "Just tell me to stop when your ears start to bleed." Then the chair rattled, as if one of the boys had shuttered against it. My insides cramped together more.

Sobbing and laughing again, I nodded, pushing a response out, "Mm-hmm." After kneeling carefully on the floor, I slumped with my side against the door, closing my eyes.

"Sunshine," Shinichi croaked out, and I could suddenly tell, feel, how much he hurt. "You are my sunshine."

I shook my sleeves over my knuckles and held them to my eyes to soak up my tears. "You make me happy." Rather than his voice cracking, he reached a falsetto. I swore I heard a buzzing every time he went high, too. "When skies are gray." My mouth opened and closed absently, following silently with his words.

A couple more knocks, soft ones that were farther away and probably on the other side of the room came from the chair. On the other side of the room, where his voice was going. "You'll never know, dear--"

"How much I love you," I quietly sang and stood when I didn't hear Shinichi's voice any longer. I leaned against the door to keep my lightheadedness from getting me, whispering, "Please don't take my sunshine away."

"Wait!" shouted Conan, away from the door as well, nearly cutting me off.

This time, when I tried the knob, I succeeded and simply stared as everything around me slowed. The snow blowing in, circling me and Conan. His eyes were wet and his cheeks rosy, probably still red from his walk home from Doctor Agasa's. The wide open window that he was next to, kneeling on a chair to see was what I made a dash for, each step taking forever.

"Shinichi!" I cried, throwing myself halfway out the building. Little hands grabbed one of my wrists, holding me in. There were too many footprints in the snow to tell where he had gone. My chest kept hurting, getting worse as I realized he was gone again. "Shinichi!" No one was outside. It was the day after Christmas, and the only people crazy enough to wake up so early at all were Dr. Agasa and Shinichi, and Conan was stuck in the middle.

His huge, bold eyes glistened, nearly dripping with apprehension. "I don't want you to be sad anymore, Ran-neechan."

My chest swelled.

And I cried out, taking my little angel into my arms. I sat down in Dad's desk chair, holding Conan to me while he wriggled into a more comfortable position on my lap. He faced the desk while I sat perpendicular to it. Finally, he laid his head on my chest with an arm back around the side of my waist and thumbed his glasses down so the corners wouldn't poke me. "Do you like your present?" he queried, pointing to the big red scarf draped over the computer. "I made it myself," he said proudly and then put in quickly, "My mom taught me how to knit before I can remember."

"I love it, thank you." Then I remembered something that I always thought was so silly. "Shinichi used to knit. He only learned how to a couple weeks before he went away. He was terrible at it. Whenever we went anywhere, he'd have a ball of yarn and needles, always making something." We both laughed gently. "One time we went to see a movie, but they wouldn't let him in because he had the knitting needles sticking out of the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Every time I asked him why he wanted to knit, he said it was something seemingly random and pointless that Sherlock Holmes would do. So really it was only making him more eccentric," I finished, running my hands through Conan's hair. As an afterthought, I added, "You're much better than him, though. I thought you had bought it at first."

His face was red again, and he buried it just below my neck to hide. He gripped a little handful of shirt from my sleeve as he did. It was like he wanted to disappear into to me. Pulling him closer still, I laid my cheek on his head and asked, "Do you like your present?" His head moved up and down in a nod, but he didn't say anything.

Conan yawned, and I yawned. I fell back asleep, which I was pretty sure he did too, and we slept the rest of the morning, keeping each other warm. Just having him there made me feel whole, if only for the time that he was curled up in me. Maybe I'd be able to survive a little longer while Shinichi was away. Conan would make sure of that.

Dad, like me, was wearing the same clothes he had been the day before. He slowly entered the room as we woke, muttering the most polite good morning he could muster. "Why is it so cold out here," he demanded groggily, setting his warm hands firmly on my shoulders. It was, actually, freezing, I only realized then and placidly watched Conan shut the window.

My eyes drifted shut again, focusing on how good Dad's hands felt, now moving up and down my arms to warm them. Shinichi smiled at me under my eyelids, face red from embarrassment as he sang, "You'll never know dear, how much I love you..."

"Oh no!" Conan burst out, yanking me from my daze, "Shinichi-niichan left the bear you gave him here!" Sure enough, the teddy bear sat neatly on the desk, surrounded by tissue paper, a comic book, and a red bowtie.