Dakka frakka... Wasn't gonna write a sequel, but this hit me upside the head riding home. ~_~ Ysabet, Hauntress, this is ALL your fault.

Pain
by Icka! M. Chif

It was dark. Shadows upon shadows upon shadows. Even the normal fluorescent lights seemed dim, doing nothing to brighten the corridor. It was if the entire place was in mourning, mourning the capture of something beyond this world. Something supernatural. Something that lounged in his cell as if he didn't have a care in the world.

At least at first glance, to those that didn't know him.

I am of the small majority that know him better than that.

It was stupid, stupid luck. I have seen him make similar jumps, and greater jumps on many occasions without mishap. But this one occasion, a small pebble underfoot, a breeze shifting him the wrong way or sheer dumb luck running out on him and he missed.

All he needed to do was grab the bar and pull himself up. The police wouldn't have been able to catch him once he was on the other side of the wall, either him gliding away or disappearing into the crowd like he had done on so many other occasions.

Instead, he had fallen, hitting his head on the way down to earth, into the arms of the police men that broke his fall. For all the trouble that he caused them, they still risked their necks to catch him, and treated him a modicum of respect as they unmasked him and carted him away.

It's been 2 weeks since then. I was in England at the time, curse my poor luck.

And he's still here.

He twitches an eyebrow in my direction, acknowledging my presence. "You don't seem amused." He finally comments, his voice completely neutral, devoid of any irony or amusement.

"I didn't catch you." I reply, my voice as neutral as I can make it. It still falls short.

"Ah." He nods, understanding. Of course. He would understand, more than the officers waiting and watching outside in the halls.

There's a silence. Not merely silence, but a silence. The one that asks more than words can without ever revealing anything. And it's far from comfortable, despite our apparent attitudes.

I break it, clearing my throat un-comfortably. "Aoko's pretty mad."

"We tore each other up pretty well when she stopped by." He comments, icy pain escaping thru his neutral facade. An understatement if I ever heard one. It hurt them both, more than either of them are willing to admit.

At least he saw it coming. Little comfort, really.

"Anything memorable?"

He sits up, shrugging a shoulder. "She told me to go to hell."

"And?"

"I asked her if she'd like fries with that."

I can't help it, I snort in amusement. "Was that the Kid or Kuroba talking?" I ask.

For the first time, he raises his head to look me in the face, a shielded searching look. "You know, I'm not sure." He finally admits, folding a page of the book he was reading down as he sits up. "Little bit of both, I think."

He reminded me of a wounded falcon. Hurting, but still dangerous. I doubted his capture shook up nearly as much as his encounter with Aoko had.

Changing the subject seems wise. I don't like seeing my friends, or rivals hurting. "I didn't think they allowed books in jail."

"They don't." He's vaguely amused at my minor discomfort, but is willing to play along with our happy chappy conversation game. "You never know what a dangerous convict can dream up to do with something as innocent as a book or a staple."

Him dangerous, my as- ...deerstalker. "Especially one they can't seem to keep the cuffs on."

He shrugs. "Set a new record, 29 locks in under half an hour."

"24 minutes, 15 seconds." I correct.

He looks somewhat pleased with himself.

"However, they still can't quite figure out what you're still doing here." I tilt my head. That does seem to be the big question of the moment. With his skills, he should have been able to break out of here within hours of his capture, if he so chose. He wasn't fooling anyone, really. He was here because he wanted to be, and no other reason.

There'd even been some debate on if they should move him to a higher security prison instead of the cell he was currently residing at in the police station, but few were willing to risk him staging a break out during the transfer. If he seemed inclined to stay put, they weren't going to argue much.

And it gave him a place to cool his heels while the debate between several countries over who would get to try him first raged.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, messing up his even messier than usual hair. "We lead such a feverish existence nowadays, it's a good thing to take a rest cure from time to time."

"You've been reading Lupin." I accuse.

He flashes a grin at me. "Figures you'd get that one." He walks up to the bars and holds out the book he'd been reading.

I hesitate and he chuckles.

"I'm not going to trade you places, thieves honour." He assures me, a slightly smug tone to his voice. I'm sure he's noticed how everyone's been sure to stay away from grabbing range, just in case. He does have a reputation for jumping officers and taking their place.

"I thought thieves had no honour." I retort.

"Have you ever known me to be dis-honourable?"

He's got a point. I take the book.

It's Arsène Lupin, written in French. I hadn't realised that he could read French. I flip thru a few pages, noting that several of the pages bear dog-eared marks, and that it is a quite well loved book. I hand it back. "Next you'll be telling me that you don't intend to attend your trial."

"I'm still debating that one." He takes the book and gives me a quick salute with it. "Thanks, they took my other copy." He admits, heading back to his bunk.

"Lupin got captured because of a woman." I point out.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna swear off the female gender." He admits, sounding both amused and hurt. "Except for cross dressing, of course. That comes in handy."

... He would say that.

"So are you planning on sticking around for your trail, or are you going to give the populace something new to chatter about?" I press.

"And what is the illustrious populace saying about the not so elusive Kid now?" He asks, plopping into the bunk with a fraction of his usual careless grace.

"Not much." I shrug. "Your mother's getting pissed and has taken to throwing potatoes at reporters, but is other wise alright. They've yet to find any evidence of you being the Kid at your house."

"They won't." He stretches, sounding confident and almost smug for the first time. Kuroba may have been a wreck, but the force and the will that created the Kid was still in intact. He gives me a wink, a small grin forming. "How is Nakamori-kun doing? Haven't seen him down here since the first night. I keep waiting for him to start screaming at me."

"He's depressed."

"As are you?"

"I'm annoyed."

"Hmm..." He makes a thoughtful sound, not quite a sigh. "It would certainly piss off Nakamori-kun if I escaped, wouldn't it?"

"Undoubtedly."

He nods, clapping his hands together, looking pleased, like he's come to some sort of decision. "No."

"Huh?"

He grins, one of his cocky Kid grins. "I've made up my mind then. I won't be around to see my trail."

That doesn't make sense. "Why not?"

He shrugs. "If Arsène Lupin didn't say around for his trial, why should I?"

"But he did." I point out. "They thought he was someone else and let him go."

"True." He nods. "I shall have to figure out another way to do it then."

He's got me all mixed up now. "You're not going to see your trial simply because you'd rather see Nakamori mad at you than depressed?"

Actually, that does sound like him...

"Yes and no." He rose to his feet, pacing a bit with barely suppressed energy, his indigo eyes alight with ideas. "I haven't finished the whole reason for the Kid's existence."

No one's been able to quite pin point his logic for being the elusive thief. "Which would be?"

He gives me a sly grin, almost calculating. "Find out why my father is dead, and you'll have your answer."

I frown. It was un-like him to give away details about himself. "You're giving a way a lot of information there."

He shrugs fatalistically. "If you catch them before I do, more power to you. The result is the same." He pauses by the small bathroom area, glancing in the polished metal that passed for a mirror. "'I no longer recognise myself in a glass'." He quoted. "And I've been thinking that perhaps, it should be that way."

"Become Arsène Lupin himself?"

"Become Kuroba Kaito." His eyes caught mine in the reflection, and I almost felt like I had been physically hit.

He had 2 distinct yet separate personalities most of the time. The mischievous, almost clown-like Kaito, and the intelligent, calm, almost icy mysterious Kid. What I saw now was the depth of personality behind both of them, a mix of the two.

He turned away from the mirror, breaking the contact. "The Kid's been caught. He's dead, there's nothing more he can do. Kuroba Kaito on the other hand, only a slight handful of people know." He met my gaze again, this time un-diluted by the dull metal of the mirror. "And isn't it better for you to have a goal to strive for?"

The Kid was gone, I realised in that moment. He was a tool, a tool that had lived its purpose and was being discarded as such. And in it's place was something much larger, much craftier, and much more dangerous to try and grasp.

Something that had Kaito's playfulness, the Kid's skills and carried a name whose ties had been cut by those around them.

"You do realise that you'll never be able to go back to having a normal life, right?"

"Perhaps I was never meant for one to begin with." This was said with a fatalistic air.

The problem with putting someone like him in jail was that it gave them time to -think-. A truly dangerous thing indeed, for he had obviously taken the opportunity to do so.

"It is all the better if people are never able to say with certainty: 'There goes Arsène Lupin'." I quoted. "The great thing is that they should say without fear of being mistaken: 'That action was performed by Arsène Lupin'. Is that what you mean?"

"Exactly."

I nodded, my pulse quickening with the thrill of the hunt. "Shall I become Ganimard then?"

He smiled, one full of suppressed amusement. "And on Wednesday next, since I abhor smoking, shall I come and share meal with you at four o'clock?"

"Kuroba Kaito, I shall expect you." A laugh escaped from my throat as I held out my hand. We shook hands like gentlemen agreeing on a deal, then I turned to leave.

I paused a moment, checking to make sure I still had my pocket watch before continuing on, the merry sound of his laughter following me out.

fin.

For those of you un-familiar with the Lupin, he was the original Gentleman Thief, written in the early 20th century (about the same time Holmes was written) in French by Maurice Leblanc.

To most of the Lupin references were from "The exploits of Arsène Lupin".
The 'no longer recognises himself in the looking glass' line is from chapter 1, 'The arrest of Arsène Lupin'
The rest are from chapter 2: 'Arsène Lupin in prison'.

Translations can be found here:

http://gaslight.mtroyal.ab.ca/lupnmenu.htm

-At the end of the chapter 2, he *cough*accidentally*cough* takes Inspector Ganimard's pocket watch, which is why Hakuba double checked to make sure he still had his. ^_^

Of the 2 detectives who follow Lupin, Hakuba is more like Guerchard, who always seems to have a stick up his butt. I much prefer Ganimard, who not only has a sense of humour, but is also on friendly-rival terms with Lupin. (yes my version of Hakuba has been much influenced by Ganimard.)

One of my favourite Lupin lines:
There was no doubt about it: as Ganimard had said, criminals don't warn the people whom they mean to rob.