Chapter 22

Summer Heat

"Ai-chan!" Ayumi called out to the auburn-haired girl. The children ran ahead towards the field. The blazing sun beating furiously above them. An idyllic scene of white fluffy clouds passing by in an azure sky. Around them, crickets sang the melodies of their last day in the feverish heat of summer.

It has been weeks since the Black Organization was first exposed, and in those weeks, Haibara Ai was released from the hospital. Shinichi stands beside her. Donning a red halter top, she wore a white long-sleeved blouse over it. The sleeves covered the scar on her left wrist. Even though the doctors had stitched it up the best they could, it would leave a mark. Shinichi observed her as she peered up into the endless sky, hand protecting her green eyes from the scorching sun.

The tedium of waiting bore down on both of them. The past still haunts her. The nightmares did not disappear easily and surfaced late at night. Not wanting to leave her alone, he had moved into the professor's house. And, after much persuasion on his end, she reluctantly agreed. It was a step forward in their awkward relationship.

Haibara had not answered him, and he did not press. She needed time. And spending time with the children would give her a chance to heal. Ran had recommended it, and now they were strolling through the neighborhood park leisurely at their own pace.

"You alright?" he asked when she lagged behind, offering his hands to her. Her skin glistened with sweat, auburn hair glowing golden from the sun, cheeks flushed from the heat.

"I'm fine, Edogawa-kun," she walks toward him. He was once again struck by her beauty.

"Really? You've been walking rather slowly."

"It's hot," she sighed, "the sun is blazing. No one in their right mind would go out for a walk. Except for well, children and a man child who forced me out to play soccer in this abhorrent heat."

"Man…child…"

"What are you guys talking about!" Genta appears behind them, holding a couple of packets of ice cream. He was grinning widely as he handed some to Shinichi, who accepted it gratefully.

"What's a man child?" Ayumi peeled away the wrapper and sucked on the ice popsicle she had bought.

"You two better not be plotting something again," Mitsuhiko glared at the both of them with suspicious eyes. "Cause the last time you did, Haibara-san went missing for days."

"I told you she had a cold and was in the hospital," Shinichi snapped at the grinning children.

"We know," they chimed, "We're just messing with you."

"Come on, Ai-chan! We've got something to show you."

With her hands raised in defeat, the girl was pulled along by the younger girl.

After the news bombardment and arrest of some highly respected politicians, scientists and researchers, the organization was thrown astray. Gin and Vodka disappeared almost immediately. Vermouth's movies were taken off the shelves. Rum had also disappeared. As part of the FBI's efforts to search for them to gain information on the key figures shrouded in mystery, their faces were released to the public.

The public was riveted, learning of unsolved murders, mysteries of burnt houses, and families wiped out, painting a disturbing portrait of terror that penetrated and destroyed the very fabric of the modern world they lived in. Whether it was torture, human trafficking, assassinations, drug trafficking, or corruption, the black organization had done them all. The crimes were so deep that it took the FBI several weeks to sift out the information and make the connections. A hideout was found after an undercover agent was murdered by Gin. The man became increasingly unhinged, showing his face and location for the first time.

The event happened hours ago, and now Haibara was dragged solemnly through the park by the pesky children who had noticed her moody demeanor. Shinichi sniggered when he saw the flower crown on the shrunken scientist's head. She had her arms folded as the boys chuckled in glee. Ayumi gave her another flower crown, and the girl failed miserably to deny her.

"Conan-kun, what are you doing? Get over here. Let's take a picture!" Ayumi shouted, and he was pulled over by the energetic child. Their phones out, taking group selfies as they joked, falling into the usual childish conversations of parents, school, and friends.

Shinichi sat beside Haibara on the grass later on, observing the children as they played in the wide field. Sifting through the clovers, Ayumi reaches for them. Mitsuhiko joins her. Genta with a net out, trying to catch the butterflies flying about. Haibara looked at them, chin resting on knees brought close to her chest, arms wrapped around. A small and hesitant smile on her lips.

"You look good," he teased, admiring the flower crown in her hair, and Haibara snorted.

"Ara, I always look good, Kudou-kun," she started, and Shinichi frowned when she dumped the other crown Ayumi had made on his head. She smirked.

"Unlike you, great detective-san."

Shinichi grabbed her hand before she could pull away, holding her hands in his, and watched in glee at her bewildered expression. Her face rested in a stoic half-frown, as he intertwined his fingers in hers, resting them by their sides.

It was hot out, the summer sun blazing, and yet, Haibara's hands were icy cold. She still lacked energy, her eyes sometimes staring listlessly at something he could not see, someone far away.

"Kudou-kun, let me go," she tried to pull her hands away. "The children are-"

Shinichi leaned in, resting his head on her shoulders, and she tensed. "Let me rest here for a minute," he whispered. Haibara smelt good, like jasmine flowers, her auburn hair flowing effortlessly in the gentle breeze. Her hands warmed up slightly under his grip. A blissful peace passed over him.

He heard her sigh and was waiting for her to do the usual, to shove him off. Shinichi had only wanted to lay there for a moment. But she surprised him. Haibara had leaned on him, a somber smile plastered on her lips.

"Will this truly last, Kudou," she whispered.

"Haibara?"

And she pushed him back, releasing him.

"Oi, Haibara," Shinichi winced when he heard the children screaming.

"What are you doing!" Mitsuhiko shouted,

"Were you holding hands!" Ayumi demanded.

He groaned as the children bombarded him with questions.

Help me. He mouthed to Haibara. The girl shrugged.

Deal with it. Idiot.

She was annoyed. It was evident from the way her eyebrows were furrowed together. And the way she walked. A slouched back, hands in the pockets of her Denim jeans, and lips forming a thin line. Her long white sleeve blouse cuffs were a little singed as she festered.

"Come on, Haibara," he tried to placate her and winced when she eyed him with a pointed glare. "Hakase is probably reflecting on what he did."

He shifted awkwardly.

"I'm sure he's thinking about it," she responded. "It's not the first time we've had to do last-minute shopping."

Shinichi paused, running his fingers along the back of his head. Haibara was right. There was nothing he could do to help the old man. The professor had done it again. With one of his many innovative inventions, he burned half of the food in the pantry. In the absence of a fire extinguisher, Haibara had used one of her many books to extinguish the fire. The hectic situation, coupled with the professor's nervous laughing, earned him an ear shelling. Now the old man stood pouting in the kitchen he had to scrub clean.

"It's done. We can't undo it now," Shinichi caught up to her, and she let out a long sigh.

"A toddler," she replied, "I have two giant toddlers to look after."

"Hey," Shinichi protested, "What did I do?"

"Ara, do you remember when you decided to mix the white linen with colored sheets?" Haibara holds out her hand to count with her fingers, "or the time you threw the bills in the trash?"

"That was because I was thinking about a case!"

"Or the time when you handed me sugar instead of salt..."

"They look the same!"

"Or the time you hung laundry...without clips."

"That seems like a small matter, doesn't it?"

Her eyebrows were raised, and he pouted.

"How could I have known the wind would blow them away?"

"As I said," she taunted, "To-dd-ler."

"Okay," Shinichi snapped, and she smirked. Since living with her, he had been helping her with the chores. Though it would seem that he was more of a bother.

How was he supposed to know that scrubbing a non-stick pan with a metal scrubber would ruin it...or that using four caps of liquid detergent would result in a bubble explosion? He could still remember the disaster that occurred two weeks ago. Haibara had to wade through an overflowing washing machine to retrieve their clothing. Shinichi sighed. Well, she has a point. Household chores did confuse him, and all he could do was deal with the aftermath of his actions.

Unlike him, Haibara knew how to run a household efficiently. Besides cooking and cleaning, she also did laundry with the speed of a seasoned housewife. Shinichi was, of course, suitably impressed. Considering the condition of the professor's house since she arrived, it should come as no surprise.

"Where did you learn how to cook? Does the organization offer cooking classes as well?" Shinichi joked.

The hurt vanished as soon as he noticed it, replaced by a small, twisted smile that revealed nothing.

"Aperol," she replied cryptically, and he paused. Italian Wine? He watches as she walks. It was evident that she was trying. Slowly sharing snippets of her past. It was difficult for her. The girl often fails to form coherent words when asked. Ran had tried, in vain, and Haibara was always apprehensive when he questioned. However, he would never push. Shinichi was still afraid. The scar on her wrist was a faint reminder of what could happen.

"Come on, Kudou-kun," Haibara snaps him back to reality. "Or dinner will be at midnight."

He grimaced as he followed her into the supermarket.

It was raining. Of course, it had to be raining. They ran, their feet splashing in the puddles forming on the concrete ground. Heat from the burning summer sun turns humid and wet. Heavy droplets pelted down and soaked their clothes. Rain bounced off the blue hydrangeas as they passed the park.

Following a shortcut, they finally reached the professor's house. It was dark, and the shrunken teenagers stood in the foyer for a moment. Wet and miserable in their clothes as a torrential storm raged outside.

"Well, this is great," he remarked.

"Who was it that promised to bring the umbrella?" Haibara inquired.

"Look, I was preoccupied," and the wet paper bag holding the groceries ripped apart. As the contents spilled on the floor, Haibara sighed. "Admit it, Kudou," she grumbled, "you are a scatterbrain."

"I am not," Shinichi reached for the light switch with wet hands.

Haibara slaps his hand away from it. "I rest my case," she glares at him.

"What?"

"Had they not taught you how to handle electrical appliances in elementary school?" she asked as if talking to a child.

"It's fine. Most modern light switches are made of plastic. As far as I am concerned, plastic does not conduct electricity."

"I guess you'll be added to the statistic then," Haibara deadpans, "About 200 people are electrocuted in their homes each year. That's about four each week. The beauty of modern light switches, am I right?"

Defeated, he raised his hands. "Fine, I get it," Shinichi said before studying her for a moment. He smiles slyly, and she frowns at him in irritation.

"What?" she snapped as he bent over to grab the groceries.

"Thank you for caring, Haibara," he says, and she snorted. Haibara tightened her grip on the paper bag she was holding. Shinichi chuckled, and she looked like she was going to hit him.

"I wouldn't want the hassle of cleaning up your burnt corpse."

Shaking his head, he sighed. "I know you can't be honest, Haibara," he teased, "But really, a simple 'you're welcome' would suffice."

Haibara hid it well, but the blush in her ears told him otherwise. He grinned in delight as she shoved the paper bag into his hand.

"Shut up."

In the darkened house, they made their way to the kitchen counter. A professor was missing, and the damage caused by the fire was still not cleaned up. Haibara looked like she was about to explode, and Shinichi could only pity the old man. "Where's that old fart," she snapped, and he glanced around. It was pitch black. The rain was pouring down. Lightning struck, and thunder roared. If anything—

"The breakers must be down," he concluded. "Hakase is probably repairing it."

Their attention was drawn to the basement, where a light curse could be heard. It appears that the 30-year-old house's aging equipment was again causing the old man problems.

"That stubborn old fool," Haibara murmured. With her anger quelled, she started stuffing the groceries into the cabinet. When she sneezed, Shinichi realized that their clothes were still wet. He offered to get them towels since he had messed up the laundry this morning—and they had no dry clothes.

Within minutes, he was behind her, clutching onto two towels he had found in the study room. He chose to give her the one with fluffy pink bunnies, curious to see what she would do with it. Haibara was squatting in front of the pantry, sorting the groceries, when he called out to her. Lightning flashed across the room, bright light reflected in the shadows, his gaze now focused on her back. Translucent white shirt, soaked in rain, exposing bare skin, covered in—

The towels dropped from his hands.

"Are you going to help, or will you just stand there like an idiot?" Haibara asked.

Kneeling, Shinichi reached out unwittingly. She froze when he touched her. Running his fingers over her scarred back.

Before he could react, Haibara shoved him back. She stood, shocked. Her back turned away as she stared at him. They remained apart for a moment, breathing heavily into the silent darkness. Mortified by what had just happened.

"There's," the words left his lips before he could stop himself. With his hands balled into fists, Shinichi bent his head to look at the ground. "There are so many."

"There are so many, Haibara," he repeated. The surgeons who had operated on her informed him about them. But seeing and hearing about it were two completely different things. The abuse she suffered at the hands of a silver-haired monster seemed more tangible now. Years of torture were evident in the scars on her skin.

"It's not like you didn't know," she whispered.

Shinichi's throat went dry, and he was unable to speak. Pain arose in green eyes, and he realized she regretted wearing a white shirt. "Forget about it, Kudou," averting her gaze. Haibara wrapped her arms around herself, "It's nothing."

Shinichi sees her again in the basement, lying in a pool of scarlet red blood. A metallic stench stains everything it touches, burning through him as he stands there helpless. Nothing? His anger boiled, erupting in his chest, and he marched forward. Pulling up her sleeve, he reveals the long vertical scar on her left wrist. It had been created by cutting through a vein. Making it difficult for doctors to treat the wound.

"What do you want?" Haibara frees her hand from his grip.

"It can't be nothing," his voice was hoarse from strain. "You nearly died, Shiho."

Her real name reverberated through the air, and she stumbled back, hands reaching for the counter as she gripped it tightly. Despite the swirling hurt in her eyes, he pressed on. Shinichi was unable to let this go. Not when he knew.

"Who did this?" Anger oozed from his voice. "Who did this to you?!"

She had gone still, her face pale. Lips quivering slightly.

"Were they involved?" he asked, getting louder. "Vermouth? Gin?" he seethes. "Shiho! Tell me the truth!"

"I am not your case, Kudou," she spat out, and he regained his senses.

"What," he stumbled.

It was cold, her words like poison, and she regarded him with the cold efficiency of Sherry. He realized then that he had gone too far and could only remain silent when she spoke. Eyes losing her light, blank—a machine. "What they did doesn't matter," Haibara said adamantly, "I wasn't any different."

"Shiho?"

"What do you want to know?"

Though her tone was neutral, there were cracks forming.

"You have the thumb drive. Everything. What more do you want to know?"

Haibara's hands were shaking as she pulled away. There was a wall between them, unyielding like the glaciers of the north pole, unable to thaw.

"I just wish to help you," he steps forward.

"And I told you that I don't need your help," she said. "You've done enough. I'm fine."

"Shiho."

"Monsters," she snarled, a smirk plastered on her lips, twisting her expression into one of desperation. "The Miyanos were monsters. And I made the choice. I carried on their legacy." The hatred she carried for herself was etched into her features. Her eyes were shut tight as she ranted. "You catch murderers, Kudou," she spat.

"Don't you know," Haibara falls limp, "that I am one, too."

For a long time, she stood, breathing heavily.

"Kudou, I deserve it."

"Deserve it?" Shinichi rushed toward her, but she remained aloof. Her back bumps against the fridge, and he slams his hand down, trapping her. "Shiho," he seethes, "Nobody deserves this!"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "You're too kind."

Haibara's gaze shifted to the falling rain outside. "I have killed people," she whispers, "Nothing can absolve me of that sin. I am not the person you think I am."

It would be difficult, he realized. Difficult for her to truly heal. She still lived with the ghosts of her past, and the guilt she carried was crushing her from within. Haibara was convinced that she was cursed. That she had no right to exist. However, despite all that—

"Nothing can absolve you of your sins," Shinichi whispered, and she paused. "I have no idea what you've done," he continued, "I don't know anything about your past, but—"

He cupped her cheeks with his hands. Haibara retreated, pushing him away.

Still, he held on. "I know you've suffered."

"Don't be dramatic, Kudou," she grunted.

"What can I say? My mother is an actress. It's genetics."

His lips part slightly as she scoffs, and he releases her for a moment. "Yes. You're a girl who teases me, nags me endlessly, lies like no tomorrow, causes me tremendous amounts of stress, causes my hair to fall out, and who is, quite frankly—a pain in the arse. But regardless," he grins, winking at her slightly, "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Stepping back, Haibara looks at him in disbelief.

"Shiho, I know it's hard to believe the years of torture you endured may have broken something within you. But, you have to know," Shinichi said emphatically, "that you deserve a chance."

"How can you possibly say that," she forces out, cracks forming in the ice, the wall crumbling as she looks at him, "Kudou, I'm not clean."

"Shiho," his arms encircled her, holding her tightly. "I'm not them."

Tension built before she relented. She leaned against him, burying her face in his shoulder. She was wet. It was cold. Yet—

"Idiot," she whispered. "You idiot."

She wasn't inclined to start and, for the most part, was silent. Shinichi draped a towel over her wet hair as he led her to the steps. Protesting lightly as he rubs her hair down. "I can do it myself, Kudou," she murmured. She struggled for a while, but he held her fast. And she gave up when he chuckled.

He was gentle, his hands emanating warmth, soothing the festering ache throbbing in her chest. Years of locking away her emotions didn't help the situation, as the words remained buried. Shiho was apprehensive. Gin's taunts still lingered. His reign of terror still resides, and despite how she wanted to believe in Shinichi's words, a part of her couldn't let go. You can't. It whispered a toxic, broken entity, always crying in the shadows of her psyche. They would leave. They always do. Bruised and battered, the entity tried to drag her back. Furious tears streamed down its cheeks. It was trying—to protect her.

Lie. You can't let them close. They will hurt you. Not like your sister.

The words reverberated, and she believed them. The walls, high and solid, weren't built overnight. Gin had taught her that the world was dangerous—that people lied. That humanity was nothing but selfish in nature. That she was no different.

"Shiho," Shinichi had used her name. That damnable appellation. The name that had condemned so many to death. A curse born from monsters who created a drug that ruined so many lives. A family who had caused unimaginable pain to themselves and many others. Experiments, murders—all for a fictitious cure. All for an organization that would bat no eye in taking the lives of innocence just to further their goals.

And yet, he called her again. "Shiho, nobody deserves this."

They were too kind, far too kind. Deep down, Gin's voice echoed, the cruel crushing reality of his words forever haunting her psyche. "It's all a mask, Sherry," He drawled, his ugly laughter resonating. "You're your parents' legacy. Don't you see, we're not very different, you and I." Green eyes emerged from the abyss, and a gentle giant collapsed onto the ground. Two girls running and falling, blood streaming from their backs, spines —broken, eyes blank, burnt black. A blonde-haired lady, wrapped in a blue tarp—sank below the harbor. So many, there were so many. She couldn't clean them off. Nothing would absolve her from her sin.

"I can't tell him," Shinichi's hands rested on the towel he placed over her hair. Shiho couldn't see him, the pink fluffy cloth obstructing her view, but she could hear the gentleness in his voice. "He'll probably leave. I need to protect them. They can't possibly know. It's probably what you're thinking right now, isn't it?"

Looking down at her hands, she clenched them tightly in her lap. Shinichi was right. He always was. It was almost infuriating how he could read her like this, but—

"Shiho," Shinichi lifts the towel, "I won't leave," he exudes confidence, his chest puffed up, a thumb thumping it in reassurance, wearing that cheeky toothy grin that both annoyed and comforted her at the same time. "I am the Heisei Holmes, after all."

It made no sense. It sounded stupid. And yet—

It brought back memories of two years ago. Standing at the reception of a director's funeral. Amongst black suits and white tables. Shinichi stood facing her, his spectacles placed over her eyes. "Did you know?" He states with the same cheeky annoying smile on his lips. "If you wear that, no one will recognize you." She was tempted to reject his ridiculous statement, but his confident expression stopped her.

"Besides, even a demon can become an angel, right?"

"Ara, then wouldn't you without glasses be superman?" she had mocked, but his words stuck, dispelling the racing terror that had overwhelmed her before. The dream of Gin—of loved ones killed ebbed away, and all that she saw through the blurry visage behind the glasses was his warm smile.

Eventually, the situation turned sour; she was captured. Pisco had realized her identity. Revealed and confined, she had thought herself dead. As the reality of the situation dawned on her, she resigned herself to it. Though despite all that, he persisted. Shinichi's wit and tenacity helped her escape as she lay bleeding from bullet wounds. He had taken her. And carried her away from Pisco, from a raging fire, from Gin—from the darkness. It was dangerous; he wasn't superman. And yet—

Time and time again, he had been there. No matter what—always trying.

She was unable to hide it anymore. Biting her lip, she grabbed the corner of his wet shirt. Azure eyes—warm and bright, confident, annoying, but safe.

"Shiho," he whispered.

She will tell him. She wanted to.

Her words came slowly, in fragments. Haibara was trying to remember something that she had forced back into the back of her mind. They were vivid, Shinichi could tell, and painful. Her hold on his hand was tight, and he winced when it got firmer.

"There's no need to rush," he whispered as she paused. They sat for a while by the steps. Their towels hung around their shoulders. The rain was still pelting down, casting long shadows across the floors. And she spoke once more, sharing snippets of a life lived as Miyano Shiho. Of the entity known as Sherry.

"I was ten."

Memories of a silver-haired man spilled from her lips. Abuse, beatings, cigar burns—America. Gin was her handler, "A guardian who was supposed to monitor me. There were others, but he—"

There was a basement in a foreign house. Locked deep in the bellows underneath the earth. And there was a box. She mentioned it being the size of a dog kennel, roughly 3 feet across and 4 feet high. It was small, and she had been stuffed in it. He had heard of such a technique, an interrogation tactic used by the CIA to extract information from terrorists. Stuffed in a small box, dark and cold, recordings of a family she had doomed played over and over.

No.

Shinichi couldn't think of it. It sounded straight out of a movie, and he sucked in a sharp breath, chest constricting at what she had been forced to endure.

"They called child protective services, and he was enraged," Haibara reported, the details of the unsolved murder emerging. Something he had to tell Jodie-sensei later. If nothing else, the Woods family deserved justice. "He," she stopped, closing her eyes as a tremor passed.

"He tied them up for days," Haibara continued, "taunting them. He released them when they were weak and unable to fight back."

Shinichi gritted his teeth at her recollection. It was a lot. The silver-haired beast was playing a game with human lives. There was no purpose to his actions, and he seemed to enjoy them. "And he shot them, first the children, then the father, and lastly, Sarah Woods, the woman who had tried to help me."

Haibara's voice was hoarse, her hands turned cold, and her eyes took on a glassy look.

"Haibara—" he tried to stop her, but she held out a hand.

"Let me finish," she rasped slightly, an ugly smirk appearing on her lips, "I don't think I can do this again."

Shinichi understood. The memories were poison. He couldn't fathom the terror or guilt she must have experienced. Even thinking about it hurt; he couldn't imagine going through what she did. "He recorded them, their voices replayed over and over...and over, through the sessions," her green eyes hardened, and she swallowed, "I have learned, somehow, to cope."

There she was. The woman called Sherry—in emotionless blank eyes, a doll used to dissociate from the horror languished upon the girl. In her account, she describes the missions, the beatings that followed, the abuse, and then the box, mechanically and methodically. Reciting it as if it was from a clinical textbook. She had memorized them—he realized every detail, every instance—every word.

A 13-year-old child, barely out of elementary school, was forced to commit repeated acts of violence. Forced to commit murder. They were training her to be a monster.

She mentioned a Ryuusuke Egawa, a man named Aperol, and a boy called Daniel Solis. They were kind, like the children, like the professor. Haibara was reminded of a sister left behind in Japan and had been content for a moment. A peaceful life they have taken for granted, one she hadn't the chance to experience. And, just like everything else, Gin had appeared once more. The silver-haired man making her choose…a choice that had been ingrained. Aperol gone, Daniel Solis pushed away, she graduated, shipped into her parent's laboratory. Ordered to continue working on a drug that they had left behind.

Haibara recounted experiments, a cold environment withholding the stoic faces and expressions of her colleagues, of organization members, and of missions, Gin had taken her to. The prototype she had developed—was used. The victims were claimed to be traitors. They died in agony. Shiho had been forced to watch and discard the bodies. Men, women—all killed.

"There were children," she forced out, going silent for a long time. The shadows stretched, the rain muting out everything else. Haibara had released him. Her knees pulled to her chest as she hugged herself. Cradled in that position, Shinichi knew not to touch her. Green eyes shut tight as she rocks, reliving something that must have terrified her. Muttering incoherent words that Shinichi could barely make out. He watched as she finally collected herself.

"There were children in that mansion," she whispered, "Vermouth, Gin, a collective effort. I couldn't save them." His eyes widened at her admission. Of a family massacred, of servants and butlers eradicated. Of children forced to watch their parents die. Of children being gunned down by Gin as they tried to run. Shinichi swallowed, pushing down the shock. He couldn't speak—not after that. Shiho's eyes were dark. He couldn't see the light in them. "At least," she continued, "they died…together." A dry chuckle escaped her lips, a smirk she carried that looked like it'll break. The hatred ran deep.

For her transgressions, she was punished by a cattle rod with which Gin and Vermouth took turns. Sent back to Japan to work on perfecting the drug, meeting a long-lost sister who she had failed to protect. Akemi—a woman he had failed to save. "I gave up, I gave up trying, and the one time I did—my sister is dead because of me."

Shinichi winced at her statement, going cold as Haibara faced him.

"Kudou, now you know," she was resigned to it, "That I don't deserve it."

It was not like he hadn't known. He had seen it in her nightmares, between the hurt. The torment behind her eyes as the days passed. The guilt and the blood. The pain was deep, like a trench. Haibara might never heal from it.

"You were forced to do unimaginable things," Shinichi started tentatively. He observes as she goes rigid, recoiling away from his touch, and he holds back. Haibara needed to know. He couldn't remain silent anymore.

"Be honest with her, cool kid." Jodie-sensei had told him. And he would be. He had told her not to run. Shinichi carried that responsibility.

"I had the choice—to stop," Haibara muttered.

"What were your options?"

She pauses, and he continues, inching slowly toward her. He asks, "Were you really given a choice?"

She knew the answer. He could see it in her eyes. But, she could not admit it. Not when she felt like she was tainted, not when she thought herself—a killer.

"You're not a murderer," Shinichi insisted, and Haibara tensed. She did not believe him; he could see it in her wavering green eyes. "It's true your creation killed...but you never wanted anyone to die. Even now, you are haunted by the memories of the people you could not save. Shiho, those are feelings of empathy. A murderer wouldn't be able to feel anything else."

"I'm not that heroic," she spat, "I didn't stop it. I'm not a good person, Kudou."

"Nobody is," he smirked, "but we are all human, aren't we?"

With her lips parted, Haibara stared incredulously at him.

"We are not defined by what we did in the past," Shinichi whispered, "but by what we do now."

Haibara reacted the way he knew she would. Snorting slightly with raised eyebrows. She turns away from him, lips twisted into an ugly grin, hands wrapped tightly around her knees pressed hard against her chest. "I don't need a lesson in Philosophy," she murmured. "It's not that simple. It doesn't fix anything."

"It doesn't," he continued, "But it's a start."

"You-"

"Didn't I tell you," he faced her, "Not to run from your fate."

"I cannot pretend to comprehend what you're experiencing. As a child, you were subjected to circumstances beyond your control. While you may deny it, or feel responsible for their deaths, you were only doing the best you could."

He gave her a sad smile as she looked to the ground. "You have to live, Shiho."

Haibara retreats from him, struggling with his words. She couldn't see it.

Locked in a basement, tortured, and abused, forced to watch as people died, made to create a drug she wanted no part in. Blackmailed and raped by a silver-haired beast, despite it all, she was alive—broken, and still trying.

"You're here, aren't you?" he lifted her gently, "You took the pill. You shrank, ran, and now, you're here."

"Kudou- "

"Despite everything you went through, you found me. You made a choice, didn't you?"

"I'm not that noble," Haibara snapped, annoyed that he wasn't letting her go, "I took the drug intending to die. What part of that do you not understand?"

She was—an idiot.

"You say that, but you kept it," Shinichi said, and she paused, "You kept that thumb drive. You hid it from Gin. You brought it back to Japan and hid it in your apartment."

"That-"

"If you thought it was pointless, why would you try?"

Scoffing, Haibara retreats from him, but Shinichi presses on. "You might not realize it," he told her, admiring the girl's strength. "You already made a choice. From the very start, you have always been fighting."

"It doesn't matter."

"But it does," Shinichi countered, "you call yourself a killer, a monster, a madman. But despite everything, you've always been willing to protect us. To do what's right. You've made the only choice that counts. It's the only thing that matters. You're not Sherry, Shiho. You never were."

Haibara gawks at him, and he chuckled. Pulling her forward, she landed on his chest. "You don't have to do this alone," Shinichi mutters as she lays still. "It might be difficult to trust me, but I told you, didn't I—"

"I will always protect you."

It was a quiet confession, one that echoed through the darkness. Silence ensued as the rain ebbed into a light drizzle. Gray clouds parted, the sun peeked through, and golden light reflected on the marbled floors. Emerald-green eyes met his. The air shifted. Something had changed.

"This feeling," she whispered. "It'll never go."

Shinichi released her. Haibara was talking about it. Revealing the hurt Gin had inflicted on her for the first time.

"Like I'm tainted from within, no matter how much I wash. It's beneath my skin, this curse. I can still feel him on me."

"Shiho?"

"Kudou, I am not strong enough," she admits the truth, face buried in her hands.

Haibara was trembling. He realized that she was afraid.

"It still hurts. I don't know when this darkness will leave," she confessed, "Sometimes I feel like dying. I still do."

"I know," Shinichi reached out, prying her hands away from her face.

"Even after all that, after all, that you've heard, why are you still here," Haibara whispered, and he pulled her close.

"I will never leave," Shinichi smiled, "When will it register in that thick skull of yours?"

He chuckled when he was met with a scowl.

"I will try to remember it, idiot," Haibara relented, sinking into his embrace. Face buried in his chest, she rests against him. Shinichi could feel tears soaking into his shirt, and he held onto her, whispering comfort as the time passed.

The professor finds them later, seated by the kitchen counter. He was covered in black soot, and his spectacles cracked from what he called a minor accident. Haibara chided the old man, bringing out the first aid as Shinichi brought out three cups of coffee.

They talked about the mundane, about school, the children, the weather—Haibara coming close. Eventually, her eyes shut, and she rested on him, head on his shoulder, sleeping soundly. The professor noticed it with raised eyebrows. Fatherly instincts kicked in, and he stood with hands on his hips, glaring at him.

"What happened, Shinichi," the professor looks at their wrinkled wet clothes, and Shinichi smiled.

"It's nothing, Hakase."

Running his fingers down her cheeks, Haibara sniffled, and his resolve deepened. The hurt still lingered; it might take her a lifetime to heal from Gin, but—

She was still here.

That was all that mattered.

Clearly, it was a trap. It was obvious to her. Gin had shown up. Despite all the FBI had done, that beast of a man was still roaming the streets, confident in his abilities. He had revealed himself, showing his hideout that even she wasn't aware of.

"Don't do it," she had warned Jodie-san, the FBI agent coming over to discuss Shinichi's plans. Gin's reappearance and revelation of the hideout led the FBI to take action. They talked secretly, and she grew increasingly irate.

"I won't break down," she snapped at them, and they looked at her sheepishly.

"It's not that," Jodie's gaze soften in response. "It's Gin."

And with that, Shiho went cold once more. She hated herself for being this way. A fear that she was growing sick of, inescapable. Despite her desire to scream and run, Shinichi reached for her, taking her hands in his. Pulling her close and hugging her. The scent of his body calmed her slightly. Logic and reason…she had to detach herself. She couldn't lose herself again. Not like what she did with the scalpel. In his embrace, she sighed deeply. The FBI could use her help. After all, if Gin could read her…she could too. The man, the beast, Shiho, could see the cunning in his eyes. He was calling them to a trap, warning them of the transgressions they would face if they got too close.

The FBI has underestimated them. Both Gin and Vermouth were dangerous. Rum too. Stopping them would be difficult but not impossible. They would not surrender without a fight unless the other is dead. "Going into the hideout with guns blazing would almost spell certain death," Shiho said, releasing herself from Shinichi. Her mind immediately went back to the mannerisms of the members she feared. The members were cold, logical, and operated in an extremely cautious way. There was no way they would wait for the FBI to arrest them.

"Vermouth probably rigged the place. Rum is a bomb expert," she recalled, "just as Gin is an excellent shot, and he probably would be sniping from a distance. The best course of action is to call them out," Shiho advised.

"And how do you propose we do that?"

Shiho glanced at Shinichi and Jodie with a wry smirk on her lips. Her long-kept sin spills from her lips. The boy and woman gasped at the revelation.

"But that would mean," Jodie said, the consequences were made all too clear.

"Haibara, are you sure?"

"Yes, the drug was specifically designed to control the world," Shiho concluded. "Imagine a powerful weapon that would be able to target anyone, anywhere, at any time. All you need is to encapsulate the weapon in a miracle drug..."

"Miracle drug?"

"Market it as a drug that can cure any disease, and you won't see the end of the greedy rich who would buy it," she explained. "Put a weapon into that substance, and you will be able to control the most powerful people on earth."

"By threatening their lives," Shinichi's eyes widened, "Then what Itakura-san was working on—"

"A quantum weapon, if it works," Shiho confirmed.

"How long have you known," Shinichi whispered, and she shrugged.

"I had my suspicions. The boss of the organization doesn't provide any information."

"So, if we lure them out with the pretense that we have the completed drug, and we negotiate according to our terms," Jodie asked, and Haibara nodded.

"Negotiating would be the best outcome, but that is unlikely."

"They would attack at the source, and we would need to be prepared. So we would lure them to a place where it will be advantageous for us." Shinichi smirked. Shiho recognized that look and was slightly comforted. He had a plan, and if they followed through, everything would be fine.

When did I start thinking like this?

She trusted him—completely. That was her answer. The talk they had a few days ago on a rainy day returned to her mind. He had remained by her side despite all of that. His warmth emanated from within, his smiles freely given. It was always him, keeping his word, protecting her over and over again. To be around him, to be with them, felt safe. Maybe, just maybe—

I could face Gin.

Her scars ran deep, and even now, it still hurts deeply when she thinks about them. But for some reason, she wanted Shinichi to know. As her desire deepened, Shiho walked over to the boy who was still talking to Jodie. Shinichi was stunned when she slipped her hands into his, holding them tightly. Jodie pauses and looks at both of them, first with a shocked expression and then a knowing look.

"There's something you need to know."

Parents. Drugs. Organization. Creations—her sin.

"We can both be the God and the Devil," Shiho whispered, "Since we're trying to raise the dead against the stream of time."

Shinichi stumbled back, and Jodie-san cupped her hands over her mouth.

It's true purpose.

"Two kinds," Shiho revealed, spilling her secrets to the boy she trusted. "APTX 4869, wasn't the only drug I worked on."

Episodes used:

Episodes 176-178

Episodes 311 :D

This chapter was re-written 20 times. I hope you've enjoyed it. The Black Organization appears now, shadows hidden behind. I have taken some liberties with the organization, and it is different from what Gosho Aoyama had planned. I hope I don't butcher it (my respect for him is immense, coming up with mysteries every chapter is really difficult). I do hope that you enjoy the chapter :D Thank you all for the reviews and feedback. It's greatly appreciated.