This was written for Poirot Café's Themed Writing Competition #21: Ice. I'm following the manga-verse for this one, so Kid has never openly acknowledged that he knows Shinichi is Conan, etc.

With Clipped Wings

The ice was probably what saved him.

Kaito's foot skidded on the slippery surface. He lurched. The bullet that would have buried itself into his forehead clipped his scalp instead. The second shot had been aimed for his heart, but it was thrown off course thanks to the curving motion of his body. Not far enough. Pain ricocheted through his nerves with the searing touch of a hot poker. He'd been hit.

"Kid!"

A child shouted his alter-ego's name. Kaito wanted to laugh—a tired, hysterical laugh—because of course the little detective would track him here, and he was still falling, and—

His head hit the ground with a sickening crack. Stars and black splotches swarmed before his eyes. Blood welled from his wounds and spilled in scarlet rivulets. The colour looked striking against the moonlit cloth he donned: a stain of life-giving red to strip away his phantom thief immortality.

"Kid!" Tiny hands grabbed at his shoulders, slapped his cheek. "Kid! Oi, snap out of it!"

Kaito blinked past the black haze that clouded his vision. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate.

The child—no, detective—swore under his breath. Then the ringing sound became a roar, and the world ceased to exist. Kaito had passed out.

X

"Mind his head."

Kaito sucked in a breath. He was aware of a strange sense of weightlessness, though mostly he just felt pain. So much pain. It tugged at him, trying to pull him back into the numbing embrace of unconsciousness. Hands shifted, readjusting to get a better grip on his back and legs. His eyelashes fluttered and he got a glimpse of pale-brown hair and glasses. Someone was carrying him. The man eased Kaito's body onto the back seat of a car. At least, Kaito thought it was a car. His vision kept swarming with fuzzy clouds.

"He's losing a lot of blood," someone observed from behind the man. "He needs to go to a hospital."

"No," Kaito tried to protest, except all that came out was a slurred, moan-like sound. "No hospitals."

"Let's just worry about getting him out of here first. It'll be bad if—"

The voices faded in and out. Kaito struggled to stay afloat of the darkness that closed in on him, but it was like trying to hold water in cupped hands. Snatches of conversation wove into the haze—words that should have made him sweat in panic, but just drifted through in a detached collection of sounds. It was so hard to focus.

"How's he doing back there?"

It was the deep voice again. The one Kaito thought might belong to the man with the brown hair and glasses.

"Not good." That sounded like detective-kun. "The head wound is superficial. It just looks worse because there's a lot of blood. It's the one on his chest I'm worried about."

"I told you we should have taken him to a hospital." Female. Grumpy. "He's going to bleed out at this rate."

"Haibara, couldn't you—"

"I'm a scientist, not a doctor."

Detective-kun swore. He seemed to be doing that a lot. Deep Voice-san said something, but the words sounded distant, almost garbled. Kaito struggled to keep hold of the conversation. There was something important that he was forgetting, but the voices slipped from his grasp, and his consciousness slipped along with them.

The next time Kaito opened his eyes, he was lying on a bed and there was a woman leaning over him. The chin-length hair seemed familiar. "Kaa-san?" he murmured.

The woman started at the sound of his voice. No, not his mother. Not even an adult woman. She was tiny, with reddish-blonde hair and blue eyes. A crease formed on his brow, but the ringing noise was in his ears again—a monotonous B flat that just would not stop. His vision clouded. Thoughts scattered like string tossed into the wind. He was floating, or falling, or maybe both at once. The pain was making him disoriented. It was only the voices that pulled him back to reality, tethering him to the sounds of the familiar.

"He looks just like you," the female from earlier observed.

"I noticed." Childish. Male. Had to be detective-kun. "Subaru-san says he has a slight concussion. We shouldn't let him sleep too long."

"He woke up before."

"What? Did he say anything? How was he?"

"Drugged up on painkillers," she said flatly. "He thought I was his mother."

"That's kind of terrifying."

"Hrm?"

"The idea of you being anyone's mother, I mean."

"Shut up, Kudo-kun."

The boy laughed. Kaito felt his tether unravel from the conversation, leaving him drifting back in a limbo-like state of nothing. Images flittered behind his closed eyelids in bursts of colour: a street surrounded by high-rise buildings, a sheen of black ice on the pavement, blood spilling in a warm, pulsating flow. The pieces came together like a puzzle, reminding him that he had been shot and that he was now in a very, very bad situation.

Kaito groaned. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he found himself staring at a white ceiling. The ringing in his ears had stopped, though his head throbbed and ached something terrible. He brushed his fingers against his forehead and felt soft fabric. A bandage. Someone had removed his Kaitou Kid outfit. His chest was bare and wrapped in gauze, covering the bullet wound that was far too close to his heart for comfort. Judging from the pinched, cat-hanging-from-his-chest-with-claws feel, someone had also stitched him up.

Jii-chan was right. He should have worn the bulletproof vest.

"How are you feeling?"

Kaito jumped at the voice. The little detective stood propped against the wall near the open door, watching him through far too sharp eyes. Kaito was conscious of the fact that he was not wearing his top hat or monocle. He had been stripped bare, reduced to a scruffy-haired teen with a bandage on his head. Poker face hadn't deserted him, though.

"I've felt better," Kaito said evenly.

There was a moment where the two boys stared at each other. Kaito's gaze darted to the window—a split-second to make a decision—and then he was diving for escape. Or, at least, that had been the plan. Reality didn't quite work out in his favour. His legs wobbled and his vision blurred as soon as his feet hit the ground. He wasn't sure if it was from the drugs or the sudden motion that sent a shock of pain through his nervous system; either way, Kaito fell to his knees.

"Subaru-san!"

There was the sound of rushing footstep. Strong arms lifted Kaito's crumpled form and placed him back on the bed. The teen was not surprised to discover that the owner of said arms was the same brown-haired man who had carried him earlier. Not far from Subaru, he saw the girl with reddish-blonde hair frowning at him. She folded her arms across her chest.

"Are you trying to undo all our work?" she scolded. "You better not have opened up those stitches."

Kaito let out a huff of breath and dropped his head back against the pillow. And winced. That's right, there was a tender lump the size of detective-kun's face on the back of his head. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it felt that big. He bit back a hiss of pain.

"Kid," the tiny detective began, "you—"

"Enough," Kaito said shortly. "Just tell me what you want."

He knew it was rude to interrupt someone while they were speaking, but Kaito was tired and sore, and right now he felt very vulnerable and exposed. That made him afraid, and fear made him irritable. So, instead of letting the detective continue, he decided to go on the offensive. Just because he was weakened didn't mean that he was harmless. Kaitou Kid's most dangerous weapon had always been his intelligence.

Kaito sat up, ignoring the sharp aches that throbbed through him from the motion. "Are you hoping to blackmail me?" he asked, meeting the detective's gaze. "I wouldn't if I were you. I've got hidden aces of my own, you know." He bared his teeth in a smile. "Like the fact that Edogawa Conan is just a fabrication: your real identity is Kudo Shinichi, and you're currently hiding from a criminal organisation." He pointed to Haibara. "That girl has also been de-aged and is the woman you got me to disguise as on the Mystery Train."

The colour drained from Haibara's face.

"Sherry, wasn't it?" Kaito said softly. "I'm sure they'd be very curious to learn you're still alive. You and Kudo-kun, of course." He moved on before she could react, letting his gaze settle on Subaru. "As for you, I have to admit I don't know who you are, but I do know that you're wearing a mask and are using a voice changer to disguise your identity, so there's clearly something off." Kaito's smile widened as he stared down the three people whose secrets he had just revealed, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Do you want me to go on?"

The small detective stepped forward. "That won't be necessary. You're right that none of us are who we say we are."

Kaito clenched his jaw. "Then you know it's a waste of time to blackmail me. I can cause you just as much damage, if not more."

Detective-kun—no, Kudo Shinichi—let out a small sigh. "Kid, we're not trying to blackmail you."

"All we did was return the favour," Haibara said coolly. "Though now I'm wondering why we bothered."

Kaito blinked. "Favour?"

"You said it before," Subaru said, smiling in a way that reminded Kaito oddly of his father's composed amusement. "You disguised yourself as Sherry on the Mystery Train and confronted Bourbon in her place. Thanks to that, Haibara is alive and was able to escape the Organisation."

"And you've helped me out a few times as well," Kudo admitted. "I would have felt bad if I just left you there to bleed to death or get captured by the police."

Kaito blinked a few more times. The tired, hysterical bubble of laughter was back in his throat. "So, what, this is just some philanthropic act on your part? You save the thief, patch him up, and then let him go—no strings attached?"

Kudo slipped his hands in his pockets, and a faint smile curved his mouth. "Well, I was hoping you would answer some of my questions."

"Of course," Kaito muttered.

"But we won't force you to talk. It's just—" Kudo struggled for a moment, and there was no disguising the worry in his voice. "Kid, you almost died tonight. I saw it all happen. If you hadn't slipped on that ice, the sniper's bullets would have struck true."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Kaito said with a blasé shrug. And winced again. Right. Keep movement to a minimum.

"You mean this isn't the first time someone has targeted you?" Kudo demanded. He sounded angry.

Kaito heaved a sigh. "I give advanced notice of the time and date for when I'm going to steal priceless jewels, so yeah, this isn't the first time someone has decided to take a shot at me during a heist."

"Then why—"

"Because this is the only way!" Kaito snapped. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, do we have to talk about this? My head hurts."

Kudo was not satisfied. He didn't like the fact that Kaito was risking his life just to steal jewels that he always returned. It was reckless and stupid, and maybe that was true. But the detective didn't understand.

"You're using yourself as bait," Subaru deduced.

Kaito closed his eyes. His silence was answer enough.

"So, that's why you give the advanced notice," Kudo said, catching on. "You need the police to turn up because you know there's a chance those guys with guns will be there as well. It's as much a counter-measure to limit the damage they can cause as it is a chance to have the police capture them."

"Something like that," Kaito admitted.

Haibara wasn't impressed. She told him that only a fool would try to take on dangerous criminals alone. He was as bad as Kudo-kun, rushing headlong into danger on some stupid quest to restore justice and thinking that he was invincible.

Kaito laughed softly. "Maybe I did think I was invincible," he said more to himself.

Perhaps this whole time he'd just been walking on thin ice, not even noticing that the cracks were spreading under his feet. So many times he could have died. So many times he had miraculously pulled through. Failure had never seemed like an option before, but now he wasn't so sure. If he hadn't slipped in that moment, if Kudo hadn't saved him; it was a harsh awakening to the fragility of his own life. And yet—

"Does it really matter, though?" Kaito voiced.

Kudo glanced down at his hands, his expression pensive. Of course the shrunken detective would understand. Subaru did as well, if that wry smile was anything to go by. Even Haibara fell silent. It was what united them, after all: four people hiding behind false identities, four people risking their lives to do what they believed to be necessary.

"Plus," Kaito added with a hint of his usual mischief, "stealing jewels is actually kind of fun."

The grim mood was shattered. Subaru's mouth twitched, Kudo looked like he didn't know whether to face-palm or laugh, and Haibara just rolled her eyes.

"Definitely crazy," she decided.

Kaito grinned.

Much later, when Kaito had recovered enough to make his escape without anyone noticing, he asked himself if perhaps he should have told them more: about Pandora, Snake, and the true goal of Kaitou Kid. It was obvious they were curious. Kudo had certainly tried to prise the answers out of him. However, Kaito was not the type to freely share his secrets, no matter how indebted he was to his rescuers. That was why he'd offered a challenge instead.

"Can we at least know your name?" Kudo asked.

Kaito leaned forward. "You're the detective," he said, flicking the shrunken teen in his forehead. "You figure it out."

A smile curved Kaito's mouth. He turned away from the Western-styled house and carried on walking down the street, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn't know if he could be considered lucky or unlucky after what had occurred tonight. Maybe he really was just walking on thin ice, waiting for the inevitable fall. It didn't make a difference. Clipped wings or not, he would keep going, keep fighting, and he knew that Kudo would as well.

"I'll be waiting for you, meitantei," Kaito murmured.