Handcuffs Clattering

Her wrists were bleeding, and her dry lips hurt.

Her body was telling her to sit still, to calm down, to stop crying because she was injured, goddam it! She was injured and hungry and devastated, and maybe she's even gone mad. Maybe she was hallucinating. Because he was there, and arm's reach away.

Shinichi was there.

A glimmer of light shone from the window, emphasizing the familiar angles of his face. It showed her the straight line of his still lips, and the faint roundness of his cheeks. Everything beyond that was shadowed. Shinichi was just a dark figure sprawled across the floor, and that was horrifying. How could she tell if he was squirming? If he was shivering? If he was even still breathing?

A soft jostle from the distance caught her attention, and she shakily looked up. She saw one broad back retreating to the other side of the place, the very thin glimmer of light barely holding on to him. The guard's figure eventually mingled with the darkness, and soon, the only thing that let her know about his whereabouts were the noises he made. Thump thump thump went his boots. Bang went the door – a hollow, plastic thing at the far end of the warehouse. It's how she realised that he was gone. The two hostages were left alone, and that shouldn't be something to be wary of, right?

The guard, a forty-one year old man with a very stocky build was told by that horrifying, cold-hearted Guiness to keep a close eye on the hostages. The wise thing to do was to follow. After all, he has seen people getting killed, just by standing in his way. Still, how much of a difference could a measly twenty minutes do? He was technically still going to be watching over them, only he wouldn't be seeing them. He'll be outside, by the door. What could happen while he was away? The karate champion was restrained, and that boy was helpless. Also, the air was getting stuffy.

Besides, the next shift was coming soon. He was about to get off anyway.

Unbeknownst to him, he was going regret his decision a lot later on, because the moment he stepped out, a chip that had mysteriously found its way into the fold of his pants caught signal and blinked red.

Somewhere out there, a seven year-old kid with a just, genius detective's mind, and a seventeen year-old girl with very murderous intents hopped out of some airport benches, dashed outside, and quickly boarded a train to Osaka.

Inside the warehouse, meanwhile, Ran curled in on herself. With the guard's constant declarations of boredom gone, her snivels and heavy breaths became more apparent – echoing across the walls even if it was no louder than a moth's flutter. She hated it, because it reminded her of the silence. It was silence that Shinichi would fill in, but then he wasn't doing it. He was just lying there, still, and she couldn't do anything about it.

"Damn it," she whispered in shaky breaths, clutching her fists as her dried-up eyes attempted to tear up. It only succeeded to make her nose tingle. Her hands flew over her quivering lips. "Damn it, Shinichi –"

"Mouri-san."

Ran took a sharp breath, head whirling to the figure beside her. Even in the darkness, it glinted – pewter blue eyes squinting with a bit of mischief. She blinked, clammy hands shaking as she watched him sit up with barely any effort – as if handcuffs weren't even holding him back in the first place.

"Shinichi," she breathed.

He smirked. "Not quite."

The softest of breaths sliced through the air as she drew back, confusion and questions running wildly across her mind. Then she saw a twinkle from the window catch his eye, telling her even in the dark that he was watching her. If her intuition was correct, then her guess was that his critical appraisals were as sharp as Shinichi's.

And she was right.

"First, we need to get you out of those handcuffs," he whispered, contrition coloring his voice, and for the first time since they landed him there, she became aware of the stinging pain around her writs. Struggling so much to reach him has wounded her already injured hands. She'd even suspect that she was bleeding, if the warm trail trickling down her fingertips were anything to go by.

And wait a minute, is this guy even still tied up? Who the heck is he?

"Don't worry. They 'll find us. You'll be okay."

Who is he? Bleeding hell…!

There was suddenly a shuffle, and the very next second, she felt a hand brush down her elbow. She froze, breath hitching, five days' worth of ill treatment stretching her guard to the extreme. At that moment, she recalled the fear of being threatened with a gun in an alley in Ekoda. She recalled the fear of being tossed around, touched, wondering if they were going to rape her. And the fear was there again, jammed into her system, so she flinched away.

"Don't touch me," she spat, the words that were meant to be harsh leaving her lips in a soft, wobbly whine. The hands froze, and then immediately pulled away.

She couldn't see him, but she knew that he was near, so close that she was sure that he could hear her breaths. Eventually, she heard him inhale, very deliberately, and then – "I may not be the detective that you thought I was, Mouri-san, but you can trust me."

"You look just like Shinichi!"

"Indeed," he whispered. "But you can't trust the faces that you see in me."

Ran was silent after that, her mind rolling with suspicion. How much genius, Shinichi look-alikes – who could wear a lot of faces and easily slip out of handcuffs – were there, really? She'd be lying if she said that her mind wasn't hazy after all that she's been through, but thankfully, it hasn't completely melted just yet. And she'd like to know – just how on Earth did he, of all people, end up there!

"Listen," he eventually started, in the soft tone she also used to soothe Conan when he got upset. "I'm not going to hurt you."

His hands suddenly swept to her waist, so light this time that it could be mistaken for a warm gust of wind. It travelled to the small of her back, landed on her arms, and fumbled for her wrists. She was trembling, but this time, he didn't pause. Slick fingers worked their way to the cuffs, and with a click, they were off.

His hands were gone as swiftly as the handcuffs clattered to the ground. "See?"

She could just hear the silly, wide-eyed beam from him as he said that.

A pause followed, and realizing that he was probably wondering how she was holding up, she looked in front of her – where she assumed he was sitting. "Thank you," she whispered, and then she asked – "Can we leave?"

"No." The voice came, as sharp as a knife, from her right. "Not yet. I don't know the way around. It's still too dangerous."

"Then…?"

"For now, we wait things out."

She sucked in a breath, sharply, not at all wanting that. However, before she could let out another word, the door creaked open. A guard walked in, turned around to close the door, took out his phone, and Ran froze. To her right, the guy only stared at the guard. His own shoulders were relaxed, fingers fumbling for something in his pocket. Vaguely, she wondered what he had in mind, and she thought about how much their captors have underestimated him.

And then – "Mouri-san could beat this guy up."

Ran swiftly turned to him, her throat repressing a very loud scream. She wanted to tell him that no, she absolutely can't beat him up, was he stupid?! Did he forget that these guards were armed? And that her wrists were broken? And that she's already done that? Does he not know that she refuses to be tranquilized, and shot in the leg, and arm, and cheek again?

She didn't say it, though, because she didn't trust her voice to be hushed and steady. To her surprise, he was silent beside her. Then the man started to tap his feet – footsteps loud and as clear as daylight.

"Unsteady," the guy eventually said in a low whisper – voice eerily similar to Shinichi's when he was about to go on about his deductions. Perking up, Ran turned to him. She could barely make out his features, but the dim highlights on his face suggested a very devious smile. "About one gun in one side of the belt, a flashlight in the other, and a phone. A rookie, so that's all that he'll have on him. I doubt that the higher-ups will let him have more than what is needed. Lanky, not as well built as the ones earlier. We lowered their guards. You should be able to knock him out in one kick. Young…so he'll talk. He'll definitely talk. And we'll get out."

"H-how can you be sure of all that?"

"I have very good ears, Mouri-san."

And it was a miracle that the guard hasn't heard them yet. She supposed that it was a good thing that he was so engrossed by whatever he was doing with his phone, there – at the far side of the warehouse, away from them. However, she wouldn't be surprised if the guy even had his voice calculated to just the right volume – enough for her to hear, and enough for the guard not to. In fact, she wouldn't put it past him to have every little bit of their escape already meticulously planned. She still wanted to know how he got there, but before that, she needed to make sure…

Her eyes sharpened, and the question she's been meaning to ask came. "Say…who are you?"

There was an unaccounted pause, long enough to make her turn to him. She saw that he was watching her, scrutiny penetrating right into her thoughts even in the dark. And then she heard a very soft chuckle – that same chuckle Shinichi would use whenever he's figured a case out.

"As long as I get us out of here, Mouri-san, it shouldn't matter, right?"

Author's Note:

Hi, everyone! Long time no see? This chapter turned out shorter than expected, but what do you think? I'm SUPER glad that you guys have been supporting this story, and for the sake of...well, feels, I decided to just go ahead and slam in this character we all know so well. Did you get the hint? It's in this chapter!

ANYWAY, you guys are AMAZING and really NICE! THANK YOU SO MUCH, I LOVE YOU!