With My Last Breath

by Taliya

Having a hard deadline on how long one has left to live puts a lot of things into perspective. But rather than quietly wither away, Kudou Shinichi was determined to use his remaining time on this plane to fulfill his goals—and give his apologies. Character death. Rated for assisted suicide, terminal illness, violence, and language.

Detective Conan and Magic Kaito characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.

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Warnings: Major character death, assisted suicide, debilitating illness, terminal illness, angst, violence, language, spoiler on Ano Kata's identity, movie-verses do not exist in this work aside from the fact that KID is aware of Conan's identity

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With My Last Breath

By Taliya

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His heartbeat thumped thunderously in his ears, each one distinct as though he was hearing it in slow motion. His eyes stared at eight-year-old Haibara Ai, his friend and somewhat-official doctor, even as his fingers twitched and jerked of their own accord.

"You're absolutely certain?" he asked quietly, his voice faintly trembling.

The strawberry blonde standing before him nodded once, her glistening blue eyes dropping to the carpeted floor. "Yes," she whispered.

Kudou Shinichi—currently hiding behind the alias of Edogawa Conan—allowed his gaze to fall onto his right hand, which spasmed around the joystick controlling his wheelchair. The wheelchair was a recent addition, one that he had acquired within the last few days. Haibara had, in the months prior to his wheelchair acquisition, been extremely diligent in doing his bloodwork. She would draw blood once a week, like clockwork, though she would not inform him exactly why she was being so regimented, nor specifically what she was looking for. Within the last few weeks, however, her schedule had accelerated to daily.

But now, months after his first round of bloodwork and unable to walk on his own, Shinichi had finally received his answer. The APTX had finally begun working—though not in the way it had been intended. Instead of melting him away into nothing but vapor, it had instead messed with his body chemistry in such a way that it had given rise to another illness that had a one-hundred-percent fatality rate.

Shinichi did not rage against his fate, though he sometimes had had the urge to cry about it in passing. He had had two years to come to terms with the fact that he had poison running through his veins; two years to reconcile that any day might be his last. That he had survived for two years past the date he should have died meant so much to him, but…

His time was coming—and soon, if Haibara's calculations were accurate.

Shinichi's expression settled into one of grim determination. He was already physically incapacitated by his illness. He would not allow it to rob him of more of himself before he accomplished everything he wanted in the short time he had left.

---

Shinichi had stopped participating in cases entirely once he was unable to walk without assistance; his descent from independently moving about to needing a wheelchair had been swift and merciless. The detective had woken up one morning and promptly collapsed upon trying to stand from his bed—or rather, Ran's old bed. Shinichi had been moved into Ran's bedroom once she had moved out after being accepted into Touto University, and he had speedily called Haibara after struggling to reach his phone.

It had been a Saturday, and Mouri had gone out on a relatively simple tail-a-possible-adulterer case. Therefore, no one had been home to help him up. He had needed to prop himself against the bedframe in order to reach the top of the nightstand, where his phone lay charging. He eventually managed to snag the cord and tugged with shaky, clumsy fingers, and thankfully the device it was attached to came with it instead of popping loose as it sometimes did. The red phone clattered onto the ground, and Shinichi collapsed as he grasped it, pressing the necessary buttons on the screen to speed-dial his friend with difficulty.

"Hello?" came Haibara's bored voice over the line.

"Haibara… help me," Shinichi pleaded, frustrated and terrified by the fact that he could not seem to control his limbs with any sort of confidence.

"Kudou-kun?! What's wrong?"

He firmly squelched the rising panic, suppressing the urge to panic in a way he rarely had ever done before. "I can't—I can't stand! I can feel my legs, but I can't move them the way I want to…"

"What happened? Where are you?" Haibara's firm, no-nonsense voice grounded him.

"I'm on the floor of Ran's old—of my room. I got off the bed and collapsed. My legs won't respond, and my arms aren't working as well as they should. Haibara—" he began, though his friend immediately cut him off.

"Hakase, we need to leave right now! We're coming, Kudou-kun. Is Kogoro-san there?" she asked. In the background, Shinichi could hear scuffling and hurried footsteps—presumably the professor's.

"No, he's out on a case," he answered, something uncomfortable mounting within his chest. "Haibara—"

She interrupted him again with a swift, "Then don't strain yourself too much. Just make yourself as comfortable as you can until we get th—"

"Haibara, what is wrong with me?" he demanded, cutting her off as that nameless sensation bubbled ever higher.

The scientist was silent for a long moment before she quietly answered, "… I'll tell you once Hakase and I bring you back and I run more tests to confirm my theory. For now, think up some excuse you can use long-term to allay any concerns either Mouri might have. We'll be there in ten." She had then immediately hung up on him.

Shinichi had then spent the time he was on the floor thinking up a viable excuse for his extended absence, and eventually decided upon using his "mother," citing that because she had to go under witness protection in the United States, he had to as well—and that the Mouris no longer needed to take care of him. By the time Haibara and Agasa arrived at the Mouri apartment, Shinichi had managed to scoot himself into an upright position against the bed. Haibara had no key to the apartment, and yet both she and the professor had made it inside. Shinichi guessed that the diminutive scientist had picked the lock—a risky thing to do when one undercover Furuya Rei worked on the ground floor in Café Poirot.

"Kudou-kun?" Haibara called out, her voice tentative.

He replied with a relieved, "Here!"

There were footsteps, then a gasped, "Shinichi…!" from the professor as they entered his room.

Shinichi glanced at them and struggled to lift his arms up in an effort to reach towards them. "Help me up, Hakase, Haibara."

The two quickly lifted him off the ground. "Set him on the bed," the strawberry blonde instructed, and the pair settled him on the edge of the mattress. "What do you need us to pack up, Kudou-kun?"

"My clothes in the closet and the books on that bookshelf over there. Really, everything else that is here I can leave," the detective answered after a quick glance about the room.

Agasa frowned. "That's… not much, Shinichi-kun…" he remarked as he stuffed Shinichi's clothing into a duffle bag.

He brunet shrugged, mildly uncomfortable with the searching look the older man directed at him. "I never really had much to begin with, Hakase."

Haibara quietly cleared her throat. "You'll be staying with us now—I'm assuming you've figured that out already. That way, I can keep an eye on your symptoms and monitor them more effectively."

"I'll leave Occhan a voicemail in Edogawa Fumiyo's voice so that he doesn't have to worry about me anymore," Shinichi said. "And Haibara… Hakase… I don't want anyone else to know—about this."

"Not even Ran-kun?" the inventor asked, concern evident in his voice even as he packed the last few belongings Shinichi had mentioned into a second duffle he had dug out from the closet.

Shinichi shook his head. "Especially not her. I don't want to ruin the start of a new chapter in her life by telling her that Conan is incapacitated."

"You realize that she will be angry once she finds out?" Haibara's brows were furrowed with worry as she studied him with serious, sorrowful eyes.

"She will about Conan, but it'll give her a little closure with his disappearance, and she'll get over it eventually," he answered, sighing heavily.

She frowned. "I suppose…"

Shinichi glanced at her before turning his head away. "I'm hoping that she'll eventually forget about Conan."

"You know she won't forget him that easily, considering he was a major part of her life for three years," Haibara insisted.

"… what alternative do I have?" the detective asked plaintively. "At least college life will be a good distraction for her. I mean, even though she still comes back every weekend to check on Occhan, she's oftentimes too busy to stay for long now… It's… it's a good thing."

"… are you trying to convince me or yourself, Kudou-kun?" she asked gently.

Shinichi shook his head and helplessly shrugged. "I can't—I don't know, Haibara… Is it just too much to ask that she be happy without me?"

Haibara was saved from replying to her distressed friend's seemingly rhetorical question by Agasa announcing that he had finished packing up all of Shinichi's meager possessions. Between the scientist-inventor duo, they half-carried, half-manhandled the detective out of the Mouri apartment. Shinichi locked the door to the residence, taking a long moment to study the plain door that had been the entrance to his home for the past three years. With a shaky hand, he lightly pressed his palm against the smooth, worn surface. "I'm going to miss this place," he whispered before he let his arm slide down and back to where Haibara patiently waited at his side.

The trio shuffled down the stairs, catching a break in that only Azusa seemed to be in the café at the moment, and she appeared busy enough to not notice much of what was going on outside the café. Shinichi sighed deeply once he was ensconced in the back seat of the yellow vehicle, his head thumping back onto the worn leather of the backrest. "Small favors," he muttered, relieved that it was unlikely that someone would report seeing him carried off to the undercover PSB officer. As he watched the world pass by through the sideview window, Shinichi wondered how Ran would take the news that Conan was gone without any warning. He noncommittally hoped that his departure would not be an additional heartache that his best friend would end up bearing, but he was not particularly optimistic—not when he had a history littered with instances of leaving her hurting in one way or another.

I'm sorry, Ran, he thought. I'm so sorry.

---

After making the call to the elder Mouri and leaving a voicemail on his phone, Shinichi arranged for his withdrawal from Teitan Elementary. There was no need to attempt going to school when he was physically incapable of moving about on his own. Instead, the detective spent his days thinking—and planning—despite the lack of the promised timeframe that the biochemist had vowed to give him. While Haibara spent her daylight hours in school, Shinichi plotted out what he could while Agasa worked on a wheelchair with all the extra gadgetry that he figured the de-aged teenager would need for his case solving. The inventor worked relentlessly, and after a week of almost consecutive all-nighters, presented Shinichi with one of the most sophisticated wheelchairs the sleuth had ever laid eyes on.

"I—thank you, Hakase," he murmured as he took in the surprisingly sleek, wheeled contraption that had been custom-made for him. He reached out a hand to graze his fingertips on the smooth, cool metal of the frame, considering the device that was to be his primary means of independent mobility. He levered himself off the sofa he had been ensconced in with shuddering arms, studiously ignoring the dull throbbing of his left elbow and the tightly wrapped gauze around the joint. With help from Agasa, Shinichi settled himself into the wheelchair, hands clumsily exploring his new mode of transportation.

The wheelchair was battery operated and would need to be charged nightly—hence the reason he had needed to move in with Haibara and Agasa. He basically needed a live-in caretaker around the clock. Shinichi spent the rest of his day learning how to maneuver the wheelchair, accidentally bumping into furniture and occasionally Agasa himself as he fiddled with the various controls.

"Hakase," he called out after a long moment of studying the rather complicated control panel of buttons on his left armrest. "What are all these?"

The professor leaned over to stare at the array of buttons before gleefully beginning an explanation. "This one is for the stun gun, which will shoot out from here," he said as he pointed to one button, then to the tip of his left armrest. "This one allows you to jet-propel yourself at speeds of up to 100 kilometers an hour, and this one—"

"Hakase," Shinichi sighed heavily, interrupting the man as he felt his heart drop into his abdomen like a stone, "Do you really think I'm going to need these anymore? I'm in a wheelchair now, and I can't—" His hand spasmodically clenched around the joystick, and the slight press from his grip had the wheelchair inching backwards. Shinichi released the control, halting his rolling. He clicked his tongue in frustration glaring at his trembling hand. "Do you think I have the fine motor control to dart someone with any sort of accuracy anymore when my hands are like this?"

"Shinichi…" Agasa murmured, instantly drooping.

The detective sighed deeply. "I'm sorry," he apologized, having instantly felt guilty for snapping at the inventor. "I know you're just trying to help." He pressed a hand over his face, gripping his fringe. "Do you know when Haibara will get the results?"

"Today," Haibara said as she slipped through the front door. "I'm home."

"Welcome back," both Shinichi and Agasa replied.

Haibara blinked upon looking up after switching shoes. "Oh," she breathed, eyes roving across the gleaming metal surfaces of Shinichi's new mode of transportation. Though her expression remained unchanged, something about her very being seemed to crumple. "That's…" She swallowed thickly before trying again. "That's a very sleek chair you have there, Kudou-kun," she whispered. The strawberry blonde bowed her head in a sketch of a bow, and murmured, "I need to run some tests in my lab. Excuse me," before disappearing quickly into the basement.

Shinichi stared for a long moment at the now closed stairway door before sighing. "I guess that reaction was to be expected," he murmured, pushing away the hurt he felt at his friend's reaction. He about-faced and wheeled himself into the kitchen, laboriously getting himself a glass of water before settling in front of the television to watch the news, Agasa quietly tinkering on his latest invention on the bar countertop.

It was almost two hours later when Haibara emerged from her lab, her face wan and her expression a mix of emotions too complicated for Shinichi to identify. "Haibara?" he asked worriedly.

The strawberry blonde glanced at the professor, who was now sound asleep beside a half-finished solar-powered surfboard. "Do you have a moment to talk—privately?"

"Sure," he answered, and followed her into the bedroom that had become hers over the course of her stay with the inventor. Only once she had closed the door did he ask, "What is it?"

Haibara looked positively ashen in the dim lighting of her room; her eyes were wide and terrified in a way he had never seen before. She pressed her back against the door, curling in on herself even as she maintained her gaze upon him. "I…" she gulped, her voice failing her as she hugged herself.

Shinichi wheeled closer, concern for her current state overriding any curiosity at what she had discovered. "Haibara…?"

"You've less than a year to live," she blurted out, now visibly trembling as she ducked her head. "Those are the results, Kudou-kun."

The detective was stunned into shocked silence. "You're… you're absolutely positive?" he croaked after several silent minutes had passed. What she had said was seemingly incomprehensible to him. He had… a time-limited death sentence?

"Yes," she admitted with a whimper. "I've run the simulations over five-hundred times just to be sure, and I… I'm so sorry, Kudou-kun…"

"So, all that bloodwork—first every week, then everyday—was for…?" he whispered.

Haibara nodded. "Yes. I'd suspected, but I wanted to be sure. I didn't want to alarm you prematurely."

Shinichi's gaze flitted everywhere and nowhere, his thoughts a chaotic mess. "I…"

The two fell into a long silence before the scientist prodded timidly, "Are you… are you angry…?"

"At you? No," the detective sighed, bringing a shaking hand up to ruffle his fringe. "At my situation? Very much so." He lowered his hand from his head to clench his fingers into a fist, noting how even when tense, his hand still trembled.

"I'm sor—"

"You've nothing to apologize for, Haibara." His words were clipped and harsh as he cut her off, and Shinichi glanced away, ashamed of the hypocrisy between his words and his actions. "Sorry."

Haibara shook her head vehemently. "I deserve it, Kudou-kun. Don't worry, I understand."

Shinichi studied her. "You didn't believe me when I apologized, did you?"

The strawberry blonde eyed him back with subtle contempt. "Would you, if you were in my position?"

The detective choked on the instinctive rebuttal for a moment before he sighed. "… no…" he shamefacedly admitted. "Anyway, are you going to actually tell me?" At Haibara's quizzical look—her guilty conscience had inadvertently derailed their conversation, after all—he elaborated, "What's your prognosis for me in normal words, so that I don't have to infer?"

The scientist's brows furrowed in thought, and only after she was prompted once again after a long pause did she murmur, "Sorry, I was just… trying to figure out how to phrase it."

"There's no need to sugarcoat it, you know, not with… how I am right now," Shinichi quietly reminded.

Haibara shook her head. "Actually, I think I might have to."

Shinichi's brows furrowed in concern. "It's that bad…?"

"… yeah…" she confessed in the smallest voice the detective had ever heard from her, "it's that bad."

"Then just say it," he commanded.

Haibara took a deep, steadying breath. "Six months. You have six months, tops."

Shinichi froze, silent as the number percolated through his consciousness. "Six…?" His eyes slid to the carpet before him as he exhaled, "Oh."

The strawberry blond hiccupped. "I'm s—"

"Don't say you're sorry again, Haibara," he softly reprimanded, interrupting her apology. "You don't need to."

"I—" she choked, "Kudou-kun, I just gave you a death sentence, and you're telling me that I don't need to apologize?!" Her voice rose with her hysteria and guilt as she spoke, and by the end she was staring at him with tears in her eyes as if he had gone crazy.

Shinichi smiled at her, a soft, warm, and broken little thing. "No, you don't." His heartbeat thumped thunderously in his ears, each one distinct as though he was hearing it in slow motion. His eyes stared at Haibara, even as his fingers twitched and jerked of their own accord. "You're absolutely certain?" he asked quietly in confirmation, his voice faintly trembling.

The strawberry blonde standing before him nodded once, her glistening blue eyes dropping to the carpeted floor. "Yes," she whispered.

---

The days for Shinichi passed in a blur as he worked out and tossed various plans to expose the Organization. Agasa had ended up needing to invent a device that the detective could dictate into, as his motor functions had degenerated enough to where it was quicker to speak than it was to either type or write. During the hours Haibara spent in school, Shinichi would mumble quietly into the dictation machine's microphone, generating multitudes of documents and lists. He also made phone calls to people in the various agencies that he knew of, asking them for their cooperation and to also reach out to others within the international law enforcement community to see if they had other heretofore unknown allies.

Shinichi quickly became a central point of contact, working fulltime to coordinate efforts between the ICPO, the ICC, the Japanese PSB, the American FBI and CIA, the Canadian CSIS, the British SIS, the German BND, the French DGSE, the Italian AISE, the Spanish CNI, the Taiwanese NSC, the Singaporean SID, the Hong Kongese CIB, and the South Korean NIS. He quickly compiled a list of all of the NOCs—codenamed and not—along with where they were stationed and what their covers were. With information provided by them, he was able to pinpoint the location of the Organization's headquarters in Shinjuku and deduce the name of the man who headed the Organization: Karasuma Renya, founder and CEO of the Karasuma Group. The corporation's valuation was in the billions, of which the total worth was higher than even the Suzuki's financial business or the Ooka's conglomerate. The fact that Karasuma Renya had established the company over fifty-five years ago and had yet to step down from the position of CEO had… implications.

"So, what's the plan, Kudou-kun?"

Shinichi jumped, startled out of the power nap he had been sliding into since he had a small breather in his work. "What?"

Haibara leaned around him to study the contents of his computer monitor. "What do you plan on doing, since you've been in contact with a number of foreign intelligence agencies?"

"We've the location pinned down, as well as the who. Right now, it's more an issue of getting everyone together in Tokyo without rousing suspicion," the detective explained.

The scientist hummed. "What's your timeframe?"

"Three months."

"Think you'll be ready?"

Shinichi gazed at his friend solemnly. "Considering the timeframe you gave me, I have to be."

---

"Haibara," Shinichi announced as he wheeled into her bedroom where she had been folding her laundry on her bed. "I'd like to participate in the takedown as myself."

Ai blinked, not quite sure she had heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

"The antidote," the detective pressed as he approached from behind. "I'll need one when the Organization goes down."

The numerous calculations and results of her more recent experiments flew through her head, leaving her with only one solid conclusion as her fingers spasmodically clenched the shirt in her hands. "You can't," she blurted out, her tongue working faster than her mind could with regards to the discussion with Shinichi. All of the models I've run and all those dead mice…

Shinichi's skeptical gaze burned into the back of her neck. "What do you mean, I can't?"

Ai's hands trembled with how tight her fists were. Had she not been holding the shirt, she would have surely drawn blood in her palms. Drawing increasingly fast breaths through the anxiety building quickly enough to leave her trembling, she barked sharply, "As your doctor, I cannot allow it!" Don't you dare cry, Miyano Shiho! she snarled at herself. You don't deserve the right to cry after everything that you've done!

There was stunned silence for a long moment before the detective quietly asked, "And why not?"

The biochemist bit her lip to keep from vocalizing a sob. "Can't you just… accept my word that you cannot?" she whispered, the words a desperate plea that she hoped he could hear.

The quiet sigh from behind her proved that he had heard what she had not asked. "No," he murmured, equally soft and apologetic. "I can't, Haibara. Not for this."

Ai ducked her head, hiding her face behind her hair to hide the fact that she had teared up. She pressed her fists into the softness of her duvet, leaning heavily forwards as her entire body trembled.

Shinichi wheeled up beside her, the silver gleam of his left wheel glinting through strawberry blond strands to her right. "Tell me," he entreated.

"It'll kill you," she breathed, and the admittance—the knowledge that the poison she had made with her own hands would be the one to end the life of the one person who had become the world to her after the death of her biological family—clawed and tore raggedly at her soul.

"What will?"

"The antidote," she clarified in a small, quivering voice. "It will definitely kill you, if you take it."

Shinichi's voice was quizzical. "But I was fine before?"

"Kudou-kun, look at yourself!" Ai snapped in a sudden surge of fear, straightening abruptly enough that the detective jumped in his seat. "The apoptoxin is working now! Your body's already begun deteriorating, as you have definitely noticed. The trauma from changing back and forth already stresses your body so much that it won't be able to handle another transformation back!" She paused to wipe at her face, which was now damp with tears as she sniffled.

Fuck, she swore, didn't I promise to myself that I wouldn't cry…?

"The last time you changed…" she continued, glaring at her friend through watery eyes, "even when the apoptoxin was dormant and you were still otherwise healthy… your heart stopped for a solid minute. It meant your heart had failed, and Hakase and I had to jury rig an AED to restart your heart since CPR wasn't working…" She choked then, bowing her head at the memory of breathing and circulating blood for Shinichi as the professor had scrambled to wire up something to restart his heart, which ranked as one of the most terrifying experiences she had ever gone through. She swallowed thickly, wrapping her arms around herself in a self-soothing gesture. "Do you… do you have any idea how terrified the both of us were?" she whispered. "I—I understand that you want to be yourself again… I understand that wish of yours more than anyone else, but…" Ai lifted her eyes up to meet Shinichi's wide blue ones. "As your doctor, I cannot recommend that course of action. And as your friend… please don't make me do this…"

Shinichi's gaze dropped to his hands, which he folded onto his lap. "Can you make it anyway?" he asked quietly.

Ai hiccupped. "Why?" she whispered brokenly.

"Because I don't want to die looking like this," the detective softly explained. "Because if I die, I want to die being me. Let me choose how I leave, Haibara. Please."

He's right. The biochemist clenched her jaw. I can't deny him this, not if this is to be his last, dying wish. "Okay," she conceded, and the acknowledgment calmed something that had, until now, been raging and screaming in the cage of her chest. "I'll make it for you." She locked eyes with him, nodding reluctantly in confirmation. "One last time."

Shinichi's smile was fractured and heartbreaking and so very beautiful. "Thank you, Haibara."

You shouldn't thank me, Kudou-kun. Never thank me. Ever.

---

Shinichi was staring very hard at a timetable he had created, trying to work out schedules when a familiar voice hummed from somewhere behind him, "Imagine my surprise upon discovering that you had stopped attending kiddie school… though I had not expected the reason to be… this."

"Neither did I—" he absently answered, before realization snapped in. He wheeled around in his chair and barked, "You! How did you fi—" He cut himself off with pursed lips and a sigh before he said, "You know what, KID? Never mind." It took a moment longer before he blinked and glared at the phantom thief now sitting cozily on his bed. "Wait, you've been keeping tabs on me?!"

"Not as often as you think. More like once every month or so, and now just so happened to be my monthly check-in time," the magician answered easily with a careless wave of his hand.

"Stalker," the detective accused.

KID huffed. "I believe I prefer the term, 'immensely concerned citizen.'"

Shinichi growled in response. "Semantics, you nosy shit." He forced himself to pause and take a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. "Now, what is it that really had you swinging by to see me?"

The phantom thief pouted. "Am I not allowed to be worried about you? You drop out of school without prior warning and expect me to leave it at that?"

"Are you this involved in the lives of other detectives who are after you?" the detective wondered aloud, taking his glasses off so that he could rub tiredly at his eyes.

KID hummed, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, one of them happens to be my neighbor and another is in my class, so…?"

Shinichi barely refrained from gaping at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement. Somehow, he managed to pull himself together after resetting his glasses on his nose and muttered, "… I give up."

"What?!" the magician yelped in alarm, snapping from his reclined position into a painfully stiff seated position.

The de-aged teenager snorted. "I give up," he said simply.

"Wait, why?" KID asked, confusion painted plainly on his face.

"Because you're just—impossible."

KID relaxed at that, a lazy smirk stretching his lips as he flopped back onto the bed. "I'll take that for the compliment that you so obviously intended it to be," he cooed, understanding and ignoring the sarcasm inherent in Shinichi's words.

The detective's deadpan expression was Macademy-worthy. "What the fuck, KID."

"Tch, language, Tantei-kun!" the thief tutted mockingly, his face a portrait of innocent shock for a moment before he snorted and smirked. "Anyhow, what's all this with planning a strike against the big underground baddie group?"

"You've been hacking my computer, too?!"

KID clicked his tongue. "Child's play—metaphorically speaking, of course, Tantei-kun. So, who are you planning this for?" He sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, his gaze intent and eager. "It looks dangerous."

"It is dangerous," Shinichi confirmed. "But they need to be taken down."

"And you're going to take them down… as you are now?" the phantom thief asked delicately, a concerned frown wrinkling his brow.

Shinichi was forced to drop his gaze in humiliation, the back of his neck and his ears warming uncomfortably. "No, I'm not. Others will."

"This isn't the same group that Sherry and that Bourbon fellow are a part of, is it?" KID prodded. At the scorching, warning stare he received from the detective, he protested, "Oi, don't glare at me like that, Meitantei! I can read between the lines too when the situation calls for it."

There was a long moment in which Shinichi seriously considered the person sitting on his bed before him, weighing how much he trusted him to give such answers. "Yes, I'd be going after them," he conceded.

KID beamed. "There, that wasn't so hard to admit, was it? Getting such a simple answer from you is worse than pulling teeth."

Shinichi glanced away again, unable to stomach KID's constant friendliness despite trying to ward him off with a chilly demeanor. Guilt pooled in his gut at keeping the news of his impending death a secret from the phantom thief, even though rationally he knew that he had no reason to feel beholden to KID in any way. They were not friends in the traditional sense—they were detective and criminal, on opposite sides of the law, constantly meant to be in opposition by their very natures. But even then, KID had gone out of his way to help him, had used him to catch other, worse criminals…

"What aren't you saying, Meitantei?" KID asked softly, all traces of jocularity gone, his face revealing nothing but solemn concern.

The detective sighed. "KID, think about how our confrontation with Them went last time on the train. Do you really believe that I'd come out completely unscathed?"

The thief frowned. "While I admit that that particular instance had been rather harrowing, are all your encounters with them like that?"

Shinichi wheeled around to face the computer, just so that he would not have to face the magician anymore. "More or less," he admitted softly.

KID was silent for a long moment. "So, you aren't sure you'll make it out of this one unharmed?"

"I'd go after Them even if it killed me," Shinichi growled, clenching trembling hands into shaky fists as an upswell of resentment flooded his chest and clawed at his insides.

"You sound so certain that it will," the thief observed with quiet caution.

Shinichi snorted. "Well, They were the ones who created the poison that made me this way, after all. Bringing Them down seems like reasonable recompense," he answered darkly, his anger at his situation and its cause leaking into his voice. "Tit-for-tat, and all that jazz."

There was another moment of long, contemplative silence before KID murmured, "Your idea of retribution is on a scale I am not quite able to fathom, Meitantei."

"Well, your idea of fun is rather questionable as well, KID," he retorted as he began scrolling through his timetables again.

"Shows how little you know about me."

Shinichi barked a harsh laugh at the irony of the statement. "Care to share with the class, then?" he asked mockingly, twisting to glance at the thief over his shoulder.

KID smirked as he held a finger to his lips. "A good magician never reveals his secrets."

---

"I see you there, worrying about something, Ojou-san."

Haibara barely managed to keep from flinging the pipettor she held at the unexpected intruder as she wobbled on her stepstool. "Kaitou KID-san…!" she yelped, relieved that she had kept a hold on the pipettor, which contained a reagent used to detect the presence of and isolate cytochrome C—the reagent was both corrosive and combustible, and while KID was someone who could be considered something of an annoyance, he had saved her life. The biochemist was not about to repay him by accidentally dousing him with something particularly hazardous. "Don't scare me like that, especially not in here!" she snapped, surprise and anxiety lending a shrillness to her voice.

KID held both his hands up, showing empty, gloved palms—though Haibara knew that little display meant nothing to a magician of his caliber. "My apologies," he said quickly, backing up enough that the strawberry blonde did not feel quite so cornered in her own basement laboratory.

"How did you get in here?" she asked as she set the pipettor down on its stand next to a partially filled rack of test tubes, all of which contained minute samples of Shinichi's blood. She stepped off the stepstool and folded her arms across her chest as she leaned her back against the edge of the counter, eyes warily observing the white-clad magician.

"Magic, of course!" he chirped. At her unimpressed stared, he sighed loudly and admitted, "I sneaked in through the back door." KID settled against the far wall of the room, crossing one ankle and fold his arms over his chest. "What is Meitantei planning?" he asked seriously, and the flip in demeanor gave Haibara proverbial whiplash. "Why is he so sure this strike against the Organization will be the last thing he'll ever do?"

The question immediately made the scientist think of the time limit she had set on her friend. "I—I don't know," she mumbled, looking away as guilt suffused her entire being.

"Liar." KID's accusation cracked like a whip, loud and sharp and focused.

Haibara felt compelled to protest, if only to protect the truth that was Shinichi's alone to tell. "I don't—"

"You know exactly what he is planning, Ojou-san." The magician's voice was brisk and so devoid of his usual good humor that for a split-second Haibara wondered if she was talking to someone entirely different. "I want to know what that is."

"And why should I tell you?" she bit out, more out of bravado than any actual desire to argue with the phantom thief.

KID grinned lazily. "Let's say it's because I have vested interest in his survival."

That remark—however casual or calculated it might have been—upset Haibara on multiple levels. She snarled, suddenly furious, "And I don't?!"

"I never said that, Ojou-san," KID answered coolly, lifting a hand up to wordlessly forestall any further aggression on her part. "I'm just… worried… about him," he admitted softly as his demeanor thawed into something less rigid and deliberate, and more tired and human. "That's all."

The biochemist felt the fight rapidly drain from her at KID's admission, leaving her feeling achingly hollow. "That makes two of us, even if I know that it's useless to hope," she said with a self-derisive huff.

The magician cocked his head in curiosity. "What makes you say that?"

"That story is… not mine to tell." Shinichi's face, stock still and slightly slack from shock at his death sentence, drifted before her mind's eye. "You're going to have to ask him if you want to know."

KID hummed as he eyed her thoughtfully, and Haibara abruptly felt nakedly exposed under the magician's gaze, as if he could read all the secrets she kept and the sins she had committed. "Secrets within secrets… I see."

---

KID took to visiting Shinichi at all hours of the day, at random days of the week and times of day. On some level, it drove the detective crazy, as he could never anticipate when the idiot would show up, but even so, it broke the monotony of his days, which were spent unintentionally imprisoned within the professor's home organizing the strike against the Organization. Shinichi had battled—argued—long and hard for the right to organize such a decisive strike. Many were not all right with allowing a child to direct a sting operation, but the few allies he had in the international intelligence community backed him up. He had been given a week's time to come up with a plan, which would be put to a vote.

Shinichi won with little opposition after advocating his competency for a full eighteen hours via video conference call. He had crashed hard that early morning, slumping exhaustedly into his wheelchair into dreamless sleep. When he woke, it was to the late afternoon sun glowing through makeshift curtains over the windows of his bedroom. The sleuth struggled but managed to sit up, discovering he had been changed into pajamas and tucked into his bed. KID sat at his desk, pencil in an ungloved hand as he swept arcs of graphite across a sheet of paper.

"KID…?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The thief turned at the mention of his name, his expression brightening upon seeing Shinichi awake. "Hey, Meitantei. Sleep well?"

Shinichi nodded. "Did you…?"

"I found you passed out in front of the computer, so I got you in bed so that you wouldn't have to add aching joints and stiffness to your already lengthy list of problems," the magician gently teased. "Did it go well?"

"Yes," he replied, not surprised in the least that KID knew what he had done to wring himself out. "They'll allow me to spearhead organization efforts."

KID smiled as he tipped the chair he was ensconced onto its two back legs, a cobalt-socked foot hooked around the desk's leg to keep himself from falling over. "Congratulations."

The fact that the phantom thief was congratulating him drove home the fact that in less than three months' time, he would be bringing down the Organization. Bringing him three months closer to death, and the thought made him think of the ones in his life that he cherished.

"KID," he began tentatively, "I have a request… if you don't mind."

The magician stilled, shooting the detective a glance out of the corner of his eye. "Oh? And what would the esteemed Meitantei wish to ask of me?" he purred as he lowered the two airborne chair legs back onto the carpeted floor.

Shinichi flushed as he stared at his hands, which were touching by the fingertips of his index fingers. "It's… well…"

KID's grin gentled from its predatory sharpness, easing into a warm, encouraging smile. "I won't laugh if it's embarrassing, if that's what you are afraid of."

"No!" the detective yelped in kneejerk defensiveness. He stilled and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "It's—not that. It's just… I… CanyoutakeRanonadateformeasme?"

A peek at KID's face revealed an expression of utter befuddlement. "… I'm sorry, I must not have heard correctly, because I thought I just heard you ask if I can take Mouri-san on a date for you. While pretending to be Kudou Shinichi," he said, tipping his top hat forwards with a hand to scratch the back of his head with the other.

Feeling bolder at having caught KID wrongfooted, Shinichi nodded and said, "You heard correctly."

"I—" the magician began with a frown, pausing as he righted his hat and sorted out his thoughts. "Meitantei… surely you must be joking?" There was no trace of amusement on the face that was so similar to his, only concern and puzzlement.

"I wouldn't joke about this," the de-aged teenager answered with a solemn shake of his head.

"But—why can't you do it yourself?"

Shinichi studied the thief, reading the nuances in his body language. "I take it you haven't talked to Haibara, then."

KID shrugged. "Not really, since she wouldn't tell me anything," he said with a small pout.

"Sounds about right," the detective replied with a snort.

"Then…" the magician nudged, "would you mind if I asked…?"

"It's fine, since you know I can't walk anymore," Shinichi said, and KID winced at his bluntness. Speaking that fact no longer made the sleuth cringe on the inside—it was a fact that he had been forced to accept whether he liked it or not, and it was his reality day in and day out. "The truth is…" He stopped, for despite his acceptance of his situation, speaking of it aloud still felt taboo, in a way. "The truth is—well, you know about how I was poisoned, right?"

KID nodded. "I've managed to piece a few things together on my own, yes."

"Because of the apoptoxin, I—I can't turn back into myself," Shinichi murmured dully. "Not anymore."

"… what?" KID breathed, aghast.

"The antidote. Haibara said that with the physical condition I'm in now, if I take it again, it will kill me this time—for certain."

KID was silent for a long pause, and when he spoke, his voice was small and trembled ever so slightly. "And there isn't—?"

Shinichi shook his head. "No. Unless you can do magic, there is no way I can return to being Kudou Shinichi."

"I…" the magician began hesitantly, "… am acquaintances with someone who is an actual, honest-to-gods, curse-casting, potion-brewing witch…?"

The detective laughed, louder and longer than was strictly necessary simply because of the sheer absurdity of KID's offer. "That's a good one," he commented, wiping a tear from his eye even as he rubbed his now aching stomach. "Anyhow, it's fine."

"I'm serious! She's as witchy as they come!" KID protested, and Shinichi realized that the thief was being sincere in his proposal. His expression then turned thunderous as he spat, "And what do you mean, 'it's fine'?!" KID stood up from the chair and stomped over to glare down at Shinichi. "This is your life we're talking about, Meitantei! You can't just—"

"Yes," Shinichi snapped, interrupting the thief as he tilted his head back with an equally harsh glower of his own as he crossed his arms over his chest, "yes I can—it is my life we are talking about. And I don't have much time left."

KID audibly growled as he spun on a heel, his cape sweeping in a fluttering arc behind him as he stalked a few paces away. Shinichi watched as the magician's entire body trembled with tension and fury. "No."

"KID—"

"No, Meitantei!" the phantom thief snarled, "I refuse to accept that you would just willingly roll over and die that!"

"I'm not!" Shinichi roared, fed up with KID's seeming inability to listen to him, to hear what he had to say.

KID swept up to the detective, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him—though the sleuth distantly noted that even in the depths of his anger, KID had still been carefully gentle. "Then what the fuck is up with this request of yours?!" he hissed.

Shinichi grabbed the phantom thief's wrists, suddenly acutely aware of how weak his grip was. "This is my apology to Ran for everything I have ever hurt her for!" he snapped back, staring KID straight into the other man's eyes. His rage at his own powerlessness surged forth, but he tamped down on the desire to direct it at KID. The magician was not the object of his ire, merely a convenient target—and therefore not deserving of his anger. The detective released KID's wrists when he was released from the magician's grip, and instead wheeled himself away from the thief to stare out the sole window he had in his room. He took several moments to cool his head before he spoke.

"I'm bringing the Organization down, KID, make no mistake about that," he said quietly, and the affirmation steadied him, reminded him of the reason he had run—was running—himself ragged for. He sighed deeply, feeling the weariness in the very marrow of his bones. "But I also know that planning this out, that doing this, will likely be the last thing I ever do on this plane. So, before that happens, I want to show Ran just how much I love her—and how sorry I am for not being able to be there for her when she wanted and needed me to be." His voice was soft but steady as he gazed sightlessly past his faint reflection on the windowpane into the backyard.

"Meitantei…" breathed KID, and his voice was unfamiliar with how troubled it sounded.

Shinichi wheeled himself around to face KID, who, though standing with a casual slouch with his hands in his trouser pockets, fairly radiated uneasiness. "Shinichi. If I'm asking you to do something this personal for me, then I think you deserve to call me by my name—surname is fine if my given name makes you uncomfortable, but I think you've more than earned the right to use it."

KID stared at the detective for a long while before he released a quiet, resigned sigh of acceptance. "Fine… Shinichi." He lifted his hat entirely off his head and plucked the monocle off his nose, revealing messy espresso-colored hair and exposing that nearly identical face. "Kuroba Kaito," he introduced as he paradoxically bent in a showman's bow with none of his characteristic charisma. "Though please use my given name." Kaito straightened, his expression a complicated mix of emotions. "It's an immense privilege to officially meet you."

"The feeling's entirely mutual… Kaito-san," Shinichi said, and the knowledge of KID's actual name filled him with an odd blend of triumph and regret. "I'm sorry we had to find out each other's identities like this," he apologized, bowing as best he could from his seat in his wheelchair.

Kaito ruffled his hair, disheveling it even more. "Same," he sighed, "though I would have rather found out now than later. Oh…" Kaito ambled to the desk and swapped the paper he had been sketching on for his hat and monocle. "Here. For you," he said, offering the page to Shinichi.

"What's this?" The detective accepted the sheet and blinked at the drawing on it.

"What I was sketching earlier," Kaito said with a shrug.

The curling outlines juxtaposed with zigzagged shading made for something that, to Shinichi, appeared to be abstract art of some sort. "… what is it?"

"You, sleeping."

Shinichi's eyes widened in pure disbelief. "I—what is this?! Don't you even know how to draw?!"

"Of course not!" Kaito huffed, clearly offended by the detective's reaction. "What do you take me for, some expert in… I don't know, everything?!"

"You forge all sorts of things, so why should I have expected you to not be able to draw?" Shinichi argued.

The magician waved his hands wildly in the air to show his incredulity. "When the hell do you think I have time to practice drawing between schoolwork, heist planning, and a part-time job?!"

The question brought the sleuth up short, and he flushed. "Well—I…" he stammered.

Kaito's expression instantly turned cunning, and Shinichi wanted nothing more than to wipe that expression off with a well-placed soccer ball. "Shinichi…" Kaito purred, and the phantom thief's voice sent chills of foreboding down his spine, "did you actually think I was naturally good at everything…?"

Shinichi's ears burned. "No!" he objected. "Just—shut up!" The moment the words were out of his mouth, the detective wished the ground would swallow him whole. Smooth, Shinichi, real smooth.

"Aw, look at that cute blush!" Kaito cooed.

"Argh, go away! Why did I ever decide to even consider you as a friend?" Shinichi huffed as he wheeled himself around to face the window once again.

Kaito hummed, apparently rather pleased with himself. "My guess would be because I'm both useful and entertaining at the same time?"

Shinichi shot the magician a flat look from over his shoulder. "More like exasperating."

"Oi oi… I like to think I'm more harmless and lovable than anything," Kaito complained, exaggeratedly feigning being shot through the heart.

"Harmless?" the detective scoffed, "Ha! Who's the one who deliberately tased a six-year-old?"

"I changed the amperage!" Kaito shot back defensively. "And I tested it too to ensure it was not deadly!"

"Wait, you tested it on yourself?" Shinichi gaped, stunned for a moment before righteous indignation swept over him. "Are you an idiot?!" The magician backpedaled rapidly as the detective advanced on him in his wheelchair. Despite his outrage, it took all he had not to twitch his lips in amusement at the idea of Kaitou KID backing away from a wheelchair-bound eight-year-old. "Why would you risk yourself like that?" he barked, pinning Kaito in a corner.

Kaito held his hands out before him as if to ward Shinichi off. "I had to make sure it was safe!"

"You could have done so without risking yourself like that!"

The magician slumped against the wall and groaned, rubbing a gloved hand down his face. It was strange seeing KID without his hat and monocle, knowing who the person behind the persona was, knowing that KID was just as human as anyone else with a life outside of his heists. It was strange, and yet oddly gratifying. "What's done is done. There's no use worrying over it now," the thief said.

Shinichi glared for a moment longer before exhaling loudly. "Yeah, you're right." There was a long moment of silence that stretched between the two of them, a gently nipping maw of shared history and regret. Shinichi spun and wheeled himself away. "Why did you come?" he asked quietly once he had come to a stop before his window once more. The light outside was bright—too bright for the sudden heaviness of the mood that came with his question. "Why unmask here? Why now?"

"Because it was time," Kaito slowly answered. "Because I trust you."

The detective snorted. "Trust does not implicitly imply safety," he countered.

The phantom thief hummed. "Perhaps not," he agreed, "but trust has always meant safety so long as it was you. And I've trusted you since the Magic Lover's Case."

"That long ago?" Shinichi whispered to himself, shocked. Louder, Shinichi sighed. "You're unbelievable."

The smug grin was obvious in Kaito's voice. "I have to be, to be Kaitou KID."

Jerk, the detective thought with grudging fondness.

---

"Haibara, KID… do you have time to talk?" Shinichi asked as he wheeled into the living room. Shinichi had chosen to address Kaito as "KID" in the event that Haibara was not aware of the phantom thief's civilian identity. It was not really a surprise that KID was visiting, as he had continued his tendency to drop by with steady frequency.

"Of course, Kudou-kun," Haibara said as she closed the book she had been reading.

KID put away the deck of cards that he had been absently shuffling. "My name is fine. Kuroba Kaito, at your service," he said in an impromptu introduction to the scientist. Haibara nodded in response and murmured, "Miyano Shiho, but I prefer Haibara Ai."

Kuroba nodded in acknowledgement before he asked, "What's on your mind, Shinichi?"

Shinichi took a deep breath. "About the antidote…"

Anger flared in the strawberry blonde's eyes. "Kudou-kun, we've talked about this!"

"I know we have, Haibara, but please, let me explain…" he said stubbornly.

"Kudou-kun—"

"Haibara-san," Kaito interrupted, "perhaps we should hear Meitantei out before making any snap judgments, yes?"

Haibara unhappily relented, and Shinichi nodded gratefully. "Thank you. Now, about the antidote… I want to take it once the Organization has been taken care of."

"Shinichi," the thief remarked with a furrowed brow, "as you've already told me, it will kill you."

"I know," Shinichi answered quietly, gaze dropping to the floor. "But… if the apoptoxin is going to kill me in the end, I'd rather die as Shinichi—as myself—than as Conan."

"But—surely your parents would—!"

"What? Care?" the detective scoffed, shooting the strawberry blonde a scornful look. "They never wanted me in the first place, so why would they care anyhow?"

Haibara's expression was stricken. "Kudou-kun…"

"I was always nothing but a burden to them, an accident. Sure, they sort of watched out for me the moment I became Conan, but let's be realistic: if they had truly cared about me, would they have left me behind when I turned fourteen to go globetrotting? Wouldn't they have come back upon hearing that I'd been de-aged, that I had an international criminal syndicate after me?" His voice had started strong and loud, angry and indignant. At the end, it had dropped to a whisper full of longing, loneliness, and hurt. "Wouldn't any parent who cared enough do anything to protect their child?"

Kaito's expression was pained. "Shinichi…"

Shinichi wheeled away, suddenly unable to face the twin gazes full of sorrow on his behalf. "I've known," he insisted. "I've known for a long time that they've never wanted me. And I don't think they'd really care if I lived or died, so long as they got to keep having their fun. I don't—" he choked on the words but swallowed and continued on. "I don't hate them for it, but I've no affection for them either. They left me enough money to comfortably survive on my own, and I've made my own choices on how I wanted to live. And all things considered, that was more than enough. Therefore, I won't burden them with this. I've no desire to inform them when the chances of them returning to Beika are so low, but neither do I want the people I do care for to worry about me. I'll make sure my end is clean, that they will have closure. This is the least I can do for the ones I love, after everything I've fucked up."

There was a long silence after Shinichi's soliloquy as everyone digested his words. At length, Haibara asked for a final confirmation, "You're sure about this, Kudou-kun?"

"Between a near-instantaneous death of my own choosing, or a more drawn-out one that I cannot control?" He sighed deeply, wearily. "I think you know what my answer is."

---

"I have conditions," Kaito announced as he slipped into Shinichi's bedroom through the window three days after he had requested a favor of the thief. The sleuth glanced up from his spreadsheets on the dual monitor setup that he had on his desk.

"Conditions for what?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he took in Kaito's apparel. Instead of the iconic white suit that was wholly Kaitou KID, Kaito had chosen to visit in casualwear consisting of olive-green cargo pants, black turtleneck sweater, and black combat boots. It was… interesting to see KID not as KID.

Kaito folded his arms over his chest as he boldly stated with utmost seriousness, "If I am to masquerade as you on a date with Mouri-san, I have conditions for this, Shinichi."

Realizing this was Kaito's answer to his request, Shinichi wheeled himself around to face the magician, giving the other teen his full, undivided attention. "Name them."

The magician held up one finger as he began to list his conditions out. "One: I will be bugged with audio-visual equipment so that you can see and hear what we do. This is your date, not mine, and you should have some sort of participation in it."

Shinichi's brow puckered in confusion at that. "That's… weird, Kaito, but all right."

A second finger popped up to join the first. "Two: I will be your mouthpiece for this date."

"You—what?" he asked, brow now furrowed heavily as he stared at the other teen in very obvious befuddlement.

Kaito refolded his arms. "For the duration of this date, I plan on shutting my brain off and letting you do the conversing with Mouri-san. I will repeat verbatim what you say and act appropriately to the situation, but I do not plan on initiating any conversation unless you tell me to," he said seriously.

"Why?"

The magician sighed gustily as he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair in agitation as he explained, "You should be the one there, not me, Shinichi. I'm merely a…" He waved a hand around as he searched for a term that would suitably describe what he wanted to say, "Mm, a stand-in mouthpiece for you, if you will. You're going to also have to direct me on what activities you wish for us to participate in, since I don't know you well enough in an outside-heist way to know what your preferences are with her."

Shinichi blinked, taken aback by Kaito's thoughtfulness. "I guess that makes sense."

Kaito then added a third finger to his count. "And lastly, Three: I will not do anything intimate with Mouri-san." His voice and expression were flat, indicating that he would not take any arguments on this one. Not that Shinichi wanted to argue about this. "No kissing, and hugging and hand holding will happen only if you direct me to or if you okay it after she initiates." The thief sighed again, leaning a cheek on the previously counting hand as he cupped his elbow with the other. "… despite what you may think about KID, I do have some morals, and there are lines that I know I shouldn't cross. … especially not in situations like this."

The detective felt his nose itch, touched by Kaito's kindness. "I… thank you, Kaito. That… means a lot to me."

"I'm sorry I can't do more, Shinichi."

"No. You're doing enough. More than enough," he said with shake of his head. Because it has to be enough.

---

An echoey knock pulled her from her contemplation over the single red and white pill before her. "Haibara?" came Shinichi's voice from the top of the stairs to her basement lab. "You down there?"

"Yes, Kudou-kun," she answered as she slid off the stool before her computer and tapped her way up the stairs. She met the detective at the top, eyes sweeping him over quickly per her usual status check on his condition.

"You… do you have it?" he asked quietly.

Ai frowned. "Have what?" she responded in confusion.

"The Apoptoxin."

The words made her heart skip a beat in self-revulsion. "I do," she softly revealed. She let her admission sink into the silence between them before she hesitantly asked," Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Shinichi nodded tiredly. "Yeah, I'm sure." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply before subjecting Ai to a soul-weary stare. "I'm… I'm tired, Haibara. I'm tired of the lying, of giving false hope to others. I just…"

The strawberry blonde bowed her head. "I understand," she whispered, and she knew without a doubt that Shinichi knew just how well she understood.

"Thanks, Haibara," he said, that shattered, worn smile once more curving his lips.

Ai could do nothing more than smile brokenly back. "Of course, Kudou-kun."

---

By the time the day of the sting operation against the Organization rolled around, localized paralysis had set in, rendering Shinichi unable to move about without help. Several muscles in his legs had seized up for a few weeks before becoming completely unresponsive, which meant that while he still could walk, he wobbled about worse than a newborn foal. Because of this, he had to be careful during the times he needed to be out of his wheelchair, such as relieving himself, taking a shower or bath, changing his clothes, or getting in and out of bed. Agasa and Haibara had installed railing in both his bedroom and bathroom to help him maneuver on his own. It was a huge blow to his ego—he was only eighteen, and yet already needed equipment most eighty-year-olds did—but he was nonetheless grateful for their consideration.

Shaking hands pulled the headset over his ears and trembling fingers tugged the microphone boom into place as he waited for his computer monitors to wake up from sleep mode. Shinichi typed in his password to access the hub that was the core of this multi-national operation, clicking the link that would connect him to the conference call that everyone was participating in. He logged into another website on his second monitor, which in a few hours would have a map with GPS locations of all the agents as they began the operation, as well as live drone feeds that would allow him to watch the action in real time.

"Good evening, everyone," he greeted in English, wincing as his speech slurred ever-so-slightly. Lately, he had noticed that eating had become a bit more tedious, what with the fact that he choked on his food with more frequency. "How are you all feeling?" Representatives from the individual agencies involved—the ICPO, the ICC, the PSB, the FBI, the CIA, the CSIS, the SIS, the BND, the DGSE, the AISE, the CNI, the NSC, the SID, the CIB, and the NIS—answered in the affirmative. It had not taken too long for the agencies to warm up to him once he was able to prove his worth as a member of the team. That he had been accepted at all had been all he had wanted, but to be put in the position of organizing and calling the shots—it was beyond anything he could have expected.

"Hey, Boss," Jodie said, greeting him on a private frequency after the overview meeting that had been held once he and a few remaining stragglers had joined.

"Jodie-sousakan," he answered.

"Are you okay? You didn't sound too hot during the briefing earlier."

Shinichi sighed. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. I've just been a little under the weather as of late." It was technically the truth—just not the whole truth.

The blonde American woman hummed. "Well, take care of yourself and don't get even more sick. We need you tonight." The warmth and care in her voice was palpable, and it made Shinichi unwittingly smile.

"Thanks. Be careful tonight."

"You know I will," she answered. "Take care."

"You too," he said, and ended the call. Shinichi took the headset off and placed it on his desk, running shaky fingers through his hair to comb out strands that had been mashed crookedly against his head by the cushioned band as he sipped water through the straw of his tumbler.

A gentle knock on his door revealed Haibara, laden with a steaming plate of chicken curry katsu with the breaded chicken cutlet already cut into bite-sized pieces, a bottle of water tucked under her arm. "Hey," she greeted softly. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"No," he replied, and beckoned her to enter. "It's dinnertime already?"

"An hour past," she said as she set the plate down on the spot he had cleared on his desk. "Hakase and I have already eaten. How're you feeling?" she questioned as she refilled his tumbler with the water bottle.

Shinichi accepted the spoon and fork from her; hashi were his preference but they required more dexterity than he could manage with his current condition. "Okay. Just wrapped up a review meeting—the teams are all probably suiting up as we speak." He stuck a piece of chicken in his mouth, carefully chewing and swallowing before he added, "It'll be over by tonight, Haibara."

His friend's wide eyes gazed back at him, and he could read the hope and fear that lurked within them. She smiled, uneasy, but with genuine warmth. "I know," she said, and took her leave.

The detective finished eating his meal, only managing to polish off a quarter of his plate before he felt too full for another bite—it was a sign of both this body's deteriorating condition and the anxiety he felt with regards to the impending conflict with the Organization, what with how it felt like his insides were twisted in knots.

Shinichi settled his headset back on his head and logged into the dashboard created to allow him oversight of the entire operation. A series of greetings welcomed him once he had signed in. "Hello, everyone," he said in English. "All of you ready?"

"As much as we'll ever be," Dorothée Moreau, a member of the DGSE, answered in French-accented English.

"Ready as ever to kick some baddie arse," quipped the SIS' Benjamin Lewis.

Shinichi chuckled as the others laughed outright at SID officer Jiang Weiji's comeback, "At least until it's your arse that's kicked!"

He had half a mind to instruct them to stick to non-fatal shots but held his tongue—these brave men and women would be putting their lives on the line, and as much as Shinichi wanted everyone to come out of this alive, he knew that the chances of that happening were infinitesimally small when he was one-hundred percent certain the Organization would play neither clean nor nice. "Agents," he chided, and the line went quiet. "You all know why we are gathered here, and you all know what we are collectively trying to accomplish. Despite the fact that you are all from different countries, tonight you are part of one team. Look out for each other, watch each other's backs, and—" he released a shuddering breath before he hissed, allowing a spark of hatred to fan the flames of his anger, "—let's give them hell."

There was a raucous chorus of agreement and hoots, which quickly settled down when Shinichi began barking out directions. Offensive teams to their locations, defensive teams to theirs, tech teams getting the drones in place to allow for aerial footage. Each offensive member had a body camera attached, allowing Shinichi to see the action, see the interior layouts of the warehouses they were going to infiltrate. The detective was keen to see the laboratories that had been such a significant part of his life, for all that he had never set eyes on them before.

He briefly wondered if he should call in Haibara, to have her watch the downfall of the Organization, but decided against it. She had grown up in the Organization, and seeing the premises was likely to bring back memories that he was unsure he wanted her to recall—not when he did not know if she had actually grown up there and somehow considered the space a home of sorts.

"Alpha, status," he ordered as he flipped a small square in the dashboard to the agent's body camera. They had all agreed that the heart of the Organization would be nearest to where team Alpha would be entering.

"No signs of activity yet," CSIS officer David Brandt replied.

"Beta?"

"Negative," came NIS' Yoo Hyunsuk's answer.

The loud pops of gunfire came through the line, and Lewis whooped in his distinctive British accent, "We've got company, boys!"

Shinichi barked, "Fan out your search! Epsilon, send backup to Kappa!"

There was a scream as BND member Maria Schmidt gasped, "There's a sniper! Vogt's down!"

The detective clenched his jaw. "Drone team Three, triangulate with Zeta's directions and find that sniper!"

More gunfire, and Jodie's voice panted, "Team Chi, four unfriendlies engaged."

"Sniper Three, can you see where Lambda is in quadrant two?"

"I'm moving, but I should soon," Akai Shuuichi answered.

Shinichi took a breath before he ordered quietly and with grim finality, "Help them out." He had refrained from saying, "Take them out," because even though he knew that everyone in this fight would be using deadly force, he still could not, in good conscience, explicitly instruct his people to kill their opposition.

Akai answered with a single affirmative grunt, and a shaky breath escaped the detective. He allowed himself only a moment to mourn the loss of life that would assuredly occur under good watch, and he could only observe and allow it to happen.

Shinichi could only watch as his teams fought, flipping from camera to camera to keep an eye on them as he barked out instructions. The drone imagery was utilized to find opposition teams that laid in waiting, and these he directed his sniper units' attentions towards. He winced every time he saw someone—either his own or an Organization member—fall to the ground in a splatter of blood, felt his heart ache at the loss of life, yet his tongue remained still. A vice clamped down on his chest when Beta team encountered a hissing and snarling Chianti, who had been ousted from her stakeout location and was on the run from sniper fire from Sniper Two. Chianti had gone down under a hail of bullets, but not before she had managed to take out two of Beta's members.

An hour in, Gin and Vodka finally made an appearance, the pair efficiently taking out the entirely of team Chi. "Snipers Two and Five, targets in quadrant eight!" he snapped into his headset, and the urgency in his voice ensured that the two snipers hotfooted their way to the indicated location. He sucked in a breath as Vermouth showed up in the camera view of one of the dead team Chi's cameras. Vodka had fallen after taking several critical hits, and even now he knelt on the ground pressing large hands to two of his many wounds.

"Gin," she purred faintly in greeting, the microphone on the dead Chi team member barely picking up her voice. "Vodka."

"Vermouth," the silver-haired man snarled. The taller man looked worse for the wear despite the fact that his black outfit hid the blood that Shinichi knew oozed from his wounds. Knew, because that waterfall of silver hair was painted with several splotches of dark crimson on its underside and a snarl of pain painted his face.

The blonde clicked her way towards her compatriot, and Shinichi briefly wondered how she had been able to run and fight in heels. "Impressive job, taking out all eight of these idiots," she said, nudging one body with the toe of her boot.

"Why are you here?" Gin snapped. "You were supposed to be guarding warehouse twenty-seven!"

Vermouth fluttered her eyelashes. "Oh, I had been! Except something distracted me and I had to investigate."

Gin's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Investigate what?"

The blonde smirked. "Why, your death, of course!" she exclaimed and pulled the trigger on the man, first disabling him by a shot to his left hand by virtue of being quicker on the draw. His gun clattered to the ground, and Vermouth snorted. "Asshole. I've always hated you," she remarked as she sent three more bullets into Gin's skull. Immediately after that, she put two more through Vodka's cranium, and the two male assassins—the two that had turned Shinichi's life into a living hell of sorts, keeled over, dead.

Delta team came careening around a corner, and Shinichi watched, as though in slow motion, as Jodie brought her handgun up and fired at a caught off-guard Vermouth. The bullet tore through the blonde assassin's abdomen, and Vermouth jerked as the bullet went clean through. Jodie fired again, pulling the trigger repeatedly. Vermouth jerked with every bullet that passed through her body, and it was only after Jodie had fired a good eight bullets through her did the FBI officer pause.

Vermouth staggered and fell to the floor, coughing up a mouthful of blood. Several of Jodie's bullets had punctured her lungs. Jodie herself had to keep moving, her camera revealing that she had continued on her route to sweep the warehouse she was in. Shinichi's attention flitted back and forth between the various teams' cameras and the deceased member's camera as Vermouth breathed her last before finally going still. He released a shuddering sigh, taking a moment to mentally pass on his regards for the woman who had both made his life hell and helped him when he most needed it.

With the majority of the Organizations top assassins dead, it was relatively easy to secure the rest of the compound. Korn was captured towards the end of the operation by none other than Akai, who explained after reporting his success that he had knocked the man out with a hard uppercut to the jaw after a brief tussle.

With the ICPO taking over the operation to round up the Organization members who had survived and begin cleanup, Shinichi thanked his teams for a job well done and tiredly logged off. He wheeled out of the room, his face waxen with sweat beading his brow. Haibara gasped and scrambled towards him, the professor not far behind from where they had both been nervously waiting in the living room. "Is it…?" the strawberry blonde trailed off, afraid of the brunet's answer as she slowed in her approach.

"It's over," Shinichi sighed, and he drank in the unfiltered relief that flooded Haibara's expression. "The Organization's gone. You're free."

Haibara's breath hitched as she swallowed her sobs, though her eyes shown glassily with unshed tears. She reached out and clasped one of Shinichi's hands, her own trembling with emotion as she sank to her knees. "Thank you, Kudou-kun," she whispered as she pressed a forehead to the back of his hand, "thank you so much."

Shinichi reached out with his other hand to ineffectively tug her back up. "You're welcome, Haibara."

Agasa gently pried Haibara away from the wheelchair and guided her back to a couch, Shinichi following. The three were silent for a long while, soaking and digesting the implications of the Organization being finally gone. "Kudou-kun," Haibara began hesitantly, and the detective glanced inquisitively, tiredly in her direction. "Would you happen to know who… who killed Gin?"

It took several moments of thinking back, of replaying the past three hours to find the exact memory she wanted. "Vermouth," he answered quietly. "Vermouth shot him right before someone got her." Haibara sighed, and he could tell that she had very mixed emotions regarding the one who killed her sister's murderer.

Haibara took a moment to soak in the information before seeming to shake herself. "You should eat," she said, and made her way towards the kitchen. "You barely ate anything before the op, I think it's time you ate something."

"Haibara…" Shinichi groaned plaintively.

She shot him a stern look. "Don't you 'Haibara' me, Kudou-kun. You're done for the moment, so now it's time for you to recuperate."

The detective sighed but docilely wheeled himself towards the kitchen, resigned to being fussed over for the foreseeable future.

---

"Kudou-kun… there's a package for you," Ai called as she entered his room with a floppy package in hand.

Shinichi swiveled to meet her. "Ah. Thank you, Haibara. Mind opening it for me?" he asked.

The strawberry blonde tore the plastic shipping bag open, brow wrinkling in dread upon seeing the package's contents. "That's…" she murmured, the fabric slithering out of the packaging to dangle from shaking hands. The pristine blankness of the kimono incited a feeling of cold horror to sweep through her. There was only one occasion in which plain white kimonos were commonly used for: funerals.

This was the outfit that Kudou Shinichi had chosen to die in.

"A white kimono, yes. It'll make changing back to myself a little more convenient since it is adjustable," the brunet explained as he gave it a lackadaisical onceover.

Ai carefully draped the silk over her arm, not wanting to crease it more than it already was, but the feel of the fabric against her skin psychosomatically itched. "You're very… accepting of the fact that you're going to die," she tentatively stated, her tongue thick in her mouth.

Shinichi snorted, sending her a wry glance. "More like I've been forced to make peace with it. And don't apologize," he commanded, cutting her off because he knew her well enough to know that was what she had intended to do. "You know I don't blame you for this."

The scientist bit her lip, stoppering the deluge of apologies that desperately wanted to escape her lips. "You should," she whispered instead, the ever-present guilt even more suffocating due to the presence of the kimono. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"You're written into my will too, you know," he remarked with somewhat forced flippancy, and the comment had her head snapping up in shock. Shinichi's gaze was far too warm and kind for someone like her. "You don't think you didn't deserve anything for helping me all these years, did you?"

Ai bowed her head to hide the way her lips trembled and her eyes watered. "I deserve worse, and you know it," she argued defeatedly, having debated this point more times than she cared to count.

"Then you know exactly how I feel about that," the detective answered stubbornly but not unkindly as he wheeled off to his desk. He shakily picked up a pen and began jotting something down in a notebook, his face a study of concentration.

The strawberry blonde took a moment to compose herself before she was able to move. With heavy steps, she opened his closet and hung the kimono up. She stared at the clothing and felt her chest seize with emotion. Without another word, Ai left, leaving him to whatever took up his attention in the short time he had left on this plane.

---

The earbuds he had chosen to use was one Shinichi's inventor neighbor had created—they were discrete, tiny, and unobtrusive. Not to mention they were designed to snuggly nestle deep enough in the ear canal to not be seen in passing. They utilized bone conduction to transmit sound, and also contained microphones that could pick up sound in the immediate vicinity. A contact lens camera was an interesting piece of equipment that had also been developed for this outing. The copper wiring had to be painted over anyway in order to change his own indigo irises to Shinichi's cerulean, so hiding the microscopic machinery was not an issue. The fact that Kaito was able to wear a camera on his eye, however, was something that he marveled over. Repeatedly.

Kaito had gone over to Shinichi's actual house several hours before his appointed meeting time with Ran, not only to get kitted out with microtechnology, but also obtain an acceptable change of clothes and last-minute pointers from the one he was set to impersonate. Shinichi gave Kaito a long once over before deciding that the outfit of black turtleneck sweater, light grey straight-legged trousers, a tea-length navy trench coat, and black plimsoll sneakers was acceptable. Kaito had basically gone shopping for clothing the day before, and had video chatted with Shinichi for most of it, working with the detective's style and preferences to purchase a few outfits, the costs of which Shinichi promised to reimburse.

The phantom thief had also gone through the additional effort of doing his utmost best to smell like Shinichi—his method of doing so was to basically hug the shrunken detective for as long as Shinichi was comfortable in his chosen clothing. Shinichi had grumbled about it, but after having seen how Ran had reacted to KID at the airport after the Singaporean Fist of Blue Sapphire heist, he did somewhat understand where the magician was coming from. Kaito had grumbled that he had no desire to get his lights punched out by the karate champion.

Kaito, as Shinichi, was now nervously waiting for Ran outside the entrance to Tropical Land. He did not have to wait long, for two minutes before their appointed meeting time, Ran showed up dressed in a gorgeous white sundress.

"Shinichi!" she called, catching his attention as she approached.

"Ran!" Shinichi greeted with a warm smile, "You look lovely."

The brunette blushed as she accepted the arm Shinichi held out for her. They made it through the entrance turnstiles with little problem, Shinichi having already purchased the tickets. Their first decision was to head towards Dream and Fairytale Land since Ran wanted to ride some of the less extreme rides as a means of warming up to the larger roller coasters.

As Ran led Shinichi towards the first ride, she paused and pulled him out of the main foot traffic thoroughfare and planted her hands on her hips. "Okay, what's going on, Shinichi? Why did you call me here?"

"Ah, shit," Conan cursed in Shinichi's ear. "She's suspicious already. Anyway—"

"Oi," Shinichi protested, replicating Conan's indignance, "I can't just hang out with my best friend?" He emphasized his question with a slight pout of disbelief.

Ran huffed, though she relented a little at his expression. "You can, but it's just… weird."

Shinichi frowned. "How so?"

The brunette grasped his elbow and led him to an empty bench, sitting the both of them down. "Shinichi," she began hesitantly, and Shinichi could hear Conan gulp in his ear. "Do you really have time for this?"

"I—what do you mean, 'do I have time for this,' Ran?" Conan yelped, and Shinichi dutifully recited this, complete with an affronted, somewhat wounded expression. "Is it so wrong that I just want to spend quality time with my best friend?"

Ran glanced away, her body language screaming of discomfort. "No, it's just—" She sighed deeply, turning to face him. "It's just that you've been gone for so long and I… I just began to think that you just weren't interested or invested in maint—"

"Never, Ran," Conan swore fervently, "if I've somehow made you think that during the time I was away solving that case, then let me rectify that right now: I want you to know that I treasure each and every moment that I am able to spend with you."

Shinichi once again relayed Conan's message exactly, including the hitched breaths and tears that he knew without a doubt had welled up in the shrunken detective's eyes. And to be honest, those emotions were not difficult to fake—deep down, Kaito understood all too well Shinichi's emotions with regards to his own personal version of Ran. He gently clasped Ran's hands, aware that Conan could see his actions from the button camera on his shirt. "Please understand," he entreated softly, "I never meant to make you feel neglected. I promise."

Ran smiled, her gaze soft and forgiving and her smile so very fragile. "I know," she admitted quietly, "I know."

They lingered in the moment for a while longer, content to simply soak in the atmosphere that cocooned the two of them. "Come on," Shinichi said at length, and he stood and held out a hand to help her up. "We better hop on a few rides, otherwise I'll have wasted a bit of money on those entry tickets."

The karate champion huffed in amusement, interlacing her fingers with his as they began walking towards the carousel. "Not entirely wasted," she confessed, and Shinichi could not help but pull her closer to him. The rode several of the less adrenaline-inducing rides before they began going for the main attractions of Tropical Land: the large roller coasters. They burned most of the afternoon and early evening this way, and it was already dark when they exited the theme park, laughing and clutching at each other in order to keep the other upright.

Shinichi led them to a bench outside of the park, and they sat down to both rest their aching feet and calm down from their latest bout of giggles. "Thank you," Ran said, seemingly out of the blue.

The detective sent her a puzzled look. "For what?" he asked curiously.

Ran gazed at him, her eyes hopeful yet wary. "For being here. For staying this time," she admitted, and Shinichi felt a lump rise in his throat.

"Ran…" Conan murmured, unsure of what to say in response.

The brunette glanced away. "You're not… You're not leaving again, are you?" The dread in her voice was palpable, and it made Conan's heart clench painfully in his chest.

"I—Ran, please understand, I—" Shinichi begged, genuine tears pooling in his eyes in sheer desperation in his desire for her understanding.

"Understand what?" Ran asked quietly, and there was a sharpness, a bite to her voice that had not been there before. It only grew alongside her volume as she continued. "This case of yours has taken over your life, Shinichi! I never see you anymore, I barely talk to you, and all this time I'd been holding out hope that you'd come home!"

Shinichi sucked in a breath. "Home…" he whispered, stricken, and he felt something inside him shatter.

"Yes, home…" Ran quietly insisted before sucking in a hitched breath. "In Beika. With me." She abruptly turned away, hiding her face from him.

Conan released a shuddery sigh. "I—I can't do that, Ran…" he confessed. "I can't come back just yet."

"Why not?!" she exploded, and the tears glistening in her eyes made Conan want to tear his own heart out of his chest at the sight as she shot up and began to pace restlessly. "Why is this case so important to you?!"

"Can we not… can we not do this right now?" Shinichi pleaded, peripherally aware that they were drawing the attention of many of the passersby.

"Do what?" she snapped, pausing in her pacing to glare at him.

Shinichi hunched in on himself, internally wincing at what he was about to suggest. "Talk—about the case."

Ran seemed to physically deflate at his words. "If not now, then when? When's the next time I'm going to see you?" she asked, her voice dropping to something quiet, defeated. "Am I just supposed to keep waiting for you…?"

"Ran…"

"No," she objected harshly, her expression transforming into a scowl. "Don't you 'Ran' me. I want to know, Shinichi."

"I—I know, Ran, I know you do, believe me! But I can't tell you! I—there are confidentiality clau—" he frantically explained.

"Screw confidentiality!" Ran shrieked, chest heaving as the tears finally managed to spill onto her cheeks. "Don't you understand what I'm trying to say? I—I miss you, Shinichi." The last addition was said quietly, softly, an admission that Conan scarcely dared to believe he had heard.

"Ran…" he said brokenly, unable to respond in a way that she would have wanted.

"I just…" She sighed deeply, seeming to battle against herself regarding something before she swiftly snagged Shinichi around the neck and kissed him on the lips. It was a sloppy, innocent kiss, all lips and pressure and hope and longing and—

Shinichi had never wanted so badly to scream at the heavens. Instead, he remained frozen, not reciprocating, and after several seconds Ran pulled back, her expression a mixture of surprise, shock, disappointment, and grim satisfaction. "Wh-wha-what—Ran, what—?" he stuttered, and this had not been prompted by the childish voice in his earpiece. Shinichi had no doubt that despite the fact that the cameras had no way of recording exactly what had just happened, Conan sure as hell knew what had happened.

Gods, Kaito internally apologized, I'm so sorry, Shinichi…

Ran's hands slid down to his chest, where they lightly grabbed at his collar. "I just…" She whimpered, and Shinichi panicked when a small sniffle escaped her as she leaned her forehead against his collarbones. "Why does this feel like a goodbye…?"

"Hug her, please," Conan commanded hoarsely, and Shinichi instantly enveloped Ran in the warmest hug he could manage.

"I'm so sorry, Ran," Shinichi apologized, pressing his check into her hair. "I'm sorry that I was never be there when you needed me to be."

Ran sniffled. "And you can't just quit?"

The brunet shook his head. "No, I can't. I'm in too deep, and even if I wanted to, there's… no easy way for me to extricate myself from this case."

"You sound as though this case might kill you," she said, her voice quiet and muffled by his clothing.

"… and if it does?" Conan asked warily.

Ran jerked back as if shocked. "What?"

"What will you do if this case does kill me?" Shinichi pressed, and there was quiet urgency and desperation in his voice. There was also fear.

"No, why are you talking like this?" she asked, gripping his forearms as a terrified expression painted her face.

The detective grasped her shoulders, ducking so that she could not escape his gaze. "I'm not trying to alarm you, but I need to be realistic!"

"Why? Why can't you just stop?!" she demanded, and it tore both Conan and Shinichi's hearts to see the tears well in her eyes as the fight left her and she sagged in his arms. "Why can't you… why can't just put me first for once?" she whispered, entire frame trembling with emotion.

"Ran…" Conan murmured gently as he instructed Shinichi to enfold her in a hug once more, "I have always put you first. Always, even if I wasn't necessarily there in person. Please don't ever once believe that I haven't."

She sniffled, fingers curling into the weave of his sweater. "Am I also being targeted then?"

Shinichi exhaled shakily as he tucked her head beneath his chin, one hand lovingly carding through her brown locks. "I won't lie to you, but they have set you in their sights once or twice, and I've prevented them from doing anything to you. Please, Ran," he quietly, fervently begged, "I just… I just need you know with certainty that you'll be safe. If I have that, then I know I can catch them and bring them to justice. But if there is even the faintest whisper that they'll harm you, I can't…" He shuddered at the idea of not having her there and pressed her all the more tightly against him.

"You know I feel the same way, right, Shinichi?" she said, voice muffled by his sweater but refusing to move from the comfort of his embrace as she squeezed him closer in response.

"I…"

"I do," she revealed. "It's… intolerable, knowing that you're out there somewhere, fighting a battle that I cannot help or protect you in." She lifted her head off his shoulder, gazed steadily into his eyes with the worry of the entire world visible within them. "It makes me feel… useless."

Shinichi's hands flew to cup her cheeks. "Never, Ran!" he swore, and pressed his forehead against hers. "You are the guiding star in my life, and without you I'd be so lost." Their breaths mingled warmly between them, and he flushed at their proximity.

Ran chuckled wryly. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl, Shinichi."

An answering chuckle escaped him as he leaned back to gaze fondly at her. "Only when I'm truly desperate."

The fleeting amusement fled from Ran's eyes as she stared at him, seeming to soak in his face. "Promise you'll come back?" she asked, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs.

"Ran," Shinichi murmured, closing his eyes to nuzzle into one of her palms before looking at her, "you know I can't promise you that. Not with who I'm up against."

"Then… Promise me you'll be safe? That you'll be careful?" she pleaded.

"That I can, Ran. I can promise that I'll be as careful as if you were by my side," Conan promised.

The brunette wrapped her arms around Shinichi's neck, burrowing her face under his chin. "You're still a jerk, Shinichi."

Shinichi huffed and hugged her back, soaking in this last moment with the love of his life. "I know, Ran," he whispered into her hair, "I know."

---

He crouched on the detective's windowsill, his frame tense and anxious as he took in the wheelchair-bound form gazing sightlessly through him. When several silent, uncomfortable minutes had crawled by Kaito swallowed thickly and began awkwardly, "Shinichi—I…"

"It's fine, Kaito," Shinichi breathed softly, eyes blinking slowly but still unseeing of the phantom thief's form before him.

"You…" Kaito wanted to desperately explain—something, anything to wipe that blank, deadened expression off the detective's face, especially since he knew that he was one-half of the direct cause of it. He entered the room, leaving his shoes on the sill as he straightened next to the wheelchair-bound detective. "Fuck, Shinichi, I'm so sorry," he apologized earnestly as he ran agitated fingers through his hair, unintentionally combing it out of the detective's cowlicked coif into his more usual casual mess.

Shinichi sighed. "Don't be," he said tonelessly, "You didn't know she was going to do that." The small brunet was giving him an out, but Kaito refused to take it.

"Even so, I…" He felt absolutely wretched, like the lowest of curs on the streets. It had never been his intention to betray Shinichi like that. Intellectually, he knew and understood that. It did not mean, however, that the guilt he felt was not real. Kaito's heart ached and bled at the fact that Ran had kissed Shinichi, believing him to be her childhood friend, but Kaito had never felt more like an imposter than ever. He sagged against the wall, ruffling his already mussed hair.

"It's okay," Shinichi repeated, gaze focusing to actually see Kaito before him. "Really."

But it was not okay. Kaito could read the stiff lines of Shinichi's body, the tense line of his lips. It had to have been torture for him to witness… not directly with the cameras, but to have that knowledge of what Ran had done…

Kaito really felt lower than dirt. "I—Is there any way I can make it up to you?" he pleaded softly.

Shinichi shook his head in quiet resignation. "It's fine, Kaito. I know you're not the one at fault. The fault lies entirely with me for never being there when she needed me."

The magician wanted to protest, to incite indignant fury in the detective that matched his own at how he saw Shinichi giving up, quitting. Yet he held his tongue, for even with all the words and rage and terror, there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the inexorable toll that the apoptoxin was now taking on Shinichi's body. Shinichi was physically wasting away, and Kaito had decided from the moment he had learned of the detective's imminent demise that he would do what he could to make the rest of his time on this plane as enjoyable as possible.

He grimaced at the thought.

"Enjoyable" might be the wrong word for it, but neither "content" nor "satisfied" would work, since the only way those descriptors would ever apply would be if Shinichi somehow magically gained the ability to fight the poison off and survive. "Passable," perhaps, or even "tolerable."

So instead of raging, Kaito carefully leaned down and hugged Shinichi, trying his absolute best to convey his sympathy, his hurt, his fear, and his platonic adoration for his rival of so many years into that single gesture. Shinichi's breath hitched, and Kaito pressed him closer as the detective finally, quietly broke.

The phantom thief carefully picked Shinichi up from the wheelchair, and de-aged teenager, for once, did not protest being carried like a child as Kaito settled the both of them on the bed. Kaito propped himself against the headboard and settled Shinichi on his lap, allowing the detective to silently cry on his shoulder for all that he had lost and all that he would lose. He carded gentle fingers through the soft espresso hair, doing what he could to provide as much comfort as he could, and hoped that he could smell Ran's scent in his clothing—a weak and altogether insufficient substitute for the one that he knew the detective longed for.

Kaito remained where he was long after Shinichi had fallen into an exhausted sleep, eyes gazing out the window where a waxing gibbous moon hung just over the rooftops, and he pondered over how fate had so badly wronged the detective, as well as what exactly he could have karmically done to warrant such treatment. He glanced down at the head of soft brown hair, black in the dim light, and shifted so that he could carefully tuck him beneath the covers. The magician then slid off the bed and stretched, stilling to take one long look at the sleeping detective before he padded into the bathroom to shuck off his "Shinichi" clothing. He peeled the contact lenses from his eyes and stored them in their case, taking particular care with the one that had the camera built in, and tugged out the earbuds.

He emerged from the bathroom in his own clothing, feeling more like himself but no less uncomfortable for what had happened earlier with Mouri. Even now, his lips still tingled, a phantom memory of her lips pressing against his. He shuddered and shook himself in a manner not dissimilar to a dog, feeling as though he had cheated on Shinichi with Mouri even though he intellectually knew that there technically had been no one at fault in the situation.

"I'll, uh, be going now, Shinichi," he quietly announced to the room holding the sleeping detective. He sketched a quick bow and left through the window, sliding the pane quietly shut behind him. Kaito breathily sighed as he leaned against the stucco exterior for a moment, taking the chance to fortify his Poker Face just enough to get back home with as little emotional scathing as possible. He would deal with his feelings once he was safely ensconced in his own house.

---

Shinichi had felt horrible—guilty—over the fact that he had left Kaito hanging for over a week after that debacle with Ran. He had not meant to ghost the phantom thief—more like he had been too lost in his own thoughts to realize how much time had passed since the last time he had contacted the magician. With the Organization toppled—the warehouse having been razed for information—the arrest of Karasuma Renya, the previously unidentified "Ano Kata," had been swift and merciless. From what Shinichi had last heard, Karasuma was currently in a detention facility in The Hague, The Netherlands awaiting trial in the International Criminal Court.

Now, all that seemed to occupy his mind was his impending death. Shinichi had already written out a will, had it sent out to a lawyer to be enacted after his passing. He himself did not have much; most of his belongings were monetarily worthless items, as he had no property or financial assets to his name that he knew of. Even so, his will would be an easy one to execute: anything and everything of his could be divvyed up between his parents, with his own pocket money to be split between Ai, Agasa, Ran, Heiji, and Kaito. It had been a somewhat bitter realization, the recognition that he had so few people that he considered meaningful friends.

Shinichi sighed as he fired off a text to Kaito asking him to visit at his earliest convenience. He tired very easily now, and his shaking was now very pronounced. It had taken him a good twenty minutes to compose that simple text to Kaito with the message, Please come when you have time.

Not an hour later, Kaito slipped through Agasa's front door, cheeks flushed and looking rather windswept. "Shinichi…?" he called out hesitantly after murmuring his pardons for the intrusion into the household.

Shinichi wheeled into the living room, already dressed in his oversized white kimono. "You're here. Good." He turned to Ai, who was occupied washing the day's lunch dishware. The professor was currently out at an inventor's convention and would be gone for the rest of the day. The older man did not need to see this, and neither did Ran. "It's time," he announced.

Ai froze before immediately rinsing her hands and shutting off the water. She visibly froze again upon seeing his attire. "You're absolutely sure?" she asked gravely, gaze piercing.

"Yes," the detective answered with a decisive nod.

"Time for what?" Kaito asked with clear bafflement.

The scientist's face faintly crumpled. "Kudou-kun…"

"I'm done," he whispered, and his voice alone conveyed his exhaustion. "I'm tired. And I want out now." He gazed at his friend, watched how her expression tightened. "Do you have it, Haibara?"

"Yes," she answered quietly with a nod. "I'll go get it."

Kaito fidgeted, having felt the tension rising during their conversation. "What's happening…?" he ventured.

Shinichi wheeled about and made his way towards his room. "Kaito, please follow me."

"Shinichi…" His name was a mix between a whine and a warning—that if this situation was not explained soon, Kaito was going to implement some drastic measures.

The detective rolled to a stop before his bed. He grunted as he stood, and Kaito quickly helped to transfer him from the wheelchair to the center of the bed. "I'm going to take the pill now, Kaito," he said after settling himself as best he could.

"You—what?" Kaito breathed out in disbelief.

"You heard me," Shinichi replied softly as his eyes slid shut. His hands, while clasped in his lap, shook harshly. "I'm done. I want to tap out."

The magician bowed his head. "I see," he murmured, and Shinichi could hear the choked grief in his voice despite its steadiness. "And the reason you called me here…?"

Shinichi opened his eyes to gaze at that face so like his own at his actual age. "I selfishly wanted to have friends beside me in my last moments."

Before Kaito could say anything in response, Ai knocked lightly on this bedroom doorframe to announce her presence before she entered. "I've got it here," she said, and presented a familiar red and white capsule. Her other hand held a sports bottle filled with water.

"Take my glasses, please," he instructed, and the magician slid the frames from his face and placed them on his bedside table. "Before I take the antidote," he began, and gazed warmly at both of them even as tears welled up in his eyes, "I just want to let you two know I'm so glad to have met you. Both of you. Thank you, Haibara, Kaito."

Kaito bent into a deep, reverential bow. "The honor's been mine, Shinichi."

Ai gently patted his shoulder with the hand holding the pill, visibly restraining herself from crying. "You'll be missed, Kudou-kun."

"Liar," he affectionately accused. "Please give it to me now." The detective took both from her with effort, the shaking of his hands making the simple action more difficult than it should have been.

"Do you want us to hold your hands once you've taken it?" Ai asked once both objects were firmly in his grasp.

Shinichi shook his head. "No. I don't want the heat from the transformation or my grip to hurt either of you. Now that I think about it, maybe you should stand outside and not watch because it's bound to be traumatic."

Kaito frowned. "You know we won't mind."

"No," he insisted. "The fact that you're here to see me off is more than enough. Thank you."

Shinichi shooed them out with a tilt of his head, only after the both of them had left his room and closed the door behind him did he allow his spine to sag. He stared at the pill for a long moment. "One last time," he whispered, and popped it into his mouth. He followed it with a soft, "Bottoms up," and chugged the water bottle.

---

The screaming was beyond awful. It was gut-wrenching, it was heart-rending, and it made her want to vomit in sheer self-disgust for being the creator of a substance that caused so much pain. Ai pressed her fists against her temples, struggling not to hyperventilate.

Warmth surrounded her, wrapping tightly and reassuringly around her. "I've got you, ojou-san," Kaito whispered desperately, the embrace a clear attempt to comfort her as it was to comfort himself. She could feel the phantom thief trembling, waves of shudders that rippled through him with every cry Shinichi released. "I've got you."

They held each other close, terrified of letting each other go the moment Shinichi finally went silent behind the door. Ai swallowed her sobs, forcing cramping hands to unclench from Kaito's shirt. She leaned back and was unsurprised to find tear tracks streaking down the magician's cheeks, much in the same manner as hers. She quickly checked the time on her phone.

Time of death: 1:46:37 PM.

As one, they both turned their attention to the door, and Kaito straightened from where he had knelt to hug her. "… is he…?" he started, too afraid to finish his question.

Ai forced herself to open the door, and she sucked in a shocked breath at seeing Kudou Shinichi in all his eighteen-year-old glory, sprawled across the bed. He was sweaty, hair sticking damply to his forehead and perspiration beading across his upper lip and his chest within the open V of the kimono, and… he was not breathing.

Her breath hitched as she dashed into the room, a nearly blind panic suddenly consuming her. "Oh gods, Kudou-kun, oh no…!" CPR! she thought frantically, I can still save him if I can perform CPR on hi—

"Ojou-san!" Kaito exclaimed and snagged her before she could leap onto the bed, and his voice cracked with emotion as he reminded her, "This is what he wanted, remember?"

Kaito's words snapped her out of her panic, and she sagged limply in his grasp. She sobbed, loudly and harshly, angry at Shinichi for allowing himself to die, at Kaito for restraining her, and most of all, at herself for being the one to kill her best friend. She buried her face in her hands and wailed, screaming her hurt and fury and guilt out to anyone who would listen.

And Kaito did, turning her in his grasp so that she could attempt to strangle him as much as she wanted, allowing her to grieve on his shoulder while he quietly did the same on hers. The two of them sunk to the floor next to Shinichi's bed, wrapped around each other in an attempt to provide comfort while nursing aching holes in their chests.

Ai was not quite sure how much time had passed, but once she had calmed down enough to think with some semblance of clarity, she clumsily removed herself from Kaito's person. "Thank you," she murmured as the magician levered himself off the carpeted floor.

"You're good," he replied, his attention already on the still form on the bed.

Ai circled to the other side and climbed onto the mattress, taking in Shinichi's teenaged face. She delicately combed his hair with her fingers, strands sticking to cool, salt-sticky skin. She allowed herself a moment to linger by his head before she picked up a hand a pressed two fingertips into the pulse point on his wrist.

She checked. And checked. And checked a third time for good measure before carefully placing his hand down on the duvet. "He's… gone." Her watery gaze lifted from Shinichi's slack face to Kaito's expressive one. "We… we did the right thing, right? We respected his wishes?" she asked, wanting affirmation that Shinichi's death was of his own volition and not an accident.

"That's…" the phantom thief began before swallowing thickly and continuing, "I think we did, all things considered."

Ai nodded. "Good," she quietly said.

The magician shifted on his feet, clearly ill at ease but unwilling to leave. "We'll need to announce his death… and have his will executed."

"Yes, I'll have that arranged. Why don't you go rest?" she suggested. Kaito looked pretty dead on his feet. "I'll… prepare him."

"No, I'll help you," he replied, and crawled onto the bed to rearrange Shinichi's limbs into positions that were more repose and less contortion. "At least he looks relaxed now," he remarked as he tugged a leg straight and pulled the fabric of the white kimono down to protect Shinichi's modesty.

Ai nodded as she straightened his collar. "He does. He looks like he's… at peace now." She reached out and gently, affectionately touched his cheek with her fingertips before leaning down to press a light kiss to his forehead. "Farewell, my friend."

Goodbye, Kudou Shinichi.

---

International intelligence organizations and agencies list:
ICPO – International Criminal Police Organization, aka INTERPOL, based in Lyon, France
ICC – International Criminal Court, based in The Hague, The Netherlands
PSB – Japanese Public Safety Bureau
FBI – American Federal Bureau of Investigation
CIA – American Central Intelligence Agency
CSIS – Canadian Security Intelligence Service
SIS – British Secret Intelligence Service, aka MI6
BND – German Federal Intelligence Service (Bundesnachrichtendienst)
DGSE – French Directorate-General for External Security (Direction générale de la sécurité extérieure)
AISE – Italian Agency for External Information and Security (Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna)
CNI – Spanish National Intelligence Centre (Centro Nacional de Inteligencia)
NSC – Taiwanese National Security Council
SID – Singaporean Security and Intelligence Division
CIB – Hong Kongese Criminal Intelligence Bureau
NIS – South Korean National Intelligence Service

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Author's Note: This fic was heavily inspired by Stars in the Night Sky by Autumn_Rain (AO3), which is set in the Quánzhí Gāoshǒu/The King's Avatar fandom. I greatly exaggerated the speed at which symptoms of this particular disease develops, but hey, no one said APTX was predictable. This was a very dialogue-driven fic with lots of screaming and hair-pulling done by yours truly with regards to how to connect them all into something semi-seamless/coherent. Cytochrome C is a heme protein that initiates the process in which phosphatidylserine, a phospholipid, flips with the usual lipids within a cell membrane to become exposed to the outside of the cell. This flip in outer membrane lipids signals to phagocytes that the cell needs to be eaten—in other words, if phosphatidylserine show up on a cell's membrane wall, the cell will be destroyed. Credit goes to Kuroko99 for nerding out with me on/correcting my science-ing with regards to agents that fiddle with DNA. Okayu is a rice porridge. I hope you enjoyed it.

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Completed: 07.07.2022