Part Eight

Note: Yeah, a lot of you have predictions. We don't think you really predicted this.

Kazuha watched her best friend pace with worry. Ran tugged at the sleeves of her turtleneck before a hand went up to clutch the recent necklace, a gift from her beloved (invisible) Shinichi. She made a steady back and forth pace, her footfalls soft in the wee hours of the morning. The akido master suppressed a yawn - her friend's frantic call had woken her from a deep sleep, and the words were garbled at best; something about Shinichi not calling her when he said he would, something about little Conan having a close call. About the only thing that really made sense to her was the barely reigned in worry - almost panic - in her Tokyo friend's voice, and Kazuha was quickly dressed and waiting for her when she came home.

"I'm sure Kudo's fine," Kazuha drawled, not for the first time as she watched her friend pace. Thunder continued to roll in, rain pounding the roof. "The storm's probably interferin' with his cell reception. I could barely hear ya when ya called earlier, okay?"

Ran nodded. "You're right... You're probably right..." but she turned around and started pacing again.

Kazuha sighed, deeply concerned about her friend. She'd known about the worry, of course. She could see it whenever Ran talked about Shinichi. But it had always been a sad kind of worry, a whimsical pressure that came when you worried for so long you learned to live with it, learned to deal with it in small doses, when the topic in question came up. Seeing Ran pace in circles around the room, Kazuha knew this was much more intense. The Tokyo denizen had talked a little about it at breakfast with the new girl Aoko; she and Shinichi had had a clandestine meeting where they'd talked about marriage. Kazuha couldn't help but wonder if they talked about something else, something to cause this level of worry in the Tokyo denizen.

"Alright," she said finally, getting up. "Y're makin' me dizzy with all this pacin'. I'm gettin' ya another glass o' water."

"I'm sorry, Kazuha-chan," Ran said, obviously mad at herself for worrying her friend. "I don't mean to be like this. He's always called when he said he would. Between that and Conan-kun, I'm a wreck!"

Kazuha sighed, smiling slightly, before changing direction and hugging her dear friend. "I'd be a wreck too, if that brat decided ta go fer a ride on a thief's hang glider; I'm surprised ya aren't gonna kill 'im."

Ran actually managed a small laugh. "I just might when I see him. Hattori-kun should have picked him up by now..."

The pair started when they heard a door slam open.

"Ran!" a boy's voice called. Kazuha watched her friend's face slack in relief as she kneeled down and a soaked Conan leapt up into her arms. The akido master thought she saw the boy glance at her before turning full focus on his caretaker and bursting into information. "I went hang gliding with Kaitou Kid-nii-chan and he dropped me off near this huge baseball park and he left in a puff of smoke and then he startled me by grabbing my shoulder and I tried to help but I couldn't fix it and then he showed up on his motorcycle and-"

"Conan-kun!" Kazuha interjected, tugging at the boy's ear. "Ya aren't makin' any sense!"

"But he needs help!" the boy said quickly, pointing the way he had come.

Kazuha watched Ran first, saw her face pale, her eyes widen, and her hands tighten around Conan like a teddy bear, shock washing her out. With growing horror, Kazuha turned around slowly. Heiji was there, also soaked through from the driving rain outside, thunder cracking over their heads, and he was holding an arm. The arm was attached to a drenched shirt, the darkness of the water unable to hide the darker reds splotched by his ribs, and a matted brown head that had a cowlick in back just like Conan's. Piercing blue eyes lifted up, pain-filled but clear, and surveyed the scene around him.

"Ran," Kudo Shinichi said weakly, "sorry I keep worrying you."

Time seemed to still; the moment hung in the air, everything charged with emotional electricity. Kazuha could only stare as she realized just what was in front of her. So many thoughts were spilling through her head, she thought she was going to explode; her breath was caught in her lungs and it wouldn't move. There was pressure on her chest that she couldn't explain, and she found herself almost dizzy with revelation.

"Kazuha," Heiji said tersely, "a place ta lay'im out?"

His smooth voice broke the spell, and pandemonium seemed to explode into the room.

"Shinichi! Shinichi!"

"Ran-nee-chan! I can't breathe; it's okay, I'm here!"

"Here, down th' hall; ta the spare bedroom."

"Thanks for the lift, Hattori."

"You keep yer trap shut. Once I know y're gonna be fine I'm gonna hit ya somethin' fierce."

"Heiji, ya know where the towels are?"

"Hang on, 'e's heavy."

"Shinichi!"

"Ran-nee-chan, please!"

Kazuha saw over her shoulder the tiny boy finally break from Ran's grip, tumbling forgotten to the floor before getting up and boldly chasing after Ran and hopping back up, impressively climbing the front of the teen girl until his face was in front of hers. "Ran!" the boy said in much deeper tones. "I'm here!"

Ran seemed to pause, but Kazuha turned back before she walked into a wall, dashing down to a closet and pulling out an armload of towels. She all but tossed them into the spare bedroom before dashing to the kitchen to boil some water.

Coming back, she demanded: "What happened?"

Kudo looked up, still delicately unbuttoning his shirt and wincing with every movement before giving a lazy grin. "I think it's safe to conclude from the evidence that I've been shot," he said in a mild tone.

Heiji smacked Kudo upside the head.

"Ow!"

"I toldja ta keep yer trap shut! Ahou!"

"Here!" Ran said quickly, coming in from somewhere. "I found the first aid kit!"

Heiji nodded, already tugging at Kudo's shirt. "Here, help me with this," he muttered.

Kazuha, knowing little about first aide outside of a martial arts bout, realized she might be a third wheel. Seeing Conan up on the bed, she swept him up into her arms (with a startled yelp from him) and said quickly, "I'll keep 'n eye 'n Conan-kun, after I call fer an ambulance," she said, backing up to leave.

"NO," Kudo all but shouted. "No hospitals!"

"Ya been shot, Kudo!" Kazuha cried out in dismay. "That has ta be reported!"

"No," Heiji said, standing up. "He's right, we can't tell anyone 'bout this."

Kazuha gaped. "What?"

Sensing the argument, Heiji roughly grabbed Kazuha's wrist, giving Conan enough leverage to escape, and tugging her down the hall back to the main room. Kazuha would have broken out of his grip easily if it weren't for the mental overload she was suffering. She was still trying to process that she had just met the Kudo of legend, let alone that he'd been shot and was bleeding and was refusing medical help and Ran was panicking and... and...

Kazuha decided to release her frustration.

"Dammit, Heiji, what th' hell's goin' on?"

"Kazuha, ya can't tell anyone that Kudo's here, ya got that?"

"It's gotta be reported!"

"No! No one can know!"

"Why the hell not? Ahou!" she shouted.

"'Cause they'll kill'im!" Heiji roared.

Kazuha had half a retort on her lips when the words finally sank in and, at last, she stilled.

"... What?"

The akido master was relegated to watching again, only this time it was Heiji that was pacing, running a hand through his dripping hair. "God damn Kudo," he was muttering. "I'll kill'im fer this if there wasn't a choice, th' bastard." He growled and kicked at the furniture, rubbing his temples to stave off a headache. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned frighteningly fierce eyes to Kazuha.

"Kazuha, there's a reason Kudo's never seen," he said slowly. "A while 'go, he stumbled on ta somethin' he wasn't s'pposed ta see, 'kay?"

She nodded, still in shock.

"They conked'im on the head an' left'im fer dead, but he didn't die," he continued, looking away in what might have been guilt, if Kazuha had the presence of mind to read his expressions. "He's been in hidin' ever since, tryin' ta find the guys that almost killed'm. Kazuha, this is deep shit, alright? If," Heiji growled, chewing out the words, "if that damn idiot shows up at a hospital and They find'm, there won't be a need fer a body bag 'cause there won't be enough of'm ta put in one."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Kazuha, ya can't tell anyone, not even yer parents. Not even old man Mouri."

"Hattori!" the boy Conan appeared, his small hands covered in blood. "Our hands aren't big enough."

Heiji's already grim face darkened further, and he let her go; Kazuha found her legs couldn't quite support her, and she sank to the ground. Conan looked at her from across the room, his face pained.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, before padding back to the bleeding Kudo.

Once the wound had been cleaned with boiling water - something Kuroba hissed over when it was applied, and they could see the extent of the damage, Conan heaved a sigh of relief. Poking through the clothing and tracing the trajectory, the bullet had bounced off of something in the thief's breast pocket (something Conan was steadfastly not going to discover...) and then bounced off a rib before exiting. No major organs had even been grazed, and though the rib seemed to be bruised (to say the least), it wasn't cracked or broken, and that meant healing time would be greatly reduced. Kid passed out somewhere during the dressing, and that was probably for the best.

Ran offered first watch, still unable to pry her eyes off of Kid. It had been her idea to disguise the moonlighting thief as Shinichi, and he knew that it would cost him a lot to do it, but he (nor Ran, it looked like) were quite prepared for her reaction to seeing her beloved Shinichi bleeding and wounded in front of her. With Kazuha underfoot it had been especially hard to ease her mind, but he'd finally managed, and he knew Hattori was going to rip him a new one when this was all over. The Detective of the West kept glaring daggers at him, silently demanding an explanation and accusation that Kazuha, at least partly, had now been officially dragged into the mess. Conan hid in his room until everything settled down.

Kogorou stumbled in around four in the morning, oblivious to the world around him as he shuffled and stumbled into bed. Conan had figured as much; he'd already come up with a cover story if he'd noticed the bloody towels, but injured animals on the road were weak at best, and he sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to use it; it wouldn't cover hiding Kuroba in the house, and the pint-sized detective hadn't yet come up with a reason Kogorou would be forbidden from the back bedroom. Silently, Conan asked whomever was listening to keep the Sleeping Detective busy with the heist.

He couldn't sleep, and he doubted anyone in the house other than Kid and Kogorou could either. He could hear hissed comments from Kazuha - she'd finally processed a little of what she'd been told and was irate that Kudo's Big Secret had been kept from her. Conan buried his head in his knees further and mentally apologized. Again.

Six o'clock came and the phone shrieked across the house. Conan beat Hattori to the phone and picked up. He barely had the receiver off the hook when the entire room was inundated with a long string of swears.

"Inspector Nakamori?" Conan asked in the most boyish voice he could muster under the circumstances.

The man was obviously not the one on the phone, because a difference voice, more placating than volatile, was trying to squeeze in, "Er, I'm sorry to bother you so early, but is Mr. Mouri-"

"We are not ##$^% asking that &*%*$^* snoring #^*$#$#$&)%#%*$ over here for any )(*&^%$#!*&^%$# reason!"

"I'll let him know you called," Conan said softly, hanging up the phone. At Hattori's withering gaze, he said, "They want Occhan."

His peer shrugged. "It'll get him out of the house," he said in logical tones.

Conan nodded silently. "Hattori..." he started.

"Don't bother," the tanned youth cut off. "I know ya can't 'xplain all this 'til Kid's awake."

"I'm sorry..."

"An' I'm gettin' real tired o' hearin' that," Hattori added in cold tones. Conan forced himself to look up at his friend's eyes. "Ya did the best ya could under the circumstances. I sure ain't happy with how you 'n' Nee-chan decided ta play this, and there better be a damn good explanation fer this, but ya did say once that Kid can dress as ya without a mask, an' there wasn't time fer much else." The glare softened a little, and Conan realized that it wasn't him that Hattori was mad at; it was Kid for putting him in this position. He suddenly hoped Hattori wasn't around when Kid woke up.

"You get breakfast," Hattori said. "I'll get th' old man up. If we stuff somethin' in his face, hopefully he won't notice the extra plate b'fore we kick'm out."

"Are you joining him?" Conan asked, feeling slightly better on how things stood with his best friend.

"I'll wait 'til Kid's awake," he replied, his face darkening again. "I got some things ta say ta him."

Kogorou was still half asleep when Conan and Hattori managed to bully him out of the house around quarter to seven. He didn't seem to notice anything, and Conan breathed a sigh of relief at dodging another bullet. Er, no pun intended. With the sun hidden behind the continuing rain and morning starting to filter in around him, he felt it a little safer in a task he was dreading to do.

Sneaking into the room shared with Kazuha and Ran, he pulled out Ran's cell phone and filed through the numbers, looking for the one he'd need. Writing it down, he told Hattori where he was going before pulling out his voice changing bowtie and - taking a deep breath and swallowing an irrational swell of fear - stepped out of the house and went looking for a payphone.

It wasn't the first time he was afraid to leave the house. Whenever he had a run in with the Black Organization, he always felt a little twitchy about showing his face in public. Edogawa Conan he may be in this form, but he still knew he was Kudo Shinichi and he was petrified that someone would recognize him as such. With Kuroba injured as he was, and his disguise of choice bringing up some very uncomfortable memories it brought up the old fears, and Conan looked over his shoulder perhaps a bit more than was considered normal before he found a payphone.

Pulling up a morning stack of papers and using them as a stool, he punched in the number he'd copied after dialing his bowtie. He closed his eyes and took a very deep breath as he listened to the answering service.

"Hi! This is Nakamori Aoko's cell phone! Sorry I'm not here, my phone's either off or charging, so leave a message and I'll get back to you."

There came the obligatory beep, and Conan dove right in. "Yo! Aoko! Rise and shine already, you're wasting the day! Just wanted to let you know, those relations I told you about? They really did kidnap me and hold me hostage. I'm in a straightjacket and handcuffs right now, so it might be a while before I see you. If they try to brainwash me, I'll let you know!"

He hung up quickly, a little surprised that he was shaking after the phone call. He couldn't believe he'd managed to sound so upbeat and perky. He hoped it would last until that damn thief could call her himself.

He headed back to the house.

Hakuba awoke at eight o'clock in the morning after four hours of sleep. He needed at least seven to be functional, but Hakuba had learned over several heists that it was better to get the sleep before the heist rather than after. He'd slept for several hours the previous afternoon, waking at eight that evening to prepare for the chase. Not only did it leave him rested, it allowed him to have less sleep in cases of heists gone wrong.

The blond frowned, pausing in his dressing as he again remembered events of the previous night - earlier that morning, really.

The heist had gone flawlessly - for Kid at least - until he'd gone up to the roof. Nakamori was still scorching ears for the bogus order to fire that only the one sniper had seemed to get. It could be a lie, of course. Hakuba hadn't checked the man's record (and really, that was more Nakamori's department, at any rate), but the half Japanese detective couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

He'd met the collector, the owner of the Birth of Spring, and was refreshingly surprised to find the man not to be some arrogant wealth monger, greedy and possessive. He truly was just a collector, interested in size and cut and look of a jewel instead of monetary value. Many of his jewels had been of modest size or grade, baubles by other's standards. He'd been surprised to even get the heist note, and considered it some kind of right of passage, some kind of event that made him worthy of certain circles. He had actually looked forward to the experience, and the collector hadn't wanted the affair marred with bloodshed. The snipers had been a set-up from his accountant rather than the man himself, and even then the collector had been very stringent on not firing unless ordered - and even then, only to wound, not kill.

It made the idea of an order ridiculous, and the sniper's story didn't seem right, but Hakuba couldn't help sensing a ring of truth in it. He hated it when he sensed something, because there was no proof of it, and if he couldn't justify it, it was useless to him.

Another thing that was puzzling him was the Osakan detective. Hattori Heiji, on the rare times that they'd met, had been provocative - even confrontational - but never so emotionally charged that he didn't think. Hakuba had seen the handcuffed snipers, heard their tales of a raging teenager. He'd seen the bruises and the embarrassed glances that professionals had been so quickly and thoroughly taken down.

All of that, however, could be rationalized away; fear for the sake of a child, rash concern getting carried away.

It was the finger that bothered him.

Even now it irked him enough to raise his hackles. An innocuous, if veiled, comment on Hattori's destructive rampage would, on any other day, earn a glare or a snide comment, even a flip retort. Never a finger. It just wasn't decent, and while the Detective of the West was many, many things, he was not unsavory. That honor was laid entirely at Nakamori's feet.

Tugging at his cuffs until they were precisely one-half inch from the edge of his coat sleeves, Hakuba grabbed his topcoat and exited his hotel room. It would serve no purpose to go back to Umeda Sky Building; Nakamori would still be screaming curses at the sniper who fired. No, the better course of action would be to follow up on Hattori, ask him his opinion (however colorful) of the heist and try to ascertain why he'd become so emotional over a child he barely knew.

The self-imposed assignment proved to be more difficult than he'd initially thought. He'd not returned to the Sky Building, and none of the local police had seen him. He'd stopped off at the Osaka main station, but the officers there had not seen him either. All he got for his troubles was an interesting meeting with one Hattori Heizo, a tall and intimidating man who simply stood and glared at Hakuba, before demanding what business the teen detective had with his son. The presence of the man did not leave Hakuba willing to share his ideas. Trying to explain them in words would make it sound trivial and too simplistic for where his mind was leading him - because he was starting to convince himself that Hattori had something else invested in the heist, and he was damn curious what it had to do with Kaitou Kid.

In the end, he'd simply informed the father that he would like to have a conversation with his son.

"You are much different than Heiji described," the man said simply.

Then he turned and left.

He was feeling more than a little put out by this point, and Hakuba waited until he was out of the precinct before allowing himself to growl in frustration. He was two blocks away before a uniform jogged up to him, hailing his attention.

"If ya want ta find Hattori-kun," he said quickly, glancing over his shoulder anxiously, "if he ain't at home, then try Toyama-sama's house." Then he turned and ran back to the precinct.

Hakuba felt his eyebrow twitch. Who the hell was Toyama-sama?

It took a moment for Kaito to realize he was awake, another to remember a frightening jumble of thoughts. Had he dreamed the Everything Goes Wrong Nightmare? Tantei-kun was in it, but so was Kudo... and Hattori? There was also the overwhelming instinct to play dead - on that, at least, Kaito listened. It was rare indeed for him to feel so jumbled, but given that he was supposed to have been on a heist it was better to be paranoid than sorry-

The heist!

Images pounded against his skill: Hattori giving chase, the dash up to the roof, the terrifying conversation with tantei-kun (he could prove he was Kaitou Kid! He was soooooo screwed!), the dive, the pain, the hang glider, the half-cocked idea of dressing as Kudo, the girlfriend's face (aw, man, her face! Kudo was going to kill him for causing her that much worry!) and... and... what happened after that?

The bed he was in was soft, he recognized that, softer than he'd expected any prison cell bed to be. There weren't any drunkards singing slurred songs as they sobered, there wasn't the sound of cell doors sliding open and closed, no scent of undrinkable coffee of cops, no symphony of curses from Nakamori, no bruises from Aoko... so... what?

"Ah, Conan-kun."

The girlfriend?

"Any change yet?"

Kudo?

"No, he's still sleeping."

"I hope he wakes up soon. I think we did a good job with the bandaging, and I didn't see any other injuries; but if the damn idiot hit his head and didn't say anything..."

"I'm sure he's fine. After what he's been through - he is a 'he', right? - I think anyone would sleep for hours."

"... too bad I can't."

"The whole reason you came here was to talk to him."

"And we keep being interrupted."

"You know you can get some sleep now, Shinichi. I don't think anyone would fault you."

Kaito's heart stopped. It did. Really. What the f-

"What I wouldn't give... but I need to be in here when he wakes up; preferably before Hattori decides to beat him within another inch of his life."

... Just what did he miss when he was unconscious? Kaito almost opened his eyes, or at least frown, as more images passed over him, and he remembered more details of the previous (?) night. He'd been too injured to just drop Kudo off and fly into the moonset, Kudo was bound and determined to help him for reasons beyond Kaito's sense of sanity, and there hadn't been enough time to come up with a unique disguise and get him treated. The idea had come from on high from whoever was at the other end of his glasses (? A question for later...) that he be disguised as Kudo himself - an easy change - and arrange for Hattori to pick them up and carry them to a girl's house - Toyama Kazuha, Heiji's girlfriend from all accounts. His memory was sketchy at best, but he did remember Hattori yelling at him to keep his mouth shut...

Of course, because now Kazuha knew about Kudo, at least a little bit - one didn't drop in with a gunshot wound and not expect to get a story out of it - and now she was involved in whatever had the poor twerp so scared. Shit, Kaito thought, just how far are the repercussions of this little stunt going to extend?

And for what? Just what the hell was Kudo going to get out of this other than blackmail material?

"How's Kazuha-chan taking this?"

"You haven't heard the whispered screaming matches in the kitchen?"

"Oh, dear," Ran said. "I'll have to talk to her."

"I can take over watching him for a while. You need sleep as much as the rest of us."

"I think I'll go get something to eat, first. I haven't eaten since yesterday." A rustle of fabric; the girlfriend had gotten up. "Shinichi...?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry... about my panic last night. I thought I could handle seeing him with your face; I really did, but..."

"It's okay, Ran." And Kudo's voice was very soft. "We both knew going into this what would and what might happen. I'm just glad you thought of it so quick, or we'd still be huddled in a puddle in Osaka Castle."

Kaito heard a door slide open and closed, and finally, he opened his eyes. The clock on the nightstand said it was ten in the morning. "So this was all her idea?" he said, surprised at how dry his throat was, how cracked it sounded.

Kudo didn't even have the decency to look surprised, damn him. He just hopped off the chair he was on and then onto the bed, a glass of water in his hand. "Here."

Kaito reached up with his good hand, hating how it pulled at his bad side, and accepted the glass with as much grace as he could muster. "So when did she find out about your truncation?"

Kudo laughed. "You're not much of a stalker if you don't know that," he said glibly.

"So sue me, I've been busy," Kaito replied, equally glib.

The pint-sized detective smirked, before it faded to a more measuring gaze. "How do you feel?"

Fair enough, and neutral ground to start. Kaito decided he was going to hate the direction of this conversation. "Like I was run over by a truck with Nakamori's face on the grill." He blinked when a tiny hand reached up and touched his forehead.

"Low grade fever," Kudo said clinically. "To be expected, I guess; at least it's not high. How much do you remember of last night?"

Another neutral question, only with much deeper undercurrents. The teen turned toddler didn't waste time dawdling. He was asking, without asking overtly, what Kaito remembered of that clandestine conversation on the roof, where Kudo had been slowly and deliberately pointing out that he had physical proof of Kuroba Kaito being Kaitou Kid - and from smoke capsules, of all things! Kaito had been kicking himself sixteen ways from Sunday when he'd realized the point Kudo had been leading up to on the roof. Ah, but what to say of it?

"I remember asking you why you were doing all of this," he responded, hoping to side track (and delay) that particular point of interest. "And getting some crap about it 'being the right thing to do.' I don't buy it, and neither do you."

To his surprise, Conan winced at the flip retort, and his answer was much longer in coming.

"There used to be this arrogant detective," he said slowly, the light reflecting off his glasses and making his eyes invisible. "He solved all kinds of cases and was becoming quite famous for it: the Great Detective of the East, they called him."

Kaito froze.

"But one day it all came crashing down. See, he was at Tropical Land with a girl, solving yet another murder, when he saw two suspicious men milling around. Arrogant and confident in himself, and completely sure these two suspicious men were up to no good, he ditched the girl and followed them. He witnessed a money exchange between one of the suspicious men and a third party. But he was caught by the second man, and hit on the head. He was made-" his voice faltered, and his head sunk lower, reliving the memory. "I was made to eat an experimental poison that was meant to kill me. My body was on fire, my muscles felt like they were being ripped to shreds, I though I was having a heart attack and... when I finally came to... I looked like this."

Kudo moved his hand in front of his face, a Boris Karloff gesture to indicate his shrunken form. The faux child looked up, and his boyish features were twisted with a look of pain that Kaito was all to familiar with - a look he'd seen on his own face whenever he thought about his father and how he was murdered.

"Those two suspicious men, those men in Black, their names are Gin and Vodka. There are others, too; it's a large organization, dressed entirely in black. The next time I saw them they were planning to blow up a train to silence a girl who knew nothing about them. They've blown up their own comrades. They were testing an experimental drug across the entire country that made people - kids - hallucinate that something precious was being taken away from them so that they could behave violently and then have no memory of what happened."

Breathe, breathe Kaito; breathe so you can keep listening; don't think about what he's saying yet, don't think about what he's doing, about what he's trusting you with, just breathe!

"If the Black Organization ever found out I was alive, they'd kill me and everyone close to me." A deep breath of his own, and Kudo adjusted his glasses. "I use Occhan so that one day, when he's famous enough, when he's good enough, someone will ask him to investigate Them, and then I can take Them down."

The child leaned back. "The only people who know are Professor Agasa, my parents, Hattori, and now Ran. She found out during that case you decided to steal some time." His grin turned wry, the look not quite reaching his eyes. "You had a bug in my home and you still didn't figure it out. You suck as a stalker.

"You're right, helping a Phantom Thief wouldn't, by strict definition, be the right thing to do. But, I've had to fake an entire identity and lie to the vast majority of the world. I failed to save a hostage from that organization. If I do that many things wrong, then one more won't count against me."

Then he looked smug. "Besides, a funny thing happened last night during the heist. This crazy thief grabbed me and fell off the roof of a building before taking me on a roller coaster hang glider ride. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I dropped these two little smoke pellets that I had been holding as evidence. I don't suppose you've seen them, have you?"

Gaping, Kaito could only numbly shake his head.

"Well damn," Kudo said with a theatric sigh, crossing his arms. "There goes the only evidence I have. I guess I couldn't turn in Kaitou Kid even if I wanted to. Because, you know," he added in much more boyish tones, "just as Kaitou Kid-nii-chan flew off Shinichi-nii-chan grabbed me by the shoulder and I got really distracted."

Slowly, very slowly, Kaito finally managed a gulp. Kudo... he just... Not only did he take a major hit for dressing the thief as himself to keep him hidden, he just explained in minute detail how he had come to be Edogawa Conan - a private story if ever there was one - and now he was calm-as-you-please explaining that he wouldn't turn in Kaitou Kid just because he'd "lost" the evidence?

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, surprised his voice still worked. "Why did you just trust me with all that? You don't know anything about-"

Kudo's gaze hardened, but not completely. "You're right. I don't know much about you, Kuroba. But I know the pain on your face when that guy Minagami insulted your father. I've seen it on my face too many times not to recognize it. And... I can't ever catch you now, because I figured it out on the wrong playing field. Since I can't meet your challenge like that again, I had to give you... something... to compensate."

... He thought this was a fucking consolation gift?

"And," he added, softly, looking down again, "I know you're stuck in a house full of detectives; I think there should be some measure of trust, if you're going to hide out here, and all I really have to offer is the truth."

Kaito leaned back into his bed, utterly exhausted. "And people think I'm out of my freaking mind," he muttered.

"Kuro-Kid, there's something I need to ask you," Kudo said softly. "And I can't wait to ask any longer..."

"Hey!" Hattori's voice, somewhere else in the house. "You can't just barge in here an'- Hey! Hey! Get back here!"

The two teenagers, both disguised, stared at each other in horror as they heard footsteps pounding towards them.

Improv, improv, think!

Kaito gestured for Kudo to join him on the bed, took some water and rubbed it on his forehead and slapped his cheeks to make them more red before grunting, "Hey, kid, stop jumping on the bed!"

It was just in time for the door to slide open and one blond half British snoop to burst into the room. He stared at the two of them.

"... Kuroba-kun?"

Author's Notes: Whew, that last scene was such a biggy. Ultimately, the thing that was pinning Conan down was the evidence, the two smoke pellets. He's gotten to see enough shades of grey at this point - and can probably take more than a few educated guesses about Kuroba's and Kid's motivations for what he does, to not want to help him, but the evidence was like his conscience - he had to either turn it in or throw it away, and he couldn't quite bring himself to throw it away - it was too big a compromise. But now that it's nice and lost things should go a little more smoothly for him. The rest of it is now in Kid's lap.

Kazuha was another big scene, too. She's an important character (for Heiji if no one else) and is an immediate representation of the sacrifice that Conan willingly made to keep Kid under wraps - another screw in Kaito's coffin of guilt.

Not really much else to say; the chapter rather explains itself. Kaito's reactions are always fun to write. :P

Well, now, Conan and Kaito are in quite a pickle, how will they get out of it?