018. Black.
His life was supposed to be free from it by now…that accursed color of black. Finally after two very long years, he had taken down the Black Organization, and that should have been that. They shouldn't be able to affect his life in any way anymore. He was supposed to be back in his original body, leading the picture perfect life as triumphant high school detective with the beautiful, kind childhood friend turned girlfriend at his side. He wasn't supposed to be glancing over his shoulder at every innocent sound and passing shadow. He wasn't supposed to still be stuck in the body of a child, and there was supposed to have been a cure. Most of all, he was definitely not supposed to be in love with a phantom thief who had beautiful violet eyes.
But that was his reality, and although he wasn't anywhere near accepting of that fact, he wasn't really fighting it anymore. Mostly because there was no way for him to fight it anymore. And denying the truth was something he couldn't do for long, not when he held truth so near and dear to his heart.
So, black was once invading his life. Only, this time, it was taking a different form. Instead of coming in the visage of a criminal organization with a very uncreative sense of fashion, it developed in the form of crushing depression. Everything seemed so dark, so bleak again. At least, this time, he was surrounded by more than just the color of blood.
He had thought he was getting better, really he had, but that illusion had come crashing down hours, perhaps minutes, after the February 18th Kid heist was over. Not only had he lost something to focus on, but he was also sure he'd lost what little ground he had gained with the thief over the last two years. And really, what kind of relationship was it if two years of interaction could be ripped apart just because he saw only part of the other person's face for only a few seconds?
Logically, Conan knew that there were several ways in which he was actually very lucky, not least of which was being alive. But that didn't really matter when he just couldn't escape the black hole of despair caused by all the could-have-beens in his life. Usually, he didn't dwell on things like that, but it was hard not to when you essentially lost twelve years of your life.
Because he had lost twelve years. The ten years he'd lost because of the apotoxin and the two years he had lost trying to get those ten years back. Except, he couldn't get any of those years back anymore because there was no cure. He had lost an entire life, an entire future, and that was an incredibly hard pill to swallow. In fact, Conan was starting to wonder if he was strong enough to swallow it without falling back into the non-living existence he had been in until Ayumi snapped him out of it.
That's right…Ayumi. He had people he cared about, didn't he? There were several people in Conan's life who he cared about, people he felt closer to after only two years than the people he'd know for sixteen years as Shinichi. Shinichi's only truly close friend was Ran…and maybe the professor. Did neighbors count as friends? The police had respected him, and Sonoko had hung out with him because of Ran, but they weren't really his friends. But Conan had dozens of people: the Shounentantei-dan, Ran, of course, and, oddly enough, Sonoko, Heiji and Kazuha, Eisuke Honda, Sera Masumi, Okiya Subaru, the weird adult-child friendship he had with the officers in Division 1, Jodie-sensei and some of the FBI investigators, and until yesterday, even a weird sort of friendship-rivalry Kaitou Kid.
Maybe it was because he was here, at his old house, that he was thinking such negative thoughts. No…he had come here because he had been those negative thoughts had been spiraling out of control, and he couldn't hide his despair from Ran any longer. So, he'd obtained her permission to spend the night at Professor Agasa's house, and as soon as she'd left him there, Conan had gone straight to the deserted Kudo mansion after only a quick warning to Ai and Agasa.
He had wanted to feel more like himself, more like Shinichi Kudo. So, he'd gone straight to the Kudo library, grabbed the Sign of Four (the original English version since the high school detective was easily fluent in that foreign language) and plopped down in his favorite reading chair, but it really hadn't helped. Conan had opened to the first page of the book, and Conan's thoughts picked up right where they had left off at the Mouri Detective Agency.
His thoughts had spiraled down further and further until he remembered the people in his life who had helped him keep his sanity for this long. But was their presence really a blessing in disguise? Truly a silver lining? What did it mean that he had more people who cared about a hastily created persona with a name randomly grabbed off of book covers and pieced together in a moment of panic than people who cared about his true self? Could he really be strong enough to live, actually live not just exist, with them when he couldn't really be himself?
Conan just didn't know anymore. Sure, some of them knew who he really was, knew that Shinichi Kudo lived just beneath the mask of Conan Edogawa, but other than his parents and Professor Agasa, they hadn't actually known him as Shinichi Kudo. They only knew Shinichi Kudo as he was trapped inside Conan Edogawa, and he feared it wasn't enough anymore. Not when he had to pretend 99% of the time. Not when the lies he told were starting to become more true to the rest of the world, and the truth was becoming more of lie.
If only there was someone to keep him from falling further into despair. Someone who really understood the pain of when the lies became truth and the truth became lies. Because Ai didn't understand as well as one might think. Conan would be happier with the truth, but she was happier with the lies. It was probably better that way, because they couldn't get the truth back. He didn't want Ai to be stuck in the same place he was, but he did wish for someone who understood.
Sighing, Conan realized that it had happened again. He was back at the bottom of the well of despair. He didn't want to be there, but he didn't know how to climb out. Maybe a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would do him some good. There was a good spot on his roof for stargazing, and odd as it was, rooftops were a place that gave him some semblance of calm and comfort. That, too, would probably be taken away from him in the future, but it hadn't been taken from him yet.
Placing the unread Sherlock Holmes novel on the nearest end table, Conan left the library without a second glance and climbed the several sets of stairs that led him to the rooftop of the Kudo mansion. As soon as he was settled and gazing at the stars, he started to feel a bit better. Up so high above ground yet so far beneath an endless sea of sky, Conan was able to put things in some sort of perspective.
He couldn't get Shinichi Kudo back, but he didn't have to lose him entirely. He would be Conan almost all the time, but he could also make time to be Shinichi Kudo around those who knew his secret. He would probably be sad for a very long while, but he could get through it. Because despite his earlier pessimistic thoughts, he truly did have people who cared about him to help him through it. Conan was sure it would cause pain to them to see what he was going through, especially since he wouldn't be able to tell them why he was so sad, but they would help him through it anyway…and they'd be closer for it. He'd become stronger because of it…but that was far into the distant future.
Then, he'd have to remove Shinichi Kudo from Beika as much as he possibly could. Maybe the famous high school detective was tired of being famous, tired of being a detective. The story didn't matter at that exact moment, and anyway, it would take some planning, some careful maneuvering to remove Shinichi Kudo from the life he had built for himself for the last two years. It would take time, and time was something he had plenty of. He didn't have to do it right away…but how long was he going to take?
He didn't know the answer to that, but that wasn't the most important thing he had to answer for himself at the moment. No, what he really needed to know most at that particular point in time was pretty much this. What should he do now? Not now, as in this single minute…but now, as in, within the next day, week, and month. What did Conan Edogawa, not Shinichi Kudo, want with his life? How was Conan Edogawa going to escape from the black hole, the deep well, the bottomless pit of despair?
A/N: Okay, I know this chapter was probably super depressing, but I promise it gets happier starting in the next few chapters. Things really get moving and we get to see things take a turn for the better for our favorite detective. So, I ask that you all patiently await the happier time, because depressed Conan was really important to the plotline of this fic. And, as always, thank you to all the wonderful people who favorite, follow, and review.