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Conan hadn't come to the party.

Without any murders, disappearances, death threats, or thefts having occured during the performance or while Kaito and his fellow interns were packing up for the next night, that only meant that Conan couldn't have reached the theater at all, three hours ago. And although sometimes cases did take three hours to solve, something about waiting for Conan this time prickled in Kaito's heart like a perfect rehearsal would. One of the theater superstitions that made sense, perfection meant overconfidence, meant disaster in the making.

But evidence took time to gather and process, manipulations were harder without the famous Sleeping Kogoro's presence, and it wasn't as if Conan could've left a message on Kid's phone. He wouldn't have taken time away from the case to do so even if it was possible. Still, that meant there was absolutely no reason to suspect anything amiss, other than the usual death-destruction-mayhem that left Conan surrounded by police and usually unscathed.

Absolutely no reason at all for Kaito to run off searching for his wayward boyfriend, except that niggling prickle of overconfidence.

Kaito eventually extracted himself from his fellow interns, begging off with empty excuses and apologies (and a conveniently-timed "free" round of drinks from the bar). Slipping out into the night, he took a deep, silent breath, and his perception shifted. His awareness of individuals, needed to perform for his tiny, intimate audience of co-workers, expanded to the flowing moods of the mob mentality.

Showtime, his instincts whispered, as Kaito plunged into the evening crowds.

He should've been pulled to the breathless still of a captive audience, their attention all skillfully directed to a death-defying performance, and away from the performer himself. Indeed, a few weak eddies in the streets hinted at that... but they dissipated in the flicker of pedestrian traffic lights, the sway of a red-tinted bar lantern, the clatter of the train overhead. None tugged at Kaito more than a moment.

Under the pale arches of the station entrance, the sterile glare of commercial lighting tapped up Kaito's awareness. No delays flashed in the information monitors; no crimes gathered in the knots of late evening commuters at the vending machines, or the swirl of passengers climbing to the second level. No eyes rested on him when Kaito stepped behind a thick pillar on the platform, nor when Kid emerged onto the corrugated iron roof.

Any train he took wouldn't be one with Conan on it. So he simply... wouldn't. Looking up the tracks, then down, he ran lightly across the rooftop and leapt into the air. His cape snapped into a hangglider, the edges nearly brushing the utility lines as he angled towards Beika.

The rails snaked between high-rise apartments and offices, darkened windows flickering white with Kid's reflection. Swirling winds, funneled kilometers from the open sea and the dregs of yesterday's storm, carried him high above the power lines and streetlights. Up here, the only chance of finding Conan was in a train discreetly off the track, or in a station.

He'd double back to the stations after checking in Beika.

-0-0-0

The rooftop door fell open with barely a touch from Kid's lockpicks, silent hinges a credit to the school's janitor. Kid ghosted into the stairwell with a silent apology to the man, leather-soled outdoor shoes leaving nearly unnoticeable smudges in the linoleum's shine.

If Conan was anywhere, he would be in the cram school, even as dark and silent as it seemed. He'd been nowhere else along the route between the school and theater, after all.

At the bottom of the first, highest flight of stairs, the hallway ran straight in two directions. To the left, moonlight cut wide, pale squares all the way to the fire exit. To the right, the same squares were broken some three-quarters of the way down the hall, a large puddle of something dark before one of the classroom doors.

Kid had his cell phone in his hand before he reached the puddle. His gaze skipped over it, cataloguing the lumpy clots, a streak from one side, and a clear sheen stretching several centimeters around the whole and going under the door: blood, fresh enough to be undried and old enough to have congealed considerably and begun to separate. He'd seen it all too often, after seven years tripping over Conan.

A quick tug at the door's handle proved it locked, and another second one-handed with the lockpicks disproved that. The classroom behind the door was empty, the long tables of a computer lab cutting dark gashes across the poorly-lit, barren floor. It had been a long shot, anyway: there was no way that blood wasn't Conan's, not without the place swarming with cops and him here denouncing the attacker already.

Somebody had taken Conan.

Somebody was going to regret it.

Kid let his trademark grin stretch across his face, raised his phone -- "Morisu Aasen's", not Kuroba Kaito's -- and thumbed out a text message.

Join me in a treasure hunt.
Begin: Edogawa Conan's cram school.
Prize: Edogawa, dead or alive.
- KID O_^

Notice sent, Kid switched the phone in his hand with a flashlight. As long as he was here, he may as well do something-- not that he was an expert at finding clues, but it was better than hovering over Conan's... the puddle.

Kid played the light over the windows, angling it to see if he could spot any telltale streaks from a hasty cleaning. Nothing. Again, not a surprise; any idiot would've mopped up the puddle before bothering with anything less. No spray pattern under the windows, no droplets over that side of the floor--

Light flashed under the old-fashioned heat vents lining the base of the wall. Kid flipped his cape up over his shoulder and crouched, peering into the gap between vent and floor. A pair of thick-rimmed glasses lay, half-folded, deep in the corner. Kid drew them out, every scratch and dent on the black frames familar, even without the telltale lack of distortion from flat lenses.

He'd told Conan, repeatedly, that these frames were too big for his face. They must've gotten knocked off in the attack. Kid's fingers tightened on the plastic, then he carefully replaced Conan's glasses exactly where he'd found them and went back to study the puddle.

About how much was really there...? Not nearly as much as it seemed. Maybe a bit less than a blood donation would take, not that Conan was big enough yet to afford that much. It was utterly sick -- Beika district was utterly sick -- that Kid could estimate the amount of blood on the floor just from long association with the place. Conan had no right to be sane--

The phone buzzed in Kid's pocket, making his grin stretch fractionally wider. Only one of his detectives was thorough enough to use call return this promptly: Hakuba.

"Moshi moshi."

"Ah, Tantei-san." Oops, there was still too much of an edge to his voice.

He could almost hear Hakuba blink. Then, more seriously, "How long has he been missing?"

"That I can prove," Kid purred, stomach lurching, "ninety-six minutes. Since he was last seen, no more than four hours. He--" was supposed to come to my theater after cram school, "--wasn't expected home tonight."

That gave Hakuba pause again. "... how closely do you keep tabs on Edogawa?"

More closely than Hakuba would ever, ever find out. "I'm a gentleman thief, Detective," Kid answered lightly. "It would be crass to arrange heists without regard to my adversaries' schedules." Over the line, he heard a snort of disbelief, but Kid didn't remark upon it. Instead, he glanced down at the puddle. "Detective... not that this isn't a lovely chat, but I'm looking at a pool of blood on the floor."

A sharp breath echoed across the line. "We'll be there in half an hour," Hakuba promised.

Kid glanced up at the windows, as the first flickers of red danced across the far wall. Investigation Unit One was fast. "I'll see you then." He left unspoken that Hakuba wouldn't see him, and slipped back out the way he came in.

Crossing the rooftop and the street, Kid hid in the shadow of a heating unit on the office building across the way, and watched the criminal investigation unit scatter around the high stucco walls fencing in the school. Megure, unmistakable with his ever-present hat, peered carefully at the gate; off in the side alley, Kid saw Takagi scrambling up over the wall. A second, smaller figure -- Mitsuhiko: Kid couldn't mistake that gangly figure -- followed, and the pair darted to the nearest window of the school building and vanished.

Kid stayed at the edge of the roof just long enough to see Genta and Ayumi appear from behind the school building, and the pale bob of Ai-kun coming from the other direction. Then he slid away and picked the lock of this building's stairwell too.

With practiced movements, he quickly rigged a makeshift, bright-white lamp using his cape and the flashlight, and stuck a small, magnifying makeup mirror -- which he'd glued to a suction cup -- to the wall and stripped to his boxers. A splash of saline solution and contacts gave him muddy brown eyes, then he added breath inserts to widen his nose, a too-dark layer of foundation down to his collarbone and up halfway to his elbow -- stippling in three shades to make it look less even and more real -- and thickened his eyebrows with a pencil. A few swipes of shade and highlighter shifted the contours of his face. Then Kid did a quick comb-through with a greasy mix of pomade and leave-in conditioner to straighten his hair, added a layer of powder to make it look unremarkably clean, and as a last touch, he glued clear, nonreflective plastic behind his ears to stick them out a bit. Then he got dressed.

The blue dress shirt of Kid's trademark costume, for all that it looked quite dark against his white jacket, was actually the top of a police uniform. The sleeve patches and shoulder straps were usually hidden by the jacket; all Kid had to do was add the collar pins and unfold the cap from the inside of his top hat, along with a black leather holster and matching shoe covers to simulate police boots. His white trousers reversed to police-issue navy blue, suitable for police and salarymen alike. He folded his cape into the emergency disguise pocket of his glider harness, added the flattened top hat and jacket into the "flab pockets" -- ah, the things a diet of donuts and bad coffee could do as a cop aged -- buttoned the shirt, and set off for the fire escape in the back of the building.

Tires screeched while Kid rode the last ladder down to the pavement. A quick glance at his watch: twenty-nine minutes since he'd hung up on Hakuba. The Task Force was right on time: the welcome strains of Nakamori-keibu's bellow floated into the dark alley.

Kid slipped into the crowd of officers, easily three dozen people milling around trying to stay out of evidence, and headed for the school gate. Nobody had opened it yet, though slightly off to one side, Genta and Hakuba were clustered around Ayumi and a small object in her hand. The children's expressions were thunderous; Hakuba's more resigned.

"Bad news?" Kid asked, giving the gate a wary look.

Three pairs of eyes flicked up at him. Genta and Ayumi promptly looked away to glare at the offending object -- a Shounen Tantei badge, without the tiny chip in the enamel that Conan's had -- once more, but Hakuba's stare lingered a moment too long.

"That-- that idiot!" Ayumi growled, high-pitched as only a woman could do.

Hakuba's gaze flickered. "The missing boy usually carries a homing device," he explained. The matching badge, yes, Kid remembered. "Of course, nothing can ever be resolved so easily. The men inside found it in his locker."

Inside his locker. The edges of Kid's vision darkened to red. Conan would've taken off the badge to visit him... the little idiot...

When Kid's vision cleared, he found the British detective watching him with a faint, knowing look in his eyes. "Please don't step in the evidence, Officer...?"

"Morisu," Kid got out, voice perfectly steady as he bowed, which just happened to also get him a better look at a few faint streaks of mud on the pavement.

"Hajimemashite," the three murmured, bowing perfunctorily. As they all straightened, Ayumi piped up, "We think they moved Conan, probably on a handcart and covered with something."

Genta explained, "He's too big to carry very easily anymore, and too old to really do that in public anyway. Can't make him walk around with his hands tied and stuff, either, so he'd have gotten away if he were conscious." Kid didn't ask why. Even if Conan hadn't had his shoes -- which he probably didn't, given the blood had been deep inside the school and he had a shoe locker near the entrance -- he would have his belt buckle and dart watch.

Hakuba's eyes slid from the children to Kid again. "We were just about to go in and look at the school's equipment. Would you care to join us?"

Hm. Firsthand information, versus the worrying possibility that Hakuba knew damn well who he was... he really shouldn't have used the Morisu name again. The Task Force had probably tracked his cell number to the prepaid registry already. "I would be honored, Tantei-san."

Hakuba gestured to the alley where Takagi and Mitsuhiko had climbed over the school wall. "Please," he murmured. Kid matched the gesture and words, ignoring how Genta and Ayumi raced ahead of them, then matched Hakuba's steps so they walked side-by-side into the alley. No way was he letting the detective at his back, and no doubt Hakuba felt the same... if he'd figured out Kid's makeshift disguise.

"May I inquire as to Edogawa-kun's plans for tonight?" Crap. He had. Kid gave Hakuba a quizzical look, and Hakuba pointed out, "The children don't recognize 'Officer Morisu' any more than I do." And given that, between Hakuba, Ayumi, and Genta, they should know all the officers here by sight, if not name...

"Imagine that," Kid muttered unconvincingly, pretending he wasn't watching every move of Hakuba's hands (and handcuffs) like a hawk.

Hakuba's face tightened, and he glanced ahead to where Genta was pushing Ayumi up over the wall. His next words were quieter. "The only man I intend to arrest during this case," he said pointedly, "is the one who spilled Edogawa-kun's blood."

Kid's stomach roiled at the phrase. He breathed carefully once, twice, then, "His plans were his personal business, Tantei-san." Genta turned then and offered his cupped hands for Kid, so he quickly scaled the wall, sitting astride it easily. Hakuba landed next to him, a furrowed brow hardening his eyes as the two of them reached down to help pull Genta up and over.

When Genta landed on the ground on the far side, stumbling a bit, Kid moved to follow. Hakuba caught at his sleeve.

"Officer."

Kid tugged half-heartedly at the man's grip. "It won't help the case," he muttered back. "Can you trust me that much?"

Hakuba's fingers jerked violently away, and Kid slid to the ground.

They met Mitsuhiko and Takagi at the sports shed next to the track. Mitsuhiko was inexpertly attacking the large padlock with a set of picks, but Kid only barely noticed; his eyes went straight to Conan's glasses and badge, cradled in Takagi's latex-gloved hands.

"We found them under the radiator," Takagi told Kid simply. "And his badge in the locker under his shoes... Mitsuhiko-kun doubts he was wearing it during class at all."

Mitsuhiko made a soft sound under his breath as one of the picks fell from his fingers. "The classroom lock was picked," he said, taking the slim bit of metal back up. He twisted it viciously back into the keyhole. "But that was probably Kaitou Kid; it was a really good job, hardly any nicks at all. What's really interesting is the blood trace inside, near the wall. Here," and he shifted his elbow to lift one corner of his jacket, "I snapped a picture."

Genta dug out Mitsuhiko's phone and flipped it open, thumbing up the most recent picture. Kid crowded in behind Ayumi and Hakuba, head tilting at the angled wedge of (blood) color on the floor. "That's the edge of the weapon," Genta muttered. "Weird shape. Sharp edge, a couple of folds..."

"Whose classroom is that?" Kid asked.

"Natsuda-sensei's," Ayumi answered. "Megure-keibu's already sent a car to pick her up. We're..." Her voice caught.

"We had to get enough clues to be certain it was Edogawa-kun," Hakuba supplied. "Now it's just figuring out where..." Kid caught the unvoiced his body, "...he might be."

The padlock fell open with a sharp "Ha!" from Mitsuhiko, and he shoved the doors open. A motion-sensor light blinked on, revealing stacks of plastic mats and hurdles, plenty of the handcarts they'd suspected were used, foot lockers in stacks and stood on end, tangled piles of jumpropes and a spill of relay batons...

"Is it just me," Hakuba asked, "or shouldn't those be stored somewhere they're unlikely to trip up the unwary?"

Kid's gaze was pinned to the piled-up lockers, and the nearly imperceptible rectangle on the floor where another locker should've been. "It's not just you, Tantei-san," he murmured. "It's not just you."

-0-0-0

Being Morisu Aasen was danger enough in front of Hakuba. In front of the rest of the combined squads... well, he'd never have become Kaitou Kid if he let a little thing like extremely risky and damn near boneheaded stunts worry him. But the last thing Kaito needed was to be assigned to the search parties combing the school and neighborhood, especially with the K9 dogs that might scent Conan on him. He preferred the more convoluted methods anyway.

So it was nearing 3 am when Kaito, sober-faced and business-suited, entered the police station and bowed to the receptionist. "Excuse me. Kisaki Eri," he introduced himself. 'Herself', technically. "I'm here to provide legal counsel to Natsuda-san."

The receptionist gave 'Kisaki' a dubious look, one which flicked over the clock reflected in her glasses. "It's an unusual hour, isn't it, Kisaki-san?"

Kid laughed politely behind his hand. "I heard about the case from my dear daughter."

"I see." A cool, equally polite smile. "I'll call someone down to escort you in."

"Thank you." Kid took a step back so as not to hover over the receptionist. Stifling a yawn, not entirely faked for the performance, he checked his watch and waited.

It didn't take very long before the elevator dinged, and a very tired-looking Hakuba Saguru stepped out. Dark eyes over darker circles landed sharply, despite the hour, on Kid. "Kisaki-san?"

Kid joined him. "Tantei-san." Hakuba's gaze flickered in a double-take, but he merely gestured Kid into the elevator.

"I was unaware that Natsuda-san had requested a lawyer," Hakuba remarked idly.

And Kid had a line ready to spin out for that, but Hakuba had already all but promised not to arrest him this case, so... he smiled sweetly. "Terrible how the information pipeline breaks down when most of the officers are out."

"Quite. There's so few of us here that I've been relegated to interrogation duties, with only the assistance of the security cameras. Pity." Hakuba's mouth twitched upwards knowingly, as the elevator dinged. The doors opened, and Hakuba went on, "Well, far be it from me to interfere with legal counsel. I presume you can locate the correct room? It's the only one in use at the moment."

Sometimes Kid really, really appreciated Hakuba Saguru. Anyone else, he would've had to gas while being escorted through the station. "I believe I can. Thank you."

Hakuba nodded, then left the elevator and turned deliberately in one direction down the hall. Kid grinned and went the other way.

He strode down one hall, then another, navigating the maze of bullpens, offices, and file rooms easily. Kid suppressed a twitch at the way the silent halls rang with his footsteps. Not so much as the scent of coffee left too long in the pot interfered with his route; whatever coffee had been percolating in the break rooms had long since gone cold.

I am way too used to Nakamori-keibu's office, Kid thought. A police station should be noisy and bustling, not all but emptied like this.

Kid turned the corner into the dead-end hallway lined with institutional doors, each one studded with a tiny shatterproof window. All but the last one down stood open on a small room holding a lone table and two chairs. At the far end of the hallway, a security camera's light blinked, signaling it was active. Kid went to stand underneath it, careful to stay out of the limited area visible from inside that final, occupied room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he murmured, setting the briefcase down and drawing out a large jar, a length of hose, and a control valve. He set it all up quickly, jamming the far end of the hose under the door and dropping a smoke capsule into the jar. The valve would keep the capsule's contents leaking slowly into the room until he was ready.

Kisaki's jacket and fake breasts fit into the case easily, followed by the skirt, wig, and heels. Kid unpinned and folded down the legs of the trousers he was wearing underneath, tugged on a pair of socks and his old school indoor shoes, and scrubbed off his disguise with a wet washcloth. A packet of stage blood helped slick down his hair and stained his short-sleeved white dress shirt with broad, sticky-wet streaks, then he wiped off his hands and tossed the washcloth back in its baggie. For a final touch, Kid put on an oversized pair of glasses.

Edogawa Conan stood and checked his reflection in a woman's compact, trying on his denouncing-the-suspect face. Kid felt the corners of his eyes prickle. Gory, vengeful, terrifying...

In more ways than one. Except Kid couldn't let himself think like that. He would see Conan again, many, many times. The alternative...

Kid put the mirror back into the briefcase and left it all behind. One foot nudged the jar out of the way; a quick glance showed the woman sitting nervously alone in the room, eyes huge and pinned to the mist trailing across the floor. Opening the door, Kid settled his hands in his pockets, curling them around slim freezerpacks, and strolled in, the smoke he'd prepared swirling around his feet.

"Morning, Natsuda-sensei," he said, watching the blood drain from the woman's face. One slim finger jerked up, shaking, to point at him.

"I...ikiryou!" she all but shrieked.

Kid nearly collapsed from relief. Ikiryou. The wandering spirit of a living person. She hadn't killed Conan. "You didn't think I'd leave the last case of my life unsolved, did you, sensei?" he asked lightly.

Her head shook, more reflex than will. "No..." she whispered in disbelief. "No, it can't be..."

"That's what I thought too," Kid agreed, dipping to peer up into her face. "I'm pretty sure I'm hallucinating, in fact. But I've got nothing better to do, and it's a lot more comfortable here than in that locker." Natsuda gasped. "Though my head really hurts." Kid brushed a finger against the back of his head and winced. "Those teacher's satchels are sharp."

"Oh my god."

"But I still don't know why you did it," Kid murmured. "The how was pretty easy. I took a long time to pack up today on purpose, so I'd be the last one at the school and no one would wonder where I'd gone. So you saw your chance and took it, and then you didn't know what to do with me. Ne?"

Natsuda's breath shuddered as she squeezed her eyes shut, hands clutching at her head, over her ears.

Kid let go of the freezerpacks in his pockets, and gently tugged down Natsuda's wrists with his icy hands, eliciting a squeak of horror. "You left me bleeding, and ran to the athletic shed. There you emptied a foot locker, put it on a hand cart, and took it all back upstairs. You put my body," if Kid never had to say that about Conan again, it would be too soon, "into the locker. It took some effort, because I'm not that small anymore, but you managed to stuff me in there. I'm a little surprised I haven't suffocated yet." Please gods let me be telling the truth here. "And then you took me outside, and dumped the locker." Which was why there'd been muddy wheel tracks that should've been washed or trampled away. "Where did you dump the locker, Natsuda-sensei?"

The woman moaned.

Kid jerked at her wrists. "I can't stop haunting you until I'm found," he hissed. "Where am I, Natsuda-sensei?"

"Gone!" Dark eyes snapped up to his. "You and your hateful face, smirking and laughing in my class-- I got rid of it-- got rid of you-- and I won't be haunted! I won't! I won't look at your hateful face anymore--" Her fingers curled into claws, and she threw her weight against Kid's grip. "I hate you!"

Kid shoved her back into the chair, hard. "Why?"

She began to laugh, a high, thin sound. "You don't even know... of course you wouldn't, why would you care?" The laughter tipped her head back, tears running down her temples and into her hair. "You ruined her life and you just laugh..."

Kid blinked. "Who?" The only person he could think of was... "Ran-neesan?"

"Neesan..." Natsuda echoed, laughter dying in a pained wheeze. "Neesan... You'll never ruin her life again. It'll all be over by tomorrow..."

Dammit. "Natsuda-sensei!" Kid shook her again. "Where am I?"

"I threw you away... Away and away, no more little detectives laughing at us..."

Shit. Kid shoved her away, recognizing when someone had been pushed past her limit, and stormed from the room. He grabbed the briefcase and made his way to the nearest bathroom, throwing the glasses on the floor and dunking his head under the tap. Icy water poured over his head, spiraling red down the drain in front of his eyes.

Running around drenched in blood and looking like Conan was past Kid's own limits right now. Threw Conan away. She'd just thrown him away like... like...

He needed to find out when the trash collection was near the school. Chances were it wasn't tomorrow. But what else could it mean--?

The click of the door latch sent Kid jerking back into a toilet stall like the icy water had just turned scalding hot. He didn't manage to get the stall's door closed before Hakuba slammed back against the restroom door in equal shock.

"Good lord--"

Kid dragged a hand up to his face, covering it as best he could. "Tantei-san. I think I broke your suspect." Hakuba gave a sharp intake of breath, and Kid added, "But she confessed."

"Looking like that, I'm not surprised." Slowly, shakily, Hakuba pushed himself off the door. "I certainly would've confessed on the spot in her place."

Kid snorted. "You're made of sterner stuff than that."

"Mm. Perhaps." Hakuba knelt and checked the briefcase. "Take off that shirt," he ordered, unfolding the jacket.

"What?" Kid muttered, dragging the wet shirt off and letting it slap to the floor. "Not going to interrogate me?"

The jacket landed on his head, followed by the skirt and wig. "If you'd gotten anything of immediate use, you would be leaping from the roof already," Hakuba pointed out.

Kid grumbled under his breath and went for his fly. Hakuba politely averted his eyes as Kid switched the trousers for the pencil skirt, unthreading the basting stitches holding the top layer and the underskirt's pleats in place. "You wouldn't happen to have been in the video surveillance room, would you."

"I was not, actually. I've been researching the suspect. Turns out she has motive; Edogawa-kun deduced her sister's guilt in a murder some three weeks ago."

Neesan. Not Ran at all. "Married?" Kid asked, turning the jacket inside out. The underlying sweater zipped up to his throat.

"The sister, yes."

Different names. Conan would never have realized. "When's trash pickup near the school?"

"Next Tuesday. But every dumpster and pickup site in five blocks has been checked already."

Kid frowned, pulling the wig on. "So what's happening by tomorrow that would... finish off C-- Tantei-kun?"

Hakuba frowned as well. "Aside from his own wounds perhaps giving way to sepsis or shock?" He immediately shook his head. "But that wouldn't be guaranteed to occur within that time frame, and Natsuda as a literature teacher has no expertise in the matter."

No expertise at all. Just a lot of anger and panic. "She wouldn't have been thinking," Kid mused, unpinning the wig's updo and pulling himself up. There wasn't a lot of space in the restroom to keep his face hidden from Hakuba, so he crossed to the darkened window, looking out over the dirty orange lights staining the sky grey. "She just wanted to never see him again." What was the English? "Out of sight, out of mind."

Going in as Conan had been a better ploy than he'd realized.

Movement in the dark glass warned Kid, so he only tensed when a warm hand landed on his shoulder. "Kaitou-san..." Hakuba's gaze met his own in the glass for a moment, then dropped. "I won't pretend to know what your relationship with Edogawa-kun is." Kid felt himself go cold, but Hakuba continued, "Rival, favorite detective, best friend... I don't know. But," his hand tightened slightly, "we will find him."

"Thanks, Tantei-san." When had his own hand reached for Hakuba's? Crazy world, when a detective tried to comfort a kaitou over another detective... who had only hours. "Before tomorrow," Kid murmured.

Hakuba's hand fell. "Yes. We'll lose all our clues tomorrow any--" His breath caught.

Kid got it in the same instant. He jerked upright, eyes snapping to the murky, starless sky. "The rainy season." Another storm was due by dawn.

Dimly, Kid heard the faint tones of speed dial, Hakuba's voice barking out "Nakamori-keibu! The storm drains--", then the window's lock gave and he leapt into the rain-scented, gusting wind.

She'd left Conan to drown.

-0-0-0

Kid released the hangglider and dropped to the sidewalk in front of the school, landing in a crouch that sent his pleated skirt whipping about his bare knees. The wet hair of his wig blew stingingly across his face and neck.

I'm panicking. I don't have much time. Someone might see me. Kid turned his instincts loose, the basic flight response that he'd honed til he could use it instead of be used by it, and added Natsuda-sensei's own twist. I have to get rid of the evidence.

His feet turned him left, hasty steps and tunnel vision. Natsuda-sensei wouldn't have seen any parked trucks. No dumpsters. Scudding clouds not darkening the street enough, Kid imagined, people cooking or eating dinner, washing dishes, every apartment window a witness. The larger the street, the more chance someone would pass by.

Not the first drain. Too close to the school. A quieter street, don't cross the intersection, turn left. Still too close, not this drain, and the road two intersections down was a main road. Can't turn left again, it'll go back to the school-- go right, cross the street, there must be somewhere--

Green. An alley. A park. Mud. No time, someone could forget their books, have a question, discover the blood-- oh gods the blood-- got to get rid of the evidence. Quiet park. Playground on the left, the main path straight ahead, riverbank on the right. Trees. Hide in the trees? No, people would find the trunk, open it. Had to hide it.

Riverbank. Rivers had drains. Nice round tunnels dumping water. Got clogged up all the time. Like that one there, half-hidden in the dark.

Kid skidded down the soaked concrete slabs, splashing halfway into the roiling current of the river before he could catch himself. The police had to have checked here by now... but not this close, who would drag a 40-kilogram weight down this close to high waters?

A panic-striken assailant. Someone who'd snapped.

The pipe was stuffed with branches and mud, no sign of anything manmade. It couldn't be-- but the leaves were still soft, fresh and green. Kid tore the branches free and grabbed at the muddy lump behind. Flat under his fingers, a corner under his palm--

Kid braced himself and heaved. The trunk jolted, catching for a second on something in the pipe, then popped free. Water drenched over Kid, nearly pulling the locker out of his grasp.

Water. No. Not in the trunk, please not in with Conan--

It wasn't even locked. Kid flipped up the clasps -- please Tousan, ancestors, let it be him alive -- and threw the lid open.

The bundle inside was unrecognizeable for a moment. Then Kid managed to identify arms, shoes, a head darkened with blood--

No.

"Conan..."

Nothing.

It couldn't be his hand reaching in to hover before Conan's face. It couldn't. Because that would make it real--

--air tickled at his palm.

Then again.

Breathing.

His phone was in his other hand. When had that happened? And the other end was ringing.

"119, what is your emergency?"

Kid opened his mouth, and his throat caught. He bit his lip, then tried again. His voice came out high and thin. "Ambulance. There's a park-- Beika Junior High. The river. And if you could call Megure-keibu of the Tokyo PD, I've found the missing boy."

"I'm directing medical services your way now, miss. Please stay on the line."

-0-0-0

-0-0-0

By the time Kid managed to ditch the police, scrub down, glue on a new face, find a nurse's dress, and get some coffee, the rain was pouring down on a pale, grey day. He ducked past a small waiting room, covering his ear against the blistering Kansai-ben ringing off walls and Hakuba alike as Hattori Heiji vented to his -- Kid's eyes flicked over Hakuba's expression -- willingly captive audience.

Which conveniently got the temperamental detective out of both Kid's way and Conan's hair for a while.

Kid plucked the clipboard out of the slot next to Conan's room, shuffling through the papers as he entered the brightly-lit space. Numbers, drug names, acronyms, medical handwriting... how anybody was supposed to make sense of this was beyond him. He tossed Conan's chart onto the guest chair, and finally dared to look at the lump on the bed.

Conan lay awkwardly half-curled under a thin blue blanket, not quite in a fetal position. IVs trailed before his sleeping face and vanished into each hand, one dripping clear fluid (the antibiotic), and the other line thick with blood replacing what he'd lost. A patch of hair stretching from ear to nape had been shaved, sutures holding a ragged gash closed. Lumps under the blanket lay draped against his stomach and back, the red of a hot water bottle peeking out from between his arms like a rubbery teddy bear.

A grin stretched across Kid's face, though not entirely his mask anymore. He could still see the shape of the box in the strange angle of Conan's shoulders, the tuck of his legs.

And for my next trick, I'll help the police put Natsuda-sensei into a box of her own for as many years as the system will allow.

Blue eyes slit open as Kid settled on the edge of the bed. "Nn... Nurse?" Conan croaked out.

"Not quite, Tantei-kun," Kaito murmured.

What little he could see of Conan's face lit up. "Kaitou."

"Go back to sleep." Kaito slipped his fingers under Conan's. "I'll keep sneaking back in here as long as I can."

Conan smiled, let his eyes fall shut, and soon enough his breathing evened back into sleep.

- fin -