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

Undefeated

By Taliya

II: Reconstruction

Days turned to weeks that passed in a monotonous blur as Kaito steadily slid further into depression. He established a routine that he rarely deviated from: wake up, feed his birds, eat, go to work, return, make dinner, pass the evening hours without any sort of actual remembrance, shower, sleep, repeat. He seldom stepped foot outside his house unless it was necessary, otherwise he absently shuffled decks of cards and or juggled scarves and colored balls. Despite his Poker Face his coworkers were worried by his increasingly listless behavior but were helpless to snap him out of it, unable to do anything as they watched their normally exuberant colleague grow paler and thinner with each passing day.

As the night of the full moon neared, Kaito's attention perked up, eager to see if this had truly been his final heist target. The jewel did indeed refract light the color of fresh blood amidst the undulating blues, violets, and burgundy, and Kaito had swiftly taken a hammer to it with manic satisfaction thrumming in his heart. The shards were interesting to look at. The various splinters were either the cool-warm rainbow of the tanzanite or transparent with a cycling undertone of the visible spectrum. Kaito idly wondered as he swept the remains into a pile how Pandora had ended up inside another gem. He followed up by melting the shards in a crucible with a welding torch. The resultant amorphous bluish-black glob looked nothing like the prized Star of Zanzibar, nor did it refract red in the moonlight—it actually barely passed any light through it at all. The melting had destroyed the magical properties of Pandora as well as the crystalline structure of the tanzanite. Kaito boxed up the remains and stowed it at the foot of the pop-up closet that housed Kaitou KID's outfit. He reached out, expression full of nostalgia as he fingered the silk of the pristine whiteness of the cape one last time.

His father's legacy, and now, his. He absently wondered how his mother had felt when she had hung up Phantom Lady's costume forever. Had it been as bittersweet as he wished it could have felt instead of resentful? Or had it been simply a relief? His mother was not here, and for once he keenly yearned for her presence—it would have been nice to have an anchor in the chaos that comprised his thoughts and emotions, as well as some advice. He had expected to feel elated with the destruction of Pandora, but all he felt was a curiously detached and deadened sensation considering that on the heels of Pandora's destruction was KID's demise. He knew psychologically that he was in mourning, though it was over a person who never existed, a ghost as intangible as his name, Kaitou KID.

He woodenly penned a last note to Inspector Nakamori, informing him of his immediate retirement and thanking him for years upon years of entertainment with best wishes in his future endeavors. The note was signed with KID's signature doodle and slipped into his pocket for delivery in the evening after next. Climbing the spiral staircase one last time, the former thief gazed upon the workroom that he had spent so many hours in—the work benches, the turntable, the car, the checker-tiled floor that hid the flamboyant, distinguishing attire of Kaitou KID. He committed the room as it was to memory before shutting off the lights and locking the exit behind him. He tossed and turned the entire night, unable to sleep before giving it up as a bad job when his clock read four in the morning. Sending a quick message to inform his mother of the latest developments regarding KID, he sighed as he shut his laptop. Might as well make that delivery to the police department. It would be Inspector Nakamori's tidy little wake up and parting gift.

The note made the front page that morning, and the public was in an uproar over the announcement of Kaitou KID's retirement. KID fans were distraught, while supporters of the law rejoiced. The Task Force members themselves were of mixed opinions. While they were pleased there would be no more humiliating defeats at the clever hands of KID, it also meant their unit would be disbanded and they would be dispersed among the other departments. The KID Task Force members were overall a pleased bunch, having derived a large amount of after-the-fact enjoyment from their quarry over the years due to the knowledge that Kaitou KID was completely nonviolent despite his hijinks, the same of which could not be said for any of the other divisions. Nakamori was inconsolable. He had alternately ranted, raged, and wailed, his multiple diatribes liberally littered with epithets strong enough to make paint peel.

Aoko had called Kaito after seeing the headline, expressing her delight at the thief's retirement while wondering worriedly what the event would mean for her father. Kaito promised to check up on her father for her when they were both done with work that evening. He then spent the rest of the day at his desk listening to his coworkers' gossip on reasons why Kaitou KID had gone to ground for good, as well as wondering what Hakuba's thoughts were on KID's final disappearing trick. Some of his colleagues' ideas were fairly reasonable explanations while others were flat out outrageous, and he chuckled as his listened, even going so far as to offer his own false suggestions. After work, in which he was held up by a few hours and therefore running late, he immediately stopped by the Nakamori home to find Hakuba and Aoko trying to get a completely plastered Ginzo to bed. A quick glance at his watch told him it was only eight thirty-five. He retreated to the kitchen to cook a few dishes for dinner with extras to be left for the policeman—the man was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, without doubt. While Aoko fussed over her father, Hakuba stood behind him watching and the thief's shoulders itched with the detective's staring.

"What is it, Hakuba?" he asked testily, dicing a block of tofu for miso soup after blanching the soba noodles and setting a few dried shitake mushrooms to soak. He was in no mood to entertain the blond with his suspicions, not when he was still sorting himself out.

"You're quitting, Kuroba?" he asked, though it came out more like a statement.

Kaito scowled. "If you're going to do nothing but give me the third degree, at least make yourself useful and chop those up for yakisoba," he said, pointing with his knife to the pile of washed cabbage, onions, carrots, mushrooms, and green onions.

"Well?" Hakuba pressed as he steadily made his way through the vegetables while Kaito cut a piece of pork into thin strips.

The miso soup slowly warmed on the stove, Kaito keeping an eye on it and stirring it every now and then. He sighed in exasperation as he returned to slicing up the cut of meat. "How many times do I have to tell you: I'm not KID."

Hakuba paused in his work to scrutinize the magician. "You're upset that KID's retiring, and not in the way a KID fan would react. It's more personal to you, isn't it?" he said, eyes narrowing with his suspicion.

"Knock it off, Hakuba," Kaito retorted crabbily, "Work's been busier than usual and I'm just tired." He had by now begun sautéing the pork in oil, soon adding the neatly chopped vegetables into the wok. The noodles came soon after, as did the yakisoba sauce, salt, and pepper as Kaito dodged increasingly pointed questions posed by the detective. "Get the miso soup off the stove before it boils over and add in the green onion and wakame, will you Hakuba?"

Hakuba wanted to grill the man more, but held his tongue as Aoko entered the kitchen and blinked, surprised to find the two of them once again behaving as they prepared the late dinner. They served themselves and ate, wrapping the extras and stashing them in the refrigerator for the distraught inspector and washing the dishes, cookware, and utensils.

After the last plate had been dried and put away, Kaito stretched his back out. "I'm going home," he announced, smothering a yawn. "See you two later." He saw himself out before Hakuba could throw more questions at him or Aoko could ask after his health and shuffled to his own house, letting himself in and allowing his workbag to slide off his shoulder and onto the armchair in the living room. He thanked whatever deity it was that kept Hakuba from grilling him for the whole of the evening—it probably had been Aoko's presence. Either that or he had truly looked as dead on his feet as he felt, and what do you know, maybe Hakuba did have a heart buried somewhere in there.

Having showered and dressed for bed, Kaito flopped on top of his covers, eyes gazing sightlessly at the ceiling. Pandora had finally been destroyed, and so… now what? His mind wandered aimlessly in various directions, trying and failing to determine the course his life should go before a ring of the doorbell interrupted his vacant ruminations. Kaito blinked, eyes darting to the clock on his nightstand. The digital readout read 23:39. He was not expecting anyone this late, and it was a weekday to boot. If anything he expected it to be Hakuba, the stubborn idiot. Thank heavens he did not require much in the way of sleep—he would have never been able to function properly during the day with his former night job otherwise. But even so, getting anywhere between thirty minutes to two hours of sleep a night was doing him no favors. Hauling himself up, he padded down the stairs and to the door, yanking it open irritably without checking to see who it was. "What now, Haku—" His voice trailed off at the sight of the Great Detective of the East on his doorstep.

The man tilted his head with a small grin. "Good evening," he greeted. "Expecting someone else?"

"Ah—no," Kaito replied weakly, "Good evening." What was the detective doing here at this hour of night? And dear gods in heaven, what had he done to deserve this? "Ne, you're the guy I bought breakfast for, right?" he asked dumbly as he urged his brain to wake up from its surprised stupor.

"Don't play the idiot; it doesn't suit you." The detective smirked, the cocksure attitude he was known for before he had been shrunk into Conan shining through briefly. "Kudou Shinichi, detective—or, I guess it's inspector now," he said, formally introducing himself. Kaito mentally raised his brows. He had no idea that the detective had been promoted so quickly through the police ranks. "Is this a good time to speak to you? Or should I come back at a better time?" Kudou asked.

Really, it was the very last thing he needed at the moment, inviting Kudou Shinichi into his home when he was working himself through an identity crisis and associated depression. Yet knowing that his inquiry was likely to involve KID, Kaito mentally shored up his worn Poker Face. Oh, joy. Kudou could sometimes be as stubborn as Hakuba whenever something sparked his interest, and it seemed Kaito was the lucky—or perhaps unlucky—recipient. "No," he shook his head and stepped back, "Now's fine." Opening the door further he said, "Please enter."

The private investigator-turned-police inspector swept past him, pausing in the genkan to remove his shoes as he murmured, "Excuse my intrusion." Kaito wordlessly offered a pair of slippers before leading the man into the living room. Kudou settled on the couch, while Kaito occupied the not-as-comfortable armchair across the coffee table. "May I offer something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?" he asked, playing the accommodating host, though it was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

"Coffee please, if it's not too much of an inconvenience," he replied, and Kaito left to brew the drink for his guest. He returned with the requested coffee and jasmine tea for himself along with milk and sugar to find Kudou wandering about the room, inspecting the photographs and other memorabilia from his civilian past. He set the drinks down on the table and reclaimed his seat, watching as the detective did the same.

They sat silently for several moments, sipping their chosen beverages before Kudou broke the silence. "You look terrible," he stated baldly.

Kaito huffed sardonically. "Did you come here just to tell me that? I'm well aware of what I look like in the mirror, thanks." He paused before continuing, "May I ask why you are here? Is something wrong?" Might as well play the ignorance card as long as possible.

The inspector set his mug on the table, leaning back easily into the couch. "Kuroba Kaito," he said with a serious countenance before a sly grin curved his lips, "or should I say Kaitou KID?"

Kaito knew he could fool Kudou if he truly wanted to—a few lies here, an alibi there, and he could slide relatively undetected off the radar as he had so many times before. But he had decided he would try not to manipulate and lie any longer even though it was practically second nature to him—he was no longer KID, after all—and of all the people he knew, Kudou deserved to know the truth. The man opposite him had helped him to jail his father's murderers, after all, and they had partnered up more often than they should have considering who they were. And so he chuckled sardonically as he stated without humor, "Guilty as charged." Despite himself a ghost of KID's cheeky grin peeked on his lips. "Though I will have to admit you won't be able to convict me without proper evidence—I would know, as Hakuba's tried many times before."

"Hakuba Saguru?" The Great Detective of the East laughed. "Relax, Kuroba-san, I am not here to arrest you. I just have a few questions for you that, to be frank, are more to sate my curiosity than anything else."

Kaito's grin widened. "Then you'll permit me a few questions of my own?" he shot back, and Kudou nodded obligingly, the two of the easily settling into the comfortable banter that characterized their relationship as detective and thief even though Kaito's heart was not in it.

"So did you find what you were looking for?" Kudou asked, watching the retired thief carefully. "I noticed this was the one gem you haven't yet returned."

Kaito eased back into his own chair, his mien now solemn, without a trace of his usual happy-go-lucky temperament. No more lies. "It's gone for good." When Kudou's brows puckered in a frown, he asked flippantly, "Have you heard of a gem called 'Pandora'?"

Curiosity piqued by the apparent non sequitur, the detective leaned forward. "I've heard rumors of it," he said slowly, "a gem that grants immortality…" Eyes widened in realization. "You don't mean—you found it?"

The phantom thief nodded, eyes haunted and dark. "And I've destroyed it."

Kudou appeared to choke on his tongue before he managed, "Why?" Kaito waited, knowing that the detective had not finished asking his question. "Why did you destroy an artifact that so many people would kill to have?"

"Because my father was murdered because of it," he said bluntly with a grim tone and equally dark expression. "The Black Organization, as you well know, had various branches, each with their own system of codenames. The branch you were after dealt in chemicals and pharmaceuticals and were identified by alcohols—like Sherry." Kaito noticed the detective's eyes sharpened almost dangerously as he dangled Haibara's Organization alias before him. "The Organization had Pandora, once upon a time. It was a key ingredient of several different poisons, including Apoptoxin 4869. But then someone within the Organization stole it, and died escaping. The gem was never recovered, and therefore they tried recruiting Kaitou KID to find it for them. Obviously that didn't pan out. The branch I was after dealt in the thieving and counterfeit production of priceless objects, and they were in charge of recovering Pandora. They named themselves after various animals."

"Snake," Kudou automatically replied thoughtfully, repeating the name that KID had mentioned several times before during the planning of their sting operation.

"Yes," Kaito exhaled, "Snake was my father's murderer." Saying it aloud, vocalizing the fact had a sort of finality to it that Kaito had not recognized until just now. And suddenly, the idea that his father had been avenged, that Pandora was no more, that KID was no more, pierced him more sharply than he had ever expected. He swallowed thickly, knowing that the inspector across from him was watching him intently. The knowledge gripped his heart, squeezed it until he felt breathless with its leaden hold. It was all he could do to keep his face blank; he could feel his Poker Face was beginning to rapidly fray at the edges. Not now! he pleaded, Not in front of Kudou!

The inspector tilted his chin down, his hair shielding the upper half of his face. "I see." There was a long pause before he lifted his head to gaze at his arch rival, compassion and sympathy in his eyes. "I know it's very late and will probably mean nothing to you now, but I'm so very sorry for your loss." Kaito found he could not hold the other man's gaze and dropped it, clenching his jaw as he rigidly controlled his breathing. "And," the detective continued earnestly, "I'm honored that you allowed me to help you capture them."

Kaito picked up his cup to give his trembling hands something to do, staring into the honeyed hue of the tea. "Truthfully I knew I would never be able to take them out on my own, which was the main reason why I allied myself with you. As Kaitou KID I could only hope to draw them out of whatever hidey-holes they had burrowed into."

"So you were using yourself as bait?" There was incredulity and the beginnings of fury laced in Kudou's voice. "Are you crazy?"

Kaito smirked mirthlessly over the wisps of steam rising from his mug. "So I've been told multiple times," he replied nonchalantly with a shrug. "It worked, didn't it?"

"But—but you could have been killed!" The detective was glaring at him now, though there was a hint of pain in those eyes. "If you had died, I don't know how I would have—" He trailed off, too horrified by the revelation to continue.

"—you would still be in the body of a now fifteen-year-old Tantei-kun known as Edogawa Conan, no?" Kaito finished, and the detective stared at him in frozen shock.

"How did you find out?" he whispered, derailed from his previous train of thought.

The retired thief snickered at the detective's gobsmacked expression. "Give me a little credit, Meitantei," he chided, "I might not be a detective like you, but once I had all the pieces of the puzzle it was astoundingly easy to deduce—which, I'm sure, is how you found me, no?" He slanted a crafty look at the now-fidgeting inspector. "You honestly didn't think that I wouldn't connect your reappearance and Tantei-kun's disappearance with all the secretive non-reasons Tantei-kun gave me for stealing APTX 4869 from the Organization, did you?"

The detective clicked his tongue agitatedly. "How you found out does matter. Not anymore." His eyes flashed furiously as he stared at the retired criminal. "What does matter," he murmured, anger transforming his words into crisp, sharp bullets, "is why you purposely made yourself a target!"

The phantom thief's temper flared in response, though he tamped down on it immediately. "And who could I have turned to for help?" he asked, sarcasm oozing from his voice. "The police?" He laughed, and it was not a pleasant laugh. Phantom thieves work best alone—cannot learn to rely completely on anyone. His Poker Face was coming apart larger pieces, and he vaguely realized that his bottling everything up had been—currently was—his undoing. "Like they would have helped a thief!" There was undeniable bitterness in his voice.

"You could have asked me," Kudou said quietly with a plea in his voice, even though he understood where the other man was coming from.

Kaito stared at his favorite critic, the grin sliding off his face. "I did come to you in the end, did I not?" Only because I had no other recourse, and realistically it was only a matter of time before my luck would fail me and I'd die by their hands.

"But you could have asked earlier!" the inspector fired back, frustration infiltrating his tone. "You knew I would be fair and help! I even save the lives of would-be murderers, not to mention actual murderers! So why didn't you?"

"Because you had your own problems to deal with!" Kaito crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing as he struggled to maintain his rapidly unraveling calm. Years of essentially working alone had imbued in the thief a strong sense of independence and isolation, of understanding that there was no one who could be fully relied upon despite any and all insistence. Jii's untimely death had brutally brought that lesson home. Steering his attention forcefully away from that topic, another thought flitted across his mind and the corner of his lips tilted upwards as he snickered. "You know, for having a famous actress for a mother, your acting skills suck."

The detective was temporarily wrong-footed by the change in subject before he drew himself up indignantly. "Of course they did! I never had to act for a living, nor did I have to act to keep myself out of jail!"

Kaito's expression immediate grew shuttered even though the smirk remained on his lips. "Oh yes, and it must have been so wonderful to not have to wear a mask every second of your life." The words, though spoken softly, were dangerously barbed and dripped with venom.

Kudou hastily backpedaled, unsure of what sort of emotional landmine he had inadvertently trod upon even as resentment colored his tone. "I do too know what that is like, despite being horrible at it," he said warningly. The phantom thief laughed in response, but this time it was borderline hysterical, and the detective's eyes widened with unease. "K-Kuroba-san…?"

The phantom thief stilled, his frame all but vibrating with tension, his breath coming too quickly and his pulse racing. He felt lightheaded and slightly nauseous and instantly realized he was having a panic attack. He could not—could not—have a combination panic attack and nervous breakdown in front of Kudou. Hold it together! he berated himself even as his Poker Face finally crumbled into so much dust. The depression, the stress, the lack of a goal to work towards, the lack of sleep, the relief of it being all over, had all taken a toll on his mind, and the detective's prodding had been the last straw. "Pardon me," he whispered out of habit before he dropped a smoke bomb and fled up the stairs to his room—to KID's room.

"Kuroba!" the detective called, coughing, but Kaito no longer cared what the other man did as he flew up the stairs. All he had felt was the urge to get away, to hide his weaknesses. He had instinctively locked the door to his bedroom and snapped the curtains shut before he realized his fingers were working on unlocking the rotating portrait of his father that led to KID's workroom. He paused, wishing he had a paper bag handy to breathe into. The halo of white around the edges of his vision, the hyper-vibrant colors of the objects in his room, the dizziness indicated he was hyperventilating. He clasped his hands over his nose and mouth, forming as much of a sealed pocket of air as his fingers would allow, and forcefully slowed his breathing.

The brightness of his sight dimmed to something more normal as his pulse dropped after nearly a minute, and he heaved a shaky sigh as his hands dropped away from his face. A hesitant knock on the door nearly scared him out of his skin. "Kuroba-san?" Kudou's muffled voice drifted through the door. "You okay in there?"

Kaito nimbly locked the portrait door again though he longed to simply hide downstairs, drowned in the silk of Kaitou KID's mantle. All he wanted to do at this point was to kick the detective out of his house, but, well, that would be considered anything but polite—his mother would never let him hear the end of it if she ever found out. And he was tired, so very tired. "I'm fine," he answered without conviction.

Apparently the inspector noticed, for he rattled on the doorknob. "You aren't fine, Kuroba-san. Let me in."

Kaito sank down on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and fingers woven into his hair. "Why do you care, Meitantei?" he sighed softly to himself. "Doesn't it hurt to care too much?"

There was a heavy, long pause before another knock sounded on the door, a softer rap than the first. "Open the door, Kuroba-san. Please."

It was an entreaty. But it was also an offer.

An offer for a shoulder to cry on, a nonjudgmental ear to listen, a sounding board for reflection and advice. Kaito's eyes slid to the entrance to his room, beyond which Kudou Shinichi, the Modern-Day Holmes and savior of the police force, stood awaiting his decision. I'm digging my own grave, Oyaji, he thought with gallows humor, and Kuroba Touichi's face smiled back at him as he rose and unlocked the door, opening it. The detective had his hands in his pockets, a look of undisguised worry on his face. Kaito wordlessly stepped back to allow the other man entry, and the inspector eased his way into the room, eyes curiously roving across the interior before focusing on the phantom thief beside him.

Kaito returned to his location on the bed, and Kudou wheeled the swivel chair to face him before sitting down. The thief resumed his previous position with elbows resting on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders. It was an extremely vulnerable position, exposing the back of his neck, a primordial invitation to snap his spinal column, an indisputable sign of surrender. Without otherwise moving, Kaito silently upturned and offered his wrists.

The detective blinked in consternation. "Oi, Kuroba-san, you really think I'm going to arrest you after I said I wasn't here for that?"

"What else is there left to do," Kaito breathed tonelessly, "to finally put Kaitou KID to rest except to have him caught?"

There was silence, before warm hands gently grasped his wrists, sliding and rotating to cup and support his own. "KID may be retired, but that does not mean his magic and legacy are dead."

A humorless chuckle escaped the phantom thief. "KID died with Pandora's destruction. His purpose was intricately tied with the stone." He released a shaky sigh. "I can finally relax, except I'm not sure I know how to." Kaito lifted his head, eyeing the detective through his untidy hair with an empty smirk. "That and there is a distinct possibility that I will be arrested in the near future."

The inspector seemed to grow agitated. The man's hands disappeared from clasping his own to one flying across his cheek, and Kaito was rattled vehemently as Kudou snarled, "You idiot! I did not spend all those years chasing you to put you behind bars! I did it because you were the one criminal I could count on who wouldn't kill anyone and it was a relief! Just because you've fulfilled your mission does not mean your life is over!"

Kaito, tentatively touching his cheek in shock, warily turned to watch the detective as he continued his monologue. "Do you think I don't know how you felt when we finally toppled the Black Organization? That my purpose, my everything since becoming Conan was suddenly gone? Yes, I received the cure and reemerged into the world as Kudou Shinichi, but after three years everyone I knew as Shinichi had grown up and moved on while I was still mentally stuck three years in the past." He sighed, the fire in his words suddenly banked. "I drowned myself in school and work, attending your heists as a means of stress relief. Seeing you work your magic and impersonating different people really helped me because I figured if Kaitou KID somehow managed to work around having a civilian persona and a "working" persona, as well as pretending to be practically everyone else and their mother, then who was I to complain about having a single alter ego?"

Kaito gaped unabashedly at the unusually candid detective. The only thing his shell-shocked mind could think was, Is this guy serious or just plain nuts? Then again, it was not like he had much room to speak in the sanity department either.

Kudou grinned sheepishly at the phantom thief. "So I feel like I should thank you," he said self-consciously, "for helping to keep me from completely falling apart, even though you never knew it. You were really one of the few constants that did not change when I reappeared as myself, and for that I will be eternally grateful. It would be poor recompense, not to mention abominable of me if I did not reciprocate." The grin transformed itself into something much more genuine. "So… do you want to talk about it…?"

Kaito had forgotten how stubborn and determined the detective could be. The clock hands pointed to six fifty-two in the morning, Kudou had yet to leave his house, and he had to get to the office in thirty minutes. The detective had nagged, pestered, and wheedled, and was an overall annoyance to the former Kaitou KID. Details about his past had come in fits and spurts, and even when the Great Detective of the East had all the basics needed to piece the story together, he continued to bother Kaito, aiming for more details that Kaito stubbornly withheld. At one point, Kudou had even tranquilized him with his modified adult-version of Edogawa Conan's dart watch, if only to force him to get some sleep. That had not been something he would have expected of the Modern-Day Holmes, but then again, Kudou Shinichi did not always play by the book.

"You… you tranq'ed me!" Kaito sputtered indignantly after he had woken up from his enforced one hour nap. He was lying in his bed on top of his covers, and a fleece blanket had been tucked about him. The detective had been perched in his swivel chair at his desk, flipping through The Wall Street Journal online on a tablet. A steaming mug of coffee was situated not too far from the man's right hand.

Kudou looked up from reading an article on the woes of the Eurozone with regards to Greece's inability to service its national debt. "Had to be done, I'm afraid," the inspector had said with a straight face, though amusement shone in his eyes. "Feel better?"

Ignoring the question and the jibe, Kaito demanded, "How long have I been out?" A glance at his clock indicated it was 03:19. His head dropped back on his pillow. "And why are you even still here?"

"About an hour, give or take five minutes," Kudou easily replied. "And I haven't gone poking around your house, in case you're worried. All I've done was help myself to the coffeemaker." The detective then shrugged and answered, "And I did it because you looked like crap and apparently need someone to watch over you, and I really don't care since I'm taking vacation tomorrow and can sleep later."

"You," Kaito hissed with deep irritation and he flicked the blanket to the side and sat up, "are infuriating."

Kudou smirked deviously. "I only learned from the best, after all."

The former thief had to ruefully admit, even if it was only to himself, that he felt better—lighter—to have shared some of the secrets he carried with someone else. His mother knew exactly what he had been up against—her more intimate knowledge of what went on during Kaitou Corbeau's short stint she was in Tokyo was proof enough—but he did not want to cause her undue worry on his behalf, not when she was wrapping up scores of her own. Now, however, he had given the inspector the barest of the story and felt the other man had long outstayed his welcome.

"Kudou," he said flatly, dropping the honorific in his irritation. The aforementioned man hummed absently in response. "I need to get to work in thirty. Would you kindly mind leaving now?"

The detective had been studying the portrait of Touichi, clad in a black tuxedo with several white doves fluttering about him. He shifted his gaze towards the magician addressing him, an innocent expression of surprise on his face. "Oh? Didn't you hear? You called in sick for the day."

Kaito blinked, unsettled. "When did I do that?"

The Modern-Day Holmes held up his mobile phone with a smug grin, which he had snatched by rooting around in Kaito's work laptop bag. "Just five minutes ago, while you were using the toilet." Kaito made a swipe at his phone and missed as the detective tucked it in his back pocket. "No work today. You could use a day of rest anyhow."

"Like you're a shining example to follow," Kaito snapped as he angled to pickpocket his own phone back. How illogical the idea sounded, even to himself. The detective danced around the room, keeping himself just out of arm's reach. "I—seriously—really, Kudou?" The thief swore as he missed the grinning inspector by a hair.

"Shinichi," the other man tossed out casually, interrupting Kaito and bringing the magician up short even as he continued to pursue his phone—and by default, the detective.

"Eh?" A look of puzzled suspicion crossed the man's face, and the thief wondered what exactly the inspector was up to. "That is your given name, so…?"

"So use it," the detective replied calmly, and the thief halted his pursuit. At Kaito's continued stare that morphed from skepticism to incredulity, he sighed heavily in exasperation. "I think we know each other well enough to address one another by first names." Catching the magician's eyes, he asked with a knowing gaze he added, "Ne, Kaito-kun?" And so saying, tossed the man's phone back.

Kaito reflexively caught his phone, frowning thoughtfully at the detective. The inspector calmly returned his scrutiny, giving him the time he needed to look at his current situation from every possible angle. "Why are you doing this, Ku—" He cut himself off at the other man's warning stare and raised eyebrow. "Shinichi-san?" he finished. What do you gain out of helping me?

Shinichi considered the man for a moment before muttering under his breath, "We'll need to work on that." In a louder voice he replied, "Because somewhere along the way I've come to regard you as a friend, despite being rivals on opposite sides of the law. Because you treated me on all accounts as an equal instead of a child. Because even though you'll bend and break the rules, you value life as much as I do. Because you're fun to be around, if infuriating in the extreme. Because you are at your very core, a wonderful person I am privileged to be acquainted with."

He could not help it. Kaito flushed, feeling his cheeks heat up at the unexpected but sincere praise. He stared at the wooden slats of his floor, trying and failing for once to will away the warmth in his face.

"And, because friends help each other up when one falls." The slippers stopped at the edge of his vision, and Kaito followed the legs up to the face of the owner. Shinichi smiled at him, a warm, lopsided smile that was reassuring in its genuineness. "Kaitou KID was first and foremost my rival, but he proved to be a great friend too. So why should I not extend that friendship to the man behind the mask? Besides," here a devious smirk inched its way across the detective's lips. "You could always use those skills of yours to help the police."

Kaito gaped, and Shinichi could not help but snigger at the thief's dumbstruck look. "Okay fine, maybe not nix that idea, but definitely shelve it for later pondering." Though his expression straightened, the mirth remained in the inspector's eyes. "But in all seriousness, you won't be rid of me so easily, Kaito-kun. And I still have to pay you back for breakfast."

A smile trembled on Kaito's lips before he tilted his head back and laughed at the sheer absurdity of his last comment. "Breakfast?" he choked in between giggles.

Shinichi shook his head in amused exasperation, pleased to finally see a genuine smile on the magician's face. "Barou," he murmured fondly under his breath.

Author's Note: And… it's finally done. I'm not quite sure how in-character I was able to keep them, considering Kaito—ebullient personality that he is—probably wouldn't slide into depression and Shinichi maybe/possibly/might be bold enough to confront KID in his own house. But, it's what came out, and despite the previously mentioned I have to admit I'm pleased with the result. I have no plans for continuing this fic, so if you feel so inclined, then by all means please let me know so I can read it! Writing this was, sadly enough, not all that difficult for me to step into Kaito's frame of mind considering I had gone through a similar experience years ago. But as it was essentially written from his perspective, I did have trouble writing the piece without inserting Shinichi's thoughts into the narrative during Part II—you'll have noticed that none of Shinichi's thoughts were ever voiced—only what he spoke aloud. It was a writing experiment for me, after all. Excuse my rambling. I hope you enjoyed it.

Completed: 11.04.2015