Pity from a Dumb Clown

Summary: Kaito meets a dying KID Killer in the hospital, but something is off. No one visits him, the hospital has emptied the hall his room is in, and Akako is ranting about demons.

Beta Reader: Lured by the Song of Sirens

Chapter 1: Stupid Universe

Kaito almost dropped his box. This was probably one of the more dangerous situations he'd found himself in. Bombs exploding, bullets flying, falling off of buildings... none of it compared to accidentally running into Conan Edogawa, The KID Killer, in his civilian persona. Not that Conan himself was looking particularly dangerous at the moment. He had a thin, clear plastic tube pumping oxygen into him, sweaty, fallow skin, and blue-tinged lips. The sound of the breaths that struggled to his ears reminded him of the sound a straw makes, when trying to suck up the last bit of soda pop. An air-purifier was whirring under his bed, which was shrouded in clear plastic sheeting, making a clean room inside the room, with space for germy outsiders to look in on him. Tired eyes rolled to glance at him, then rolled up and out of sight, covered by heavy lids.

The nurse nudged him, so he'd stop blocking the doorway. Nothing happened. Perhaps Conan hadn't recognized him. Maybe the world wasn't about to end?

"This is the kid I told you about," the nurse said quietly, arms crossed over the comical print on his scrubs. "He's going to try to make you leave by insulting you, so don't take anything he says too seriously. He's just scared, lonely, and extremely sick."

"I can... hear you," Conan grumbled, pausing every couple words to catch his breath.

"Do your best!" With a cheerful, sanitized smile, the nurse fled the room.

He was trapped in a room with a bored, vindictive KID Killer.

"Clowns are … dumb," the wheezy little voice snarled.

"Magician," he corrected automatically, setting the box down.

The little eyes snapped open, and Conan pulled himself up onto his shaky elbows. A cold, crooked smile cracked across his colorless cheeks, sadistic as a cat with its half-alive prey.

"You look tired," he muttered, "Perhaps you can catch my show some other day." He picked his box up, ready to flee.

"No!" Conan snapped. "Stay here … and talk … with me. Don't bother … with the pa … parlor tricks."

Picking up and setting down his box of props was getting tiresome. He brought it over to the side of the KID Killer's bed and sat on it obediently.

"Don't be... so scared. I'm not … going to..." a fit of coughing overtook him, shaking his little, pallid limbs. His lips were a darker blue, and it took a few minutes before they got closer to the red side of purple.

"So," Kaito started, while Conan worked on breathing. "So, I wasn't expecting to meet you. I mean, I've been performing for sick kids for the past few weeks, but I had no idea that you were sick like this." He picked up the clipboard at the end of the bed, and scanned the chart. "Immunodeficiency of unknown origin, and an opportunistic bit of pneumonia? Is that like AIDS?"

Conan scowled at the words, "unknown origin."

"Of course, you've probably already figured out what's caused it all, and they're too dumb to listen to a little kid, so you spend your days torturing them. Is it something like that?"

"Poison." The word was hardly audible.

"A poison can do this?" he looked incredulous for a moment, but Conan's fierce frown told him to set aside his doubts. "Do you know who did it?"

Conan weakly nodded.

"And you've caught them, at least, right?" He watched the little face carefully, hopefully.

Conan closed his eyes and turned his face away. He took a slow breath, so Kaito waited patiently for the sentence to come out. "One year... ago... I … can't prove... anything..."

"But you're the KID Killer! I've never seen you stuck for long on a case. It's spooky how fast you put everything together. There's no way that some killer could be good enough to..." The furious look on Conan's face made him stop.

"Remember … the train?"

Recognition hit Kaito like one of those horrible soccer-balls. "Those guys?" he almost yelled, jumping up. He could almost feel the heat the of the explosion on his back again.

"Don't panic." His small, clammy hand gestured as though he was telling a dog to 'Sit!'

He closed his eyes, re-securing his poker face over the broiling terror inside. When he had calmed down again, he opened his eyes, and studied the pathetic little form in front of him. "So, what's the prognosis? You're not on your deathbed, or anything, right? They didn't manage to murder you, right?"

Smiling, the little devil fell back into the pillows with a moan. "No... not yet. This... is from... an anti-... dote..."

Kaito sunk back onto his box. He half thought to himself, half whispered, "What kind of poison would be worth an antidote that does this?"

A hissing chuckle answered him.

"No seriously," he said louder. "What could be not as bad as pneumonia? I haven't seen you seem poisoned or all that ill even; you've always been energetic and a pain in my ass." He met the half closed eyes, which were laughing at some obvious joke that he should have gotten.

"You never... tried to... find my... real name?" Conan gurgled. "I found... yours... ages ago... I gave... you hints..."

"Why? You're just you, why would a little kid need a pseudonym?"

"Train."

He smacked his head. "Oh, yeah, right. I guess, since I'm here now, you can just tell me?"

That wicked little half-smile was back.

"Another hint?" he plead.

Conan liked being dominate, and the pride at having beaten Kaitou KID yet again clearly showed on his pale face. "You look... a lot like... the real... me."

"You mean this face?" He tapped his chin.

Conan grinned. "We could... be twins..."

There was a knock, and the door popped open. The nurse from before was leading an old woman who had a white lab-coat on over her scrubs.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said kindly. "Conan dear, it's time to check on your progress."

He rolled his eyes at the magician sitting on his box. "Tomorrow?"

Kaito grinned. "Sure thing, buddy." He turned to the stunned medical staff. "Can I come again after school?"

They nodded dumbly.

"Well, Conan, it was a pleasure talking to you. I'll leave my 'dumb clown' props behind next time, and I'll have your riddle figured out." He got up, bowed with a grand sweep of an imaginary white cape, and tipped an invisible top hat as he gathered his box. There were other children waiting for his performance, after all.

Out in the hall, the nurse leading him to his next client asked, "How did you manage it? No one likes that nosy brat. Not even his family visits him."

Kaito secured his poker face, resisting the urge to suggest that it wasn't all Conan's fault. Instead, he smiled. "He tried to chase me off at first, but I gave him a puzzle to solve. Did you know that he's ridiculously smart?"

The nurse shrugged. "He's a kid."

Condescending asshole. No wonder Conan tormented him. "Have you heard of the little kid who was able to prevent Kaitou KID from getting away with the treasure every time he's allowed to participate? That's him. He's able to do what a whole police taskforce has managed only a handful of times, and he does it every time."

"Really?" He turned to watch Conan in his plastic tent being rolled down the empty hallway with a mixture of awe and confusion on his face. "I'd heard that some little kid had beaten Kaitou KID, but I don't really follow that stuff."

"So, for a kid like that, to be so sick, trapped here, bored out of his mind... I'll bet he started telling you about everything you thought you were managing to hide, right?"

The nurse scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously.

"So, give him the most difficult, complex detective novels you can find, and he'll stop deducing all of your private secrets. And let me visit him every day. I've got some rapport with him."

"Kuroba," the nurse said hesitantly, "You're really good with kids. But, don't get too attached to Conan."

He wrinkled his brow. "Why?"

"With cases, complex cases, when the patient is already so weak, you have to prepare yourself for the worst. It's awful, but kids like him sometimes just don't make it."

Kaito stopped walking, clutching his box to his chest. "Is that why no one talks to him or visits him? You're bracing for his death?" His poker-face cracked, and words escaped through his clenched jaw.

The nurse grabbed Kaito's shoulder and gently squeezed it, a halfhearted attempt at comforting him. "It's no use getting mad. These things happen. Hey," he crouched a little to look straight into Kaito's downcast eyes. "If you need to, you can go home for now, and think about all of this. You're not the first person to realize how indifferent the universe is to human suffering."

Kaito nodded dumbly, and turned to leave.

He already knew this. He learned it when he lost his father at the tender age of eight. But, to be facing death so young, with no one to support him?

Stupid universe.