A/N: This was one of those things, that just came, you know? It's my first, finished DC fic, and seeing that it's me, it's an angsty, sad ending one.

This is dedicated to fireblazie-chan for getting me into DC fanfic, listening to my random babbling over emails, and always just being ready with a review whether she feels like it or not. Thanks.

Disclaimer: Not mine, belongs to Gosho Aoyama.

Promises

She was lying, he could tell. He wanted to tell her its okay, I understand except that he couldn't because he didn't. He couldn't tell her to stop smiling that fake smile when she had those full eyes and just go, let it out and let your tears flow. He couldn't tell her. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just say, no it's alright, because I'm here. I always will be. Because he wasn't always going to be there because the face she wanted to see the most was the face that would never reappear. Because the face she wanted to see most was right beside her but she would never know.

She was still so sad, so sad. She was still crying and the tears kept on coming. All she wanted was one thing. She just didn't know that the one thing she wanted would never come true, that only a miracle could bring him back. She was disgusted with herself and she was disgusted with him. She was disgusted she had been reduced to this tiny, quivering mess, crying to sleep while even little Conan-kun stared at her with those big big eyes and seemed to be so sad at her tears. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes she could pretend that she was 7 again and Conan-kun was Shinichi and life was good and he was always there, protecting her from anything.

She missed him so much.

He wanted to comfort her, wanted to dry her tears but he couldn't. He couldn't because he was in this stupid body and he couldn't be where he was needed most. He couldn't be there for the person he cared for the most and it pissed him off to no end. He hated to see her crying and he hated himself because he knew that it was because of him that those tears were coming. He wished he could have one more day in his body and tell her the words he could never form, he was so stupid.

I love you.

She sniffed again and turned, pretending to be asleep so poor little Conan-kun could go to sleep and stop worrying over her. She felt so so helpless; she even needed a little boy to comfort her. She was so angry with herself, and she realized how slow she was. She wished she had the courage to tell him, to make him promise that he would come back. Why hadn't she gone with him? Stupid stupid stupid! What she wouldn't give to have one more day with him, to be able to turn back time, relive that day. What she wouldn't give to just have one more day with him, make him promise he would come back and then finally, finally she could tell him.

I love you.

He hated this. He blamed himself for it all, and it was true, it really was all his fault. The look in her eyes, the strange, dead look. The look that said okay, I'm giving up. Do what you can to me, now. I won't care. He knew that look, it was the look that he had seen only once before, when her mother had left and she honestly thought she would never come back. It had taken his all to convince her that no, her mother didn't abandon her and she still definitely loved her. On impulse he went and hugged her around the waist and she laughed a laugh, a fake, high laugh, and asked him what he was doing all he could do was smile at her and reply,

I thought you looked kind of sad.

She blinked back tears and looked down at Conan-kun. He was such a sweet little boy, how did he know that she was sad? He was so much like Shinichi, it was just so strange. But she knew that it was impossible, there was no way that this sweet little boy could be Shinichi, because Shinichi wasn't there anymore, he never would be. She knew what had happened. He had given her up because she was too slow and stupid and couldn't tell him fast enough because she was so so afraid that he wouldn't believe her. That he would laugh at her or even worse, tell her he didn't like her that way, that no, she was just a friend. But she still wished she had because then she would know how he felt and then maybe it just wouldn't hurt so much.

She knew that wasn't true, that it would hurt just as much, maybe ten times more.

Once upon a time, he thought that he knew everything, that he was brilliant and because he was brilliant, he had the answer to everything. He knew how to mend cuts, he was good in school and of course, he was a good detective. Now he knew. He knew how stupid he was, how stupid he had been and how stupid he will probably always be. There was no knowledge in the world that could mend a broken heart, there was no way to find one, because love isn't something you can fix, you can only renew and because no detective in the world, no matter how smart he was, could find what she was looking for.

He had disappeared off the face of the earth.

The phone calls were fewer now, with longer intervals between them and every time he spoke in short, clipped sentences, and every time, his voice grew colder and colder until she thought her heart would really break because he hung up before her voice could stammer out, Come home soon. When what she really wanted to say was

Come back to me soon.

Maybe if he hurt her enough, she would forget about him. Maybe if he hurt her enough, she would find someone new, a better person than him, someone who would never leave her because they would realize that they had an angel on their hands, that she was precious and should never be lost. Maybe if he hurt her enough, sooner or later, she would start to hate him so much that she wouldn't cry at night and that made his heart ache even more because he knew she was crying over him. And maybe if he hurt her enough, he could convince himself that it was true.

(It'll never work, he knew, the plan, it was doomed from the start.)

She was found in her room early Friday morning when her teacher called the house, puzzled that she didn't go to school. She was found in her room early Friday morning, with an empty bottle of pills next to her, and a simple note in a simple envelope with the name Shinichi on it. She was found with dried tears on her face and his handkerchief near her hand. She was found smiling, as if she was having a pleasant dream. She was found, with her eyes closed.

She would never open them again.

He could be found, sitting in his old mansion, the big house that now seemed too big, too empty, that despite all the books there, he didn't have an answer. He could be found, sitting in the dark corner of his classroom, surrounded by little boys and girls who thought that love was like in fairytales. He could be found, with only half the life he showed before and full full eyes, like he was ready to cry at any time. He could be found, sitting in the room where she was found, sleeping in her bed and taking in everything that made it seem like she would burst through the door at any moment, asking if he had finished his homework. No, it would be before that, and instead, it would be him and her, arguing over some stupid antic he pulled again.

He could be found in her room, reading the note she left to him but not him because she didn't know that he was actually who she was looking for. He could be found in his lonely house, reading the note, her last words. It was a short note, a really short one. The note didn't need poetry, or long, eloquent sentences, it needed to be simple, something that they had never been. It needed to say what she thought and what he thought, because not saying what they thought and felt had ended in tragedy. It said exactly that and him, being him, could read behind it, the thousands of tears she had shed over him, the thousands of promises that he had silently made to her and had broken, one by one.

-x-

Shinichi –

Sorry I won't be there to welcome you back.

I love you. – Ran.