Barbed Wire

Kaito/Shinichi, except not really. It's more like an angsty little one-shot musing/reflection…thing. Man, that's a long list.

This was written in many sittings, first when I was a horribly drown-trodden mood, hence the angst, then in another few days when I wasn't so sad, so the tone might be kind of strange.

I didn't really want to publish this for a while, but I thought the KS community really needed more love, never mind the fact that this is, by no means, happy or lovey-dovey. Ah, well, I tried.

I hope you enjoy this—it's been a long, long while since I've written anything. If you do decide to stick through the entire thing (it's not action-filled or particularly fast-paced; in other words, this is definitely not very exciting), I would really appreciate it if you could leave a review, especially if you notice any mistakes. Grammar isn't my forte, really, and I tend to use a lot of long dashes, so I hope those turned out okay.

I disclaim.

We are on opposite sides, Kid. He whispered, the brilliant blue of his eyes staring at the pale-in-comparison sky. One day, you'll have to make a choice. A tiny, wistful lift of the corner of his mouth. And one day, I'll have to make a choice, too. He looked back, pain clear in his eyes. I think you know which side I'll choose.

And he did. Shinichi, for all their connection, friendship, love, values justice above all. It was the one truth about him, and he knew that. Knew it since day one, when their eyes met on that rooftop. Knew it before he fell in love. Knew it, but never knew it.

A self-deprecating smile crossed the white-clad man, as he easily jumped from roof to roof, toward his target—the home of another rich-as-dirt fart, who just might have a jewel called Pandora.

From this distance, he could already make out the faint outlines of police cars and the panicked figures running around the mansion, no doubt trying to prepare for his entrance. But there won't be one. For the first time, the infamous Kaitou Kid wasn't in the mood for theatrics. The mess with the only detective who has ever kept up with him—the only one who has managed to secure Kaito's heart despite his many attempts at stealing it back—has dampened his mood sufficiently.

Shinichi's not going to be there, either. After today's conversation, Kaitou knew the other man isn't going to put himself in close quarters with his rival. At least, not so soon.

Kid quietly landed at the back of the mansion. There weren't any police personnel situated here—they knew his penchant for a good show means he'll always arrive at the front. Well, today, a performance was out of the question. He was just so tired, tired of his monotonous night job, tired of the barbed wire stretched taunt between them. Tired, for the first time, of being the Kaitou Kid.

He remembers the first time Shinichi met him, face to face, after his three year stunt as Conan. Remembers the genuine smile on the other's face as he thanked him for keeping him sane during those years. Remembers the way his heart leapt, plummeted, and swelled. Remembers the exact moment he fell in love.

Bringing himself out of his musing briefly to pick open a flimsy excuse of a lock—a well-placed peck from a pigeon could probably do it—and slip silently inside. Looking around, he noticed that it was a library. Filled with huge tomes and dust, it really was the ideal situation for him to be in. After sparing a brief glance around, Kaito eased himself into the hallway, and started towards the attic, where the jewel is kept under lock and key.

A thief and a detective, Shinichi had once commented, is like the sun and the moon. Essentially opposites of the same coin, and yet can never quite fully exist at the same time. And oh, just how well a coin describes them. Kaito quickly ducked into a shadowed nook as his sensitive hearing picks up the hurried footsteps. Aside from their eerily similar looks, they were one and the same in many ways. Their minds worked just as lightening-quick as the other's, and they both have a knack for the obscure—after all, it takes the same mental process to solve those Kaitou Kid riddles as to write them. Sometimes, Kaito could swear that they were twins, in the way their thoughts and feeling are linked. The other times, they couldn't be more different. Shinichi is serious and takes life much too seriously sometimes (Kaito thinks it's all the dead bodies that just magically appears whenever the other is around. That, or Shinichi has some deep-rooted control problems), while Kaito is much more relaxed and likes to just go along with the ride.

Peaking around his little hiding place as the footsteps faded, Kaito started up the stairs again, taking care to not disturb the trip-wire (probably connected to an alarm). He mentally snorted—can't afford to let himself be detected now—and congratulated Shinichi for somehow always almost catch him when it's obvious that the police are beyond incompetent.

Reaching the door of the attic, he bend down and started picking its protection. At least this lock provides a tad more challenge than the one on the window, but it wasn't nearly engaging enough—merely tedious work—to stop Kaito's mind from wondering again.

When Conan still existed, Kaito used to stop by the agency every so often to talk with the boy. Shinichi had, by that point, been a seven-year-old for nearly a year and a half, and was fast losing hope. Not to mention he was becoming slightly insane with no one to talk to him as the adult he is, and about to reach his breaking point. Kaito had always thought that his cute little meitantei-chan (Shinichi had threatened him with fish every time this nickname was mentioned, but Kaito always thought it was fitting) was more than he pretends to be. And so, after a bit of sleuthing—which Kaito was disturbingly good at—and a lot of good luck (looking almost exactly the same as the other had helped, though only after a good deal of research), Conan's identity was revealed.

Elated and not just a bit curious, Kaito had easily infiltrated the Mori household in all his white-suited glory, and casually struck up a conversation with the freaked-out Conan. After a great deal of convincing the other that he had no intention of revealing his real name, they sat down for a chat. A very interesting chat, filled with subtle ribs and good-natured baiting, which ended far too soon for both their tastes. As Kaito bid Conan goodbye and slipped out of his window, he just happened to look back, and was ensnarled by the relentless—and dare he say it, thankful?—sapphire gaze of the other.

He continued to visit Conan regularly, until he found that he was more comfortable with the boy than anyone else. It was a bit of a surprise to Kaito, but the more he thought about it, the more natural it seemed. Until one day, a cheerful Kaito in jeans, a t-shirt, and beat-up old sneakers strode up to the Mori Detective Agency and introduced himself as Shinichi's cousin. In no time, Kaito had a dazed Conan by the hand, as they walked towards the city's amusement park. After Conan got over his shock, Kaito had introduced himself. Not as the white-clad thief, but as himself. He almost didn't dare to look at Conan, afraid of what he'd see.

Then, when Shinichi-as-Conan stopped and tugged on his hand, he looked down at the most amazing smile in the world. Thank you, Shinichi had told him. They looked at each other for a moment, and shared the same crooked grin. Now we're even, my cute little detective, Kaito had said. Immediately, a fierce scowl appeared on Conan's face, as he practically growled out (as best as a seven-year-old's voice can, anyways) something about fish. Kaito had shuddered dramatically, and proceeded to distract Conan from carrying out his threat by enthusiastically dragging the other onto as many rides as possible. At the end of the day, they were both exhausted, but they had fun. Perhaps the most fun he's had for a long, long time, Shinichi had later told him. Thanks for trusting me, Kaito, Conan had told him at the end of the day, when they were saying goodbye outside of the Agency's gates.

They continued their meetings, often with Kaito picking up Shinichi-as-Conan at the Agency for a day of quiet battering and chatting, or more rarely, a day out. Conan shared his insecurities and his fears with his arch nemesis (just because they were friends doesn't mean that they were any less competitive in the field), and in turn, Kaito had told Shinichi about his father and his search for Pandora. Conan had been silent for a while, until he told Kaito that he couldn't, wouldn't, stop putting his all into shutting Kid behind bars. Kaito had told him that it was exactly what he expected, and that without the challenge, his heists would just become boring. After that, as they say, the rest is history.

Stepping through the attic door, Kaito quickly scanned the room on the inside. Good, it looks like they haven't finished rigging the entire room yet. Blithely, he strode over to the small chest shoved in the corner of the room, ignoring the decoy—a large, top-of-the-line safe in the middle of the room—and examined the lock critically. It was an old fashioned one, with one of those custom made keys. Grimacing, Kaito took out his tools and got ready for a long round of trial-and-error with the stubborn lock, keeping a lookout for anyone coming up the stairs.

Twirling the picks in the locks, Kaito's mind wandered back to what was possibly the worst week of his life. After a year and a half of their semi-regular meetings, Kaito had showed up at the Agency again, looking forward to another day with Conan—their time together is never boring—but instead, he was faced with a hysterical Ran who informed him, in between sobs, that Conan had disappeared earlier in the day, and nobody's heard from him since. Kaito's heart plummeted to somewhere near his shoes, and the following week was hectic and panic-filled, as Kaito threw himself into trying to find out even a trace of Conan. As all his efforts turned up nothing, Kaito was turning more and more depressed.

But the end of that hellish week was a heist, one which has already been confirmed with his customary note to the police. He couldn't not show up, no matter how haggard or tired or worried he was. And so, with a weary heart, Kaito donned his Kid personage, and begin his trek across the rooftops of Tokyo, towards the Metropolitan Museum. He had a few jumps, slightly less graceful than usual, from the museum left when a voice, so different yet so familiar, interrupted him. You should really sleep more, Kid. I'm not taking care of you if you fall sick.

Shocked, Kaito had almost tripped over his own shoes before whirling around and staring incredulously at his would-be attacker. Shinichi, the actual, eighteen years-old Shinichi, looked back at him with an amused smirk. The smirk soon melted into a genuine smile, as the other thanked him for the previously mentioned insanity prevention. Through the whole admittedly moving mini-speech, Kaito could do nothing other than gape stupidly at the other male. Shinichi, noticing, told him that he should really get on with the heist in amusement. Before walking away, Shinichi informed him that Kaito should expect his heists to be a lot more difficult now, as he has no intention of letting a thief run on his turf freely. Kaito could still do nothing expect a very good impression of his most hated organism in the world, but he could feel his disbelief turn into giddiness. Oh, and by the way, Shinichi had tossed over his shoulder with a smirk, come and visit me today. My house's right beside Ran's. I trust you'll have no trouble getting in? With a final smirk, he was gone, leaving Kaito speechless—a rare occurrence.

Kaito had rushed through his heist that night, and all but sprinted to the Kudo mansion, demanding, as soon as he saw Shinichi curled up on a couch in the library what hell happened, and why was Kaito not informed?! Shinichi had smiled, and patted the space beside him, and told Kaito all about Ai's (or was it another name now?) breakthrough, and their subsequent absences (or in Shinichi's words, "the damn kidnapping") in order to fiddle with the volatile chemical.

When it was all said and done, they were just as close as before, but a lot more comfortable with each other. Shinichi doesn't have that lurking self-depreciation about his childish body, and Kaito wasn't feeling that little bit of trepidation about pouring his heart out to, in all appearance, someone who was less than half his age.

They continued to be good friends and fierce rivals, meeting even more regularly than before, now that Shinichi had the freedom of movement. Japan welcomed back her prodigy detective with open arms, and within months, the Kudo vs. Kid showdowns have become legendary. Of course, neither of them would even consider not giving the other their very best, so their reputation is very much deserved.

Finally hearing the familiar click of an opened lock with no small amount of relief, Kaito quickly opened the chest, and after disabling the two weight-sensing bugs and the motion sensor, he took out the blood red jewel that rested on the cushion in the middle. Examining it, he noted with a small amount of disappointment that no, this wasn't Pandora.

Sighing, he tucked the ruby into one of his many pockets. He made his way to the door, and slipped quietly out after making sure everything looked the same as before. Quickly making his way back to the library, he scrutinized the surroundings, before jumping down onto the roof that would begin his journey home (after temporarily disguising himself and his notable tuxedo, of course).

He thought fondly back to the blissful times he and Shinichi shared, first as long distance friends, then as roommates at their university. But as they say, all good things must come to an end, and this was no exception. Before he knew it, Kaito woke up one day in their second year university term with the realization that he was in love. With Shinichi. He doesn't know when the other made the transition from best friend to love interest, but Kaito was surprised as how easy it was. He didn't feel awkward with the thought, but how Shinichi would react if he found out about Kaito's feelings did make him highly uncomfortable.

But the Kaitou Kid was, is, and never will be a coward. So Kaito screwed up his courage a few weeks after his self enlightenment, and told Shinichi how he felt. The other boy was silent for a long time. Kaito wasn't nervous or full of dread, like he fully expected to be, but the serene, accepting sense of hopelessness wasn't what he was expecting, either. So this is true love, he had sardonically remarked to himself. Shinichi finally showed an indication that he was alive—he smiled helplessly and told Kaito that though he felt the same way, they wouldn't be able to make it happen. The barbed wire squeezed just that much tighter against his heart.

That was this morning.

Kaito doesn't think he's felt more crushed before, but at least he consoled himself with the thought that when he finally find and destroy Pandora, he could then hang up the Kid costume for good, and maybe he'd then have a chance with Shinichi. He allowed himself the luxury of scoff out loud at his own stupidity, now that he's far enough from the police. Yeah, like Shinichi would really magically forget his past in order to indulge in the present? Shinichi is nothing but completely honest with himself, and when Shinichi knows that Kaito is who he is, it would take amnesia for Shinichi to even consider a relationship with him.

Kaito sighed again, as he quickly and efficiently changed out of his costume and into a t-shirt and jeans, before walking casually out of the alley and onto the busy Tokyo night scene. Now, he just have to find a subway station to take him to his dorm, where he and Shinichi will pretend that nothing is wrong while simultaneous dancing around each other.

He lightly fingered the haul of the heist, pondering the matter of Pandora. The Black Organization had been mostly disbanded a year ago, thanks to the combined effort of Shinichi, Kaito, and that Osakan detective whose name he could never remember. So why was he still hunting for Pandora? Kaito has asked himself that exact same question countless times, and each time his answer was the same. So that no one else is killed over it, like my father. So that there wouldn't be another child out there, left behind because of it. So that when another evil organization springs up like the weed they are, there wouldn't be unlimited power for them to ruthlessly kill for.

He laughed, a bitter, low, short chortle that startled a few people around him. Kaito continued walking, taking no heed. How do those superheroes do it? He wondered. They manage to save the word, and yet still manage a happily ever after. But then again, this is real life. Happy endings aren't real, and I'm no superhero. A self-depreciating smile flint over his features as Kaito recalls all those times the bullet just grazes his skin, all those times that they found their mark, all those times that he almost died. All those times that Shinichi frantically hovered around him as he (sometimes his mother as well, if it gets serious enough to make them doubt if this will be the last time Kaito will breathe) treated the wounds. Kaito usually isn't very fanciful, but he'd like to believe that Shinichi's choice of medical science as a university major has something to do with him.

A tired sigh escaped his lips as he inserted the key into the lock on his dorm room, cracking open the door quietly so that if Shinichi is already sleeping, he wouldn't make a ruckus—their door was in dire need of a good oiling, one that neither Shinichi nor him seem to be able to squeeze out the time for.

Sliding sideways through the door, he slowly eased the door shut, before toeing off his shoes as silently as he could; which is to say, he made not a single sound. His side job does require that skill, after all.

Walking towards his room, Kaito notices a dim light just visible from under Shinichi's door, and he felt a pang of guilt (and a bit of vengeful glee, if he was completely honest with himself) at the turmoil the other man must be feeling over Kaito's confession. But what's done is done, and Kaito was never a big believer of crying over spilt milk—or emotions, in this case.

Changing into pajamas, Kaito crawled under his covers, and curled up into a ball for comfort, something that he hasn't done since the day he picked up the pure white tuxedo that became a part of him. Kaito doesn't let himself become depressed—because no matter what happens today, tomorrow will unfailingly come. And tomorrow, maybe Kaito will get his happily ever after.

Hmm, well, I don't really have much to say about this, except I really hope you can point out all the mistakes I know are up there somewhere. I'm really a pretty terrible proofreader of my own work.

I don't know if I got the characterization down pat, but I tried. I hope you enjoyed it!

P.S. This was essentially a challenge to myself to write an angsty fic with no happy ending. I'm a huge fan of those corny Disney-esque finales, but I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this. Somehow, the ending was still slightly hopeful, which ruined the entire point, I suppose. I guess I just can't do it. (Also, this site has changed so much! I had so much trouble posting and formatting.)