They were half way back when Ai woke up in Conan's arms. She moved a slight inch to the left, tucking her head under his chin. Conan gently rested his head on top of hers. Ai had no desire to speak at the moment and neither did he. It seemed to be the best option as opposed to some other overly dramatic argument that would leave them screaming at each other. Conan's apology for his thoughtless actions from before was conveyed through his touch, and she forgave him by not pulling away. Each took a certain amount of comfort from the mutual contact.

Through telepathy or something of another, they agreed to write off the incident that occurred a few hours ago from their minds. An unspoken agreement. Conan wouldn't pursue the subject so long as Ai wouldn't repeat it.

She had to admit, he was giving her more credit than she deserved. After all, this certainly wasn't the first time she pointed a gun at him or ran away. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made, but Ai supposed she could be content with leaving this one aspect of Conan a mystery. If she were to count all the second chances he gave her, well, maybe she shouldn't jinx it.

The hum of the engine soon died and so did the skateboard's battery. A sigh escaped Conan's lips, tickling Ai's ear. Despite the slightly awkward silence between them, she couldn't help but duck her head to the side and laugh, covering her mouth. Conan gave her an astonished blink. She caught his look and waved it off.

"It's nothing." Her voice still carried a slight giggle. Ai rubbed her ear, trying to get the tingling sensation out from it. She slipped out from Conan's grasp and stood facing away from him. "Too bad we missed the undoubtedly romantic sunset," she remarked lightly.

Fighting back a blush, Conan picked up his solar-powered skateboard and cursed the short battery life. Hopefully one day, he wouldn't need an excuse to hold her. With a rueful smile he suggested they catch a bus or taxi.

"Do you have money for two?"

He didn't even have to pat down his pockets to check. He wasn't carrying anything but lint. His skateboard hit the pavement, and he pushed off. Ai skated on the air beside him.

…Wait—what?

"Haibara, are you…you're hovering!"

She graciously twirled a 360 in the air for him. "I was wondering when you would notice."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Sorry. I got used to seeing you on solid ground. In the future, I'll make it a habit to check on your feet," he delivered sarcastically.

Ai countered without missing a beat. "Please don't develop a fetish for them."

Conan rolled his eyes at her deadpan humor. In a way, she was as charming as a hippopotamus on a unicycle. Professor Agasa had really outdone himself this time though. Skating in the air…ha. Genius.

Suddenly, a thought clicked in Conan's mind. "Haibara, when is Professor Agasa supposed to get back?"

She muttered a curse before asking, "Kudo, what time is—"

But she never finished that sentence. It didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that the two of them were out in the middle of the night on a street devoid of people. Her shoes sunk to the floor with a slight tip-tap. An empty street except for one small detail. Frozen without thought, her eyes were glued staring straight ahead. "Kudo, run," she let out in a breathless whisper.

Because right in front of them sat a dainty little black Porsche parked at the sidewalk, model number 356A.

Unease washed down Ai's spine accompanied by shivers. It was impossible. How did she not sense anything? Was it really his car? Was he waiting for them? But Conan was three steps ahead of Ai. He was off his skateboard and dragging her ass behind a wall for cover as the car door opened.

"Good evening, detective, Sherry." His all too familiar voice was slightly strained across the distance between them.

Well, if that didn't just about kill off her anxiety, Ai would be damned. She could barely hear Conan over the sound of her rapid heartbeats. A familiar panic surged through her system, kicking her flight-or-fight response into high gear. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of being caught in the dark with Gin. Unwanted memories resurfaced, blanketing her mind when she should've been deliberating her next course of action.

Conan wasn't any better off though. He knew they were cornered. There was nowhere to run, not with a gun and Gin's steady aim. Everything at his immediate disposal was useless. He took off his glasses and angled them around the corner, hoping to catch a reflection of Gin's distance from them.

Conan was not disappointed. The man was taking slow, measured steps toward their location, but what Conan found most distressing was that Gin's partner Vodka was nowhere to be found. Only one car door opened, right? It wouldn't have made sense for both BO members to exit from the same door. Was it safe to assume Gin was alone?

Maybe he could divert Gin's attention so Ai could escape. Conan glanced at the quivering mess by his side.

Nope, not gonna work.

Damn it, he wasn't going to let that plan go so easily. It was the only thing they had. "Oy, Haibara," Conan spoke in a low tone. She made no signs of acknowledgement. "Oy!" He shook her trembling form.

Ai fell out of her stupor then fixed Conan with a fierce glare. "Don't you dare think of fighting against him."

He face fell in comical deadpan. "Oy…you're really not in any position to argue."

"Sorry, hadn't realized you wanted missionary," she snapped.

"Haibara, I'll give it to you whatever way you prefer if we get out of this alive."

Thankful her state of mind had returned to semi-normalcy, Conan checked Gin's slow progress. The guy was staring at their hiding spot and tilting his head to the side with boredom, rolling Conan's skateboard back and forth with a foot. One hand held a gun, and Gin was close enough for each shot to hit its intended target.

"If you two have enough time to flirt with each other over there," Gin drawled with a hint of amusement, "perhaps I can join the conversation."

Conan bristled with annoyance. "Why are you here, Gin?"

"Can't a man greet his old colleague every once in a while?"

"Looking up the end of your gun barrel isn't what I'd call friendly."

Gin laughed. "Fair enough." He holstered the gun with a smirk, knowing Conan was watching his actions.

Conan gritted his teeth. "Gin, why are you here?" He repeated.

The man in question ignored Conan. "Sherry, come out," he summoned. "I have information relevant to your interests."

"Information is only worth so much to me when I'm dead," she returned.

"Spare me a little credit, Love. I took my medication today." His smirk grew wider from the air of confusion that undoubtedly settled over Conan.

Ai hesitated, unsure if she should keep talking. "Which one?"

"Lithane," he stated proudly.

"Regularly?"

Conan watched him shrug and talk about his doses as if Ai was his physician. "A day or two off, but like it really matters," he finished offhandedly.

"Liar," Ai said softly but enough for Gin to hear.

"Then do you propose we sit here an hour for my medication to fully settle in?" The man growled and lit a cigarette. His eyes followed the thin trail of smoke up to the streetlamp above him.

Conan decided it was now or never. He jumped out from behind their spot before Ai could pull him back and pointed his watch at Gin. He held his aim, ready to fire at the slightest movement.

Gin snarled, biting down on his cigarette. "Put that useless thing away, boy. I declared a ceasefire, and it is in your best interests to respect it. Furthermore," he kicked the skateboard over to Conan, "this is a private matter to discuss with Sherry. Get out of here before I change my mind."

Glaring through the lens of his watch, Conan asked, "and if I don't?" challenging him, stopping the rolling board.

Returning the look, Gin scoffed, "that's her choice to make. I could care less."

Ai, who had been praying for Conan's speedy departure into the afterlife after testing Gin's patience, finally looked up at the battle of testosterone between the two males. Gin kept to the temporary truce. Knowing this, she collected herself well enough now and could speak without tremors in her voice.

"What could be so important for you to swallow your bloodlust, Gin?"

"Ah, excellent," he smiled. "I have business with you, sans the end of my gun."

Ignoring his tasteless innuendo, Ai continued. "Yes, you've made that point decidedly clear," she said with some annoyance, "but what about? Kudo can stay, regardless."

"I'll speak when I see you, Love."

"Gin!"

"Mackwell." Was all he gave away.

"What?" This one came from Conan.

Ai pursed her lips for a quick moment then stepped out. She narrowed her eyes at Gin and said, "he's dead. That's all you need to know."

Knowing he finally hooked Ai, Gin laughed. "An entire section of the Black Organization would beg to differ, Love." He had taken a liking to that certain term of endearment after seeing Conan's face cloud over each time he said it. He watched the slow disbelief spread across Ai's face. "Your dear brother Lance is alive, Alice." It was difficult to keep himself from outright laughing at Conan's confusion.

She tried her best to suppress the spreading hope. "That's impossible," Ai bit her lip, "I watched him die that day."

Gin noted that Conan remained silent, and he inwardly congratulated the detective for knowing his place. This wasn't something Conan could casually demand explanations about, so Gin decided to volunteer one. "Project Theriac was a success. The Organization no longer wishes your termination. I am under specific order to retrieve you."

"I expect you didn't come here thinking I'd agree."

"No, I did not. The Organization doesn't suit you anymore."

"Gin…" Ai began with a warning tone.

He laughed. "Don't get so cocky just because I've put away my gun. I wouldn't be so careless as to let our secrets spill." Gin smirked at Conan's glare as he made it obvious they shared a history that the detective was kept in the dark from. He turned back to Ai with a charming smile. "Sorry. Slip of the tongue, Love."

She sighed and let it side. "You can show just how apologetic you are by telling me why they want me and how Mackwell is alive."

Conan was slightly more than surprised when Gin readily complied. "Simple, really. That bastard cheated death. You and Mackwell were the ones who finalized the entire project. Do you honestly think the Organization would let a chance like this slip by? They know you're still alive. Of course—" His grin turned feral. "There are quite a few members who would rather have your corpse. The—"

"—Medical division. Project Theriac would hit them harder than the Armageddon. In fact, the Armageddon would be ideal for maximum profit," Ai finished. She mulled it over in her mind then asked, "so I assume Mackwell's theory was correct?"

"That's classified information, Sherry."

"Bastard," she muttered. Curiosity was getting the better of her. "You've already let out that he succeeded. What's the harm in telling me how?"

"What if it was a fluke?" He raised an eyebrow pointedly at Ai.

She held her tongue, unable to deny her Apotoxin failure but then switched tactics. "Alright, fine. Say I believe. Where do you fall into this mess, Gin?"

He let the butt of his cigarette slip from his mouth and stomped it out. "I've also become a target."

"But you've got nothing to do with this project." Her voice betrayed her confusion and disbelief.

"Correct," he confirmed, "but I have everything to do with Mackwell himself. Let's not forget he was my mentor." Gin frowned at her. "You can't possibly have forgotten how the Organization works. Scapegoats are constantly framed and disposed of."

Ai fixed him with a dark look. "You are the last person who needs to remind me of that."

"Your sister's probably in a better place." He commented casually with an indifferent shrug.

"Coming from you, I'm sure it was an act of mercy," Ai snapped at the man, trying to concentrate on something other than the fact her own words held a bit of truth to them.

Conan risked a concerned glance at Ai, giving Gin a chance to mockingly take a step forward during the brief lapse in scrutiny. The detective gritted his teeth in thinly veiled anger but chose to keep his silence, knowing that he was at a disadvantage even with his watch aimed at the man.

"I couldn't help it," Gin explained, and offered nothing more for the immature act than a shrug to go with his smugly satisfied smirk.

Ai was feeling relaxed enough to give Gin a mildly exasperated look, and when he quite unexpectedly winked at her, she remembered just how much the sides of his personalities differed. Under any other circumstance, she was sure to have fled at the first sign of him, but some of the old concern she held for him in the past resurfaced. Granted, she loathed the man, feared, and was even disgusted by him, but hate was something she could not manage.

Knowing that Gin possessed a faulty chemical system made it too difficult to thoughtlessly blame him for his past behavior. Of course, she wasn't completely letting him off the hook, but goddamn morality. Now that he was in a similar position she and Conan were in, being hunted by the Organization, Ai grudgingly admitted a bit of her sympathy went out to him, especially since he voluntarily chose to track her down for help.

What a painfully ironic twist of events. Fuck.

She wasn't so blind as to consider this a cheap hoax to capture her, but exercising caution was better than to err. Granted, there was nothing to guarantee truth behind his words, but she knew Gin would not be so quick to use Mackwell's name lightly.

Or maybe she was too hopeful he turned over a new leaf? No, that couldn't be it. This was exactly what Gin called it—a truce, one that she had already agreed to accept without meaning to, at least not until she heard his terms.

No, fuck his terms. She'd set her own. Sending Conan a silent apology, knowing this would probably seem like she was going to abandon him as well, Ai made Gin an offer their lives depended on, placing a huge gamble on how much he valued their past.

"Gin," she began, forcing the familiar anxiety she had come to associate with the man away, "promise me a few things."

The boy in front of her stiffened but kept from voicing his apparent disapproval, so Ai wasn't sure how upset Conan was. Again, she sent a mental apology his way and made sure to clear up any misunderstandings later. Honestly, she couldn't determine whether or not the miracle that kept him quiet for so long was a blessing or curse foreshadowing his temper, but she was very thankful for it.

On the other hand, she could see Gin's frown quite clearly. He didn't bother to keep his lip from curling in a decidedly less than pleasant manner, murmuring, "conditions, Sherry? Quid pro quo, I trust?"

Oh, for the love of—if she couldn't even remember to verbalize something as simple as her end of the end of the deal, just what did she expect to accomplish? But despite the bout of panic that erupted from angering the man, she tried not to let it show, smoothly replying, "do ut des."

A blank look momentarily crossed Gin's face before he laughed. "I had almost forgotten what that meant," he confessed with genuine amusement.

Conan watched them in disbelief. Will wonders ever cease?

Gin's mood brightened, and it seemed that he was going to be most agreeable, so Ai took her chances and continued. "I'm not demanding your cooperation or setting conditions, Gin." She ventured slowly, choosing her words carefully, testing the waters. "I'm asking if you'll promise me."

"I will," he answered easily, not sparing a second thought to what she would ask of him.

Really, it just baffled Conan how readily Gin agreed with Ai. In a way, it made him ashamed of himself, because shit, if this was a competition, he'd be losing to Gin in terms of devotion and trust. He thought about this new revelation for a second.

Oh, hell no. It probably wasn't what he was thinking, but if it was, Conan now had a new reason to despise the man.

Gin watched the emotions play across the detective's face then grinned when the boy reached a conclusion to his thoughts with a mix of horrified denial and shocked disgust. Conan did the only thing he could think of at the moment and retorted with a mental fuck you.

Unaware of this exchange between the males, Ai continued. "Promise me you will not, directly or indirectly, bring any harm to us."

He sighed. "Sherry, you're too predictable. I promise, and for the record, I hadn't planned to. Just a bit of teasing was all. Although," he paused to consider something. "I cannot guarantee safety. Is this acceptable?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, if you're going to be considerate enough to inform me beforehand, I suppose I have no choice but to agree."

He nodded and waved for her to go on.

Ai let out a shaky breath. This was going a lot smoother than she imagined, but she would only push her luck so far. There was only one more thing she had to ask. "Will you promise…" She trailed off, biting her lip.

Gin narrowed his eyes impatiently.

Swallowing nervously, she asked in a significantly smaller voice, "promise to take your medication regularly?"

"If you remind me, Love."

"Promise me, Gin."

"…I promise."

"T-that's all I'll ask then."

"Spectacular." He turned abruptly and walked away. "Get in the car," he ordered without turning around, climbing into the driver's seat.

Conan turned to Ai as she walked by him and gave her a deadpan look. "You're not actually going to—"

She grabbed his outstretched hand, dragging him along. "Think of it as the lesser of two evils," she muttered under her breath. "Either we're tricked by Gin and shot in his car, or we get captured or killed by whoever's been following him around."

Sighing, Conan followed her lead. "And my horoscope said today was a good day."

A/N: I'm amazed you guys are still sticking around. Comments and criticisms will be accepted with childish glee.