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Chapter Four – Flying and Falling

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If he wasn't being honest with himself, Shinichi would say that he hated that white suit with all of his being. That he would never want to see it again, or touch it, or wear it. He would still say to all and sundry that he still wanted to catch the Kaitou Kid, handcuff him and lock him away behind bars. That he still couldn't understand the why of the Kid's thefts, and would do all in his power to bring the thief down, and any associated with him.

But all of these, of course, would be lies.

Despite himself, whether he had asked for it or not, the thrill of putting on the suit that first time had been just that, even in the particular circumstances he had found himself in – a thrill. Admittedly, there were times when he hated it, but that was because of how it had changed him and what it had changed him into, rather than what it had made of his life in general. The suit itself still gave him a strange feeling of recognition whenever he saw it, electricity whenever he touched it, and the familiarity of an actor wearing an old costume whenever he wore it.

He now understood the Kid's thefts and crimes better than anyone – save, perhaps, for Kuroba Kaito himself. Thus also, he could hardly catch the Kid now, when it would mean handing not only the person playing the part of Edogawa Conan over to the authorities. . . but also himself.

Now, standing on a rooftop with the wind blowing through his hair and causing his cloak – his cloak, he still had a strange skip of the heart when he thought that, though for what reason he was sure was a mix of pleasant and bad thoughts – to make that flap-flap, flap-flap sound that had been the first thing he had heard when Kid had first appeared to him, that night so long ago on another rooftop in Beika, their positions an inverted mirror of who they were now.

He looked down at the small form of Edogawa Conan, different only in that his hair was by now flying free every which way, and for a single moment had the strange sensation of double vision, seeing things from the Kid's perspective and the lower perspective of Conan that he would have had but for the events a certain few months ago.

Then his world shifted back into his normal perspective, and Kid's smirk danced across his face.

". . . Oi, Kid," Conan was saying, not coming any further and not making any move towards the various gadgets that both of them now knew like the backs of their hands. "The game's up. Say whatever you want, but..."

"Heh," he said, "you certainly have that right, Tantei-kun."

"Let's settle this here, Kid..."

His heart skipped a beat from excitement and sheer thrill as Conan's smirk widened, and then . . . then there was that sudden movement of the younger boy's hand to his belt, and without any further ado his mind was preoccupied, hand going straight to his card gun, shooting away a card to distract the kid, who'd taken to soccer balls with surprising alacrity, given that previously he'd only followed the sport with vague interest.

The shot went exactly where he'd meant it to, just to the left of Conan's foot, but not in time to prevent the soccer ball that had already hurtled towards his midsection, forcing him to move to the side in order to avoid it. In response, he had shot off first one, then another after another card just short of hitting; with his aim, it wasn't that difficult.

Until, of course, that one point where he realised that 'Conan', despite seeming to get along just fine – one could almost say better than he had, in his first months in such a state – was still new to the smaller proportions. And despite this, there was also the fact that even if it had been him on the other end of the shots, he wasn't sure that things would have happened any other way.

Small body slipping between the railings, Conan fell.

Whispering, hissing a curse for only the wind to hear, the Kaitou Kid ran over to the place where the small detective had last been seen, leapt over the edge himself and activated the hang glider in an effort to fall quicker than the detective.

He'd got Kuroba into this situation, after all. If it wasn't for him, Kuroba would be the one wearing the suit, still. Not him. It wouldn't have been perfect, but then life never was. It was just life. And now – !

He gritted his teeth. People died around him all the time – even now, now that he had the dubious protection of having taken on part of the Kid's mantle, it seemed to be a part of who he was.

But not this time. He was certain that Kuroba had prepared for just this sort of thing, but neither the Kid nor the Kudo Shinichi underneath the Poker Face cared for this, for whether or not his suspicions were correct; he wouldn't give fate even the slightest chance to take even one precious person from him. Especially not if they were –

He sighed in heavy, blessed relief as his earlier assumption proved correct and he heard the snap, crack and flap of material coming free from Conan's backpack that he'd been wearing all day.

"Hang glider versus paraglider, huh?" He laughed, almost drunken in his relief. "I suppose it's too much to ask to keep him on the ground..."

Laughing, he angled away from the building and the dark green paraglider's form.

For a short time, he simply revelled in the simple feeling of flying, that he hadn't been able to truly feel in all of his months of training under Jii, his father and his mother. In the here and now, he was free.

Not bothering to rid himself of the Kid's mask for the short moment it took, he threw a grin over at his younger counterpart.

Conan, lighter and unencumbered by the various tools of his previous trade, was easily able to keep up with the heavier Kid, in spite of the fact that the hang glider was by far both easier to manoeuvre and lighter than the paraglider's heavy layers.

A look back onto their flight path reminded the Kid of how far they had already come, and only a short look around rewarded him with a hasty getaway card. Bingo.

He banked the glider softly down onto the path of the train, landing easily and letting it loose up into the air, held onto him by only the wire that would bring him back up to it at the touch of a button. Turning around, he waved merrily at the diminutive detective, who was now landing not too far away, detaching himself from the heavy paraglider materials.

"Just what I'd expect from you, ne, Tantei-kun?" he said, finding it almost scarily easy to keep in persona for the expectant watchers and listeners around them, even if those watching didn't know what exactly was being said. "That paraglider you used just now, I guess it was another one of Agasa-hakase's inventions?"

It wasn't, really, a question. It was a statement born of long familiarity and a faint bittersweet remembrance of a time been and gone. A kind of nostalgia, if anyone who had known him well enough had been able to get close enough to his position on the moving train.

Conan, however, only answered him with another smirk; not one of the trademark Kuroba – or Kid – smirks, but condescending nonetheless.

"You're grounded, Kid," were the words that came out of the boy's mouth. "You can't fly. Stuck like that, the Kaitou Kid is another petty thief."

Anyone else would have said that there had been triumph in his expression just then as he'd said that, but the only one watching could see a faint amount of pity, some sadness, a slight amount of gaining melancholy and perhaps a bit of resentment.

In response, he shrugged in an affectation of indifference.

"Well, in that case," he said all too innocently, "Maybe I should just go back to being the Kaitou I was before..."

For a moment, the wild-haired Conan had looked at him incredulously, but then he had obviously heard or seen something – his attention had been drawn to the white glider still in orbit above them.

In a rush, the younger boy ran forward, seemingly desperate to catch a hold of even the slightest bit of him before he got away yet again, but in reality he could now see the spark of triumph that hadn't been in the other's eyes before, and there was the fact that when Conan had lunged to catch his legs, he had thrown his arms out just a little too wide.

Grinning, the Kid had returned to the glider, and once secured safely to the flying device once more, had angled for home, or some variation thereof, as the smaller detective had been forced to watch him fly off from the roof of the train.

---

It had ended up taking Kuroba Kaito, now known as Edogawa Conan, an inordinate amount of time to get back to somewhere he recognised, and even longer to get back to where he knew that Ran – now his 'Ran-neechan' – would be waiting for him.

Not to mention the fact that he had needed to take even more time – try half an hour or more – to comb and gel his hair back into Conan's tamed style with added cowlick.

To say that he had been looking forward to going back to them would have been neither a lie nor a truth, but a middling sort of confusion, still.

He had known of them, in a strange sort of way, before. Been able to act as them, so as to even fool their own family and friends. But to actually actively be one of them, and to keep up the performance for so long. . . no. Never had he done anything of the sort before.

If he was honest, it tired him. But he didn't stop. Couldn't, really; not only did he owe it to the real Shinichi, but he also owed it to these other people, and himself. He supposed that now they both knew what each other had felt like. One was knowing what it was to be on the wrong side of the law for the first time, and the other learning what it was to truly be hidden under a layer of masks for every hour of every day.

Only one more thing to add to the understandings between them, he supposed.

But now, now that he was being faced once more with Mouri Ran's questioning, determined, fearful, but heartbreakingly resigned gaze, he felt guilty, as he had never done when he was being Kid.

Not because she looked and sometimes acted like Aoko. There were far too many differences between them for that. But simply because she shouldn't have to be waiting like this... because Kudo Shinichi was back now, and he could tell her, right? And at the same time, he felt guilty as well for his own sake, because he was doing exactly the same thing to Nakamori Aoko. Leaving her behind while he protected other people. Making her wait for him like she had never had to wait for him when he had been Kid and Kid alone.

"But I thought he was right there," Ran was saying, not bitterly. Just sadly. "I saw him there. He. . ."

"Sorry, Ran-neechan," he interrupted. He couldn't help himself. He couldn't stand to see it any longer. "I'm sure Shinichi-niichan will be back as soon as he can be, but he had to go chase after Kid. . ."

And, once again, he had seen her nod her head slowly, brush her face with a sleeve and take a breath. Once again, she headed back out into the throng of waiting friends and relatives, to reassure them that both she and Conan-kun were alright. That she was unaffected by the sudden disappearance of Shinichi.

Haibara Ai was the only one who truly noticed that Edogawa Conan wasn't his usual self at all, glasses reflecting light and not letting onlookers see his eyes.

---

It hadn't taken Shinichi nearly as long to get to the place he was staying at that night, but a great deal of that was due to the fact that he had been forced and coerced into learning the route off by heart from any direction, so it take him so long to find a route. Even if it did seem ten times longer, in his perception of things. He had had to double back on himself more than three times, he was sure.

And now, he was back at base, dressed and appearing as himself once more, though his hair would still need a thorough amount of discipline to get it as neat as it had been before tonight, though.

Still, at least he was definitely Kudo Shinichi again, he thought with a shiver. It wasn't that he didn't like being the Kid – it was simply that. Sometimes, it was too easy, too easy to fall into the role and just go with it, without any thought as to what it was he was doing, even if he knew in his head that both Kuroba and his 'Ji-san had had their own reasons, good reasons, and now he did too.

He opened the door to the hotel apartment with tired hands, tired eyes that wanted to make doubles of everything. It creaked open slightly, and to his attuned senses it was such a loud sound that he flinched. Once securely inside the hall, he drove the door shut, and it closed with a satisfying snick that reassured him of his privacy. He leant against it, exhausted mentally and physically.

"Shin-chan~!"

He groaned, only wishing to be able to go peacefully to bed, but if wishes were fishes then Kuroba would be much easier to scare.

So saying, Shinichi was accosted right there in the middle of the hallway by his mother, who pulled him into a massive hug aimed right at her chest. Belatedly, he gained the energy to escape, only to find himself peering at the unreadable face of his father.

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither about to back down. Then, without warning, Kudo Yuusaku nodded at his son. Then, he looked away.

"Your uncle would have been proud," he said, as though from a distance.

Shinichi continued to stare right back at the man's face.

"And what about you?"

The father turned his face to scrutinise his son once more. Shinichi felt his mother's hand squeeze his arm in reassurance, but he kept on looking at his father. It wasn't merely a dead man's pride that he was after, or half-hearted half compliments. He wanted, as always, the truth.

Finally, he received an answer, of sorts.

"You did well," the man sighed. "Off with you, now. You need your rest."

Shinichi nodded once and walked proudly back into his room, attempting not to show his exhaustion to the man who had tried to stop his uncle from being what he had been that night, from doing what he had thought had been right.

Kudo Yukiko watched him go sadly.

"I wish. . ." she started, wistfully.

"I almost think that it would have been better if those two had never met each other," Yuusaku said, words heavy. "But I suppose that in many ways, it was unavoidable."

"Do you think we did the right thing, Yuu-chan?" Yukiko asked, desperate. "Keeping it from them."

For a moment the novelist looked as though he were about to answer her one way or the other. Then, he seemed to think the better of such a thing.

"Whether we did or didn't is an academic point, now. Who knows? Perhaps they'll be stronger than Touichi and I ever were, acting together..."

Not too far away, Shinichi sneezed just as he was settling down to sleep. A bit further away than that, his cousin did the same thing – at the same time – and followed it up by muttering unintelligibles grouchily under his breath.

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AN: Well, I did leave hints. Small ones, but I did. The ending scene with Yukiko and Yuusaku was spur of the moment. I don't even know if they were fully in character or not – I was mostly going from what I remembered of them from Becky Tailweaver's Relative Truth story, though my version of events isn't the same by far.

Don't worry; I'm not ending it here. I'm still going to do the latter half of the movie-AU.