WARNING: Massive spoilers for DC Episode 219: The Gathered Detectives


It had been a shock, the moment he first heard the accented English from over his head. Raising his eyes, a feeling a dread in his heart, he stared up at Hakuba's rich, golden hazel gaze and suddenly wished he was outside and back in Ekoda.

He had known trouble would follow him on this trip, after all, he was hiding behind the face of Edogowa-kun's guardian, but he had had no idea, no inkling, of just how bad it would be. As Hakuba's hawk Watson flew over them, he was staring to get a guess.

Dinner had been an adventure to say the least. Patronizing and annoying, he had to play the role full tilt, and that penetrating stare across from him as Hakuba spoke, the loving caress of the half-Brit's voice as it laid out his deductions, translating Kid's name.

Hakuba always did speak his name beautifully.

"Good night...Mouri-san." He had turned, watching the blond walk away, before shaking his head in confusion. Hakuba was a strange, strange little man...though, he turned back again, a smile curling over his lips. He did cut a fine figure in that utterly horrid suit.

There were few sights in his life he prayed never to see. His glider broken as he was jumping from a skyscraper, his mother or Aoko hurt...

Or Hakuba on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound.

He did what he could to keep these sights from being reality, his glider was always in top condition, his mother and Aoko protected as best he could...and Hakuba...Hakuba had his own brand of protection.

So hearing the gunshot, racing up those one too many stairs, and standing, watching as the crimson stain around the teen grew larger, made something deep inside him clench violently, causing him to sway.

It wasn't real, it really wasn't, but as Hakuba was rolled over, eyes closed and body slack, a small river of blood seeping from his mouth...he suddenly wanted to vomit. All he would need would be for those eyes to open and Hakuba's perfectly cultured voice to accuse him of all the wrongs in the world and they would be party to one of his frequent nightmares.

He swallowed the bile that was climbing up his throat, kneeling, pausing long enough to let his fingers brush over those warm, smooth cheeks, to briefly rest on the pulse, happily beating away under the flesh of the teen's neck before rising and returning to his role in their little drama.

Soon. Soon it would be over, soon he could return and watch life live in those golden eyes. Just a few more acts to perform.

There was nothing quite like the act of diving into the sky, feeling the air rush around you as gravity tried to claim you, angry at your defiance. His clothing tore apart around him, leaving him in trademark white and he laughed, reaching out and grabbing the old woman who had jumped from the helicopter. "Aren't you a bit old for this, obaa-san?" he asked, smiling at her as he slipped a hook around the belt in her skirt.

"I did it for you,"

He blinked at her then followed her gaze, having to smile at the looks on his rival's faces. Hakuba looked ready to dive out of the helicopter himself if it would help.

"Who are they?"

He laughed, shifting his hold on her, returning his attention to the moment at hand. "Like lovers, you never want to meet." he said cheerfully, allowing her to slide out of his arms, the hook catching her and merrily towing her along.

He shifted his weight, turning the glider away from their destination, chancing a glance back over his shoulder as the mansion below distracted them.

"But that's not exactly it," he whispered softly, finishing what he had told her as he un-clasped the metal belt around his waist, falling gently through the trees, rolling as he hit the ground. He sighed, watching the helicopter wing it's way back to Tokyo before pulling off his jacket and loosening is tie.

If he was honest with himself, in his heart of hearts, in the dead of night, as he lay awake in his bedroom, he knew he wouldn't mind meeting with Hakuba, if just to hear that voice.