It was quiet without him, without the small footsteps on the floor or his voice welcoming her home. Instead of a lively voice, heavy silence welcomed her home as she stepped into the apartment. Wrong, everything was just so wrong.

She had cried that faithful night, had screamed insults, and had watched the blank face, played the small voice whispers, carefully constructed of years of hiding behind half truths and lies. Now it seemed foolish, like the stupidest thing she had ever done.

"I am Conan."

Two years, two goddamn years he had always been there, right next to her, talked to her, dried her tears, listened to her worries, listened to Sonokos insults, it must have killed him inside. Now her mind was clear, she still wished she could be angry at him, because anger was so much easier to deal with than sadness. She's not sure where dad was, maybe with mum, she hopes he doesn't get drunk, the energy for dragging him back into their shared home isn't there at the moment, maybe will never come back.

A small, innocent looking book lies on the table. "Sherlock Holmes and the sign of four".

His presence is still thick, hiding behind every wall, in every room. Letting out a tired sign, Ran picks it up, pressing her fingers against the cover, like his did so many times, feeling the ghost of fingertips against her skin. Warm like they should be, not cold and lifeless, pale as the blankets. One moment later the illusion cracks, leaving her once again in the dark and empty apartment.

That night she wanted to pack everything into a single box, all the books, the scrapbooks, the pictures, the clothes, just everything, and throw it out, maybe even set it on fire. Just destroy it, her mind screamed. Destroy the liar, kick him out of your life, move on. Now she crawls back to them, press them against her heart and things about that time, when things still were easy.

There's an can of beer in the fridge. She weighs it in her hand, the other still gripping the worn book tightly. It was cold under her skin, bitting cold as even the can wants her to put it away.

The cap opens with a quiet hiss; smell of alcohol penetrates her nose. She never liked the smell, even after living around a father who almost always had the scent on him. It was something that brought bitter memories, about panicking because he forgot to walk home from a bar and dragging him into his bed. It had been easier with Conan around, giving the man some sense of responsibility. It had been easier with Shinichi around, even when they hated each others guts.

She swallows a big gulp, forcing down guilt and sadness, making her stomach rebel. She never was a drinker, even when most girls her age tried these sweet cocktails from time to time. She had seen what the poison could do to you.

Why didn't she notice anything? About his habits, so similar to Shinichi's that it was like a mirror. She should have notice something, anything. Maybe it then he would still be around, maybe then he would take the fucking can out of her hand and tell her that Shinichi-nii-chan would come back and was very, very sad to do all of this to her. Liar, goddamn pretender, wicked actor in some kind of twisted story where the happy ending is written in blood and sorrow.

Another gulp, everythings better than listen to the deadly silency haunting her. Everything, even when she fells the traitorous buzz in the back of her head.

She really was a lightweight.

Shinichi would take the can away from her, looking for evidences of what happened because he's oh so brilliant and nothing can escape his sharp eyes. The alcohol suddenly has a bitter aftertast.

Why is she thinking of him anyway? It wasn't like he did, for just one moment thought how she maybe Feeling, between fearing for his life when he was all safe right next to her and crying tears after him. Every tear had been a waste, he wasn't worth one of them!

Suddenly she's very angry, angrier than she ever was, if she remembers correctly through the light fog in her mind. "Go to hell" But there is only silence for her insult, silence and loneliness, the sound of the metal can hitting the kitchen counter abnormally loud, making her ears itch. As fast as the anger fogged her mind, he's gone. Blown away and the realization hits her. The same words!

"Go to hell"

A sob, the stoic mask, the click of the door, carefully closed because he knows that her anger is justified, the call, the hospital, the monitors …

She's hanging over the toilet, puking everything out of her before she even realizes that her legs move. Hollow, that's the word she searches for all the time since being forced to listen to the annoying piep-piep, a false security to lure her into thinking that the body was still alive, just sleeping, for the first time.

Hollow, like every emotion went away with Shinichi that night.

Gasping for air she spits out another mouthful of bitter taste. They tried to kill him, back then and then they realized that they failed. He never told her, but oh, she was the daughter of a detective, and even when he was sometimes a really lousy one she still had her mother's genes and Shinichi. The pieces felt together, showing the whole picture with an honest brutality, leaving no space for excuses. They would have killed him on the spot, tried it even, and she saw enough crime scenes to know just a little bit how such minds work. Go after weak spots.

And then he gave up. Maybe it was her breaking him or the lies or the fact that living two lives always has consequences. Or it was just another plan, one that she just doesn't understand yet. It was comforting to think that everything was still in control, that somebody still had all strings in his hand. It was also incredible stupid.

Shinichi didn't plan this, didn't plan to land in the hospital and now she was all alone again.

Moving away with shacking legs, she let cold water run of her hands before splashing a bit too much on her face, leading to wet spots appearing on her T-shirt. It's refreshing, even when she still looks like a ghost in the mirror. Brushing a few bags behind her ear again Ran straights her posture.

She was not a weak girl; she could kick walls into crumbles when she wanted. Pressing her palms against the cold ceramic sink, Ran takes a deep breath before walking back into the kitchen. Her head still spins and she's forced to make small steps to not stumble too awkwardly around. Her alcohol tolerance is low, she thinks, feeling silly. Of course it was, hopefully it would forever stay so.

Beer is dripping over the edge of the counter in small drops, there was too less left, she drank more than realizing first. Ripping of a piece of paper Ran carefully cleans up and throws the dirty paper and can into the trash. It's oddly satisfying, it feels like she won something back with this simple gesture. She's one step closer to becoming Ran again, karate champion, childhood friend, a strong person, ready to stand up for herself and those she loves. One step further in the right direction. She's feeling more alive than the entire week.

The book is lying on the ground, upside down, open and she knows that a few pages maybe got dog ears from the careless behavior she showed toward the book in her anger. Shinichi would have scolded her. Picking it up she smothers the damaged pages. To be honest, she never truly understood the fascination her friend hold for these characters. Sure, Holmes was fun to read, but up to the point of obsession?

The pages where worn too, witnesses of love and endless hours of turning over. She can still picture him on the couch and in his room, as if he never went away. Could still recall every detail about him, his voice, his movements. It's like a ghost hunting the apartment, taunting her.

The letters are dancing a bit before her eyes, making it hard to concentrate on the words. It's English also, and even when she wasn't bad at this particularly subject, she needs more concentration than the previous owner. Why did she never wonder about the fact that Conan seemed to read these things with suspicious ease? Maybe she just wasn't aware of it back then.

The light in the living room helps a lot against spinning letters. Letting out a puff of air, she falls back on the couch and drags her knees against her chest until she's comfortable enough to pick up the reading again. It's kind of weird, sitting here and reading a book but it's the only connection she has at the moment, the only thing beside a steady breathing and annoying heart monitors. It's calming something inside her, something that had raged from the moment the click of the door confirmed Shinichis leave.

He had wanted to protect her, with all his power, had wanted to protect everybody from something that had been so much bigger than he was. And when he broke, he just had himself. Ran wants to break some bones for that.

Maybe it hurt, the lies, maybe there would have been a better way out of this whole mess. But she sees his reasons now, sees the fear he must have faced every day. They have changed since that evening in the Tropical Land. Maybe for the better. She grew up a lot in her opinion, maybe even this event supported her maturity.

It's time to change the roles, she things while reading through Watson's description of the new client.

"Let me protect you this time Shinichi."

Soooo, no shipping. Because I suck at romantic interactions. Also I am Kind of a sucker for ShinRan sibling realationship, blame Talent authors. I plan to write each chapter from a different persons view. So, any Special suggestions?

Sincerely Anemonenfisch