Disclaimer: Ah, how I wish I owned Detective Conan… However, despite the random wishes, I do not. /Is mildly depressed/

A/N: Admittedly, this is not my first story on this site(this is simply a new account), and it is most certainly not my first story of any sort. (I'm a published author… That doesn't mean that this is any good. Don't get your hopes up, por favor. /Grins sheepishly/) Anyway, when it comes to fanfiction, the survival of my tales depends greatly on reviews. In other words, please review (topic suggestions are always useful, and I have a deep love of being praised, I must admit.) And so, without further ado, I present the first chapter of "I'm Not Nietzsche."

xXxXxXx

The boy awoke to his torso feeling slightly damp, and rather cold. He reached up, the bedclothes falling from his arm, and lightly touched the edge of his shirt. As he'd expected, it was soaked through with cold sweat. The boy blinked and yawned. His name was Edogawa Conan, and Edogawa Conan was certainly no stranger to nightmares. However, his name was also Kudo Shinichi, and Kudo Shinichi was a stranger to nightmares.

Conan sighed and rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a quiet thump. He knew Ran would be awake and sitting the in kitchen – the place in the apartment where she felt most comfortable. He knew Haibara would be awake too, though she would, obviously, be at Professor Agasa's rather than there.

Conan attempted to enter the kitchen silently, but Ran heard him - just as she always did. She looked at him and smiled, despite the tears forming crisscrossing streaks upon her face. He watched, biting his lip so hard it bled, as she patted the empty space on the counter beside her, trying to look as happy as anyone obviously in the middle of crying can. He released the pressure on his lip, and felt blood push upwards and well outwards. Not wanting Ran to become more worried than she obviously was already, he wiped away the blood and swung himself up to sit beside her.

For a while, neither said anything – each simply stared into space, perhaps cursing their insomnia, perhaps dwelling on why it existed. Either way, it was Ran who broke the not-so-tranquil tranquility.

"Oh Conan-kun…" And that was it. That was all she said. He heard a muffled sob, and turned to look at her, concern gracing his features. She sobbed again, softer this time, and suddenly enveloped him in a tight hug. This sitting in the kitchen at three a.m. thing had become routine for a little over a month now, but he'd never seen her quite like this. She was completely broken down – sobbing into his shoulder, her hands clenching and unclenching against his back…

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something was telling him that he had better check on Haibara once Ran was finished sobbing. However, somewhere else in the back of his mind, he was yelling at himself. Yelling for thinking about Haibara while the girl he loved was in his arms.

Meanwhile, in the rest of his mind, his thoughts were occupied with the memory of Haibara engulfing him in a hug not too different from this one a few days ago – he could still remember her sobbing and shaking in his arms. After all, a hug from Haibara was a rare thing – her deep hatred of physical contact kept such things from happening often. That hatred meant that she only sought contact from another when under extreme emotional stress. The anniversary of her sister's death coupled with a close brush with death (orchestrated by the black organization, of course) had not been a pleasant thing for Haibara Ai. Shaking himself mentally, he returned his attention to the girl in the arms of his 11-year-old body.

He didn't need to ask Ran what was wrong. It was after all, always the same thing: Shinichi, Shinichi, and Shinichi. He knew what was wrong, knew he was the cause of it, and he knew he couldn't do a goddamned thing about it. He called her as often as he could, but everything he said simply made her worry more – not that she made that worry obvious on the phone.

After a long moment, she relinquished him from her hug with a whispered, "arigato, Conan-kun." The boy she spoke of slid off the counter and looked at his tiny feet, covered by similarly tiny slippers. He was the last person she should be thanking. He walked to the kitchen door and picked up his super sneakers as he turned to face Ran.

"I'm going to Hakase's." He said, his voice as flat and emotionless as Haibara's usually was. Ran simply nodded and waved to his retreating back. Every day of this odd nighttime ritual, she'd protested to his leaving, saying an eleven year old shouldn't be on the streets of Tokyo at three a.m. Of course, she'd never actually stopped him from leaving, but she'd always protested at least slightly. But now? Nothing. Perhaps she was simply too sad and tired to say anything. Or perhaps it was because, yesterday, he'd mentioned that he was going to make sure Haibara was ok. But… surely not.

Shaking his head, Edogawa Conan left the apartment with a whispered, "See you in the morning, Ran-neechan."

xXxXxXx

Haibara Ai was ill. As were her other selves – Miayno Shiho and Sherry. Specifically, she was ill with the flu. No, not the hellish "praying to the porcelain god" flu – the chills, soreness of the limbs, and extreme exhaustion sort of flu. She despised being ill – after all, it threw off her cynicism and turned it into a dull rage at everything around her, coupled with a dull headache.

It took 27.83 minutes of unproductive work for Haibara's rage at… well, everything, to overflow. With a soft cry of anger, she tossed the APTX formulas she'd been on aside, sending papers soaring across the lab. She knew she would hate herself for making the lab messier than it already was when she returned later, but at the moment, she couldn't give a damn.

Rolling her eyes, Haibara stalked up the stairs, into the living room, and flopped down on the couch – to the ringing of the doorbell. With a muffled curse, she looked at the screen displaying who was at the door, though she knew all too well who it was.

"Kudo…" she murmured, and he looked like he was in some sort of pain – most likely of the emotional persuasion. She was fairly sure of the reason why. "Baka, Kudo. Baka." With a heavy sigh, she pressed the "open door" button beneath the screen.

That idiot – he was always carrying this emotional baggage around with him, and the only time he didn't hide it was when he was here, with her, at ungodly hours of the morning. Then again, she thought, she was the last person who should complain about that – she did the exact same thing to him. She sighed again and settled into her normal mode of existence – deep in thought, and detached from the world.

xXxXxXx

When Conan walked into the living room, his vague happiness at being out of the lashing rain outside – his only thought that wasn't somehow depressing – was swept away by another, happier though: that Haibara Ai, with her knees tucked under her chin, her arms around those same knees, and a lost look in her half-lidded eyes, was the most beautiful thing on the face of the earth.

What was he doing? He needed to think about Ran – about how to cheer her up and shake her out of her depressive stupor. He looked down at his shoes, despite his lack of willingness to look away from the vision of beauty before him. Ran… Suddenly unable to form any coherent thought beyond that one name, he looked up again. His eyes met Haibara's, and her was suddenly positive that he was no longer capable of any conscious thought whatsoever. His actions flipped to automatic as his brain took a breather.

xXxXxXx

When Haibara Ai truly because aware of Kudo's presence in the room, it was because he was moving towards her with a look befitting a sad puppy in his eyes. She registered with mild surprise what his intentions were. "Kudo, if you dare to so much as lay a finger on me, I'll-" shut up, apparently. At least, that's what she'd done when he'd wrapped her in a strangely warm hug. Why did I do that? She asked herself, I don't know, came the huffed reply, I'm not Nietzsche. She barely kept from rolling her eyes. Great, she thought, now I'm talking to myself. Kudo has had an extremely bad effect on me. As she could no longer remember what she'd been about to threaten him with, she sighed for the third time that night and retuned the hug. Kudo, she thought, you have the emotional capacity of the body you're stuck in.

After a while Kudo relinquished her from his hug. However, he stayed where he was, kneeling on the floor in front of her. She dropped her knees from under her chin, slid her legs off the edge of the couch and waited. She crossed her legs. She crossed her arms. She sighed for the fourth time that night (as for why she was keeping track? She had no idea.) Then finally, "what is it, Kudo?"

xXxXxXx

"Kudo" looked up, into the face of Haibara, feeling her eyes burning a hole in his forehead. Even with her feet dangling an inch off the floor, she looked mature – more so than he did, certainly. Suddenly, Conan felt terrible. Terrible for coming to her with some pathetic sob story of love lost when he knew what he did about her past.

"Gomen…" he said softly, as he dragged himself upwards to sit next to her, "gomen, Haibara. I know you have bigger problems than I do."

She turned and simply looked at him for a second before she said, "You never know until you find out, Kudo, and I'm not saying another word until you tell me what's wrong." He stared at her for a while. Cold and calculating, kind and caring. He was never too sure which pair she was. Perhaps she was all four. He smiled.

"It's just…" he paused, his vision swimming for no reason he could discern, "y- you look so beautiful, Haibara."

For a split second, he could have sworn she looked embarrassed – a light pink blush spreading across her cheeks, her looking away from his eyes watched her intently. But a quickly as it had come, it was gone. And as if the moment hadn't left quite quickly enough, Haibara laughed harshly. "Tell me that's not why you're depressed, Kudo."

Conan gasped and stiffened as he realized what he'd said. Perhaps he was getting sick – something was obviously screwing up his thought process. Haibara artfully arched an eyebrow, challenging him to respond.

"N-no," he stammered, "that's not… I was just being observant," he stated flatly, and Haibara was sure she could detect a hint of typically Kudo childish embarrassment. She desperately wanted to make a comment as to just what the job of being a detective consisted of, but something told her to just be silent for a while and let him talk things out. With yet another inaudible sigh, Haibara leaned back into the couch – it was going to be a long night.

"It's about Ran," he began, and Haibara bit back another sarcastic comment, "she… She's more depressed than I've ever seen her before…" He trailed off and looked up from he'd been staring on the couch. "It hurts, Haibara. It pains me to see her like this."

At that, something inside Haibara snapped, though she wasn't entirely sure why. "Fine, Kudo," she said, her voice smooth and cool, "I get the message: work harder on the antidote, so you can go live out your happily-ever-after with Ran. In fact, I think I'll go work on it right now." With that, she slid off the couch and started off towards the lab, rage in her stride and confusion in her mind – she was still baffled as to why she's said that, and why she was so enraged.

Edogawa Conan, however, was not one to give up easily – even if he wasn't sure what he was losing. He leapt off the couch, leaving his thoughts to Ran behind, and caught Haibara's arm just as she stepped out of the room. To his relief, she froze, though she didn't turn and look at him.

"Haibara," he said softly, silently begging her to turn and face him, "Haibara, I didn't mean it that way. Gomen. I was looking for advice, not the antidote." He paused, contemplating the odd and sudden tightness in his throat, "Please."

Eventually, she turned and faced him, an unreadable expression on her face. "I," she said softly, "am the last person you should turn to for such advice."

Nevertheless, she didn't fight to leave his grasp. Where had this strange boldness come from? He was supposed to be clumsy around girls – no, he was clumsy around girls. Shaking off his thoughts, he continued, the mysterious confidence still in his voice. "That's just the thing, Haibara. I don't believe that's true."

"Start believing it, Kudo," she whispered, "every relationship I've ever been in has been painful." She looked him in the eyes, her eyes telling him just how serious she was. He let go of her, his confidence having deserted him.

Shattering his perception of her once again, she didn't leave the room. Instead, she walked to the couch they'd just been sitting on and sat back down – not flopping down on it like a child, but sinking down onto it like the adult he knew her to be. She locked eyes with him again, and he saw yet another unreadable expression there. "Do you honestly want my advice?" she inquired, and he nodded in affirmation. "Do you want to hear what my current issues are?" he nodded again, and the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "Then get over here and sit down, Kudo. I may have all night, but that doesn't mean you have to take all night." She nodded to the space next to her, and he obeyed silently. Suddenly, Haibara realized that she no longer felt like Kudo was the last person she should be talking to about her past and current problems. She frowned. Their talk may not take all night, but figuring out what that meant just might. With that she hoped would be her final sigh of the evening, she slowly explained how the female mind worked to a very perplexed Kudo.

xXxXxXx

When Professor Agasa stumbled into the living room the following morning, the last thing he expected to see is exactly what he saw – Shinichi and Ai-kun sleeping on opposite ends of the couch, but with Shinichi's right hand and Ai-kun's left gripped tightly together, as it they were clinging on to each other for dear life. Perhaps they were.

Smiling, the professor made his way to the kitchen, having completely forgotten his mission of giving Ai the flu medicine he'd bought – he was too busy trying to figure out why they hadn't been bickering pointlessly or discussing the black organization, as usual. Eventually, he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind - he had a different objective now: making three waffles without blowing up the house.

xXxXxXx

A/N: Whew! I apologize for any inconsistencies and such. I wrote this chapter while down with the flu. Also, if my spelling or grammar seems odd, blame it on my being an American living in England. I tend to incorporate the spelling and grammar rules of both countries interchangeably.