Fenton's unnatural eyes bored into Conan, almost glowing in the dim mattress factory. Half-ghost eyes, apparently. Or at least half-something. Either way, they were clearly demanding an explanation. His friends stood behind him, arms crossed while Hattori looked at a loss for what to do. Why, why, why did he always wind up getting involved with a bunch of nosy kids?

There was no way out of this one. They were going to pry answers out of him with every bit of strength they had. What else could he do? Fenton had seen his dream (he couldn't help but believe that to be true after what he'd witnessing what he had in the past couple days, despite his resistance to the idea). If Fenton's group tried to investigate on their own, there would be catastrophic consequences—there was no telling where Gin was and how many eyes and ears he had. People talk. So, his hands were tied. All he could do was try to keep this whole situation from getting even more out of hand.

Conan cleared his throat and picked at his sleeves. "I'll tell you, provided the information never leaves this room. But you guys have to understand that this isn't your fight; I don't want anyone else getting involved in this. It's too dangerous."

"Oh, please," Fenton scoffed. "I fight ghosts every day."

Conan scowled, anger bubbling up inside of him. He was too naïve. "You don't understand. This isn't about ghosts. The bad guys don't just go away in a magical beam of light. This is about people living here now! Innocent bystanders, Guilty parties involved, the people trying to stop them...don't you dare insinuate that it's anything to be taken lightly. You say that we need to trust each other? Trust this. This is so far beyond the game of cat and mouse you seem to think it is. No matter how invincible you think you are, you aren't. You're fourteen! Do you want to damage your life irreparably? Any number of things could happen. Are you prepared for them? Before you know it, everything spirals out of control, and you've ruined everything, and you end up just like—" Just like me. Conan stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. He had to keep it together. Ignoring the stunned look on everyone's faces, he put his hands on his hips. "How long have you had these...powers, exactly?" Conan was still very hesitant to put stock in the existence of 'ghosts', but he was just going to have to learn.

Danny bit his lip. "Uh...like, four months? Ish?"

"Four—four months?" Conan pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, pushing his glasses further up his face. He couldn't watch someone else get into something dangerous. Not when Conan knew just how serious the consequences really were. "Just...no experience, no training, no nothing, you started fighting these things? You could get hurt!"

"As if being half dead doesn't already count? Someone has to do it, and I'm the best equipped for it," Fenton snapped, glowering at Conan. "You're a freshman, just like the rest of us, Hattori guy aside, and you're new here. What makes you the oh-so seasoned veteran of ghost hunting all of a sudden, huh? I've been handling myself just fine."

Sam and Tucker glanced at each other uncomfortably, and Hattori looked at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. Looked like Hattori was going to stay out of it.

Conan clenched his jaw. "I don't claim to have much experience with this whole ghost business, but you have no idea what's in store. What happens if there's a problem that's not solved with the blasted thermos? Are you prepared to look over your shoulder for the rest of your life? To leave behind people you love to protect them? Just how far are you willing to take your role as Danny Phantom before enough is enough?"

The temperature seemed to drop as the unspoken question hung in the air. Are you willing to die?

"I don't know! I don't know!" Fenton's eyes momentarily flashed green. Conan backed off as Sam and Tucker rushed forward to sandwich Fenton between them protectively.

"It won't ever come to that," Sam asserted. And yet, Conan did not miss the very slight waver in her voice. She knew—hell, they all knew, Conan could see it—that what Fenton was doing could, in fact, come to that. And they were choosing to do it anyway.

Conan took a step forward. "How can you be so sure?"

"Lay off them. We were like that too," Hattori said softly.

"Oh, and look where it got us," Conan retorted. Maybe it was harsh, but it was true. "Danny, Sam, Tucker, do you want to see the price of throwing yourself into things way above your head? Here." He yanked his sleeves up to show the scars. From their expressions, they got the message.

"Conan..." Fenton trailed off.

Suddenly everything seemed so very loud. The wind outside felt like it shook the building, the scraping on the floor grating to his ears as Hattori fidgeted. He could almost see the flames licking at his vision as he stood there. He looked around the room, at Hattori's hurt face, Sam's and Tucker's tight lips, and a stubborn determination set in Danny's eyes. He was doing it again, wasn't he? Pushing everyone away.

"I'm sorry—God, I'm sorry. I know I'm not being fair, pressuring you like this. I'm just..." Scared. Guilty. He went back to picking at his sleeves. "I'm just worried about you. I want you to understand the risks of what you're doing. I've been through a lot, and I don't want to see these things happen to anyone else."

"Just tell us what happened," Tucker said, impassive. "Hattori said, 'we were like that too?' What did he mean?"

Conan steeled himself and lowered the volume of his voice. "All right. Swear on your life that the truth never, ever leaves this room. Swear you will never tell anyone, not one single person. Or ghost. All three of you."

They all swore. No turning back now.

"Good. This is information that could get a lot of people killed, and I mean it. Before I start..." Conan looked over at Sam and Tucker and gave a basic overview of his dream. If he didn't, then Fenton would, and it might sound a little better coming from him. They were going out on a limb to trust him enough to ask him to work with them, so he had to pick up the slack on his end of the bridge.

"You're still having that dream?" Hattori asked, his voice laced with concern.

Conan nodded. "Yes, but that's not the point. The point, everyone, is that that was not just a nightmare. Those were memories."

Fenton paled. "Memories? But when Shinichi Kudo was...and..." He wrapped his arms around himself. "Who were those men in black?"

Conan instantly froze, Hattori doing the same on instinct. His hands curled into fists. "Those men worked for the Black Organization before the headquarters was stormed. They were after me because I was trying to get their fingerprints by putting tape on a disk holding a program that they had agreed to pick up. I won't go into the details, but it was a close call for me. If they had opened that locker the rest of the way..." Conan didn't have to say that he wouldn't be standing there now.

Sam looked thoughtful, bursting with questions. "So the Black Organization was the international syndicate that was taken down four years ago? How did you get involved with them?"

"They ruined my life," Conan growled. He sighed as he got ahold of himself. He supposed he had to address this sometime. "In the summer of 1996, I went to Tropical Land—that's an amusement park in Japan—with my friend. While I was there, there was a murder and those two men were very suspicious. So I, seeing them later, told her to go home without me and followed them behind a building where I found a blackmail transaction taking place. I thought I was being a good detective, I really did. I had a camera with me, and I took pictures of the whole thing, not realizing that the man's partner was nowhere to be seen. He snuck up behind me, and..."

Fenton frowned, and Conan could see the gears in his head turning. But it hadn't been Edogawa on the ground, right? "But the dream."

This was it. Conan's palms sweaty, and his head screaming at him not to say it, he opened his mouth. "They fed me an experimental poison meant to kill me, but it didn't his job." A bitter laugh escaped Conan's lips. "Sometimes, I think it did worse." He glanced at Hattori, who simply nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid that Kudo Shinichi isn't as dead as the media has led you to believe. He's just not quite in the state one would expect to find him in."

It was so quiet that he could've heard a pin drop.

"You're not implying...?" Fenton began. No one wanted to say it.

"It's not an implication; I'm saying that there's no 'Edogawa Conan.' My name is Kudo Shinichi."

"Oh." Fenton vigorously ran a hand through his hair. "Oh." He looked like he was starting to understand why Conan was the way he was. "How is that possible? What are you even doing in Amity Park?"

Coming over to plant himself at Conan's side, Hattori said, "That's where I come in. Because of all of Kudo's work in gathering intel and organizing the takedown, the FBI decided to give him honorary status. As such, because of how personal it is to track down and detain this specific member for him, he was sent to deal with it. I'm here from Interpol to handle the police support."

"Oh man," Tucker groaned, "we really are in over our heads."

"Remember that this stays secret. You treat me the same at school or anywhere else in public. We are so close to arresting all of the listed members. Two left. Just two. If either one gets away, it'll have all been for nothing. Four years of gathering intel. Deaths and injuries of everyone involved. Four more years of spending every waking moment hunting down the members in hiding. All for nothing if we can't succeed. And trust me, nothing pleasant happens to me if they find out who I really am." Conan grimaced. "And someone might already."

"Who?"

Conan looked up to meet Fenton's eyes. "The boss of the Organization used the tune of a children's song, Nanatsu no Ko, for his phone number. During the, uh, confrontation with Dr. Spectra, she whistled it, which would have been bad on its own, but it was directed at me. She knows something about me, at any rate, so we have to act quickly."

"Spectra?" Tucker exclaimed. "She has something to do with all this? But how would a ghost be involved with a human syndicate? Ghosts normally won't have anything to do with humans." His eyes widened. "Unless she's been using her camouflage ability to feed off misery this syndicate causes."

"Yes, that's my concern. It's possible that she's an unlisted member. And that means that there could be more." Conan paced around with a mounting feeling of dread, thinking of the possibilities. There was never going to be a way out, was there? No matter what he did, the Organization was always going to find a way to be one step ahead.

"If it's ghosts, then we can help. That's our department, after all. We can check out the situation on that end. Discreetly," Fenton added at the alarmed look from Conan. "I promise we won't let you down, as long as we agree to a truce. A permanent one this time. We keep each other's secrets, and have each other's backs. Maybe we aren't professional police or whatever, but what you've got on your plate totally sucks. Maybe I don't get it exactly, but I can understand enough. If Sam and Tucker are okay with it," Quick nods of confirmation from both of them, "then I want to help. If you'll let us."

Really, this was the exact opposite of the outcome that Conan had been hoping for. What part of I don't want anyone else getting involved didn't anybody around him seem to understand? But at the same time, Conan couldn't help but admire their willingness to help, even after all the misunderstandings and hostility. They were offering to open up a door to a whole other side of things to help him through this. They all had good hearts, the kind that made Conan want to let them in.

But that was what he was worried about.

Because the good die young.

Conan wasn't sure how long he was standing there thinking on it. He didn't want to cause the trio any more trouble than they had already gotten into. But at the same time, was it really fair to judge their capabilities based on their age? Conan sure knew a thing or two about that. The least he could do was give them a chance. No one else was going to get hurt on his watch—he would make sure of it. If Fenton's group was willing to extend their trust to him, he had to take the leap and return it.

Conan straightened up. "Truce accepted. We're in this together now."