realityshifted | [2] a pocket full of rye.

[First grade writing class would be dull for any seventeen year old. For one that considers himself, with some justification, something of a genius, it is soul destroyingly boring. Little wonder then, that as Conan’s hand mechanically copies kanji after kanji, his mind is elsewhere.

Not surprisingly, given the type of genius we’re talking about, his thoughts are on a case. Or – two cases. Mouri had dropped Azusa’s older brother’s disappearance as soon as the call from Yoko came through about a missing colleague -- Tch … that guy and his crushes …-- but the Detective Boys had looked into it for Azusa without luck. The police weren’t having much luck finding any trace of Sugihito Enomoto either … And Conan could only wait to find out what Mouri had learned at the studio. Uncle wasn’t a bad detective when he made the effort … but with Yoko there to distract him, was there any chance he’d pick up any clues?

Frowning, Conan's thoughts turned back to the disappearances that Guinevere had mentioned, and from there to the Astral Plane. When sitting in the first-grade classroom, listening to the sound of many pencils moving laboriously over identical workbooks, it was hard to imagine any place like the Plane could exist, much less some of the people he’d met there--]

Ah – uh.

[Travel to the Plane was indeed seamless. It was quite a surprise to go from sunny classroom to the depths of space.]

AAAAAAAHHHHH.

[And not a good idea to be sitting down when you made it. Conan’s kneejerk reaction to finding himself transported sent his school chair tipping. On the way down, his foot hit the first-grade desk, jarring it so that his pencils slowly began to roll off the desk while Conan’s desperate attempt to grab the desk to steady himself had him pulling his art kit with him instead. Great detective, sure, and used to making entrances, but sprawled on Astral Plane surrounded by paint tubes and crayons, Conan’s thinking this is one entrance he could have done without.]

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Weren't trying? That happensss.

Ah, I guess so! Though I have to hope that next time I don't bring my desk with me.

[Slurring? Ha, he's in pretty bad shape -- the usual or did something ... ?]

What about you, Crowley-san? What are you doing?

[He looks at himself a moment.]

'M not quite drunk enough.

Wouldn't it have made more sense to stay at the bar then?

Needed a breast of freth... Breath of fresh air.

[Ha -- and doesn't that usually help you sober up? Despite himself, Conan couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic. If Crowley didn't want to admit to wanting company that was fine -- after all, he'd helped Conan up and hadn't made a fuss about his undignified entrance. Why not return the favour?]

Should I ask how things are going?

[His whole demeanor seems to fall, like he'd been holding all his woes at bay until just that moment.]

I knew it would happen.

Aziraphale-san's gone?

[He nods once, the picture of a man who has lost everything once again.]

He disappeared.

[Even knowing it was coming, it's clear this was a blow for Crowley. And who could blame him? With his world destroyed -- wait.]

Did -- everything disappear? Or just Aziraphale-san?

There are a couple buildingsss left... Ssstopped paying much attention when I couldn't find Zira anymore...

So it's only people-- wait.

Crowley-san, you said Aziraphale-san's an angel, right? What could be strong enough to kidnap him?

He's dead. Like everything else in my world.

He's not the only person to have vanished, and the others aren't dead. Tell me -- what would it take to be able to pull that off?

Being run through with a flaming sword would kill just about anyone.

[Losing Aziraphale again brings the memories of his death back up to the forefront of his mind. The look of surprise, horror, and regret that crossed his face as the sword pierced his body, the flames starting to burn him from the inside. He reached for Crowley as his body disintegrated. Yeah. Aziraphale is gone.]

[Crowley's either too far gone to understand the question or he simply doesn't care. Conan hesitates -- but decides that even sober, his companion's probably got too much to deal with to fully grasp the situation. And who could blame him? It's not like home where this'd be a police investigation ... I'm just an annoying kid.]

I'm sorry, Crowley-san.