Case Closed Fan Fiction ❯ Going Down ❯ In English, Please ( Chapter 10 )

Going Down

Disclaimers: I do not own Case Closed/ Detective Conan. Whoo boy. Never thought I would say that, did ya?

 

Been forever and a day. But we are finally coming upon the conclusion. Just bear with me a little while longer now.

 

LAST TIME ON GOING DOWN

 

“I know who he is, dammit!”

 

For once Richard was not possessed with egoism.

 

“I can read lips, sir. That's how I hear. And practice is how I speak. Lots and lots of practice.”

 

“So everyone on the tape is dead, right?”

“You are here to interpret. So do it.”

“Don't tell me the boy was on there when it... when it...”

 

 

 

And for the third time, Conan entered the elevator.

 

“The elevator's not going to start up again, is it?” Conan said very softly.

 

“I live in a different world than you Mr. Moore. In the world of the Deaf, we see things that the hearing can't see sometimes. And that message he left you, is in English.”

 

“English,” Richard said again. “Alright.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Chapter Ten:

In English, Please

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,

Or what's a heaven for?

-Robert Browning

xxx

 

A beer can ran the rim of the trashcan before miraculously falling just outside it. Richard Moore never said he was a terrific shot anyhow.

 

Richard bent over his paper work, eyes tightly closed, with his fingers entangled in his hair. He had drawn the symbol in so many different ways with so many different conclusions. Even stone drunk he could not see what the interpreter nor Conan intended him to see. His English skills were horribly unrefined. He hadn't even recited the English Alphabet since his last year in high school. He just couldn't see it.

 

Rachel sat in the corner, hands clamped upon each other, and pressed against her knees. Her eyes were searching the room absentmindedly. Eva was with Conan at this hour. Rachel was supposed to be getting some sleep.

 

Richard inhaled another can of beer and chucked it- not even coming close to the trashcan this time.

 

English. English, he repeated to himself. What am I missing here?

 

Richard rose his head off from the desk, and glanced at the clock. It blinked a hazy red 6:53 at him. At eight o' clock he had to go to down the police station to try and weasel a confession out of Kasei or the other suspects.

 

But without any solid evidence all Kasei had to do was flash his lawyer's card to walk away, guilt-free.

 

But he would not let that happen. He would make sure that man squealed.

 

Richard slammed his fist on the desk with sudden determination. It was for Conan's sake as much as his own.

 

Rachel's eyes were upon him, still null void of her typical spark. Her eyes seemed duller lately. And her lame-ass boyfriend, who could probably cheer her up better than any of them, never called. Not once.

 

Surely he knew the situation by now. He must been afraid to call- afraid to comfort her.

 

Richard ground his teeth, secretly hoping ill things upon the young detective. But doing so made his heart hurt. Richard, with shame, looked back to the picture on his desk.

 

How is it that the boy was always smiling, Richard thought softly, running a finger down the popsicle frame. Smiling out from behind his guise of glasses. Smiling out through a broken heart- through eyes that never matched is child-like features.

 

Richard was rather sure now… even if he didn't want to admit it. Kudo was a far better boyfriend to Rachel than any other Richard could hope for. The private detective closed his eyes, and smiled.

 

But that was only if his theory was true.

 

“You're daydreaming, old man,” said a soft voice at his side. Richard turned his weary eyes over to the boy there.

 

“So what?” He grumbled, pushing the boy away from his desk. “I'm also dead-drunk.”

 

The boy made a face. It was a mix of bemusement and anger. Richard didn't like that boy looking down on him like that. He pushed the boy further away.

 

“It's what grownups do, gaki,” Richard grumbled, laying his head back down on the desk. “When we are frustrated, we down a drink. You will too- one of these days.”

 

“Not on a case,” protested the boy. “It's irresponsible to drink on a case. It clouds your judgment.”

 

Richard winced, feeling as though the brat had just reprimanded him. He squinted through the hook of his arms at the young boy.

 

“That may be so,” said Richard groggily. “But this is real life kid. And in real life- people need to drink off stress.”

 

He clung a beer can tight to his chest and looked over at the child there. The dark hair and eyes shined ominously off his pale skin in low light. Without even hesitating, Richard threw the full beer can at the boy. Alcohol streaked through the air, and the metal can slammed against the opposite wall. Yellow liquid, rippled with foam, slipped down the wall- like blood. Conan didn't flinch nor had he moved. He merely stood with his dark eyes glaring at the drunk person before him. Disgust was written on every feature of the boy's face.

 

Richard had not expected to hit the boy- and he just confirmed his own insanity. He merely lowered his head into his arms again.

 

“Hey hey,” said the boy. “That was rude.”

 

“I'm tired,” said Richard with a hint of frustration in his voice. “Go away.”

 

“What about the case?” asked the boy with exasperation.

 

Richard sighed deeply sent the boy a weary glance through his arms. “I've given up, kid. I can't understand your damn clue. No one can.”

 

“You're a moron!” shouted the boy, his frustration and disappointment was making his face red.

 

Richard just smiled and turned his head. “You've been haunting me the past three days. Nothing's changed since then. If you know so much, why don't you solve the case yourself?”

 

“You know I can't,” came the voice. He sounded hurt. Richard looked over at him- seeing there were definite tears forming in his eyes. Tears like his own- tears of frustration.

 

“Do you think I like staying here, watching you drink yourself away? Do you think I like watching Rachel, Agasa, and my parents cry?!” shrieked the boy. The tears leaked down his red transparent cheeks. Richard merely watched in fascination. What a terrific imagination he never knew he had.

 

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is?”

 

“If it's so frustrating just tell me what the hell you meant?”

 

“I can't!”

 

“Baka! That's a lie!”

 

“Baka genai!”

 

The boy, then, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand in attempt to dry them. He seemed so real- almost life-like, this imagination of his. Guilt surged through the private eye. Richard reached out to touch the boy's arm, but his hand went right through. The lack of touch sent a charge up his arm- numbing his fingertips.

 

His childlike eyes opened and stared at Richard- such a blue color. It had been so long since the detective had seen such deep blue eyes.

 

The boy, Conan, could sense Richard's bewilderment. He merely smiled- with eerie resemblance to the photograph on Richard's desk. There was something in that smile. A hint of some kind- the thing he was missing.

 

“I guess it's over then,” Conan said softly, rubbing his eyes again. The boy started to shake. Like he was having trouble breathing.

 

Richard couldn't help it. He reached out again, and felt, for a split second, something solid. Something warm, and wet- a cheek that was salty with tears. He wiped a tear away with his forefinger and thumb. His fingers still felt damp.

 

Just how drunk was he?

 

Richard blinked, his confusion eating away his drunk stupor. And when staring at the boy in front of him he suddenly felt an euphoria- a horribly terrifying but yet awesome realization- that this was something his years of logic and deduction wouldn't explain. Was he drunk? It didn't matter. His mind was sending him something that he himself never would have thought logically possible.

 

Was this really Conan? Was he insane?

 

The supposed Conan just smiled as he slowly started to fade away into the darkness of the early morning. Richard reached out, hoping to keep the boy with him. He made a noise in his throat- but he was sure the boy couldn't hear him.

 

“I'm leaving now,” said Conan as he made to turn away.

 

“No wait!” Richard cried, blush forming in his cheeks with his embarrassment for saying so. “You have to tell me… Am I insane?! Am I really- really seeing you…?”

 

Conan turned, a wry smile playing on his lips. “I don't know, Richard-san. Are you even awake?”

 

And with that being said, the boy gave a backhand wave- and walked straight out of Richard Moore's consciousness.

 

Richard blinked, his hands slapped on the desk, standing alone in his room. The alcohol was slipping silently in a puddle off his desk and onto the floor. He had knocked it over- although he wasn't sure when. Bewildered, the detective turned his sight upon the wall where he had throw the can at Conan earlier. But the wall was clean and free from his disillusions.

 

Richard trembled, fear making his limbs shake. He gripped his hair and ran his hand down his face. Was he really losing it?

 

And for what reason? Why did the brat effect him so much? Was it the boy's way of continuing to hold his hand? Or was he given too much credit to the supernatural?

 

Could he really be…?

 

Richard lowered himself slowly back into his desk chair again. The beer was still dripping thickly onto the floor. Its smell tinged his addiction, beckoning him back into their pleasurable hold. But Richard wasn't in the mood for its game tonight. He swept the can aside, sweeping the puddle off his desk with it. The alcohol shined like falling tears off his finger tips.

 

The man closed his eyes, trying so hard to stop trembling. Was it alright to be this scared?

 

xxx

 

Blood ran down a pixilated hand. And Conan dropped the shard of glass. Then he reversed the movement in high speed motion- lines splitting up his image. The blood sucked back into the wound. His lips moved backwards. And his glasses magically repaired and rested back on his face. He had just put them back on, his hands still on the arms of the device when Meguire hit the play button. And they watched again as Conan sliced his hand open, blood issuing painfully from his wound.

 

The other two occupants of the room cringed with good reason. Meguire was trying to shake them up- by watching what could have been their victim's last moments.

 

Meguire hit the pause button just as Conan had looked up at the camera, his hand almost through the motion of turning. He looked like he was in the middle of a one-handed prayer. It was a split second before they lost visual. And a split second before everyone in that elevator died.

 

Save for Conan. But the suspects weren't allowed to know this, for Conan's safety.

 

Meguire frowned as the door handle jiggled. In walked Richard, late per usual, Rachel at his heels. He was walking rather stiffly which indicated he was still sober- much to Meguire's relief. But Rachel's appearance peaked his interest. She wouldn't look his way, in fact wouldn't make eye contact with anyone in the room. Her eyes were at her feet as soon as she saw the face staring at her from behind the TV screen.

 

“Meguire, surely this is ridiculous,” Kasei hissed once both the detective and daughter team had seated themselves in the far corner. “You know full well I loved my son. Why would I try to kill him?”

 

The Inspector lowered his head and with the greatest means of respect in avoiding eye contact. “I'm doing my job, Kasei. And personally… I'm,” Meguire looked to the boy on the TV screen. “I'm not sure who you are anymore.”

 

Kasei was affronted. He had previously been standing but now had fallen back into his seat, eyes filled with shock and face turning pale. Obviously he had lost a leverage he thought he had. Richard speculated it would be easier to shake him up now.

 

Jirashii didn't protest. He merely hung his head, careful not to look at the screen.

 

The silence in the room was painful. Not knowing what else to do, Meguire rewound the tape and replayed it. It was pitiful really. It was pitiful that the interrogation had reached a point where they could only watch a silent video over and over again.

 

In spite of it all, Richard found his eyes settling on Conan in the image. Mequire was rewinding again. Fast forwarding through the motions that should have never taken place. Fast forwarding through Conan's last moments of wake.

 

The glass came down, ripping through his flesh again. Glasses shattered on the floor. A sea of shards swimming dangerously around his feet. Blood thickly joining the ocean of shiny mirrors. He continued to inflict self pain like a regenerating masochist, be there such a thing.

 

The curve- the drop. Silent lips moving in a pleading motion. Conan's eyes met with his own, completely free of his glasses and his disguise. He didn't look afraid at all even though surely he must have known what was going to happen.

 

Those eyes seemed to say, “Come on. I dare you to understand me.”

 

The one handed prayer came again then back again. Richard watched the scar heal- become cut- and then heal again. And suddenly Richard saw, in his mind's eyes, a young boy tossing him a backhand wave over his shoulder. Walking away from him forever.

 

“Are you even awake?”

 

It struck him as peculiar- the way Conan threw that hand so carelessly over his shoulder. It was the way he flipped his hand. Was it the orientation?

 

Richard saw Miss Elinor flashing her hands through the air at the Inspector. Her angry flashing fury of hand movements slowed- and Conan tossed his hand over his shoulder again. He tossed it to his side almost without any care at all. But it was intended- it was deliberate. It had to be. No one tossed their hand in such an awkward position without doing it on purpose.

 

It was just a backhand wave. To anyone else that was exactly what it was. But why, to Richard, had it seemed so different?

 

Richard stepped forward giving the Inspector barely any time to step to the side. Richard rewound the tape. He watched it over. And over again. Everyone in the room was staring- he could feel their cold stares piercing into the back of his head just below his hair line. But he didn't care. He had to make sure.

 

His eyes finally noticed what his brain had been suspecting. Richard quickly hit the pause button and fumbled with an ink pen from his front pocket. He scribbled on his hand and then tilted his hand back and forth until finally deciding upon something. Richard gave off an affirmative nod.

 

“Richard,” began Mequire cautiously. He knew he was treading on hallow ground- Richard didn't seem to have gone unconscious for this sudden sense of realization. That probably meant he was gonna say something rather stupid.

 

And then Richard turned.

 

He held up his hand- the pen mark twisted a new light in their eyes. It was in no way a proper model to the boy frozen in the tv screen behind the detective- cringing as he inscribed the name of his murderer permanently into his palm, blood spilling down onto the floor. But now the scar and the pen mark suddenly made perfect sense. Held upwards instead of sideways the symbol finally made sense.

 

It was a simple twist of the hand.

 

“J,” Meguire said with breath he didn't realize he had been suppressing. “The letter J.”

 

“Yes. You're correct, Inspector.” Richard stated simply. He closed his fingers about the pen mark and then eerily began to recite the English alphabet. “A B C D E F G,” he said softly his eyes piercing into Kasei's own. “H I J… the letter J. What did Conan mean by the letter J?”

 

“An abbreviation?” said Meguire in astonishment, whirling around with his accusing stare upon Jirashii. The man cowered backwards from the stare, shaking his head profusely.

 

“No.” Richard snapped. “Why accuse him when the answer is so much simpler.”


 

Richard's dark antiquarian eyes fell upon the man nearly directly across from him. The eyes judged and condemned him all at once.

 

He paused as if waiting for a fit of dizziness to overtake him. It did not come. Richard did not raise a finger. Did not have a sudden fit of meditation. Did not feel anything at all.


 

“Your first name, Kasei-san,” asked Richard in an almost polite manner.

 

Kasei's face blanched, completely caught unawares.

 

“Your first name, Kasei.” Richard snapped with much more demanding.

 


 “My name... M-my name...” Kasei's voice faltered as he uttered it in great detest, “...Jay Kasei.”

 

The silence in the room was overbearing. Rachel moved- placing herself against the wall directly parallel from her father. His face was stern- mimicking the eerie stillness of the room. The face almost frightened her.

 

“Jay... Kasei.” Richard repeated.


 

All eyes fell upon the once powerful man in the room. His composure was dropping rapidly as he quickly discovered that all the ways out were locked by Richard's commanding accusation. Even Meguire was staring at him in the most undermining way.

 

Kasei found his face reddening and he lowered his head. It was enough to confirm everyone's suspicions.

 

“Dammit,” Kasei said softly. “He was blackmailing me. I was trying to retire peacefully and that son of a bitch, Ritani, was blackmailing me. If I- If I didn't do something,” he clenched his hands into fists in his lap. “If I didn't try, I would have lost everything.”

 

“You self centered bastard.” hissed Richard completely without mercy. “You brought this upon yourself.”


 

“He wasn't supposed to be on the elevator.” Kasei cried suddenly, looking up at Richard with a look of pleading on his face. “I promise I didn't mean to kill Conan.”


 

The room's tension grew thicker. He threw himself on the floor. Richard stared in bewilderment at the man groveling by his feet. He swayed like a crab while he pleaded redemption for killing a stranger.

 

“But- your son...” began Richard in attempts to control the situation.

 

“I tried to s-stop that brat. I did- I did! But he wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't stay. He said he had to go... to go back! To the lobby! To Rachel..." Rachel guiltly shifted her gaze to the floor. “And what did that earn him- nothing! I warned him! I warned him to stay. I wanted- so badly for him to not die... not an innocent...”


 

Richard's expression dulled. He smiled softly still no sympathy in his face. A fake smile almost. Like a mask of some kind.


 


“I'm touched that you cared more about Conan than your own son- but Conan is ours not yours to care about.” 


 


Kasei's kept himself bowed to the floor- his only movement being his heaving sobs. Richard continued undaunted, “You murdered him anyway. You had the detonator in your room. You still brought the elevator down.”



 

“I couldn't let him get away- that son of a-!”



 

Richard grabbed the weeping man firmly by the collar. Kasei panicked. He flailed and tried to jerk himself free with shrilling screams. A punch was landed harshly on the detective's jaw.

 

Meguire tried to remedy the situation but continued to be brushed off. Jirashii was huddled even further back in the corner and Rachel tried to reach her father. But she stopped and suppressed a gasp when Kasei held a sharpened letter opener to her father's throat.

 

Richard heard his daughter's pained cry but could only hold his own breath in trepidation. The rest of the room could do little or nothing. Kasei was upon him- holding him against the back wall like a hostage. The foreboding feeling of death seemed all too real.

 

The last sight he would see would be Conan's pained pixel face on the TV set. What happened to that smile, Conan?

 

Kasei's eyes seemed to grow madder- redder even. Sanity seemed to be dwindling out his dilated pupils.



 

“I'll make it end. I'll make it all end,” said Kasei sinisterly.

 


Richard's heart pounded harder as Kasei moved the knife. The letter opener's deadly tip turned and instead rested against Kasei's own throat.


 


“No.” cried Meguire attempting to reach his former friend.



 

“Don't touch me.” Kasei shouted, brandishing the letter opener like a wild man. “I'll kill him too if I have to.”


 

And then Richard found the control of his lips escaping him. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice far calmer than he felt.

 

Kasei stopped- whipping about to face Richard. The stupor seemed to fill the room with silence again.



 

“What's one more murder, you spineless pig?” Richard found his courage mounting and his fury boiling out from inside him. A fire that had been fed by alcohol and sorrow. “Kill yourself. Or kill me. It doesn't matter. Once a coward, dies a coward. You're still going to hell. Just a little faster.



 

“You,” Richard hissed. “You're just a noble son of a bitch.”

 

Kasei withdrew himself from the detective- still clutching the knife like a handicap. Richard didn't remove the scowl from his face. The detective finally had the murderer right where he wanted him. He raised his fist, ready to spill some more blood.

 

“You deserve to die.”

 

“Dad stop it! Stop it!” A voice shattered through the tension like a rock to a glass mirror. The shards fell all around and Rachel stood, tears pouring down her face, in the center. She bared two clenched and trembling fists- her body curved with the anguish of her father's words...

 

The teenager then suddenly rushed forward and fell upon her father, hugging him tightly against her and sobbing. Protecting him from the words he had just uttered and extinguishing the fires of his rage. Richard placed a kind arm about his daughter and held her to him. She smelt of roses and redemption.

 

“I'm sorry, Rachel,” Richard said.

 

And Kasei dropped his weapon, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. They had just finished talking when that kid showed up…

 

“Hey kid?” Kasei had said, turning around as a young boy rushed past him into the office.

“So sorry, mister,” the boy said giving the man a wave. He began shifting and digging through the cushions of the sofa with fierce determination. And Kasei just watched with bewilderment on his face.

 

“You lose something, kid?” Ritani asked with a gentle smile.

 

Conan's hand clenched upon something. He yanked it out and gave a cheerful `yata'. A watch. All that for a cheap little watch. Kasei couldn't help but smile.

 

Jirashii was pressuring him. Wanting his interview. Kasei wasn't paying attention.

 

“What's your name? Wasn't it Cohan or something?”

 

“Co-nan,” The boy frowned. “Edogawa Co-nan.”

 

Kasei found himself chuckling. Pushing Ritani towards the door. Towards the elevator. The boy followed.

 

“Hey kid,” Kasei caught the boy by the arm. “Take the stairs, why don't you?”

 

Conan pulled free. “No sorry. Someone is waiting for me.”

 

And then he ran away- down towards the shutting doors. He hoped the boy wouldn't make it. Tried not to think about it. But it was too late. The boy was in the death trap.

 

So here was his dillema. To hit the detonator. Jirashii was sending off a volley of curses for having missed the elevator. He offered the man the stairs numbly.

 

The numbers slowly made their way down. If he waited any longer his plan would fail. So what to do…?

 

He thumbed the button as his heart raced- guilt freezing up his arm and ability to just hold the button down.

 

The little boy was on there. His son was on there. The little boy… `No sorry. Someone is waiting for me…'

 

And regretfully, Kasei pushed the button down. “Not anymore...” his mind thought bitterly. “No one is waiting for you anymore, kid.”

 

Yet here they were. Standing in front of him. And Kasei found himself completely falling appart.

 

The weapon fell forgotten on the floor.

 

To Be Continued…

Please R & R!

 

Oi. So that was the climax people. The next chapter is the sum up. And I know all you fluffy people are waiting for that one.

 

Sorry but when it reached the fifteen page mark I was like… umm yeah might need to end this some time soon.

 

So someone tell me, are the paid accounts on fanfiction dot net worth it? I mean I've been apart of this site for four years now and I still haven't thought about getting one. Sad, ne?

 

I AM ACCEPTING FANART!

 

I really want to send this story off to my cousin, to whom it is dedicated to. Please, if you can, send me fanart because I want to make this story as good as it can be for her. Like a `Get Well Soon' present. It is dedicated to her after all.

 

Anyway. There aren't really any review responses for this chapter. I had to split them apart to handle them all. So all the review responses are up but they are split in small intervals. Just so I don't have to answer twenty or so reviews at once.

 

That's it for this chapter. Please review and remember-

 

With a keen eye for detail, one truth prevails.

 

Dude it actually works for this chapter. Whoo ha.