Case Closed Fan Fiction ❯ Vindicated ❯ The Interloper ( Chapter 2 )

Vindicated

Disclaimers: I do not nor ever will own Conan or Jimmy and co. It's a cruel sad world, isn't it?

Well, my dividers were eaten by the quick-edit monster so I'm trying a new way to divide my story this chapter. It may come out juvenile looking- but it's the best I can do now.

A lot of people were scared by my author notes, huh? Heh. The fear is well placed. I'm gonna probably get a lot of people calling me cruel and sadistic in this fiction. Ha ha.

I think I'll write another story after Going Down is finished. I already know what I'll call it. Probably a love triangle fiction. It should be humorous too. Short and humorous. ::insert smile:: So keep a eye out for it.

Now! It's time for the next chapter! Onward ho!

LAST TIME ON VINDICATED

Which would she want more, Jimmy or Conan?

"Damn brat!"

"Sorry, Conan."

That's weird. Since when did Richard grow a conscious about hitting me?

"Shut up. I'm in a hurry. The sooner I get rid of you, the better."

"Where are we going, anyway?"

"I can't tell you. It's a surprise."

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CONAN!"

"It's a friendship medallion. One for you, one for me. It's a good birthday present, don't you think?"

I'll cherish it, Rachel.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Chapter 2:

The Interloper

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blessings given to us to learn from."
-Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

xxx

"Rachel… There's something I need to tell you."

She flashed her usual smile down at the child before her. She didn't take him seriously. She never did.

"Rachel," Conan lowered his gaze. "I'm really Jimmy."

There wasn't a response. Conan looked up to see Rachel still smiling down at him.

"You're not mad?"

"Of course not. Why would I be mad, Jimmy? I already knew you and Conan were one in the same."

"You did?!"

"Of course," Her voice suddenly changed. It grew deeper and more masculine. She removed the bowtie from her neck and her appearance changed.

The shaggy long strands of blonde hair were unmistakable. And those cruel uncaring eyes…

"How could I not know who you were, detective?"

His voice was taunting- Conan found himself backed against a wall.

"What did you do with Rachel?!" Conan cried.

"You thought you could hide her from us? She's dead-" He pointed the loaded gun at Conan's head. "You should have told her. Maybe then she would have realized why she deserved that extra bit of lead in her brain."

"You bas-"

xxx

Conan jolted awake from the presumed gunshot. His hand flew to his head rubbing the spot the imaginary bullet had penetrated. It took several more minutes before Conan realized it was a just a dream.

Cold sweat poured down his small form. He threw off the covers on his futon and cradled his throbbing head on his knees. His breathing just wouldn't slow. It felt so real. There had to be something weird in the dream he could pick out to remove it's clutches on reality…

Why the hell was Rachel wearing a bow tie?

The little detective relaxed- the tension leaving him. Sometimes the stupidest things happened in dreams. It's a good thing too- or Conan would have a much harder time recovering from them.

These nightmares seems more frequent of late. It's said that if you have a dream more then once then it's bound to come true. Well, he hadn't exactly had this dream more then once. It was more of an assortment of similar dreams- all of which ended with either him or Rachel dead.

But who could blame him? He had nearly been killed by those goons once. And because of that event, he was forced into hiding ever since. Although it was true he wanted to find those two again, he certainly didn't want it to be other way around.

Conan let off a visible shiver. Just something about Gin gave him the creeps. Those eyes. Why did those eyes have to be in every dream?

The room was silent aside from Conan's slow breathing. He eyed it's four walls wearily from between his legs. It had once been Richard's storage room before he came along. There was nothing fancy to it's whitewash walls. There was a dresser directly opposite from his futon. And beside that, a wicker basket for laundry. He had a few other discarded items on top of the dresser that he acquired in his year's adoption by the Moores.

There wasn't really anything in this cubic space that spoke him. He did have a soccer ball in one corner. But he merely found it at the park one day and claimed it as a sort of reassurance for who he used to be.

He should probably be thankful he had this much. Rachel had to persuade her father to remove the junk from the room after an incident where Conan had been buried by old clothes and cardboard boxes.

Conan blushed subconsciously. Rachel had to literally come to his rescue. He found just how heavy boxes could be, if filled to their capacity, that day. Not the best of wake up calls. Not the fondest of memories for the detective either.

The former teenager checked once more for sounds in the rooms adjacent from him. He didn't usually have quiet nightmares. Rachel just so happened to be a light sleeper too at least on moments where he was involved. On any other important circumstance… you couldn't wake her up if you dropped a bomb next to her head. He found that out on several occasions. But tonight, it seemed, she decided to sleep a bit deeper.

At least she doesn't cry anymore.

Conan leaned back into the softness of his futon again. It was different from the western style beds he was used to, but he had learned to adjust quickly. Richard couldn't afford a bed for a temporary guest anyhow. He spent too much of it on booze.

However, Conan started. I doubt how temporary my stay might be anymore.

The boy tucked his arms beneath his head and stared lazily at the dropped ceiling.

The lies are piling up… I have to tell her someday.

Sleep began to claim him again. Letting his eyelid droop, Conan gave off a small prayer for sweet dreams this time. His mind had just begun to dissolve into a blissful silence when a clanking sound tickled his ears.

Awareness seeped back into Conan's mind at the sound. His eyes refused to open for him. Conan waited and listened some more to the sounds. It wasn't long before the clanking transformed into suspicious footsteps.

They were dull and heavy on the ears- not much unlike that of Richard's. But, Conan mused, they were foreign somehow. Just the way they shuffled through; as if uncertain of where to go. Richard's footsteps were always bold and precise. He owned the house. Richard never bothered to make his sounds go unnoticed. And that accounted for all bodily noises.

This did not aid any idea of sleep.

Conan sat upright on his futon for the second time that night. The noise was bothering him. That and other images his mind had so kindly recalled.

Wrapping his fingers about the large frames by his futon, Conan thrust his glasses over his eyes. The last thing he would need right now would be Rachel recognizing his face.

His other hand subconsciously closed a tight fist about the medallion on his neck. It was still warm from being pressed against his night shirt and chest. For some reason, he felt overly protective of the object.

Careful to make sure he didn't make his own footsteps, Conan crawled to the entryway of his room. He pushed open his door a crack and glanced at the rooms across the hall. Both doors were shut- that didn't ease the detective's mind at all.

If Richard had left for a midnight stroll, he would have left his door open like he usually did. Even Rachel, in her rare events of being awoken, left the door open.

Richard's distinguished snores started the motor of Conan's heart. If it wasn't Rachel or Richard downstairs- who was it?

Conan slipped out of the room circumspectly. His bear feet padded softly against the wooden floors of the narrow hallway as he made his way to the stairs. Straining his ears and eyes, Conan could definitely make out someone down there.

The eight year old took each step with careful precision. He tested each stair's security with the tips of his toes before resting all his body weight on it. One of the great and horrible things about his child body was his weightlessness. It was much easier to be stealthy with such a light frame. It was also much easier to be hurled into the opposite wall. Conan cringed at the thought, nearly missing a step.

He reached the banisters in a few minutes time. Once there, he crouched low and close to wall. Conan leaned charily forward for a suitable view.

There was indeed a stranger in the house, donned all in black. But unlike Conan's previous assaulters, this man was wearing a skin tight costume.

He was a thief. A solo thief by the looks of things. But that didn't make him any less dangerous.

Conan ducked back at the sight of the man's weapon tucked precariously in a hoister at his side. A gun. A six-shooter at that. Taking a couple of daring breaths, Conan forced another peek through the banister.

He wasn't searching for just one thing. Nor did he look like he was looking for someone to kill. Just a thief trying to get some easy money. This was a huge relief on Conan's part.

It was a bit unjustified but Conan was in no position to apprehend the crook. He figured just to quietly remove himself and let Richard and Rachel know. There were no phones upstairs to call from. But he was sure Rachel could easily take this guy.

Watching the crook for a few more minutes, Conan slowly pulled away. But not before he and the thief spotted something on the kitchen counter.

Rachel's half of the medallion!

Conan's heart fluttered as the thief moved for it. He knew he really shouldn't- but it wasn't meant to be pawned off at some dark alley way store. That was his and Rachel's special treasure. He wasn't about to let the criminal touch it.

Thinking fast, Conan thought of the chances.

His shoes were by the front door. His suspenders were in his dresser. His watch was probably on the dresser waiting for the next case. His glasses were on his head but what good could a tracker or a homing device be in this case? Pretty much everything was useless or out of his reach. That made his only chance the element of surprise. And, judging by the intruder's build, without a weapon of some kind Conan was virtually helpless.

Damn. Nothing's easy, Conan frowned. There's gotta be something around here I can use…

That's when he spotted it. Some leftover wrapping paper on the bookshelf just below the banister he hid behind. It was still on it's roll and if used properly it could definitely cause some damage. Conan calculated it all in his head. He only had a few seconds and one shot to do it right.

Conan leaned forward and carefully through the bars. With his chest pressing painfully against the flat of the wooden base, his finger tips just graced the paper. Conan tipped himself further and wrapped his fingers securely about his prize. He smiled triumphantly and receded back into the shadows.

Perhaps a bit too quickly- as his head banged painfully on the railing. The gonging noise didn't go unnoticed.

There was no time for cries of pain or rubbing of his sores. He had to used the thief's moment of indecision to his advantage.

Ignoring the throbbing of his head, Conan pulled his body to the top of the banister. He situated his feet securely on the railing and then pressed off. Conan's leap successfully launched his child body at that of the man's. Letting out a loud cry and setting the tube out before him like a lance, Conan let gravity take it's toll.

The end of the pipe careened into the burglar's face and thrust him back. The sheer force of Conan's blow pulled the whole man down to the floor- but not before having the back of his head collide with the kitchen counter.

He was out even before he hit the ground.

Conan rose, still slightly dazed by the fall, admiring his work. The man was undoubtedly unconscious. In addition to that, judging by the blood, he had managed to bust the man's nose as well.

Only slightly winded, the eight year old couldn't help but let out a cheer. He defeated a full grown criminal only armed with his blue pinstriped pajamas and a roll of wrapping paper. Quite a feat for his kid body.

"Conan?!"

He stopped in mid celebration to put on his usual innocent façade. He turned to face a stunned teenager and her father; arm tucked playfully behind his neck.

"Whoops," He giggled. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just trying to surprise him. I thought it was you, Richard-san."

Richard's eye twitched in response.

Conan snatched the medallion from the man's clasped fingers and then turned back to his guardian.

"You should watch where you leave things, Rachel," scolded Conan, dangling the medallion so she could see. "He almost got this."

"My gosh, Conan. You're lucky he didn't hurt you." Rachel gasped, pulling the small boy into her embrace. Conan only weakly protested it.

Her eyes gazed over the mess on the floor. "Guess we'd better call the police then."

Richard gave the intruder a small kick before responding. His smile was somewhat crooked.

"There's definitely no hurry. This guy will be out for awhile."

Conan chuckled quietly from his hold in Rachel's arms. Of course. I was trying to surprise you, remember?

xxx

"Figures that a crook would get into your house undetected, Moore." Meguire frowned as his boys cuffed and escorted the thief off the premises. "I thought you said you'd install burglar alarms in this place."

Richard's sheepish grin was all the answer the Inspector needed.

"Or did you blow it all on booze again?"

Ignoring Richard's petty attempts to redeem himself in the Inspector's eyes, Conan sat restlessly on the office couch. He hadn't gotten any sleep since his nightmare. And not only that- but the police had interrogated him for the last two hours on exactly how he took down the crook. They claimed it was for the records, but Conan suspected it was for their own amusement as well.

"Hey Conan," Rachel offered kindly from his other side. "Why don't you go up to bed now and try to get some sleep? I'm sure they don't need you down here anymore."

For once, Conan yawned loudly. I actually would like to do the Conan thing and get some sleep. But- I'm not quite so willing to leave it all up to Richard and the Inspector yet…

People were shuffling to and fro the house- taking pictures and notes. They'd all be gone in a few minutes anyhow, Conan figured. Like bees to a flower. They'd soon leave.

There was a powerful smell filling his nostrils. A new perfume of Rachel's perhaps? It seemed almost too strong for her to wear.

He had just about dozed off, propped against the armrest, when a sudden voice interrupted his slumber.

"Is this him?"

Conan looked up into some rather stunning hazel eyes. They were outlined perfectly with just the right percentage of mascara. Even her flesh tone was obviously enhanced by a consistent amount of blush.

He blinked. Her venomously red lips hooked into a what appeared to be a innocent sort of smile. He couldn't help but feel a bit smothered.

"Yeah. That's little Conan. Edogawa Conan. He's the little tike that apprehended the crook, single handedly."

Thanks for introduction, Meguire. Conan groaned at the pet names.

"Aw. You're such a sweet little thing."

The strange woman flashed him down a smile- her auburn bangs brushing gently against her high cheek bones. Conan blinked again…

"Déjà vu…" He murmured to himself.

"Ah. Don't be shy, Conan." Rachel cooed, giving Conan an extra little push, "Why don't you say hi?"

"Oh. Uh… Hi." Conan nodded somewhat pathetically.

He was far too exhausted to give the proper sort of bow. He hoped she wouldn't hold that against him. She didn't seem to.

"Who is this?" Richard questioned curiously.

"Why, it's Miss Razianoff-" started Meguire.

"Tetra Razianoff." Tetra interposed brandishing a hand to him, "I rather prefer to be addressed as Tetra."

Richard took the hand eagerly in his own.

"Miss Tetra. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hm. I'm sure," She smiled eyeing her taken hand. "You can let go now."

"Oh right. Terribly sorry about that."

"Miss Tetra-san," Conan inquired curiously, interrupting Richard's ramblings. "You don't work for Meguire, right? You're from America or somewhere along the west?"

The woman looked rather taken aback. Her composure didn't stay lost for long. She flashed that smile again at Conan and replied, "Why, I didn't realize my accent could slip through."

"It wasn't your accent, really," Conan smiled, slipping off the lumpy couch and onto the floor. He barely reached the height of her knee caps.

He pointed his smallish finger up at her before he continued.

"It's more of your appearance. That outfit seems more of a New York business attire. And you didn't bow to Richard when you introduced yourself. Instead you offered a handshake," Conan grinned sheepishly. "Although I guess the accent could have given it away."

"That's remarkable," Tetra chuckled while lowering herself to Conan's eye level. "You're quite the little detective, aren't you?"

"Not that good," Conan blushed pointing over to Richard. "Richard's the real detective. He's the remarkable one."

Richard wasted no time to flourish himself to be such the detective Conan portrayed. His chest out and back straightened tall- Richard flaunted his somehow dazzling white teeth.

Tetra seemed far from impressed. "Ah right." She rose from her crouched position and turned back before the man before her. "Richard Moore. I remember you. You've got quite a reputation of late."

"Yes. Not without reason, pretty lady." Richard winked.

Both Rachel and Conan gagged somewhat playfully behind him.

"It's impressive," Tetra sighed softly scribbling something in the notepad she carried with her. "But as I understand it- you have to be unconscious before you can solve anything properly. And that, I would think, isn't anything to get an inflated head over."

Richard's composure dropped- completely ousted. He couldn't even manage a cocky sort of laugh.

Geez. I like her already, Conan grinned merrily. Anyone who can get Richard to shut up has to have special skills.

He eyed Richard's glum expression somewhat guiltily. Poor idiot.

"Well, I've seen enough here," Tetra flashed Conan one last smile. "I'll see you back at the station, Inspector, for a follow up report."

And then she was gone.

"Damn witch," Richard and Meguire grumbled together at her exit.

They cast each other surprised expressions before Richard was able to find voice.

"You hate her too, Inspector. But why? The two of you seemed rather chummy."

"Ha," snorted Meguire. "I don't really like her type."

"Her type?" Rachel piqued with mild interest.

"Yeah. She's a Razianoff."

When Meguire realized he wasn't getting any reaction, he continued, "Her family line specializes in stomping all over people to get to the top of things. And although Tetra may seem to be an incredible thing on the eyes- she's a viper just like the rest of her family. She wouldn't bat her pretty eyelash without it being at another person's expense.

"Geez," Meguire let out a long goaded sigh. "I feel bad for the poor bloke that gets in her way."

"What is she doing here, Inspector?" Conan asked inquisitively. "It seems an odd job for someone like her. Field work?"

"She's a reporter, Conan-kun," Meguire groaned. "A damn good one, unfortunately. And she's here because she's on route to a major story. You'll probably be seeing her again, Richard."

Richard grunted.

"A major story?" Conan continued. "Why would she come all the way out here? Aren't there any good stories in America?"

"Sure there are. But she likes to be daring," Meguire frowned. "She doesn't report for just one station. Tetra travels all across the globe for stories she can take to the highest bidder. The witch can be heartless with what she digs up as well."

"So what's her big story? Does it have something to do with Dad?" Rachel muttered looking rather worried.

Oh no, Conan cringed. If she's trying to expose Richard then he'll stop getting cases. I'll be stuck with a dead end. And then I might never figure out how to catch the black syndicate.

Conan's face crunched up into an awkward grin. That would be just my luck.

"Yes and no." Meguire frowned, not waiting for Conan to finish his sarcastic banter against himself. "It has more to do with you."

What's that supposed to mean? What did Rachel do?

"Me?!" Rachel repeated. "But what did I do?"

Geez, Conan thought in amusement, Way to take the words out of my mouth.

"Nothing, really."

Meguire rubbed his neck and let out another long sigh. What ever he was trying to say, it couldn't be good news.

"You see, Rachel… She's searching for a missing person." Meguire began. "Not really missing- but missing in action for some time now. A detective."

Conan's heart stopped.

"You don't mean-"

Iiee! Please! Please don't say it!

"That's right. She's looking for Jimmy Kudo."

And Conan promptly fell over, taking the table-side lamp with him.

Damn. This is turning out to be a really bad day…

To Be Continued…

Please R & R!

Yay! So now when people read the summery will make sense. Joy to that!

Well that was an interesting sort of continuation, don't you think? Tetra was a rather hard character for me to build up. I had to think real nasty and sadistic, you know? If you haven't noticed- I have a sort of thing against reporters. ::insert sweatdrop:: Never really liked them much and really don't ever want to deal with them. No offense to anyone out there who happens to be one.

Truth be told, the most I know about the Black Syndicate is what they did to Jimmy and two of their member's names. Gin and Vodka. And Sherry too, of course. But most of the stuff that will come up about them in this story will be off of my imagination. I have no real facts so just work with me. I'll try to keep them in character the best I can.

I hope I kept Conan in character too. I didn't want to give him too much intuition. He has to be kept in the dark for what's coming. Although- I don't think he could ever be prepared for what I'll put him through. ::insert evil laughter::

Thank you for joining me in the newest file for Vindicated. Please review and let me know how you think of it.

With a keen eye for detail- one truth prevails!