voidtreckerexpress | Secrets, Consequences and a Catch All

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Secrets, Consequences and a Catch All

Who: Conan and others
Where: Various
When: Imagination 26 to Jelly 5
What: Secrets have been revealed and talks need to happen. Also a general catchall for Late Imagination/Early Jelly

1. Imagination 26
The day after the Winter Fair, Conan was up early with a long list of things to get done. His world had suddenly changed. Again. And that meant that there were some conversations that needed to happen and some plans that needed to be made.

He seeks out Haibara first. Then Sera. Then Jounouchi to return the clothes he'd borrowed. And after all of that was done? He needed to make the rounds of the people who were in on his secret. He needed to check in with Ran.

And he needed to plan. Vermouth was still here, after all.

2. Late Imagination and Early Jelly

For the first time ever, Conan does not go out onto the platform to meet the new arrivals. The drama of the confrontation with Ran and the lingering worries about such a massive change in his life had been more than enough distraction. He spends the first few days afterwards trying to give Ran space to process everything. He spends a lot of time in the library re-reading through the mystery section. Afternoons, he can be found in the gym working out his thoughts by kicking a soccerball against the wall.

At night? Well, he hadn't exactly been sleeping well before this. And now that Ran knew.... Well, there wasn't any reason to try and conceal his insomnia any more. In the early hours of the morning it isn't unusual to find him wandering in the direction of the kitchen or the library.

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Conan frowns.

"If you're really sure you want to know." He hesitates for a moment. "I can't for certain that this is the reason. And I don't have proof of this connection. But I suspect that she was the serial killer we ran into in New York."

That's a difficult memory -- once enough so that she'd blocked it. The gun barrel gleaming in the dim light. The silver-haired man, twisting the silencer into place.

If you want to hate, hate the god that brought you here.

The scream of metal breaking.

Her breath goes short, tight in her chest.

He'd caught that reaction.

"Ran? Are you okay?"

She'd blocked the memory once. Had forgotten it until years later when a fever dredged it up again -- when she'd remembered New York and all that had happened in its entirety. And there was a reason it had been blocked . . . a reason that it was difficult to dredge up again now: The hard clench of her heart as the silver-haired man abruptly rounded the stairs of the fire escape, the gleam of his gun. The knowledge that if the railing hadn't broken, that gun absolutely would have leveled on her.

And shot.

A quick shake of the head -- more fending off his question in favor of her own than giving an answer. "How sure are you?"

He sighs and slumps back in his chair.

"As sure as I can be, considering all of that happened long before I knew what to look for. All the evidence is circumstantial, but the logic all points to her."

He knew for sure that the Golden Apple case wouldn't have been enough to draw her attention as anything more than taking note of him as a friend's son. And it didn't explain why she gave any care to Ran. But the serial killer... they had both come to his attention. And he knew for sure that that had been a disguise and the suicide had been a fake.

"So there's a chance it wasn't her."

Metal breaking.

The cold scrape of the fire escape against her chest as she dives after the flash of silver hair as it falls away. The ache of the dead weight as she holds on for all she's worth, the rain washing down her fingers and making them slide.

It . . . would make sense.

It would.

But.

"A chance," he agrees. "But there is enough circumstantial evidence that its more unlikely that it was someone else than it is that it was her."

It really is such a strange world she's fallen into. Ran is silent for long moments, her breath still light, more shallow than it should be.

"That's what I would have done, then." Her voice is soft, almost distant.

"How you came to her attention? Most likely."

From his tone of voice it was clear that he still wasn't happy about that. He would have liked it better if Ran was safely outside the knowledge of anyone from that group. Even if Vermouth didn't seem to want to harm her... that meant that Ran was still involved at a far higher level than he liked.

It's a lot to process, and she isn't sure how to feel about any of it. The memories of New York are still challenging ones, even though she's made more peace with him. The memory of that fear is still very real, very alive.

Combine that with the desperation in Vermouth's voice: "Move it, Angel!" The touch of her fingers against Ran's cheek, the care in her voice.

How is she supposed to reconcile these pieces? How does one not influence the other?

She's lapsed into silence, thoughts whirling, chasing one another.

Ran wasn't responding. And he had no idea what she was thinking. Never had been able to understand what went through her head, not like he could read the criminal mind.

Worriedly, he nudges her.

"Ran?"

"Ah--" The nudge stirs her out of it, and her eyes flick in his direction -- to that expression, familiar and completely not on that smaller face.

She's always talked about the weightiest things in her life with Shinichi. Has always felt like she could. But when it comes to Vermouth, she finds she's uncertain. He's resolute -- and that conviction has come from some genuinely good reasons. Even though he was there with her in New York, could likely understand the best . . . can he accept the gray in her thoughts?

Honestly, she's not sure . . . but she ventures forward.

"I don't know what to think," she says after a moment, pulling her knees a little closer, head tipping up to stare at the ceiling of the car above them. "Sharon-san . . . has done a lot that frightens me. New York. That time with Haibara-san. All the other things that you've told me. All of them paint a picture of someone who is conniving. Brutal. Duplicitous. I don't know how all of that fits with the other pieces . . . Someone who gives me a strange amount of deference. Who seems . . . sometimes . . . to worry about me. Back at the fair she did that. She must have known you were there, thinking back on what she said. But she seemed honestly worried that I was upset."

Her eyes slip closed briefly. "I think I know what you'll say. That she's an actress. That she usually speaks in double-speak. That she lies, and it's no good to trust her. And I hear all of that. I know Shinichi has genuinely good reasons not to trust her. I'm not sure I trust her. But . . . somehow I don't think I can -- or maybe even should -- ignore all the rest, either. Especially if she is the one from New York."

He is silent for a moment as he tries to find the words to explain what he understood so well.

"It is possible for someone to be a criminal that does terrible things, and to be someone who chooses to help at the same time. It's quite possible that she has helped you and me because she genuinely wants to be an ally. But because I don't know her reason, it is equally possible that she has ulterior motives and is playing a long game. Or that she is helping now, but could change her mind if the situations changes." He sighs. "So I accept her help if she offers it. But its safer not to assume that her help will always be what it seems to be. Or that she will continue to help in the future."

It's not the answer she'd been expecting. She'd been expecting him to be upset, perhaps even angry that she was daring to see any good, any possibility with Vermouth at all. Hoping for otherwise, yes. But expecting frustration and protest.

So when she gets something much closer to her own thoughts, that calm assessment from him, a little ripple of warmth washes through her: He's heard her. He's thinking some of this too. The corners of her mouth lift in a small smile.

"Mm . . . I guess one goes in accepting the possibility." Her brow furrows a little, thinking. "I think at least she won't harm me -- and with that story, probably not you, too. I feel pretty close to confident on that, especially knowing about New York. That doesn't mean that I feel completely at ease or that I don't expect her not to manipulate sometimes. I think she has her own agenda. But I don't think she aims to harm us."

Her brow furrows a little more. "I'm not as confident about the others. She's promised, but . . ."

"They're outside of this," he agrees. "She's given her promise before, but I don't trust her not to break it if its convenient to her."

A frown. "I won't ask you not to approach her." Mostly because he was quite certain Ran wouldn't listen. "But please, be very cautious."

"I think I'm thinking more about the agenda she may have." The words are reflective. "Maybe she wouldn't even want to, but with the way you talk about the Organization . . . she may have limited choices, too."

Or reasons of her own to make such a decision. Ran hasn't discarded that idea completely. Vermouth is a puzzle, complex, and her motives and motivations are still a mystery.

As for the rest, she could point out that they're on a train in tight quarters -- they can't exactly get away from one another, whether Ran approaches directly or not. Instead, though: "Mou, do you really think you need to tell me that?"

The words have that bit of dryness only he, Sonoko, and her father seem to be able to bring out of her.

More seriously: "I think -- or hope -- Shinichi can tell that I'm worried too."

He casts a skeptical glance over at her. He certainly hadn't forgotten any of the times she'd given him a heart attack when she'd decided to be impulsive.

And this... was not the time for that.

"This is a high risk situation. I'm just making sure."

He'd caught that she was worried. Although far too often what went through Ran's head was a mystery to him.

But was she worried enough?

Enough by whose definition is probably the question she would have raised back. But it's just as well that it doesn't come up, and instead she replies: "I want to protect you and the others too, you know."

He sighs. How could he say something about that?

"I just want you to be safe as well. Even if I'm safe, it won't mean anything if you get hurt because you were too busy trying to protect everyone else." A small, tired, smile. "Just promise me that you'll look out for yourself too."

There's a little pink at that -- both for the sentiment and the mild embarrassment that he does know her on that front. A little face. "If Shinichi will, I will."

Both teasing and serious on that. He's certainly as guilty of that as she is.

He makes a mock offended face at that, but nods.

"I'll try." He couldn't promise anything more. If he got swept in events again like he often did, all he could do was try to come home.

Her nose wrinkles at him a little, teasing but pointed. "Then I'll try too." Yes, she caught that "try." Likewise he wouldn't be able to expect any more from her.

. . . Whether they're both ultimately able to accept that from one another is another question.

She doesn't linger there, though, seeming to consider the subject concluded as her eyes slip over his face. Likely prompted by the tiredness in his face and the mention of taking care of themselves: "Can you tell me what's keeping you from sleeping now?"

She'd always known Conan was holding back. But she'd never been able to wrest it out of him.

Softly, "Jou told me a little. But . . . I thought of it a different way then, coming from Conan-kun. I want to understand it from Shinichi."

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Secrets, Consequences and a Catch All

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