Missing You

Disclaimers: You should know by now I’m not Gosho Aoyama. I seriously doubt he’d do things like this to his characters.

After putting this story on hold for a considerable amount of time, I decided to come back and actually write the second chapter. I’m sorry that it took me so long. I had to rethink the direction.

Remember, Haibara Ai isn’t in this story yet. I wrote Going Down before I saw her entrance. So currently the main characters would be the main cast, Conan’s parents, Agasa Detective Boys, and Heiji Hattori.

So here’s the revision!

Last Time on Missing You:
Hospitals, wheelchairs, unwanted phone calls, and a forgotten name.
Quote: “Oi Conan-kun,” Kogoro muttered dully. “Welcome back.”

Chapter Two: One Man Short

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
-Linkin Park

“You don’t remember, Shinichi?”

“I…” Conan hesitated. “I don’t know… should I?”

“Oh,” Though her voice didn’t show it, Ran looked sobered. “No, no. Don’t worry, Conan-kun. He hasn’t been around for a while.”

“Maybe he would remember if you showed him a picture, Ran.”

Ran glanced where her father now stood, running his fingers down the spines of photo albums in his tiny office space. “It’s okay, Dad. You don’t have to.”

Kogoro squeezed a particularly thick album out of its place and hefted it over to the coffee table. He plopped the binder heavily in front of Conan without addressing his daughter. Ran tried to protest with hushed urgency, “The doctor said not to bully him into remembering anything!” but Conan was curious. He reached for the book before Ran could rush it away from him.

Ran could only look on with disapproval as Conan turned the thick pages. There were smiling faces of Ran, not much younger than she was now. Some were from birthdays, golden week parade, and what appeared to be a karate tournament.

“You know karate, Ran-neesan?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Yeah… I remember,” said Conan at length. “You were captain of the karate team.”

“Yes that’s right.”

Conan thumbed a picture where Ran was proudly hefting a trophy. The blonde girl Conan recognized as Sonoko was at her side, beaming as if the trophy was just as much hers. Sonoko, Conan met her only once at the hospital. Conan knew he knew her, but I just couldn’t remember why he knew her yet. Perhaps just through Ran, since Ran did say that Sonoko was her best friend.

And then on the next page there were pictures of a boy. Not really a boy, in Conan’s mind. He was Ran’s age, a young man, looking miserable as both Sonoko and Ran press-ganged him into the various photographs. He was tall, dark haired, with a snide sort of smile and intelligent looking eyes.

“That’s Shinichi,” said Kogoro. “Ran’s boyfriend.”

“Dad!” But Ran was blushing. Conan wasn’t sure why that made him feel strange. It could have been jealousy. But yet, as Conan stared at the photograph he became more aware of a strange feeling burning in his chest.

Shinichi lived in these photographs. Conan was surprised how often he populated the pages. It seemed that wherever there was a camera and Ran, there was Shinichi to jump in and prove his existence. But no matter how many cameras he was willing to prove himself to Conan didn’t believe him.

And then all of the sudden, he disappeared. Conan feverishly filtered through the rest of the album unable to see a single reappearance. Shinichi had simply vanished. His last debut was in pictures of him and Ran at some sort of amusement park.

The outfit Shinichi was wearing seemed eerily familiar to Conan. He felt as if he were being suffocated by it, tripping over the excess, unable to keep it up over his waist.

“Where is that?’

“That’s Tropical Land. Have you ever been there, Conan-kun?”

Conan couldn’t answer. His head was hurting almost unbearably. There was a stabbing pain between his eyes slowly bleeding back into the base of his skull. He leaned forward and grasped the bridge of his nose, trying to fight back the sudden headache.

“Maybe… Maybe Conan would remember if we took him to Tropical Land.”

“No, Dad! Stop it. What’s wrong with you? He doesn’t have to remember Shinichi— not yet anyway. Only if he’s ready, okay Conan-kun?”

Ran rubbed Conan’s back, mistaking his oncoming headache as a sign of frustration. The motion was comforting regardless of its purpose. Conan tried to respond but his answer fell short of his lips. What came out instead was a soft moan, pathetic really. But his headache wasn’t lessening.

Conan wanted to believe it was a side affect of remembering something. But all his brain seemed be doing right now was blocking out all other forms of thought. How could he be remembering something if the pain was so intense that it labored thinking?

“I was just saying. Tropical Land might trigger a total recall instead of all these little memory spurts that he’s been getting the past month.”

“In Conan’s case recall might cause him emotional stress,” snapped Ran. “Dad, the doctor told you about this. We can’t force Conan to remember anything!”

“I’m not forcing him. Let’s just make a day of it. You like Tropical Land. If anything, Conan will enjoy himself.”

“No!”

Kogoro and Ran stared at Conan. The boy was sweating, trembling, and looking very pale. His eyes were wide and watery with oncoming tears. He moved his shivering hands to his face and across his red cheeks.

“Conan-kun…”

“No! I don’t want to go there!”

“Co-“

“No! Leave me alone!” shrieked the boy as he thrust his face into the couch’s throw pillow. Ran touched his shoulders and he ripped them away from her, sobbing into the material. He couldn’t articulate the sheer terror running through him. And just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone.

Why? He asked himself through mouthful of pillow. Why am I crying?

And slowly, perhaps even a realization of this, Conan raised his head off the pillows. He stared confusingly at the tear stains left in his wake. What was that? Who… was that?

“Conan? Are you alright?”

“I- I don’t know. What happened?”

“Are you scared of amusement parks?”

“Dad! Don’t be so direct! Conan, honey… do you know why you don’t want to go… to that place?”

“What place?”

Ran began mouthing the word before thinking better of it. With a quick warning glare to her father, Ran turned back to Conan and took his tiny hands in hers.

“It’s not important, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Kogoro huffed and fell back onto the couch across from the two of them. “We need to take him back to a doctor. Even selective memory loss is still memory loss. He needs to see a specialist.”

“I guess. But- tomorrow. Conan only just got back.”

“Tomorrow, first thing.”

Conan felt his cheeks burning. No- he was supposed to be getting better. Ran was so happy when he was getting better. This- this was opposite of better! And it was all his fault.

Conan glared down at the teenager smiling up at him from the photographs. You jerk. Why can’t I remember you?

The backseat of the rented car smelt funny. Conan leaned back in the stiff leather seats uncomfortably. No matter how he twisted, the seat belt still cut into his neck. But all this might have just been because was irritable about going to the doctor’s this morning.

Kogoro was also grumpy, suffering from a slight hangover from the night before. It seemed that Ran had been the only one in good spirits. She sat in shotgun, window rolled down, enjoying the wind tossing her hair around. Conan watched her absentmindedly.

Although Conan had expected to be sent back to school right away, he was spending his first Monday back going to yet another doctor. And Ran too. She was missing school for him.

And worst of all, Conan didn’t feel sick! The whole thing was silly. Who cared if he remembered one person anyway? Surely this guy wasn’t that important. Especially if he wasn’t even around anymore.

Conan pressed his cheek against the passenger window watching the buildings flash anonymously by. What else didn’t he yet remember? Had he been on this street before? Had he gone inside some of these buildings? Were those peoples on the street not quite the strangers he seemed to think they were?

Conan glanced down at his scar again. Yes, and how did that happen?

The car slowed as Mori turned in to a small parking lot. He pulled into a tight parking spot and quickly got out the car. Conan peered up through the wind shield at the faded yellow sign. Albertson’s Anesthesiology Clinic.

Anesthesiology. The study of anesthesia, a condition of having sensation blocked. Somehow, he knew that. How the information flashed into his mind, startled Conan. For some reason he knew that someone his age shouldn’t know something unusual like that.

Ran opened the side door, startling him.

“Come on, Conan-kun,” said Ran with a smile reaching over to help him unbuckle his seat belt. Gingerly he took her hand when she offered it and carefully crawled out of the vehicle. Her grip was strong and comforting. He was able to brace his body weight against hers- using her as a crutch so that they needn’t get the wheelchair.

Kogoro waited for them on the curb, urging them forward with impatient gestures. “Come on. Come on,” He grumbled. “I have an appointment with a client this afternoon. I don’t wanna be here all day.”

Some peeling white letters stood out on the door- basically detailing the same information as the sign. He was a doctor that was a specialist in the functions of hypnosis, relaxation, obtundation (prevention of exaggerated autonomic reflexes), analgesia (blocking the sensation of pain) and of course amnesia.

There it was again. That useless spew of information scrolling about his brain. What had he swallowed an encyclopedia as a child? Wait... Wasn’t he still a child?

Conan allowed himself to be led clumsily into the clean doctor’s office. Despite outside appearances, the waiting room was warm and friendly with soft natural colors and comfortable furniture. Though Conan supposed that it was important that he feel comfortable. After all, being without some of your memories was never a comforting thing. This office was supposed to be a place of solace.

So far, it’s goal had been achieved. Conan relaxed into one of the sofa seats, ignoring the pangs shooting up his legs that urged for movement. He only half listened in as Kogoro chimed in at the front desk and spoke to the receptionist. Unfortunately the reprieve only lasted so long.

“Mister Edogawa? The doctor will see you now.”

Ran helped Conan to his unsteady feet. They passed through the open door frame to a small hallway. The nurse took them to the last room. It was cold- unlike the welcoming waiting room. Stark white walls, tile flooring, and a bench (that Conan knew as the exam table) in the center of the room covered over in a roll of sanitary paper. And just beyond the door a blonde haired brown eyed gaijin stood waiting for them.

“Hello,” he greeted in English before reverting back into a remarkably fluent Japanese. “My name is Gray Albertson. But I prefer to be known as Doctor Gray.”

He held out a hand to shake which Kogoro took hesitantly. “I am Mori Kogoro,” he nodded deeply in replace for his habitable bow. “And this is my daughter Ran and... Conan.”

“Hello.” Both Conan and Ran echoed in English politely.

“So you are little Conan,” smiled the doctor pleasantly down at the young dark haired boy. “I must apologize. I don’t usually work with children quite so young. But I will try my very best to help you, alright?”

Conan nodded numbly in response. He didn’t feel shy, per say. Just agitated. He grown quite a distaste for doctors as of late. They were really good at making you feel infirm even if you weren’t.

“Ah sir. I can’t help but notice that your-“ began Kogoro.

“A foreigner? Yes, I am. But my wife was Japanese. I’ve lived in this country for the past twenty or so years. But I port from upstate Maine,” He paused and turned back to Conan with a smile. “That’s in the United States of America.”

Conan frowned. “I knew that.” Although he wasn’t quite sure how.

“Did you?” said the doctor with mild surprise. “What a smart young man!”

“Conan knows a lot of things. Before the- uh. Before it happened, Conan used to help my father with his detective work,” explained Ran.

Although the idea seemed alien to Conan now, he had come to see that fact as truth. After all, all his grade school friends had formed a group called the Detective Boys which apparently he was a part of. They had bragged to him about a number of cases they had already solved. Most of which didn’t sound all that impressive to Conan. But they had mentioned a murder here and a robber there. But they probably were just exaggerating.

“Wow. Talented and ambitious! At so young! So tell me, Conan? Do you travel much?” The doctor’s eyes went to Kogoro as well. Kogoro flushed instinctively.

“Oh, uh. He’s not mine- ours. Conan is just staying with us while his parents are abroad.”

“That’s mighty considerate of you. To even go to such lengths as getting him treatment...?”

“His parents are paying for it. And... it’s only right. Since he was in our charge when it happened,” said Kogoro solemnly. It was clear that he hadn’t quite forgiven the part he played in the child’s accident, not that it had been anyone’s fault (aside from Jay Kasai).

Doctor Gray wisely turned back to the previous subject, “Well did you Conan? Travel a lot with your parents? Been to the Americas at all?”

“Yes,” said Conan at great length. “I remember seeing the statue of liberty. And Broadway. And the world trades.”

“Ah. The big apple. That’s a great place to have seen.”

Conan shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t remember what it was like. Just that I’ve been there and seen it.”

“I was asking because your name is so unusual for a Japanese child. I was expecting a foreigner, to be honest.”

“My parents named me after Arthur Conan Doyle,” said Conan automatically. “They’re a big fan of detective mysteries.”

“I see,” said the doctor, picking up a clipboard from the nearby counter and scribbling down a few notes. Conan couldn’t quite see what was so revealing in their conversation that needed to be written down. It wasn’t as if anyone said anything important in the pass few minutes.

“If you’d like to take a seat... Conan if you’d sit on the table there- I think we can get started,” said Doctor Gray gesturing for the three of them to come inside the door. He gently shut the door behind them just as Ran lifted Conan up onto the exam table.

Once Conan was well situated and the tissue paper stopped crackling underneath him, Doctor Gray flipped a page over on his clipboard and began, “So how old are you, Conan-kun?”

“He’ll be turning nine this year,” answered Ran quickly.

“Nine. That’s a big year,” Gray sent a knowing smile Ran’s way before continuing, “So I understand that Conan was only a recently woken coma victim, correct? How long was he under?”

“Yes, a little over a month.”

“Says here he has an acute post-traumatic amnesia,” at their expressions, Doctor Gray quickly corrected himself. “It’s quite normal, don’t worry. Some coma victims wake up with full awareness- others suffer from a brief period of amnesia. After your injuries, your brain in an attempt to protect itself- shut down for a period of time. But... from what I can tell, it doesn’t seem to be affecting your daily mental processes too much. Still a very intelligent young boy.”

“But sir-“ began Ran.

“Doctor Gray, please.”

“But Doctor... There’s still many things he doesn’t remember.”

“Yes. Mr. Mori did mention that to me. It seems Conan may be selectively blocking certain portions of his life out.”

“But why?” Ran asked mistakenly glancing in Conan’s direction. The boy guilty shifted weight onto his other side, glaring at the floor.

“It’s not a conscious decision. Usually the mind will try to fill in things that don’t quite make sense. So when there are holes in our memory, we quickly fill them up or ignore them. So perhaps Conan does remember these people, but he just can’t make the connections to the events in his life yet. The details confuse him so he blocks them out,” Doctor Gray sent Conan a sympathetic glance. “It’s not your fault, Conan-kun. It’s a perfectly normal human function. Don’t ever feel the need to force yourself to remember. When you are ready to- you will.”

“He still doesn’t remember his parents. And we just found a few more people he no longer recognizes. So you... you can see why we are concerned, Doctor,” explained Kogoro in a low voice.

Conan found his cheeks going red. He did remember his parents. Just incorrectly. He swore his mother was thin and had light colored hair and that his father was an writer. But those facts contradicted those that Ran and Kogoro had been informed. His father was a businessman and his mother was dark haired and fat. Fumiyo Edogawa- the name meant nothing to Conan. But he couldn’t remember his mother’s name anyway so it might as well have been her.

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Doctor Gray. He pulled out a few slips of paper- handed one to Kogoro and the other to Conan. On it was a list of questions- Conan stared at it suspiciously.

“Now, to properly gauge the extent of his memory loss, I’d like you all to fill out this list of questions. Mr. Mori- if you and your daughter could consult each other on the answers in the other room,” He opened the examination room’s door for them. “That would be great. Conan will stay here with me, and try to answer the questions as well. Once you’re done, we’ll compare the results.”

Without question, Kogoro took the clipboard, sheet of paper, and pen into the other room. Ran followed reluctantly behind him. She cast one last sympathetic glance Conan’s way before closing the door behind her.

“Go ahead and fill out the form, Conan-kun. If you feel you can’t answer one, don’t worry about leaving it blank. It isn’t an exam. We just want to see how you’re doing, alright?”

But despite the Doctor’s kind words, Conan couldn’t help but feel nervous. He scanned the list of questions written in simple hiragana and katakana uneasily, his heart jammed up his throat... pulsating. He felt rather sick.

Calm down, Conan, Conan told himself. Just take them one at a time. You’ve answered questions harder than this... I think.

Taking a few deep calming breaths, Conan focused on the first question. What’s your full name? Well that was easy.

Edogawa Conan.

Next question, how old are you? Thank goodness.

18... Conan erased the extra digit. What compelled him to do that?

What are your hobbies?

He should know this. He should. Well, Ran brought him a lot of detective fiction books while he was in the hospital to pass the time, even though he had been much more interested in watching the television. Maybe he should write that down.

Reading.

It looked rather pathetic sitting there by himself. So Conan hastily added next to it,

Playing with my friends.

There. At least he sort of answered the question.

What are your favorite foods? What is your favorite color? When is your birthday?

Conan labored through the last several questions. A lot of it he could only suppose. Some of it he had come to realize through the Detective Boys or Ran. But none of it were answers he came up with on his own. All of these he had asked before and accepted the answers of. These should be his opinion... but he had long since forgotten what his opinion was.

Are you happy?

Unfortunately, Conan knew this one. A lump formed in his chest as he playfully spelled out the English letters.

No. I not.

He knew that the results were terrible. Doctor Gray scourged over the two sheets with great interest. The differences between the two sheets were probably vast, Conan realized guiltily. He knew he shouldn’t have been upset by this. It wasn’t his fault. But still Conan felt shame.

“Well...?” egged Kogoro curiously.

“I think at this point, if it would put you all a bit more at ease, I would recommend arranging weekly therapy to help gently console a recall. I think it’d help Conan to let out some frustration and also help to learn a bit more about himself. You are of course welcome to attend the sessions with him.”

“Of course,” said Ran quickly.

She rested a gentle hand on Conan’s shoulder. Her touch soothed and tapered his self loathing. But when he looked over at her, his heart plummeted again. Ran wanted Conan to remember... him. Shinichi. Bitterly, Conan looked away again.

“Then it’s settled then. Though I have no doubt that with such a supportive and optimistic atmosphere, Conan will be able to recover in no time.”

Conan didn’t meet any of their eyes.

Kogoro had only just swept his desk of beer cans before his afternoon appointment knocked at the door.

Ran had left to attend what was left of the classes that day. But Conan was persuaded to take it easy and wait one more day before returning to school. He stayed but skulked around the house like a child denied of a treat. He had only just settled on the couch, curled up reading one of the books Ran had offered him earlier. She had pilfered the book from Shinichi’s large library.

“He won’t miss a few books. Besides, he’s already read them all a thousand times,” she said justifying her actions.

And apparently Conan had read them before too. He was able to pick out familiar phrases and scenes from the text. But not quite enough to know the outcome. He had just started on his third Sherlock Homes story (he was really starting to like this detective) The Red Herring, when Kogoro let his client in.

He was startled by the sight of short portly fellow dressed to match his drab looking trench coat standing in the door frame. He was carrying a manila folder weighted down with papers and an unusual hat squashed over his head. Conan looked over the top of his book, recognizing the man almost immediately.

“Megure-kebu.”

“Mori-san. I’m sorry to come to you under these pretenses but I thought that we could use your help.” Megure stepped into the office, not bothering to give Kogoro any chance to stop him. Kogoro was too stunned to notice, following numbly behind the man as he plucked off his shoes and slipped on some visitor’s slippers.

“So you are my client?”

Megure plopped himself onto the couch next to Conan and offered a knowing grin, “Disappointed?”

Kogoro didn’t catch the sentiment. “I thought I was speaking to a female client.”

“Ah yes. My wife, Midori, called. I thought it was best that it was best if it weren’t well known that the police were getting outsider’s help. After all, since you aren’t on the payroll I’ll have to pay you out of my own pocket,” as if to prove such a point, Megure procured a small bundle of beige yen notes from his pocket. He held them out tantalizingly for the detective before placing them on the coffee table between them.

“Why do you want my help?”

“Because...” said Megure at length. “I’d prefer that this case be finished as quickly as possible.”

“And what case would that be?”

Mequre slapped the case folder on the table next to the cash. “A serial killer.”

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so excited,” grumbled Megure. “He’s one sick bastard. I mean it, the crime scenes are enough to make you heave. He binds his victims, pumps them full of some sort of narcotic, and then stabs a multiple of times.”

Kogoro was just reaching over to open the manila folder when he stopped. Curiously, he looked up at Conan who was still deeply engrossed in his book.

“Aren’t you interested in this?”

Conan paused only to flip a page. “Should I be?”

Kogoro angrily snatched the book out of Conan’s grip and tossed it behind the couch.

“Hey!” Conan cried.

He about climbed to his feet before Kogoro forced him to sit back down.

“Sit,” he ordered. “And pay attention like you normally do.”

Conan sat on his hands, grumpily.

“Uh. Mori-san, perhaps it be best to let Conan-kun sit this case out. I know he’s helpful in noticing key details and all but... it may be a bit too gruesome for him,” began Megure hesitantly.

Kogoro only shrugged him off. “The kid practically plays with cadavers. Why would it start bothering him now?”

Kogoro flipped open the folder, startled to see the victims portraits staring back at him. They were all so... young. The oldest was maybe eleven at the most. The youngest being far too young.

Kogoro knew he didn’t want to see the crime photos for these batch of victims.

“My God. They’re all...”

“Children. Yes. And he specializes in killing those who specifically have parents in the police force.”

Conan felt his body go weak. “But... why? Why kill a kid?”

“We don’t know,” said Megure darkly, cracking his knuckles against his palm. “I was hoping Mori-san could catch the nutty bastard so I could ask him myself.”

“With all respect, Megure-kebu. If I get my hands on him, he wouldn’t be able to answer any of your questions.”

To Be Continued...
Please Read and Review!

I know its been forever and a day since I updated. And most of you people probably thought I dropped the story. Well to be honest, I thought about it. But since I still had notes on it, I decided to keep it and wait for a strike of DC inspiration to come again.

Which of course it did.

So here’s the continuation. Hopefully it won’t take too long for the next chapter.

Thanks so much to those who have reviewed so far! BeachCat, A Bibliophile, Elvin Flame, BluFox15, Tsuki Kurayami, KuroNite, Hydok, Horselvr4evr123, diddledum, rebecca85, Kari Minamoto, LambSam, Emerald-eclipse, CrystalKitteN-MeW, karissa, Rasgara, Deaths pet fox, AntiSora, AngryPinkChibi, Inumaru12, The Violent Tomboy, Ekly Valdur, Melanie Paige Martin, Teldra, kudoshinichi23, Legendary Chimera, BRYGUYB16, ILuvRanma, The Modern Prometheus, Becky Yuy, Anne, Serphenia, Basser, DaisyAnimeluvr, YumeTakato, Crysania Fay, TerrierLee, Blu-chan, MovinForward218 and Southpaw.

Most of you will need to reread the first chapter. The rest won’t even remember having reviewed. But that’s okay. It’s been a year since I’ve updated. But I’m back now. And I sincerely apologize for the wait.

Next time, Kogoro investigates the serial killer case. And Conan begins to have disturbing nightmares.

Please review!

With a keen eye for detail, one truth prevails.