Teamwork

A Detective Conan-related tale

By Soyokaze (Crap, I haven't posted anything in a WHILE . . .)

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He was vaguely aware of the feeling of something coarse and constrictive around his throat, a sensation muddled by the haze through which he perceived reality. He was aware enough to recall that it was autumn, and the brown and gray fog around him meant he was somewhere in the woods. There was warmth, something warm moving beneath him, and the deliberate, dexterous movements of a body at his back; he realized that person was the only thing holding him up. The details of the case in currency were lazily floating their way to the top of his brain, only to be dragged down again by the numbness he felt in every inch of his body and the weight of whatever drug had been injected into the place where his neck and shoulder met with the quick and ferocious jab of a needle.

Heavy eyelids threatened to close again, enticed by the sedative, but Heiji resisted his body's pleas for more sleep. He was recognizing, slowly, as the details of the situation occurred to him through the suppression of the drug, that he was in danger, a very real danger. He knew who it was at his back, tying the rope around his neck to a strong tree limb above; he had known it seconds before he was injected and passed out. He remembered a strong desire to run out to Shin'ichi, who was about on the grounds, and reveal hitherto concealed information. The murderer had gotten to him first.

He felt tiny pinprick-sized bolts of pain in the tips of his numb fingers as he tried to move his arms. Frustration welled in him as he willed the world before him to solidify, and it did not obey, following the example of his voice as he attempted a scream. He concentrated hard on the tautness of muscles under skin at his back; a person, a man, larger than him, and fairly strong. There was something about Kaitou Kid . . . he was planning a heist, and it had something to do with the murders . . .

Dark skin. All the victims, the complexion of his own grandfather's ancestors.

Panic was now seizing the young detective, and seemed to be the only sensation that could effectively assert itself through the thick intoxication. The body supporting him became still, in preparation. It expanded, as the man took a deep breath, and then there was a quick jerk of movement as all warmth and support left Heiji, the toes of his shoes desperately brushing the leaves under his feet. At the same time, he had managed to persuade his arms to obey, summoning an energy that he feared would throw him into unconsciousness again, and inserted his fingers between the rope and the skin of his throat. It would delay strangulation for futile seconds, and left his body tired and prey for another drug-induced faint. The last things he was aware of were his fingers, slipping from the noose and hanging limp and useless at his sides, the animal thumping of hooves against hard ground becoming distant, and a flash of white as something cut through the gray-brown mist of autumn.

---

He felt incredibly inane and quite stupid when he thought of how he hadn't realized it before. Dark skin. All the hanged men, dark-skinned, just the same as the partner he had brought with him. Leaving Heiji to his own devices in a dangerous environment when the killer wasn't after those of his ancestral line was generally a bad scenario, not to mention when someone was actually out to kill him. And the Osakan detective had just called him, hung up before he could answer, and was currently unresponsive to the countless returning calls Shin'ichi was dialing. Kaitou Kid also had yet to show up. Something was wrong.

The detective knew he had not been wrong about the riddle. The 'auspices of the golden sentry' were early dawn, and he and his partner had already been up all night recovering hanged bodies and preserving delicate crime scenes. Heiji stayed inside near the Midnight Opal, Shin'ichi patrolled the courtyards of the house for Kid's flamboyant costume. It wasn't until he saw a chestnut mare hovering near the edge of the forest, shying away as he approached, but clearly anticipating something, that the pieces of information in his mind fell immediately and dreadfully together. And his phone vibrated in his back pocket.

He was racing through the house, the dim gray of morning casting frayed shadows on the walls. Vaguely he noted that the Opal was still in its case, but the Opal became obsolete as he discovered a broken syringe needle on the floor next to it. Blue eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath, and Shin'ichi took off for the woods where the mare was complying with the killer. Currently cursing the ominous quiet of morning, he made a circuitous path through the dense woodlands, making sure to cover as much ground as possible and hoping the killer would disregard the din his search created and not take more drastic measures than his already established modus operandi.

His face drained of color and his heart threatened to break through the skin of his chest when he found what he was looking for, halting so abruptly he was nearly thrown to the ground. Heiji, unconscious, a noose tightened about his throat, but with one feature for which he had not accounted; Kaitou Kid at his feet, supporting him so he would not simply hang and choke. Kid was facing away from him, looking every inch a spectre in the dim autumn sunrise, but as Shin'ichi approached Kid instinctively raised his card-throwing gun to aim accurately at the intruder without so much as turning his head.

"Kid, it's Kudo!" Shin'ichi yelped, and Kid turned, monocle glinting. His normal smirk had been temporarily replaced by a stern intensity. He pointed his gun at the rope above Heiji's head.

"Other side, Tantei-kun," Kaitou curtly replied, and the detective promptly complied by taking a post on the other side of his friend and wrapping his arms around Heiji's legs. Kaitou's eyebrows twitched into a frown as he fired the gun expertly. Heiji collapsed as the rope was cleanly cut by the razor-edged cards, and Shin'ichi edged him to the ground.

"He's not breathing," the detective noted with an emotion as close to panic as the calm, detached boy would allow himself. Kid pursed his lips; Shin'ichi would have marveled at this hidden side of the phantom thief had his closest friend not been laying in the crisp autumn leaves before them, dying.

"Clear his airway," Kid instructed, although Shin'ichi was already doing so. Kid joined his gloved hands in one large fist, pressed them to the space above the Osakan's diaphragm, and heaved his whole body into a point of pressure on the dark-skinned boy's stomach. He repeated the action, and three more times, and before he had time for prompting, Shin'ichi bent down and breathed into his friend's mouth. Heiji did not respond to them.

It took under a minute, but it seemed like ages to Shin'ichi, who grew paler and paler as they repeated the process until suddenly Heiji's lungs inhaled the oxygen for which they were wanting. He breathed haltingly for a moment, turning on his side towards Shin'ichi, with glazed eyes that told Shin'ichi immediately that he was still being in fluenced by a sedative. Green eyes slowly closed, and then opened just as lethargically, focusing lazily on the friend above him who was firmly clasping his shaking shoulder.

"Shin-" He never finished the name, for his head lolled back and his eyes threatened to close again. The other detective lifted him up, tapping softly on his cheek.

"Hattori, talk to me," Shin'ichi stammered, his voice difficult to control as relief and adrenaline rushed out of him. Green eyes peered through slits at him, clearly affronted at whoever was hitting him. "You have to stay awake until whatever he gave you loses effect."

Heiji let his head loll back, trying to breathe in deeply and still finding it difficult. "Er right," he managed, loss of sleep and oxygen and clarity taxing him. His eyes searched the area with the caution of a paranoid drunk; in any other situation the expression would have made Shin'ichi laugh. All the Tokyo native could think at the moment however, was one simple phrase: He's alive. Thank God.

Heiji rose one hand to his face and let his head fall into it as Shin'ichi helped him sit up. As the dark-skinned detective rubbed his forehead in what seemed an effort to clear his head, his partner and the thief suddenly noticed one another.

Kaitou was smirking again, and it suddenly made Shin'ichi furious.

As was his nature, Shin'ichi allowed the anger to only manifest in the barest of traces; losing control meant losing perspective. He had no reservations, however, of letting his words radiate with vitriol.

"You think this is funny, don't you."

Kaitou sighed that aggravating, arrogant sigh of his, demonstrating that Shin'ichi had completely misread him. "It's my fault."

Shin'ichi narrowed his eyes, allowing Heiji (who seemed quite content with the Kid's presence) to lean against him for support. "What?"

Kid met his eyes again. "He planned it this way. To lure you and Hattori-kun here. To kill Hattori while you were distracted with my theft. He was using me as a decoy." His eyes narrowed dangerously, the smirk gaining an ominous edge to it. "I'm not quite as fond of that as one might think. You know, my being a great fan of dangerous games and all that."

Shin'ichi's immediate thought was that he was glad he was on Kid's 'good side,' as it were. Heiji moaned slightly as his faculties began returning to him, mumbling about a throbbing pain in his head. Kid cast a furtive glance at him.

"He's not out of the proverbial woods just yet, however. He's going to be very weak. He needs to drink plenty of water to cleanse his system and rest, which I am quite aware is not normally a word in dear Hattori's vocabulary."

"Shut up, Kid," came the distant, distracted reply. The comment did elicit a sentimental smile from Shin'ichi. Kid raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as Heiji's playful green eyes met his.

"You're welcome, my dear detective."

And Shin'ichi, acknowledging his closest friend's savior in his own subtle way, nodded. Kaitou sighed the arrogant sigh of the phantom thief, standing with a flourish of his cape.

"No one uses my heists as an excuse for murder. It's something that our favorite equestrian is going to realize in. . ." Kid paused to make a big show of looking at his watch, and looked down at the two detectives with a huge grin on his face. "Give me about twelve minutes." He cast a meaningful look at Shin'ichi. "Assuming I find him first, of course."

And, in a move that surprised Shin'ichi more than anything that had transpired in the past fifteen minutes, Kid, rather than using a smoke bomb, flash bomb, hang-glider, or otherwise, simply turned and walked away from them. It was a remarkably trusting move, and one of which Shin'ichi was certainly not above taking full advantage. But as he raised the hand in control of his tranquilizer gun/watch, he felt a sudden weight on it. Heiji's still shaking hand was restraining him; the fingers hadn't the strength yet to close about his wrist, but simply lay atop his hand and gave him pause. Heiji was leaning on him, and had little strength in him yet, but still managed to turn his head enough that Shin'ichi heard his whisper.

"Don't be a jackass."

Shin'ichi breathed a laugh, and helped Heiji to stand up so they could begin the difficult journey back to the house and the confrontation with the murderer.

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Short, and perhaps a bit OOC, but I figured it was time I posted something new. For those of you who might be reading it, I believe Lands Lost is due for an update. I hope to get it to you soon. Ja!