Disclaimers and the like: Detective Conan is the creation of Gosho Aoyama. Whadda guy huh?! I earn no money from this and with luck will recieve positive feedback (hint hint.) Ah life. ^_^ This story is a PWP, WAFF and counts as brain candy. When all is said and done though, it makes me smile. With luck it'll do the same for you. If it does... let me know.
Sudden Storm
The sultry heat of the late summer evening made the air thick and heavy. Every breath filled the lungs with moist, hot air. There was nothing that didn’t feel damp. Across the sky stretched storm clouds, the kind that reign briefly and promise cooler winds when they’re deposed. Heat lightening played along the outer lips of the grey ceiling, making people hurry to their various destinations. Many cast frequent glances at the cloud cover, hoping to arrive before the heavens opened.
When Conan opened the door to the office the first thing he noticed was Ran had meant to wash the windows. A bucket of steaming liquid sat on the desk beside a pile of rags. That she wasn't actually doing it was the second thing.
The young detective stood for a long moment, just watching her.
There were no lights on in the office, and the mounting storm was enough to alternately light and dim the streetlights outside. Ran sat on the window ledge, feet on the sill before her, head resting against the glass, her eyes focused on nothing. She was the very image of misery. She also appeared unaware of him. Listlessly a hand rose and began to write in the condensation on the glass. An invisible fist suddenly crushed his heart and his knees felt weak as Conan saw his name, his real name, formed in long dripping letters. The light from the street lamps without gave the letters a jewel like twinkle for the brief time that Ran allowed them to stay there, her hand coming up once again to wipe the letters away in a quick wet swipe.
As if weary of looking at what only her eyes could see Ran’s eyelids sank closed and with a deep sigh she turned from the window, her eyes slowly opening and meeting his. No sign of recognition passed her face.
"You're home late," she said, her voice flat, and then she returned her gaze to the window.
Conan smiled, blushing, explanations rising to his lips but she didn't give him a chance to voice them.
"You should go to bed."
Conan blinked in surprise. This was, perhaps, the harshest she had ever spoke to him. But, thinking fast, he smiled again, "I was just going to get myself some juice and was stopping to see if you wanted anything."
Ran didn’t look at him, "There's juice in the kitchen."
"I finished it after school," he replied, and turning, hastily bid her good-bye over his shoulder before she had a chance to say more. Running as fast as he could Conan headed for the nearest phone booth. He knew it would be too obvious, calling her seconds after rushing out, but the anguish he was unwillingly inflicting on Ran superceded caution.
Ran didn't look up as the phone started ringing again. Whoever it was obviously didn't want to leave a message and she was beyond caring for the moment. When it began to ring for the third time she heard the answering machine finally click on. The greeting message, in her father's voice, filled the office and when the beep came part of her mind turned towards the machine to see who it was.
"Ran? It's me. Are you there? …Ran?"
Ran made no move towards the phone, in fact, she moved not at all.
"I wanted to say hi," Shinichi’s voice went on, "I was thinking of you," these last words came in a rush, "and thinking if you were here I probably would have solved this case by now. I guess I need your perspective more than I thought…."
His voice faded to a whisper and there was a pause before he haltingly began again, "I'm sorry... Ran... I’m sorry… that I missed you. I wish you were there..."
When Conan entered the office an impossibly short time later Ran was in the same position that he had left her in but a glance at the answering machine, which showed no messages, told a different story. So she had heard, and erased, the message. The young detective knew better than to try and draw her out so he set the can of soda he had brought her at her feet and silently went to his room.
The rumble of thunder that followed the flash of lightening only served to tease him. It would be so easy to do, and there was a perverse logic to it, but his pride wouldn’t allow him and he hated himself for it.
The storm intensified as Conan paced the room. The light from over his bed did little more than cast his shadow in long caricatures of himself. High winds and lashing rain pounded against the window while the writhing phantoms of tree branches swayed on the walls. Any child his age would be scared and seek the comfort of an older sister he thought yet again. But he was not this age and he blushed at the thoughts that kept him pacing his room.
A sudden loud pop made him whip around towards the bed as the room went dark. In the next second, as his heart slowed, he realized the power had gone off, that was all. But even as he came to this conclusion the door to his room slid open with enough force to make him almost cry out. A flash of lightening turned the room white, allowing Conan to see Ran framed in the door. It seemed his problem had taken care of itself.
Her face was ashen as she hurried to him. Dropping to her knees Ran threw her arms around the detective and clutched him with a strength he couldn’t hope too resist. She must have taken his being up as meaning he had been headed for her room. Conan closed his eyes and mentally smiled.
Ran’s slim frame shook as she held Conan. So much of her life had been slipping away from her that she clung to this young stranger as the only safety net in a chaotic world. She would have cried if she could, but the past two hours had been spent in just that activity and she felt weak and drained. After several minutes she began rocking gently, loosening her grip on Conan but still not looking at him. Hesitantly Conan raised his arms, hugging Ran around her waist. The fear of rejection evaporated in the next second as she dropped her forehead onto his shoulder. The pricking of tears burned his eyes, coupled with the desire to tell her everything, so he screwed them shut and gently squeezed the young woman in his arms.
"Ranneechan," Conan ventured softly, but she shook her head, not yet ready to speak, so he let her be. Sitting on the floor of his room Conan watched the displays of the tempest, wrapped in the warm embrace of the woman he loved, and wishing the storm would never end.
But summer storms pass as quickly as they form. All to soon the grumbling thunder wandered on, the clouds parted and the tiny lights of stars salted the night sky.
"It’s over," he whispered softly, and as an after thought added, "Thank you."
Ran nodded against his shoulder. She drew in a long shuttering breath and said, "I thought you might be afraid."
Conan considered this. Her voice belied the words she spoke and their real meaning shown amid the sounds. She had sought him out, plain and simple. For whatever reason she had needed him and he felt thrilled that he was there for her, even in this form.
"Ran," he whispered, but she cut him off.
"Don’t."
If ever he was sure she knew it was at that moment, and yet he said nothing.
"Don’t," she whispered. Her voice was heavy with the same despair he had found her in before the storm, seated in the office window. Conan knew he was rapidly losing ground. "I don’t want to hear it tonight," she finished flatly. "Not tonight."
The young detective disentangled himself from Ran’s arms and stood over her, looking down at her slightly. Without a sound he wrapped her head in his arms and pulled her against his chest. Ran lasted almost a whole minute before the tears began anew. Her hands rose up and twisted themselves in Conan’s nightshirt. The past months became a howling in her chest that she fought to suppress. The long nights, the fear and worst of all, the lies, the countless lies, all longed to escape in an explosion of sound but once again she withheld them.
Conan carefully removed his glasses and dropped his cheek down onto the top of her head. He could hear her voice, muffled against his chest, but not the words so he drew away to listen.
"You smelling like him…" she repeated, pulling him back. Conan was surprised, but didn't move away.
Suddenly Ran was shaking her head, violently denying something, over and over. Her hair slid smoothly under his chin and he squeezed her harder, striving to be of comfort, or at least remind her that he was still with her. He could feel her name on his lips, but wasn't sure if he was actually saying anything. Once again her barely audible words were pressed to his chest. Conan stooped a little, to hear her better, and felt her cheek rubbing against his as she continued to fight whatever demon threatened her. The sensation of her skin against his was pure bliss and for a moment Conan forgot himself in her cool smooth skin.
But the situation seemed to be getting worse and Conan finally had to catch her head in his hands to stop her. He barked her name, trying to draw her attention, and she stopped then, looking up at him with a tear-streaked face. As Conan watched her eyes grew wide in wonder. Slowly her lips parted and formed his given name. She didn't make a sound but continued to gaze up as him, seeing something he could only wonder at. Conan suddenly became aware of his breath; he was panting… hard. The look on her face was going through his heart like a knife. How he had longed to see Ran look at him in this way! Moving before he rethought the desire he bent his head and kissed her.
Ran sucked in breath, and in the next second relaxed in his arms, her eyes sinking closed. The contact between them becoming the key to her release.
And the spell was broken.
Ran, finally overcome by the emotion exhaustion of the evening, fell asleep in his arms. Conan stood, her head pressed against his chest wondering how long this happiness could last. He was willing to stand here all night, cradling her head, his cheek tenderly placed in her hair.
When he awoke it was to the sounds of activity. Sitting up he looked around in surprise. He was alone in bed. Obviously someone had carried him here. His plan appeared to have been thwarted by the fact that Ran was just too comfortable. With a disappointed sigh he slipped out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
Sliding the bedroom door open he was almost immediately confronted by a smiling Ran.
"Good morning!" she beamed at him.
Conan could feel his color rising as he smiled back. For a fleeting moment he couldn’t meet her eyes but then he returned her gaze with the same warmth.
"Some storm, huh?" he asked with a soft giggle.
Ran nodded, still smiling, her eyes gazing out the bedroom window, "But it’s gone now and everything looks just perfect outside."
Conan allowed his eyes to follow hers to the window and the brilliant day beyond. Turning back he smiled, "Just perfect."