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Magician\'s Waltz	By : VisageWriters Category: +. to F > Detective Conan/Case Closed Views: 2738 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Detective Conan - Case Closed, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
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- 4
“Live has no
rehearsals, only performances.” -Unknown

--

It only takes a single instant for
your wold to change. For everything you knew to vanish, and for the
unknown to replace it. For someone predisposed to insanity via
trauma, genetics or just plain desire, that instant can last forever.

--

The wig was hot, the tights binding.
The sheer amount of LAYERS was stifling, even in the cooling fall
evening. He resisted the urge to scratch his head as he stood behind
the introductory speaker, shifting only slightly as the tights bound
at his thighs again, trying to cut off circulation under the
short...things the costume required him to wear.

Turning his head, he blew a curl from
his face, glancing at his 'wife' who looked equally hot and miserable
under her wig and layers of dress and under garments. Giving her a
small smile he offered her his hand, giving the small palm in his a
gentle squeeze as he shifted, holding her hand as they continued
listening to the speech.

Sadly this speaker was only the first
of a long, long list of forgin and local dignitaries. Three
countries worth in fact.

They were in for a miserable adventure.

--

Sita was the wife of Rama, the Seventh
Avatara of Vishnu. Her life story was passed down for centuries,
preached to each girl growling up in India as the values to possess
and strive for in life, no matter how harsh or demanding.

The statues built to her honor were
ones of great beauty, honoring not only the physical beauty of the
woman, but her spiritual beauty and strength.

In one of these beautiful statues, a
shimmering blue eye watches over those seeking her guidance, the
other long since lost to time.

--

He groaned, stretching his arms over
his head as he listened to the sink faucet run. “If I hear one
more dignitary open his mouth I'm going to belt him.” he muttered,
grabbing the bottle of water on the sink and taking a long, much
needed drink.

“Really Louis, such behavior from a
King.” the woman next to him said, smiling as she turned off the
faucet and wiped her hands before pulling her glove back on.

Her 'husband' smiled and took her hand,
giving it a kiss. “You can't deny they would deserve it, Marie.”
he said before raising their arms, forcing the woman to turn so that
her back was to him. Picking up the necklace laying on the small
shelf in their private resting area, he slid his arm around her neck,
opening the ends of the necklace before sliding it across her throat,
humming as he secured the latches, adjusting the gold and diamond
layers so that the large blue stone in the center rested just
perfectly above the curve of her cleavage.

“Another day, another brilliant
performance.” he said, kissing her ear before grabbing his cape,
sliding it over his shoulders. Offering her his arm and lead her
from the room and out to join the assembled, taking their seats again
as the museum guards and curators started setting up the display for
the next portion of the ceremony.

--

The Order of the Golden Fleece was an
order of chivalry, containing 51 knights in the height of it's
popularity. It was started as a celebration of a royal marriage and
lasted even unto this day, with the last recorded awarding to a
member in Japan being the current Emperor, Akihito.

In 1749, one of the most prominent
members of the order, was King Louis XV of France, who wore his sheep
shaped pendant proudly, along with a rare blue diamond.

--

Saguru watched the building of the
display with intense scrutiny, studying not only each face and person
associated with the construction, but the construction itself, making
sure nothing went amiss. Handcuffed to his wrist was a small black
briefcase, his hand clenched around the handle so tightly that his
knuckles were turning white.

He had been called out of school that
morning for a very intriguing and honorable job. He was to escort
the...special guest of today's ceremony from Narita
International Airport to the ceremony site, and then to the vault
where it would be kept until the more permanent display cases were
completed.

He was leaving nothing to chance or
circumstance. He would die before something happened to the case and
it's contents. It wasn't just his reputation and honor at stake, but
those of his country, and several others.

National treasures were not to just
disappear.

--

In 1812, a 45.52 carat blue diamond
came to light in the possession of one Daniel Eliason of London. No
records exist to point to how the gentleman acquired such a fine
specimen, and the exchange of hands after his possession are also
missing, until 1824 where it was discovered again in the gem
collection of one Henry Phillip Hope.

--

“Ladies and Gentleman!” the speaker
said and Saguru attempted not to wince, finding he had a distaste of
that phrase, English or not. He moved forward at his cue, raising
the case and laying it on the glass podium, nearly blinded by the
flashbulbs going off.

This was the first time he had ever had
his picture taken for something that had absolutely nothing to do
with him. He turned his wrist as two guards came over, one holding
his wrist, the other unlocking the cuff.

Lowering his wrist to his side, trying
to ignore the tingling of his blood returning to normal circulation,
he stepped back a step, watching as the guards inspected the case
before bowing to him. He returned to his place and fished a set of
keys from his shirt pocket, unlocking the case and opening it fully.
He slid the key away again before reaching into the case and raising
the inner shelf, lifting the small pedestal. He then grabbed the
glass cover next to his podium and placed it over the pedestal,
snapping the lid of the briefcase backwards so the reverse hinges
locked and the lid was completely out of the way.

“The Smithsonian Institution is proud
to present to you, the Hope Diamond!”

There were cheers as the brilliant blue
diamond was displayed for all assembled, flashbulbs going off in
orgasmic joy at the sight they were capturing for nations to see.
Saguru, if asked, would admit the stone was a beautiful piece. He
wasn't a gem expert or enthusiast by any means, but after spending so
much time working theft, and having a mother fond of the sparky
minerals, he could appreciate the beauty that they offered.

And the Hope Diamond was nothing if not
beautiful...and shiny...very shiny. He shifted his position so that
the reflected sunbeams and flash reflections wouldn't blind him,
still keeping a wary eye on everyone and thing around him as he
guarded the diamond, backed up by two forces of security.

He wondered if it was this nerve
wracking guarding the royal family.

--

The Hope Diamond, once part of a much
larger gem known as the French Blue, is reportedly responsible for
many tragedies, from bankruptcy, to rape and murder. Some of the
most notable names in history have fallen under is dramatic spell,
from French Queen Marie Antoinette, to American Mining Heiress Evalyn
Walsh McLean. (the later easily disproved as the socialite died of
pneumonia at the ripe old age of 60).

Through it's long, strange journey from
the supposed eye of an Indian statue to the crowning glory of an
American museum's gem collection, it has passed through hands of the
greatest and the worst in society, it has been blamed for the worst
atrocities men can inflict upon each other...it has been worn by a
Great Dane as it's dog collar.

And the legend and myth surrounding the
gem have become the things that books are written about and children
whisper to each other in the dead of night.

It has only been stolen once in it's
recorded history.

--

Saguru was tired. The ceremony had
lasted long into the night, until the Hope Diamond itself was
twinkling tiredly in the flood lights. But finally, at three am the
speeches were done, the crowd had gone home, and he was free to head
to the vault to store the Diamond and wash his hands of it's care.

He yawned, shuffling slightly as he
walked down the dark hallway between the front doors and the limo
that was waiting for him. The vault was a non nondescript building
two blocks away, assumed by most to be an office complex for a group
of accountants.

His guards were still at the front
doors, the museum emptied before the ceremony started. The only
people allowed inside were the official dignitaries, the museum
personal, himself, his guards and the costumed actors that were hired
to represent prominent era's in the stone's history.

But this deep in the Museum there was
no one, everyone else restricted to the front offices and rooms of
the museum. He stretched his arms, wincing at the pain in his bound
wrist, giving it a rotation as he lifted the briefcase with his other
hand.

A shadow fell across the floor and he
frowned, releasing the briefcase to draw his gun, pulling the slide
back to load a bullet. The weapon had been a birthday gift from his
father, and he was remorseful to actually use such a beautiful piece
in the course of duty, but it served him far better then his late
model revolver. More bullets for one thing.

He raised the weapon, his cuffed hand
reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small ladies make up
compact. He flipped the latch with his thumbnail and used his teeth
to adjust the hinge so that the compact was in a V before using it to
peer around the corner ahead of him. His eyebrows drew together as
he spotted the King Louis actor, wondering at the actor's intentions.

“You're not supposed to be back
here.” he called. The actor turned and stared at the mirror, the
gaze reflecting back to Saguru via the mirror. “What is your
business?” the detective quired, not moving around the corner just
yet, still unsure of the intentions of the intruder.

He was in a rough spot. No guard, the
Hope Diamond strapped to his wrist, and a gun that he didn't want to
fire into some guy who wondered back here for innocent reasons (or
even not so innocent, he just didn't like shooting people).

The decision of what do to however, was
taken out of his hands as the man moved, faster then Saguru would
have thought for an overweight, middle aged man. The actor turned
the corner and was in front of the teen before the gun was even
halfway lowered.

Saguru's finger tightened on the
trigger just as cuffed wrist was grabbed. A shoulder met his mid
section and the blond was airborne, cursing as his wrist twisted in
the man's grasp, a sharp crack punctuation the air, followed by
Saguru's body slamming into the marble tiled floor.

Dizzy, vision swimming with fog Saguru
tried to push himself up, crumbling as his broken wrist gave out
beneath his weight. There was a metallic click and Saguru's eyes
widened, staring up at the gun pointed at his forehead.

The far wider then normal barrel was a
distinctively familiar object.

“I will cut off your wrist if I have
to,” the actor said, his voice blank, neither heat nor cold
colouring his words. The pair remained frozen, the words hovering
before the actor knelt, jerking the wrist that was holding Saguru up,
causing the teen to hit the floor, his jaw landing first, blood
filling his mouth from his sliced tounge.

Flipping the boy over with rather
relative ease, the actor switched wrists and studied the shiny silver
handcuff bound to Saguru. The teen, not wishing to give up his
charge so easily kicked out with his legs. There was a stumble, his
wrist dropped as the would be thief jumped, back flipping away from
the limb attempting to knock him down.

Saguru scooted backwards as fast as he
could with an injured hand, eyes scanning wildly about before resting
on his gun, part way across the room. He aimed his scooting in that
direction, listening to the sounds of the thief standing.

“That wasn't very nice, Hakuba-kun.”
the thief said and reached into his many clothing layers, pulling out
what appeared to be a can of spray paint.

“It wasn't supposed to be, Kid-san.”

Saguru growled, finally collapsing onto the floor, reaching
desperately for his gun. His fingers slid over the cool metal and he
struggled to grab a hold of it, just as it was kicked away from him.
Saguru growled again and looked up, just in time to get a face full
of bright pink sleeping glass.

The teen detective coughed for a moment
before collapsing, eyes closed in sleep. Kid shook his head and
straddled the teen's waist, finding it a better position to work from
as he laid the broken wrist across Saguru's chest, pulling his lock
pick set from his wig, working on the cuff that bound his prey to the
teen.

“Really, Hakuba. You keep walking
into these messes. First your own gas and now mine. One would think
you would grow an immunity to it considering how many times I've
doused you.” he said conversationally as he worked the lock.

He took his eyes off the cuff to study
Saguru's sleeping face before returning his attention to the tricky
lock. It finally snapped open and Kid smiled, licking his lips as he
lifted the case. He leaned in and placed a big kiss against Saguru's
cheek. “Someone as pretty as you should not put themselves in a
situation where they could get hurt, Saguru-chan.” he whispered,
licking Saguru's ear before standing. He fished around in his
costume before pulling out a marker.

Kneeling again, he pushed Saguru's tie
out of the way, opening the teen's shirt to bare his neck and upper
chest, then, with painstaking effort, drew a small image of himself,
holding a mini replica of the Hope Diamond.

He stood again, and set the briefcase
on a display case of shrunken heads before pulling off his wig, cape,
and the other various costuming layers purloined from the true King
Louis actor. Each layer that came off revealed another layer that
remained, until the teen was dressed in a simple white suit (and
white tights, but they didn't' show).

He pulled a small hair dryer shaped
object from the pile of clothing and studied the cealing above him
before pressing the trigger. A grappling hook shot out, wrapping
around one of the cealing support beams above the fourth floor. He
grabbed the briefcase, then flipped a switch and pressed the trigger
again, swallowing the scream that tried to come out as his body was
suddenly jerked into air, almost smashing into the walls from the
momentum and swinging motion as he flew diagonally.

Grabbing the fourth floor walkway
railing, he halted his flight and retrieved the hook, tucking it on
his belt before grabbing the hang glider harness and heading through
the rooms to the waiting balcony.

--

Kaito groaned as his eyes opened and he
sat up, yawning, staring around the basement bedroom in confusion.
He didn't remember laying down, he didn't even remember coming
downstairs. He remembered...

He remembered sitting down to his
computer to catch up on some of the school work he had missed while
he had been...away and then...nothing.

Nothing to explain why he was
downstairs, in the secret room, in the hidden bedroom, nothing to
explain why he was sore...

He was really, really starting to hate
these black outs. At least he had the sense to lie down before it
happened. Standing he headed through the bedroom and then the work
room, smiling at his father's picture, gently brushing his fingers
over the painting before pushing it open and stepping through, just
as the living room phone rang.

“I've got it!” he called, pushing
the painting shut and grabbing the handset. “Hello!” he said
cheerily in English, heading through the kitchen, grabbing a pear on
his way and kissing his mother's cheek, who swatted at him playfully.

“Kaito?! Oh thank the gods you're
there! There's been an accident! Hakuba and dad are at the
Emergency room!”

Kaito's mouth dropped open, almost
losing the bite of pear he had taken. “Aoko? What happened? Is
your father all right?” Kaito said, his mind waking up and revving
up, trying to review all the possible injuries that could have
happened to the two detectives. Sure the pair weren't his two
favorite people at times, the whole out for his blood and monocle
thing putting a damper on their relationships, but they WERE friends
of sorts, and he didn't want to think of them in some of the
situations their jobs could put them in.

That he sometimes put them in.

“Dad's fine, he's babysitting
Hakuba.” Aoko said, calming down as she talked with her childhood
friend. Kaito's voice could always sooth her at her most frazzled,
just as it could enrage her in the same moment. Right now, she was
glad it was soothing.

“What happened to Hakuba?” Kaito
asked, his tone quite clearly saying the blond deserved it, even
through they both knew that wasn't really what Kaito thought. But
the rivalry was familiar and comforting in a time when their friend
could be seriously injured.

“I don't know, I just know he got
injured in the heist! No one will tell me ANYTHING and it's
absolutely ridiculous! Last time the Kid pulled one of his stunts he
was SHOT and now they tell me Hakuba's injured and they won't tell me
how and I'm worried it might be bad and...”

Kaito's mind shut out Aoko's rambling,
trying to connect invisible puzzle pieces with edges that refused to
match up. Heist? WHAT heist? And what was this about Kid? He was
Kid, Kid wasn't doing anything but currently eating a pear.

“Aoko...AOKO!”

“Huh? Oh, what?” she said,
pausing in her rant, startled by the interruption.

“WHAT heist are you talking about?
Haven't you seen the news or read the paper? Kaitou Kid sent out a
notice a week ago. Everyone was so...HAPPY, if you can believe that,
that he was going to steal something! Well, I guess they were happy
he was alive, you know how they are. Anyway it was a really weird
note and no one could figure it out, well, okay they had the time
about, but no idea WHAT was being stolen so they couldn't figure out
when and then...”

Kaito tried to listen, but honestly his
mind was a group of screaming alarms right now, trying to figure out
how a heist had been performed without his knowledge or permission.
He would blame Jii, except for he KNEW the man wasn't even in the
city at the time. Jii had gone to Hiroshima to pick up a new order
of pink gas, this time scented with mango's, a specialty that one
could ONLY get in that city, from a certain vendor. The elderly man
was then going to swing by Kyoto and pick up a few bolts of silk from
a long time acquaintance, who provided the material for all of his
capes.

So who was running around using his
name?!

“Aoko, what was targeted?” he
asked, mind flipping over to the section of his brain that filed away
information on jewels and their histories, wondering if it was
something that would help or harm his reputation. His eyes cast idly
around the living room as he thought of all the targets he had been
thinking of before the accident, hoping it wasn't one of his top
five.

“The Hope Diamond.” The girl said,
at the same time Kaito's eyes rested on the Buddha statue on their
alter in the den.

Where the blue diamond in question
rested happily, the white diamond chain wrapped around the Buddha's
neck. The statue looked quite happy to be sporting a new addition,
pleased with the cursed jewel necklace.

“I...I'll head over to the hospital,
give me a few minutes.” Kaito choked out and hung up just as Aoko
had taken a breath to reply, eyes widening, almost to a terrified
extreme as he stared at the stolen necklace. “MOM!” he screamed,
turning and running for the kitchen, eager for answers.

--

The noises of the busy hospital were
starting to irritate Saguru, causing his eye to twitch with each
beep, each shrill laugh of the nurses. The forensics team had
already come and gone, removing his dignity as they combed his hair
into envelopes, removed his clothing for the trace labs to examine,
and photographed his neck and wrists.

His gun was taken as well, not that it
would help much, the chambered bullet had been removed for safety,
but never fired, and as far as he knew, Kid hadn't touched it.

Once the evidence was removed for
testing he was allowed to be treated, the deep blue cast around his
hand and forearm a painful reminder that things had gone very, very
wrong.

Nakamori was outside the room, ignoring
the non smoking signs, puffing away as he fielded calls from the
press and brass alike, covering Saguru as best he could. But the
teen knew things were bad. He had been entrusted with the care of a
national treasure and now it was gone, somewhere in Japan in the
hands of a white clad thief. This was NOT going to reflect good on
him, his fellow officers, or his country.

And he feared the reaction when the
news hit England. He wouldn't get a job guarding a dog park, let
alone that nice Inspector's job with Scotland Yard he had once
dreamed of.

The teen sighed heavily, laying back in
the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the
emotions that just wanted him to break down and cry. He lifted his
cast hand, staring at it, trying to make sense of everything that had
happened.

But it just DIDN'T make sense. If it
hadn't been for all the evidence, he would have suspected an
impostor. The whole fight was off, not only Kid's reactions but the
injury, the threats...there was no hint of the playful, bouncing
magician he knew inside the clothing of the thief. Nor were their
hints of the performance minded, playful thief himself.

Just a blank slate.

It was as if...and Saguru felt like an
idiot for even thinking it, as if everything that had once made
Kid...Kid was locked away, missing. And the thief hadn't yet found
things to replace those missing things. Everyone's personality is
after all, defined by experience. The sum total of what we live
through, creates who we are.

If you take away those things, you are
left with an empty drawing board that needs to be filled back in
again. Likes, desires, hatreds, friendships, all need to be formed
and connected before the board fills in.

But people just didn't LOSE themselves.
Even amnesiacs have their personalities, they just lack the memories
that made up that personalities.

Something tickled at the back of
Saguru's brain and he frowned, trying to connect the dots with that
tickle, the connection weak and slippery as the tickle was not
revealing itself into thought. He was distracted from this, however,
when the door opened.

Raising his eyes, his eyebrow followed
as he stared at the nervous magician in the doorway. “Do what do I
owe the pleasure?” he asked, watching Kaito warily, tucking his
injured arm closer to his chest. He KNEW Kaito was Kid. He knew it
just as well as he knew Watson or his parents. He just lacked the
evidence to prove it.

So Kaito walking into his hospital
room, so soon after being injured by the teens alter ego, was a bit
nerve wracking.

“What, I can't come by and visit my
favorite bumbling British detective?” Kaito asked with a grin,
closing the door behind him, almost bouncing across the room as he
set something on Saguru's head.

Saguru, proud not to flinch as the teen
moved closer to him rolled his eyes up, trying to see what was on his
head before reaching up and removing the object, looking at it. A
bear...dressed as Sherlock Holmes.

Cute.

He gave Kaito a look, ignoring the
boy's smile growing as he ticked the bear next to him in bed. “So
what are you really hear for, Kuroba? You don't usually visit me.”

“You don't usually end up in the
hospital,” Kaito countered, pulling up the visitor's chair, staring
at Saguru before sighing. “So what happened?”

“You should know, seeing as how you
where there,” Saguru said, allowing a bit of his anger and
frustration peek through.

“Ah, but I wasn't.” Kaito said, not
even bothering to correct Saguru's allusions to him being Kid.
Either way, he HADN'T been there. “I was at home, resting
comfortably. Ask my mother.”

“You are your mother's only son,
she'd easily lie for you.” Saguru bit out before holding out his
casted arm. “This, was the handiwork of 'Kid', who decided my
wrist had gotten in his way and deserved to be twisted as an abnormal
angle until it broke.”

Kaito's eyes widened and he winced in
sympathetic pain, having his own run in with injured wrists recently.
In fact, he had to wear a wrist brace starting yesterday after
straining his wrist doing a back flip...well, that was the official
story. It wounded better then saying he twisted it while trying to
catch himself after falling down the stairs.

“Then it couldn't have been Kid!”
Kaito said happily. “Remember, no one gets hurt, that's his deal.
Well except him, obviously, but he wouldn't have hurt you just for a
gem.”

“Hmm.” Saguru said after a moment.
“Normally, I would agree with you, as rare as that situation is,
except that it WAS him. The smell, the feel, the reactions,
everything was the same. It was the same Kid I've been studying for
two years now. The same Kid I've been chasing.”

Kaito shook his head as Saguru spoke.
It COULDN'T have been the same Kid! He was the same Kid! And he did
NOT break Saguru's wrist!

Saguru watched Kaito shake his head in
fevered denial and leaned closer to the boy, though keeping his
wrists far away. “Do you know something, Kaito, something that
would make you so eager to deny my words? Some bit of information I
wouldn't know that would prove, without a doubt, Kaitou Kid did not
injure a consultant attached to the Kaitou Kid Task Force, a crime
considering I was acting as a law enforcement officer at the time?”
he asked, almost puring the words, quite sure he had a nice little
trap for Kaito.

If he wanted the charge of assaulting
an officer off Kid's record, Kaito would have to admit to being the
man behind the monocle, and face the punishment as he was arrested.
He would then of course have to provide an alibi for his whereabout,
but he was sure Kaito would manage that.

If Kaito DIDN'T confess...a very, very
serious charge was added to the long line of Kid's record.

It was a very nice catch twenty two and
Saguru was rather proud of his handiwork. Either way, Kid would pay,
if he was caught now or caught later, and the bit of pain was worth
it if Kid was convicted for a crime that would get him REAL time, not
just grand thefts.

“I...I've gotta go!” Kaito said,
making a show of checking his watch and standing. “You need your
rest, I'll send another present with Aoko when she brings dinner for
you and her father.” he said, trying to regain his infamous poker
face. He hadn't needed it in so long and now, as things were going
to hell, it seemed to refuse to snap into place.

He fled the hospital room, though
covered his fleeing by walking casually, mind a whirl, though the
main question of 'what the fuck is going on?!' swirled about
repeatedly.
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Magician\'s Waltz