Mikau: Okay. Welcome to Chapter One! I hope you enjoy Kaito and Vermouth's interactions. (Note: There's supposed to be an ellipsis in the title "A Secret Makes…" that ties in with the chapter titles—ideally. We'll see if I have enough ideas to keep the pattern—but apparently fanfiction dot net has a problem with that kind of formatting.)
Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd like to do an "A Day in the Life of…" episode/chapter with the Black Org characters. Mysteries, murder, and mayhem are nice and all, but sometimes slice of life style episodes or chapters where you just get to see what characters do in their down time are fun too.
…
A Secret Makes…
Chapter One: …Anxiety
Kaito gently pulled the door flush, slowly releasing the knob so that it wouldn't make a sound and wake his mother.
She knew he had a heist that night, but when you snuck into Kaito's home at three in the morning, there was a good chance you'd get mistaken for an enemy assassin and shot before your identity could be verified.
He flipped the lock as quietly as he could before turning his energies to soundlessly sneaking up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. He'd only gotten as far as the bottom of the stairwell before a reading lamp in the den clicked on. Kaito nearly jumped out of his skin.
"You're late," Vermouth hissed, crossing her arms in displeasure, fingers drumming against her bicep in annoyance.
Kaito cursed. "Have you been sitting down here in the dark this whole time just so you could scare the daylights out of me? Geez, Mom. What the hell?"
"Don't call me that," Vermouth snapped. "And no. I woke up an hour ago, and you weren't home yet, despite the heist having been over since one o'clock, so I've been sitting down here worried sick about my brat. Pour your aunt a drink."
"Yes, Auntie Sharon," Kaito sighed, giving up the pretense of sneaking as he headed to the minibar built into the bookcase by the fireplace. "What do you want? Gin and tonic? Manhattan? Malbec? Pinot Gris?"
"Scotch," Vermouth sighed.
Kaito grinned facetiously. "On the rocks, or…?"
"Neat," Vermouth snorted. "Have I taught you nothing? Only losers drink whiskey on the rocks. It ruins the experience."
"Okay, okay," Kaito chuckled, grabbing the bottle and a suitable glass. "I am an utter failure. I apologize…. Maybe I would remember better if you ever let me drink myself."
Vermouth rolled her eyes, reaching out for the glass. "You're underage here; touch my liquor cabinet and die. You can have wine with meals the next time we're in Europe."
"Can we go back to Paris soon?" Kaito kneeled next to Vermouth's armchair, draping himself over the armrest and looking up at her with pleading puppy-dog eyes. "My French is getting rusty, and I've been dying to hold a heist at the Louvre."
"We'll see." Vermouth threw him a bone as she reached out to affectionately run the fingers of her free hand through his hair. She took a sip of the scotch in her other hand. "How did tonight go anyway, and why were you so late coming back? Pandora?—No. You would have said."
Kaito shook his head. "Nope. Maybe next time, though. There's a new ancient Egypt exhibit coming to one of the museums in Beika next month, and that looks promising."
"I personally think they've got you on a wild goose case," Vermouth snorted, "but what are you gonna do?"
"Yeah," Kaito sighed, leaning into her touch. "If there are people out there willing to kill for this rock, we have to keep forging ahead as if it really did exist."
Vermouth stiffened slightly. Coming within proximity to The Lie always made her heart trill in momentary panic. It had been one thing when he was an eight year-old brat she barely knew and had had forced upon her. Now…he was her brat, and she had a feeling that he wouldn't take it well if he discovered his entire life was a lie. He hadn't reacted well at first when she'd told him about Touichi's double life several months before. She knew she'd lose him, if he ever learned the truth.
"What's wrong?" Kaito's voice pulled her back to the present. "You mentally checked out on me."
"Tired," she sighed. "Getting old. You haven't told me what took you so long getting back. Trouble with the police?"
Kaito bit the inside of his cheek. "Not the police, no." He got up and busied himself with inspecting some of the spines of the books on the opposite wall as if searching for something of vital importance.
"Kaito?" Vermouth rolled her eyes. "Is there really any point in dragging it out? I know you well enough to know you're avoiding the subject on purpose. What is it?"
Kaito paused, fingering the spine of 1,000 Indian Recipes. He pulled out his trump card, knowing it would get his aunt off a topic he didn't necessarily want to discuss until he'd worked out how to break it to her. "Have you heard from…from my other mother lately—my biological one? Or has she completely forgotten about me again?"
Vermouth pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "I spoke with her caregivers the week before last. She's moved to California, an assisted living community with very good mental health qualifications. She's doing very well, apparently. She's been able to do a couple shows a week and seems mostly stable. They're talking about decreasing her medication."
Kaito nodded absentmindedly. "That's…that's good. Does she ever ask about me?"
"Sometimes. It's been about three weeks since I spoke to her directly."
Kaito pushed the cookbook back into place before pulling it out halfway again. "Do you think she'd be stable enough for me to visit her, or…?"
"Oh…Kaito…Honey… She's not… I don't think… Maybe you could write her a letter?" Over the last eight years, Vermouth had penned many responses to Kaito's letters to Chikage. "It's just that you're getting to look so much like your father nowadays. I'm afraid it would be too much for her."
Kaito nodded. "Yeah. Okay. That's… I'm never going to see her again, am I? She's been in one mental health institution or another for the past eight years, and it doesn't seem like she ever gets any better. Do you think she'd even recognize me? I don't know that I'd recognize her. It's been so long since I've heard her voice."
"We'll take a picture and send it with your letter," Vermouth proposed. "I'll see if they'll send us a picture of Chikage too so you'll have something recent." She made a mental note to reach out to some of her contacts back in America to obtain the picture. "…She really does miss you, Kaito, and she would like to see you, but the doctors don't think it's a good idea at this point. She's just too fragile. I remember her growing up having some issues with depression. She was a strong woman, a fighter, but…losing your father like she did broke her."
Having her child go missing on top of that probably hadn't helped matters.
"I get it," Kaito sighed. "And it's not like I've been deprived of a mother or anything; you've always been there to fill her place, but…sometimes it's frustrating. I mean, I was the one actually in the burning theatre. You'd think I'd be the one with the psychological issues, but I guess grief and trauma are different, huh?"
Seeing his distress, Vermouth decided to bring an end to the conversation about Chikage. "Kaito…come here and tell me what's so bad that you're trying to avoid talking about it by bringing up your mother instead."
"Man, I can't get anything by you, can I, Auntie Sharon?" Kaito chuckled ironically, pushing the book back onto the shelf and coming over to sit on the ottoman in front of Vermouth.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. "So. Don't freak."
"I reserve the right to do just that." Vermouth set down her half-finished glass of scotch, crossing her arms once more. "Out with it."
Kaito grimaced. "So, don't go all mama grizzly bear and go on a maternal rampage or anything, but…someone shot at me at tonight's heist."
The hair visibly stood up on Vermouth's arms and at the nape of her neck. "What? You're not hurt, are—no. You would have said…. You're not hurt, are you?"
Kaito held back a fond chuckle. "No. This bozo didn't have anything on Korn or Chianti. He probably couldn't even match up against some of our lower level operatives. The shot went way wide."
"Did you see who it was?" Vermouth demanded, determined to get her pound of flesh for this. "The police? Some outside consultant they brought in?"
Kaito shook his head. "Some third party hiding in the shadows. I didn't investigate too thoroughly in case they'd brought friends, and I was trying to dodge the cops at the time, so…but it was just the two shots, so I doubt there was more than one or two of them. I was extra careful coming home, though, just in case I was followed. That's what took me so long. I took a super circuitous route."
"Good boy." Vermouth nodded approvingly, but Kaito could see that her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
"You know what I was thinking?" Kaito held his breath. "You don't think it could be that organization you told me about, do you? You know. The one that killed my dad over Pandora—the not-our-organization? Do you think they're targeting me the same way they targeted him?"
"Possibly." It came out just short of a growl.
She was going to find them. She was going to find them and slow roast them over an open fire until their skin blistered and melted off their bones.
"Do you think I could get some backup next heist to keep an eye on the shadows for me?" Kaito inquired even though he knew she wasn't listening. Talking it out made it less scary. "I know Chianti and Korn would think it was a waste of their time babysitting me, but Uncle Vodka would come and check things out, if I talked to him about it, don't you think? He's always looking out for me."
"Kaito, it's late," Vermouth remarked suddenly. "Why don't you head up to bed, Honey? You must be tired after so much excitement."
Knowing the futility of argument, Kaito nodded obediently, getting up to go. "Good night, Auntie Sharon." He bent over to place a kiss on her cheek, and she reached up to give his cheek a gentle pat.
"Good night, Kaito. Good work tonight, Honey. I'm glad you made it home safe." She let her guard down ever so slightly, giving him a tired smile.
He placed his hand on top of hers, giving it a little squeeze. "Yeah. Me too. Don't stay up too late, okay?"
"I'll be right up," she lied, mentally starting her list of suspects as she watched his back disappear up the stairs.
…
Two days later, Gin raised an eyebrow as Vermouth walked into the lounge at HQ. "I hear you bludgeoned Snake within an inch of his life," he chuckled. "Too bad I wasn't there to see it."
Vodka, seated beside Gin, shifted in his chair irately. "I don't care if he was following orders. I would have slit his throat, if I'd gotten to him first."
Vermouth shrugged nonchalantly as she sauntered over to the espresso machine. "No one. Shoots. At my kid."
