Conan and Gin in Jail

Really, Conan fumed. Who in their right mind arrests a seven-year-old?

He was seated in the corner of a crowded public jail cell, his bony little second-grader knees drawn up to his chest and a furious scowl on his round pale face. His approximately twenty cell-mates pretended not to see him. Occasionally, one or two would throw him confused, disgruntled glares. Conan ignored them.

He supposed this whole thing could be construed as his fault. Two hours ago, when he had been eating lunch at a sidewalk café with Ran and Kogoro and had realized that a murder as imminent, he hadn't exactly been subtle about it. In fact, Conan considered, upon reflection he may have grossly mishandled the situation. The subsequent panic that had seized the other patrons and pedestrians had probably cost thousands of dollars of property damage to the café, the sidewalk, and the vehicles parked alongside it. Police had rushed to the scene, and in the rush to arrest the rioters they had swept up one rather unusual young boy.

Conan sighed.

Surely, someone would soon rush in and demand that the police release a seven-year-old from prison. Surely Ran would be there any moment. Surely someone was coming for him.

So it was with hope that Conan looked up when he heard the clank of a key in a lock and then the swing of the opening cell door. He lifted his chin from his knees and peered through the sea of legs.

Perhaps it would be Ran, in the short skirt she had been wearing that the seventeen-year-old in his second-grader body still quite enjoyed. But the pair of legs walking into the cell were trousered and, Conan deduced, decidedly male.

It couldn't be Inspector Megure; the legs were too long and thin, and Megure would have stopped at the door instead of walking into the cell. Conan briefly considered Heiji but then dismissed the thought; he would have heard Hattori coming long before he reached the door.

He needed more evidence. Conan pushed forward from the wall and crawled forward to keep the new, trousered legs in view. Then a few of the cell's other occupants shifted to give the newcomer more space, and he found himself looking up into the trousered man's face.

Conan's first coherent thought was Oh, no.

His second was, I am probably going to die today.

Gin—Gin—stood not three meters away from him, his hands in the pockets of his long black overcoat, his expression cold and bored as he surveyed his new cellmates. Gin.

The third thought that crossed Conan's mind was the realization that Gin's roving eyes were making their way across their other cellmates' faces and would soon be fixed on his own.

He threw himself back against the wall, behind another man's legs.

Gotta hide.

Everything he knew of geometry rushed to the forefront of Conan's mind: angles, trajectories, lines of sight—If he calculated it right, he could stay in Gin's blind spot and never be seen.

The man in front of Conan shot him an irritated glance and began to move away. Conan stood in the open, frantic thoughts and calculations rushing through his head. He opened and closed his hands, thinking:

Gin would be turning back this way in less than two seconds— What is Gin doing in jail? And in a common station house jail like this? (I'm going to die and I've never told Ran the truth; I've never even kissed her—)

As Gin's eyes raked the cell's far corner Conan ducked behind a group of three men playing cards together on the cell floor. What was Gin doing that he was arrested? Couldn't be something worse than petty theft, if they've put him in here with us— (Conan'll be dead, and Shinichi will just disappear; no one will know what happened to me; Ran will never know—She'll be so sad, all because of me—)

"Hey, kid. Buzz off." One of the card-players waved a hand at him. Gin's head turned—but Conan had already done the math and thrown himself behind the legs of another two prisoners who were crossing the cell. Did he see me? Does he recognize me? Are they still thinking about Kudou Shinichi at all? What is he doing here? (Maybe Hattori will figure out what happened to me. Maybe he'll finish the case against the Black Org for me. Or maybe they'll kill him too. Damn it—I don't want Hattori to die. He doesn't deserve this—)

Gin started across the cell, his hands in his pockets, his eyes roving the cell. Conan peered at him through the men's legs, then slipped in between a cluster of young men standing near the barred cell door. They must be planning something new. But I haven't heard anything from Jodie-san and the FBI. (Those kids'll miss me too, won't they? Haibara will guess what happened, but Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko—they'll never know. They'll…they'll miss me, won't they?)

Gin paused, his right shoulder leaning against the back wall of the cell. Conan pressed himself against the barred door, cowering behind a man ambling across the cell, doing trigonometry in his head. Where's Vodka? Why isn't he with Gin? Is Kir nearby? Could…could the new agent Bourbon be nearby as well? Could they be in this cell as well? (I'm going to die and I've never even so much as kissed Ran! Let alone—)

Conan moved left along the cell door, trying to get behind Gin, but the legs in front of him abruptly changed direction. Conan stopped short and nearly tripped over himself.

Shit! Out in the open…

Conan quickly turned left—and ran straight into Gin's knees.

He bounced backward , his upturned eyes fixed on Gin's face, and landed on his backside.

Gin peered down at him.

"Playing a game?"
Conan opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stared, frozen, up at Gin's pale, hard face. I am going to die today.

Gin's face slipped into a bored sneer. "What's a little child doing here?"

Conan blinked his wide blue eyes. "…I…I think there's been a mistake," he squeaked.

"Hm." Gin eyed him with moderate interest. Then his lips pulled downward in a frown.

"You look familiar," he said.

And Kudou Shinichi, aka Edogawa Conan, child-sized teen detective extraordinaire, did the only logical, rational thing to do.

He burst into tears.

A faint grimace of disgust played across Gin's lips. His eyes drifted away and he took a step back from the bawling second-grader on the ground before him.

A police officer stepped up to the door at just that moment, a key ring in her hand. "Mr. Melchior—a Mr. Kaspar has just posted bail for you—" She noticed Conan crying on the ground. "Oh my goodness! What's a little boy doing—"

"That would be me," Gin said over her. He stepped around Conan as the officer, still staring, fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door.

"There you are. Now if you'll accompany me to the front desk—" Gin stepped out of the cell and the officer closed the door behind him, then crouched down to peer at Conan. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll get you out in just a moment. Be right back!"

Gin was already walking down the hall, his hands in his pockets.

Conan's tears dried instantly. He threw himself against the bars and craned his head after Gin—but without a backward glance Gin disappeared around the corner.

"Damn it!" Conan cried. He smashed his fist against the bars. "So close!"

He sagged against the bars, his face pressed into the gap between them, his heart hammering against his chest.

After what seemed like ages the officer returned. "Come on, sweetie!" she said as she unlocked the door. "Let's get you out!"

She opened the door—Conan leaped forward but she scooped him up into a hug. "Woah there!" she said, patting his head. "Don't worry—you're okay now."

"B-but…" Conan whined. He waved his arms feebly. "Let me go!"

"Let's go call your parents," the officer said serenely. "Would you like some cookies?"

"Auntie, where did that blond man go?" Conan said in his best baby voice.

"He left with his friend," the officer said cheerily. "What kind of cookies would you like?"

"Ah…" Conan gave one last feeble wiggle, but the officer's arms were unyielding. He cast one last desperate look toward the front door of the jail, then sighed.

"Butterscotch, please."

She beamed at him. "What a cute little boy! Who in their right mind would arrest a little boy like you?"

Conan didn't reply. He was afraid that if he tried he would start crying again.

…

…

**Melchior and Kaspar are Gin and Vodka's names in the English dub.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! You know, I really thought I'd get some angry responses to the last one, for making Shinichi and Saguru look bad and mess up the mystery case, but most of the reviews were really positive. I guess you all just love to see how hard the proud can fall!

Okay, I've been trying to respond to all the reviews that come in, but to the people who asked questions but then signed their reviews as non-answerable:

loo shuenpi: I read DC manga on http:/www. dctp .ws/. It's a great site! For the anime I go to good old YouTube.

TEAM AYUMI: you requested Shinichi/Heiji and Kaitou Kid/Sonoko. For the latter I already have a plan; in fact, I plan to write a fic of Sonoko in jail with each of the Gosho Boys in turn (including Hakuba…hee hee hee…) so maybe when I get the time I'll do Sonoko Week, lol. But as for Shinichi/Heiji—can you believe I never even thought about that? I have a lot of other requests I have to get to first, but there will definitely be Shinichi/Heiji in the future!

I'm trying to do requests in the order that people requested them, but I also have to obey the whims that pass through my mind. If I'm not 'feeling it,' then I can't write it. For example, someone requested Makoto and Eisuke early on in writing this fic…but I don't think that's going to happen simply because those characters don't appear in my head. You know?

Soooo I think the next one I'm going to do will be either Conan/Ai for Neko-chan, or Ran and Kazuha, for myself :) Depends on which one gets done first. But please keep sending requests! I get ideas from what you guys send me!