Notes: Finally, some inspiration to continue this story! The readers can thank a picture I was drawing earlier.


Chapter Two

The following day, Ayumi sighed softly as she came home from school and unlocked the front door. It was much nicer living in the two-story house than in the highrise apartment complex where she and her parents had been before, but when she was the first to get home, a silent house was much lonelier and more empty than a silent apartment. She had made this observation before and she made it again now as she removed her shoes and wandered through the living room.

As she climbed the stairs and entered her room, setting her bookbag on the floor, she could not help but wonder what had happened to the man who was been her rescuer nearly two months ago. It seemed very sad to her that he had to live as an assassin in order to stay alive himself. In spite of that, she still thought very highly of him, and of his partner. She felt certain that they were both still good people, deep down, as she had told them on a night that seemed so long past now. Conan had tried several times to tell her that they were both terrible people, but she could not believe it, not after how they had treated her. She hoped that they were both still safe.

With a sigh she sank onto her bed and lay on it, gazing up at the ceiling. She could tell that Conan still loved Ran, and that made her sad both because she wanted Conan to love her and because she knew that Conan would be disappointed once Ran's Shinichi came back. Then she wondered if it could be at all possible that Conan felt jealous of Ayumi's "Gin-sama." Perhaps that was why he was so insistent on convincing her that Gin was a bad person.

But then she sighed again. No, it was probably just because of Conan's strong sense of justice. He probably did not want her to be enamored by a criminal. It was not that Ayumi found Gin to be justified in what he did, however, but just that she felt that he could not be entirely wicked in spite of it. He had risked so much to protect her, and Vodka had, as well. They both could have died.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jangling of the telephone, and with a blink, she sat up and hurried into the hall to answer it. "Hello?" she said softly once she had lifted the receiver, and waited for the other person to respond. She could hear light breathing on the other end of the receiver, but no one spoke and she bit her lip nervously. "Hello?" she repeated.

There was a click as the phone was hung up. Ayumi drew the receiver away from her ear, looking at it, and then set it down as well. It was probably just a wrong number, she decided, and did not want to think more about it.

And yet she knew that Conan probably would. He might wonder if it could be someone checking to make certain that someone was home, perhaps a robber who wanted to break in and steal something. Suddenly anxious, she grabbed up the phone again and began dialing Conan's number. She would feel better if she talked to him about this.


Ayumi was not the only one receiving bizarre telephone calls. While Gin and Vodka were at the sidewalk café, Vodka's cellular phone suddenly rang. Startled by the noise, Vodka quickly unfolded it and answered. Gin calmly lit a cigarette.

"I know where you are right now," an unfamiliar voice proclaimed, and Vodka was stunned. "I need to tell you something, but in confidence. Stand up and move away from your partner."

Finally finding his voice, Vodka exclaimed, "Who is this?" It seemed very strange for someone to know his number and call, then demand something so ridiculous. He did not keep telephone calls secret from Gin. Even if he stepped away, Gin would ask him later who that had been and why Vodka had left. And if Vodka sidestepped the issue, it would look bad for him.

"That doesn't matter right now. I know your cell phone number, don't I? That hasn't leaked out to anyone who isn't allied with the Black Organization. Once you know what I have to tell you, you'll understand why I didn't want your partner to overhear any of this. Just step away."

Vodka swallowed hard, glancing to Gin. The blonde was watching him expressionlessly, but Vodka could see the slightest flicker of interest in his eyes. As he finally started to get up, the interest changed to suspicion, and Vodka groaned inwardly as he walked over near the side of the building. "He's already suspicious," he said into the phone with exasperation. "What's the point of this?"

"Maybe you should be suspicious yourself," came the frank reply.

Vodka frowned. "What do you mean?" he demanded, getting a very bad feeling about this.

"How well do you trust your partner?"

Vodka's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "I don't have to answer that," he said at last.

"Of course not. But I already know, anyway. You trust him more than anyone else you know. You have to, or else you would never get anything done. You have to trust that if any difficulties come up, he will watch your back, as you would do for him." There was a pause. "And yet . . . yet you still wonder, don't you. You wonder if he will abandon you some time when you need him most. He's ruthless, he's cold, he's trained to be a killer, as you were too, of course. And if it would help him to sacrifice you, you still wonder if he would, don't you."

Vodka gripped the phone tightly. "Just get to the point," he said, his voice gaining a bit of an edge. He did not appreciate being interrogated in this way. His feelings about Gin and his insecurities were his own business. This stranger did not have any right to pry into things.

"My point is that maybe that's exactly how he feels," came the smooth reply. "Haven't you noticed a . . . change in his personality lately? He's more tense, more closed than even before. Maybe he's working against you, and even the Organization."

Vodka stiffened. "He wouldn't do that!" he cried harshly. "He's loyal to the Organization."

"Alright, even if so, maybe he's tired of you. Maybe he thinks someone else could help him better. Maybe he wants to get rid of you, make it look like an accident, and then get someone else assigned to him."

Vodka pushed back any doubts he had that were starting to resurface. "I don't have to listen to this, especially if you won't tell me who you are!" he declared.

"We'll be in touch," came the promise. "I just thought I should warn you. I don't have any proof of his motives yet, but trust me, I soon will. And while I'm getting it, you can be on your guard. Don't tell him of our conversation, even if you still believe him to be loyal to you. You don't want to find out the hard way that I was right, do you?" Abruptly there was a click.

Vodka pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. That was definitely bizarre and out of nowhere. Or was it? Had someone seen that he did, indeed, have doubts over Gin's loyalty to him? He did not want to think that Gin would ever turn against him. Surely Gin was content enough with their partnership, after so many years. He would not try to get Vodka killed in order to get someone different. That was absurd. Gin would be disgusted that someone would even try to make it look like he would do that. And he would also be disgusted if he thought Vodka believed any part of it.

Slowly Vodka put the phone back in his pocket and turned to go back to the table. It was true that he had always held doubts over what Gin actually thought of him, but that was not the same as believing that Gin would betray him. And he definitely did not believe that for one moment.

Gin was closing up his own phone when Vodka approached, which the shorter man was surprised about. "Who was on the phone?" he asked as he got up from the table.

Vodka suddenly felt apprehensive. He wanted to simply tell Gin what the odd caller had said, and be done with it, and yet even though he did not want them to, the words lingered in his mind. "How well do you trust your partner?" "If it would help him sacrifice you, you still wonder if he would, don't you." "Haven't you noticed a . . . change in his personality lately?" "Don't tell him of our conversation, even if you still believe him to be loyal to you."

Gin grunted in annoyance. "Well?" He studied Vodka, his emerald eyes piercing through the sunglasses, as usual.

Vodka swallowed hard. "It was . . . a wrong number," he said at last.

Gin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Vodka nodded, relieved as he saw that they were arriving back at the car.

"And he told you to leave the table because he thought you were someone else?" Gin remarked as he unlocked the car and got in the driver's seat.

"Yeah," Vodka nodded, and then blinked. "Bro, I thought I was driving," he said slowly as he bent down to look in the window.

Gin placed a cigarette in his mouth. "I decided that I am again," he replied. "I'm well enough." He lighted it, looking to Vodka impatiently. "Get in!" he barked.

Vodka started, a bit surprised by the other's sudden harsh tone of voice. Quickly he opened the car door and climbed in, then shut it after him. He had the feeling that Gin knew he was being lied to. But if that was so, Gin did not make mention of it. Vodka wondered if that was more of a concern than if Gin had said something.

Gin watched him coldly, his eyes narrowed. He wondered exactly what the person who had called had been getting at when he had said that Gin should keep a closer watch on Vodka. Gin did not appreciate being told that he did not know what his own partner was up to. And yet, in light of the telephone conversation that Vodka had been having, Gin had to wonder.

"It's strange, isn't it?" the mysterious caller remarked once Gin had said Hello. "That your ally would get up and leave the table to take a phone call? I didn't think he kept things like that from you."

Gin growled. "I don't see that it's your business one way or another," he retorted. "How do you even know what he's doing right now? And who are you?"

"Let's just say I'm a friend, and I've been watching you both for a while."

Gin was annoyed. "I don't have friends," he snapped. He watched Vodka while he was talking. It seemed to him that Vodka did not like the conversation he was having. The other man looked edgy and nervous, and he seemed to be talking in a low voice, not wanting to be overheard by anyone . . . and Gin wondered if Vodka counted Gin himself among those whom he did not want listening. He must, or he would not have left the table.

"Oh no, of course not," the caller said now. "Assassins can't afford to have friends. Though, Vodka is probably the closest thing to a friend that you do have. And in any case, you do find this telephone call of his suspicious, don't you?" There was a pause. "Maybe the reason why he doesn't want you to hear is because he's talking about you."

Gin narrowed his eyes. "That's ridiculous," he grunted.

"He was worried about you rescuing that girl, wasn't he? Maybe one of the higher-ups found out about it and Vodka is now trying to clear his own name in the Ushio fiasco by throwing all the blame onto you."

Gin was tempted to simply hang up on this person. "You don't have any proof of what you're saying," he retorted. Then he frowned darkly. "Wait a minute. How do you know about the girl?" He had not thought that anyone other than himself and Vodka and Ayumi herself knew all of the details of that escapade. The thought that someone else might was indeed a matter of concern.

"I have my ways. Remember, I said I've been watching you both."

"I don't like being watched," Gin snapped. "I don't care what your reason is."

"No, but I'm sure you can't deny that you've been suspicious of Vodka sometimes. And why not? I'm sure you haven't forgotten the mailroom incident, when he took it upon himself to change the already established plans. You can't trust anyone, even the one person whom you actually need to rely on in your business."

"I can't trust you, either," Gin replied in a bored tone.

"Just wait until he hangs up and comes back to you. When you ask him who was calling, he will lie and give you an outlandish explanation. He doesn't want you to know who he's speaking with or what's being spoken about, and the chances are, it's about you. Maybe you need to consider that he isn't the loyal admiring comrade you think he is. Maybe he has his own secret ambitions, and by getting rid of you through whatever means necessary, he can move up the corporate ladder, so to speak, and perhaps even take over your current position."

Gin rolled his eyes. "That would never happen," he said flatly. "He's a lower-level agent for a reason."

"So you think. But I'm saying it could all be a facade. You know how sometimes the quiet, seemingly shy types turn out to be . . . qute deadly."

"Thanks for the enlightenment," Gin retorted, and hung up without so much as a goodbye.

And yet, Gin thought to himself as he revved the engine, things had happened as the caller had said. Vodka had lied. That was obvious. He would not be talking to a wrong number for as long as he had been. Whoever it was had wanted to talk to Vodka. There had not been a mistake.

"Bro?"

Gin glanced over at the man whom he thought was his ally. "What?"

"Who were you talking to?" Vodka asked hesitantly.

Gin grunted and looked ahead. "I might tell you, if you tell me who you were actually talking to," he replied. "I don't believe it was a wrong number."

Vodka took to studying the floor of the car, at a loss for words.

The rest of the drive proceeded in silence, with each wondering about the other and the significance of the strange calls they had received. Were they true . . . or not? Neither wanted to believe that the other was a traitor. After all the time that they had known each other, Gin felt that he knew Vodka quite well. Though Vodka was often not certain that he could say the same about Gin. And after these phone calls, neither was sure at all about the other, though they would not admit it. But a wedge had been driven between them. Usually Vodka did not mind the silence in the car. Now it seemed deafening.


Conan was very concerned when Ayumi told him about the strange call---and more so when she said that it had happened again during dinner. Ayumi had not been able to reach him on the phone until after that, and she explained how her mother had answered the phone and no one had said anything to her. Conan had told her to let him know as soon as it happened again, if it did, and then called Ai.

"Do you think that the Black Organization is responsible?" the chemist asked him, holding the phone to her shoulder as she fixed sandwiches for herself and Dr. Agasa.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past them," Conan answered after a slight hesitation. "Ayumi's always talking about how Gin saved her. Maybe he wants to use that to his advantage now. Are you sure he thought that he didn't really see you when you saw him at that café?"

"He thought he was hallucinating," Ai replied, slicing some cheese. "I heard him tell Vodka that it was a ghost from the past." She frowned. "Are you thinking that he might use Ayumi to get at me?" she asked.

"If he thought she had any connection with you, I wouldn't put it past him at all," Conan said with a firm nod, even though that could not be seen over the phone.

"I don't see how he would find out," Ai said, moving on to cut up the tomatoes. "But it does worry me, the way Ayumi looks up to him so much. If she ever learns what he really is like, and what he's done, she would be crushed and disillusioned."

"Maybe," Conan frowned. "But she already knows that he's a killer, and that doesn't make her think any less of him for saving her." He hesitated. "I almost think she thinks more of him because she does know that he's an assassin and yet he let her live, and apparently tried repeatedly to protect her."

"I wouldn't be surprised." Ai spread the mayonnaise on the slices of bread, then carefully arranged the cheese and tomatoes, and the lettuce. "I'd still like to know why he did that."

"I would, too." Conan's eyes narrowed darkly. "I can't believe that he did it just to be kind. He could have been killed in that fire." He thought over what he remembered Ayumi telling him. "And Vodka was there, too, but she doesn't remember seeing him after they got out of the house."

"Do you think he was injured in the fire?" Ai wondered, placing the top slices of bread over the lettuce and then stepping back to survey her work. "We know he survived, since I saw him with Gin at the café."

"It's possible," Conan agreed. "People like him, and Gin, don't go down easily, but they get injured frequently. They might be laying low while they recover."

"I know," Ai said quietly, placing the sandwiches on separate plates. "Kudo, I want to know if Ayumi gets any more strange calls."

"I told her to call me if she does," Conan answered, "and then I'll call you."

They hung up shortly after this, but their conversation remained on Ai's mind as she took the professor's sandwich to him. She was not certain who was calling Ayumi, or if she believed that it was the Black Organization. She did not think it seemed their style, to place such prank calls. But if it was not the Black Organization, then who would it be? And why? In any case, she felt that it was something to be concerned about.