A perfectly manicured nail traced the end of the paper, the sheet spread out on the counter before her. The pristine white—ignoring the neat black script, of course—was tinted oddly by the faint light source from above; the faint grey of the many TV monitors easily illuminated the words, even with the ever-present dimness of the room.

"Dear Conan-kun…

I'm so glad things are going well at home, I was afraid Dad would freak out when I suddenly left like that. I'm really sorry about that, by the way, but I didn't have much notice about the offer—Mom just suddenly called me up and explained it, telling me to get my stuff ready for the interview. I didn't want to tell you and dad about it, I was afraid of coming back after being turned down. As you can easily see, I got in! I've had so much fun here…"

Perfect lips twisted into a faint smile at the letter, marveling over how the empty black words still managed to portray the life and energy of the one who wrote them. It was really a shame; it would never be read by the intended recipient. It would interfere with her little experiment, and that would never do.

Blue eyes shifted to the monitors set into the wall, searching out a specific one. It was just about time for the subject to return home. The picture flickered every now and then—it was a live broadcast over hundreds, if not a thousand miles—but the scene remained clear, the front hallway of a home, doors branching off to other rooms and a set of stairs leading up. Other monitors along the wall covered those rooms, but she wasn't interested in them.

Her imagination filled in the sound of the door swinging open and the sound of soft footsteps across the wood floor. A black haired head finally appeared in the camera's view, bowed as he kicked off his shoes, as if a heavy weight was on his shoulders. From the angle, she could barely see his face, and her smiled only became clearer as she noticed the exhausted set to the subject's body, there even seemed to be a nice amount of anger and frustration if she was reading him correctly.

"Perfect."

She watched as the subject for her experiment stuffed something in his pocket, whirling around and slamming his fist against the wall. There was barely any force behind the blow; it didn't even make enough noise to attract the attention of the adult in the next room. After nursing the result of his own frustration, the child stormed upstairs. She followed his path along the many monitors before he disappeared into one of the few rooms she didn't have coverage of. But that was fine; she was satisfied with her observations.

Slender hands flipped over the letter, taking a pen and making notes on the back.

'Prolonged effects of the removal continue to grow in intensity. Subject seems to be tired all the time, and after returning from the fruitless searches continually shows signs of ever-present anger, and increasingly destructive behavior. The behavior is predicted to worsen until the target is found, or it turns self-destructive.'

"It seems that without the Angel's divine presence, the silver bullet is nothing but cheap lead." Chris Vineyard—known to a few select individuals as Vermouth, and even fewer as Sharon Vineyard—commented to herself, amused at the idea. She pulled out another sheet of paper, completely covering her notes, and began to draft a return letter. Her handwriting shifting from angular and precise, to neat, yet slightly childish scribbles.

"Nee-chan,

Occhan did go crazy (and drunk) for a while, but he calmed down after we got your first letter. You'll never guess what happened today! Mitsuhiko and Genta got into a fight! The funny thing was that it was over Ayumi's half finished soda. The fact that Genta won is kinda obvious…"

It wouldn't due to get the Angel worried. Vermouth glanced at one of the monitors in the corner, showing a girl lying down on a bed, reading book serenely. No, it wouldn't do at all.

--

"Geez Aoko! Lighten up a little will ya?" Kuroba Kaito dodged his pursuer's weapon, the classroom's mop whizzing just above his head as he rolled out of the way. "Neither of us really wanted to see that movie anyway."

"That's not the point!" She yelled at him, swiping the cleaning implement as he jumped away, landing agilely on a classmate's desk—much to the horror of said classmate, they were now inevitably in the line of fire. The poor unlucky guy dove underneath the wooden structure just as Aoko vaulted over his chair, continuing the ritual of cat and mouse that happened nearly every morning for one reason or another. They were so routine that the teacher had made no reaction to it—beyond the usual resigned eye-twitch of course. The class usually just continued on around it, only the students who were unlucky enough to get in the way were distracted from the lesson. The participants didn't really have to worry either, every time the teacher quizzed them during the chase it took minimal brain power to answer.

All in all, it was a normal day at Ekota High school.

"Then what is the point, A-chan?" The different nickname caused the mop-wielding warrior to falter, but it was only a momentary reprieve for the agile magician. He was currently taking shelter on top of one of the bookcases, but despite his position he could no relax. While Aoko couldn't leap entire bookshelves in a single bound, the added reach awarded by the mop-of-doom could still whack him. "I gave you my excuse, but you don't care too much for it, by the looks of things."

"The point?" Aoko put her hands on her hips, her smoldering glare trying to fry the magician by vision alone, "You ditched me, you jerk. That is the point. You don't ditch a girl seconds before getting tickets!'

A few of the girls twittered in sympathy for Aoko's situation, but the conversation was largely ignored by the students. They'd learned early on that if they wanted to pass the class they'd have to learn to tune out the two. Not everyone had the ability to work out algebra while avoiding a mop wielding Aoko or chasing a slippery Kaito.

"I left you the money, didn't I?" Kaito was forced to scoot a couple inches along the top of the bookshelf, avoiding the pencil case Aoko had just thrown at his head, "I really don't see the big deal."

"You…You…" Aoko couldn't even form the words, and Kaito felt a faint sense of unease tingling along his spine. Why did it feel like there was impending doom? He braced himself, ready and waiting to spring off the wooden storage unit at the first sign of Aoko bringing out the big guns. She didn't know it, but he knew she carried that stuffed f…f…that thing in her book bag. She'd even managed to pull it out when she didn't have her bag.

But she didn't reach for her bag, or even behind her back. She just stood there, holding the mop in a white knuckled grip, the cleaning instrument trembling with her entire body. At first Kaito was sure she was trying to lure him into a false sense of security, or that it was all an act to get him to come down from his dubious sanctuary, but that was until he saw the light reflecting on something small and wet.

"Oi!" He leapt off the shelving unit without another hesitation, landing gently on a desk behind Aoko—the occupant quickly vacating the premises and diving for cover. He squatted down so that they would be at eye-level and put his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him square in the eyes. He absolutely hated it when she cried. "Don't cry, pleeeaaasse don't cry."

Aoko barely responded to both his touch and his words, her face shadowed by her bangs as another tear slipped down. Kaito repeated his plea, and the only response he got was a sharp intake of breath from the girl, a tightening of the muscles in her jaw. If he hadn't been so worried over the impending tears, he would have noticed the warning signs. As it was he was a little distracted, and didn't see the punch coming until he was sent flying off the desk top, crashing into a few other desks and knocking over more than one person before impacting with the hard floor.

"Kaito…" Her voice cracked, and anyone in the class could see the pain in her face, "I hate you."

After that she turned and fled, running out of the classroom after getting silent permission from the teacher. The lesson had been forgotten by teacher and student alike, all eyes turned to the magician sprawled on the floor, holding a hand gently to a rapidly appearing black eye. His good eye flickered to the teacher, and he received the same nod she'd given to Aoko, only this time there were words to it, "Go after her, Kuroba. Then report to the nurse for some ice."

Kaito nodded and scrambled to his feet. A couple of the students scrambled out of his way—they'd gotten up to fix the skewed desks and try and return some order to the room—and he was just about out the door before the teacher spoke again.

"Oh, and Kuroba? Friday afternoon. Detention. Tell Nakamori."

Only those nearest to the door could hear the resigned groan as the door swung shut.

--

Conan sat in front of the computer, tapping away at the keyboard as he went over all of the information he'd gathered so far, or failed to gather as the case may be. He was currently scrolling through the list of dead ends, looking for something he may have missed. He'd checked with Kisaki-obaachan, no luck. Suzuki Sonoko didn't have any ideas either, nor had any of her other friends. He'd gotten a hold of Hattori and Kazuha, but neither had heard from the girl since the last time they'd visited Osaka. That ruled out a surprise visit to the duo. He'd gotten the police to look into the train passengers and circle Ran's description with departments in other areas of Japan (discretely of course, either using Shinichi's voice or Mouri's depending on the situation) but there hadn't been any response with that strategy either.

He sighed irritably and let his head fall against the keyboard, sending the computer screen haywire from the random input. Small hands rose to tangle themselves in his hair, tugging gently and then increasingly harder at the black strands. What was he missing?

His glasses lay discarded to the side of the keyboard, seeing to need to keep them on when he had no danger of Ran walking into the room. There was a chance of Mouri doing so, but the man was currently passed out in his bedroom upstairs—the detective's condition had been degenerating without his daughter around to keep him in check. Conan had tried in the beginning, but had given up eventually. There was only so much he could do.

Conan picked up his head, rubbing out the faint indents the keys had left in his cheek before returning to the files. It should have been impossible for such an open girl like Ran to just disappear like that, people generally remembered 'meitantei' Mouri Kogorou's daughter. Despite her insistence that she was nothing but an ordinary girl, Ran always had a tendency of leaving behind a good impression. It was just the way she was.

There was also the fact that Ran would never leave her father in the dark for so long, whenever she'd gone on trips before she would always call daily, reminding him that beer was not part of the five necessary food groups. Conan—Shinichi, rather—knew that better than anyone, he distinctly remembered the calls from some of the trips they had taken together. Even when they'd been in America visiting his parents she'd still managed to call, taking into account the huge time difference between New York and Tokyo.

He paused the thought, a new possibility forming in mind as he remembered the overseas trips. His eyes also focused on the computer screen, or more specifically on the pop-up that his inattention had allowed to appear in the window. The flashing multicolored letters weren't what drew his attention; instead it was the picture of an airplane in flight, emblazoned across the otherwise grey backing.

He hadn't even considered the possibility that she would have left the country.

With a new place to look—even with the possibility of finding anything being almost nill—he grabbed his glasses and set them carelessly on his nose, only thinking to quickly save his files and shut the windows before taking off again. He had a meeting with someone from the Tokyo Police Department.

A/N: Not as long as my latest chapters, but meh. It seemed like a good stopping point.

I originally wasn't going to include the first part, but I figured I might as well throw in something to explain Ran's silence. Vermouth is kinda interesting…it seems like she truly doesn't have any side except for her own.

Oh, before I forget, the way things are turning out in my planning; this may end with being only one sided KaitoxConan. It depends on where I decide to end the story and/or if I decide to write a sequel.

Thanks for sticking with me through the rather slow moving (or at least I think it is) story, and I hope you enjoyed it!