A/N: I haven't posted anything in a while but I never really stopped writing. This one, I started over a year ago (can you believe it?!) but worked on it little by little. And I have another fic in the works but, well, that's for another time. Let's just hope it doesn't take as long as this one did.

Within the DC fanfiction community, I don't read a whole lot of variation regarding Ai's fate post-antidote & post-defeat of Black Organization. Her future in this fic was only an odd "what if" moment that somehow spiraled into something more. I still think it's a bit of a stretch but hey, this is fanfiction.

I drew a lot of inspiration from "Better than a prince prompt: imagine" by polka-dotted-pengiuns, which I'm sure none of you have read considering it's not a DC fic.

I hate Mondays because I have to go to school. But it's the start of the week and it just feels fresh, you know?

.

Just a few things you ought to know before you read:

It's not technically AU, but it's exactly not the typical setting.

The pairing is my usual: Shinichi/Conan & Shiho/Ai.

It contains profanity (not a lot).

I'm experimenting with formatting.

It's looonnnnggg.

I like the idea of Shinichi still calling her Ai, even after reverting back.

White carnations symbolize remembrance.

PLEASE REVIEW I'M BEGGING YOU.

I don't own Detective Conan/Case Closed.

I really need to do my Calculus homework.

.

Started: March 29, 2012 at 7:08 PM

Completed: July 23, 2013 at 4:08 PM

Mondays are for moving on

It was a Monday when Agasa Hiroshi died.

No one foresaw it. Not even Kudo Shinichi, genius high school detective, known for predicting and solving even the most outrageous of crimes. No one jumped in front in him in time. No one warned him in time. The bullet went straight through his heart. Agasa Hiroshi died a painless death.

Haibara Ai died that day too. Figuratively, that is. But, given the choice, she would've picked the opposite. It would be less painful, after all.

She doesn't even bother attending the entire funeral. She is far too occupied chucking breakable objects at the basement walls. (It's a metaphor, she thinks bitterly, for how broken she is.) But she stays away from his inventions. God, no. She could never break those.

Edogawa Conan, still wearing his newly bought black suit, finds her twenty minutes later, curled into the basement corner, forehead pressed against the same wall she had been hurling things at an hour earlier. She is dead silent, her face completely void of the tears Conan had expected to see.

He doesn't say a word, just steps over the assorted broken objects littering the room, towards Ai and kneels, placing a hand gently on her right shoulder. She finally glances up at him and the look on her face is devastating.

No one speaks for while. At last, Conan sighs and opens his arms. Ai, after a brief moment's hesitation, accepts the gesture, and the two half-sat, half-lay in each other's arms for God knows how long.

Conan's tears come next. He's not really the crying type, per se, so when his body begins to shake and that choking pressure arises in his chest, they're both a little surprised. Ai slowly pulls out of the embrace, but only to look him in the eye. Conan holds the gaze, direct and steady, despite the wetness that is still streaming down his face.

"I'm all cried out," Ai states after a couple minutes, reading his eyes. She's wearing that knowing smirk, but it lacks its usual edge.

Conan shakes his head, no longer crying. He just feels like he ought to say something.

"I'm going to kill them," she whispers. Ah. And there it is. There's that biting edge. "Don't even try to stop me with your goddamn detective morals. I'm going to kill every single one of them!" Ai slams her fist into the adjacent wall with a frustrated scream uncharacteristic of her. She shuts her eyes and tries to ignore the pain in her arm.

Conan says nothing and holds her tighter.

.

It was a Monday when Black Organization fell.

This time, Kudo Shinichi foresaw it. He was a part of the operation, after all. As was Miyano Shiho. The day was long and exhausting. But it was worth it.

When Kudo Shinichi stepped out of the collapsing warehouse clutching his bleeding arm, he did not expect to see so many bodies – and none still breathing. It was a massacre, that's what it was. Bloody and horrific – the kind of thing you see only in movies, and when it actually happens, it feels like it ought to be a movie.

Shinichi sucks in a breath. He quickly scans the surrounding area. The Organization had used the entire cluster of buildings as a headquarters.

Upon seeing no other living being, he is suddenly struck with blind panic. He looks around wildly and again sees no one.

Stepping over the rubble and wincing as the pressure is applied to his injured right leg, Shinichi makes his way towards a particularly large warehouse. The silence is unnerving. A large and rusty garage door had been violently pulled out of its place – he has no idea how – and lay crumpled, partially blocking the entrance. Shinichi tries to steady his breathing as he prepares to step into the warehouse, bracing himself for whatever gory sight might meet him in there.

"Kudo?"

The quiet voice initially startles him, but he relaxes upon recognizing who it belongs to. (Thank God.) Shinichi spins around and, not dropping the gun he had been gripping tightly, rushes over to the young woman, sweeping her in a much-needed, one-armed embrace. She sighs and he shuts his eyes, relishing in the feel of her.

No one speaks for a long while – long enough for the remaining CIA and FBI to emerge from the various individual buildings surrounding them. Many of the survivors fall to their knees, breathless, deliriously exultant, thanking the heavens. Tears run down beaming faces. Whoops and shouts of joy were heard. Oh, it was a glorious sight to behold.

It is the end of a century-long war and the chilling, throttling darkness has passed, only to be replaced with a newfound bud of hope because good has defeated evil and Black Organization is dead at last.

Shiho is the first to let go. Her eyes flicker from his to the ground. She has that weary look of someone who has endured life's torture for too long, someone who would welcome death with bitter resignation right then and now.

Frankly, she just doesn't want to believe what is too good to be true.

"Are you okay?" He has to know. The bleeding in his left arm is hard to ignore but he does it anyway. Because he has to know.

She shakes her head. He pauses for her to say something. She doesn't.

So they just walk away together.

.

It is a Tuesday when Kudo Shinichi finally returned to Beika, Japan from his unusually long and tedious case.

"Permanently, this time," he tells Ran as he holds her in a loving, but firm embrace (because she'll never leave his sight again). "I promise."

Miyano Shiho watches from a distance as they kiss.

.

It was a Thursday when Miyano Shiho left Japan (and Kudo Shinichi).

No one received word of her departure. Shinichi later searches for his missing best friend at what was once Agasa Hiroshi's home and finds a note written in her unmistakable neat print describing her reason for leaving them (him).

He lets out a frustrated, choked sound and forcefully slams his fist onto the mahogany desk, crushing the paper in his palm as Ran stands nervously by the doorway.

After a few deep breaths, Shinichi regains his composure and angrily strides out of the room, brushing right past his frowning girlfriend.

There is no address on the note. But he's determined to find her.

.

It's a Wednesday when he finally does.

She opens the door, sees him, has the nerve to look surprised, and then shuts the door promptly in his face.

"Hey!" Shinichi shouts and begins pounding on the door, pretending not to notice the curious faces peering out of the neighboring apartments. Exactly two minutes and forty seven seconds pass (yes, he counted). He gives it one final kick before groaning dejectedly and sliding down against the opposite wall.

After what seems to be several more hopeless minutes (for him, at least), her face tentatively peeks out through the barely opened door.

"Kudo?" she breathes.

His head is in his hands. It looks like he's sleeping. She's about to assume this when he finally looks up and shakes his head.

"Idiot," he says, and before she knows it, before she has any time to resist, stands up and pushes past her into the apartment.

"Kudo!"

"What the hell are you playing at?" She has never seen him quite so livid before. She's a bit scared, but she refuses to back down. Her stubbornness will get her killed one of these days, or so he says.

She doesn't respond but instead stands her ground and looks him in the eye. There's a long staring contest before Shinichi finally drops his glare and rubs the back of his neck tiredly.

"You're killing me, Haibara," is all he says.

She takes one look at his ocean eyes and shifts her gaze back to the floor. "Sorry," she murmurs. She means it.

"Why?" As in, why did you leave (me)? She looks into his eyes again (she can't help herself) and they're pleading.

She shrugs. She can't not be honest with him. "I had to escape."

"From what?"

"You." She's only half-joking and Shinichi looks up.

"Me?" he laughs, playing along (as if it was some kind of damn joke). "What for?"

Shiho shrugs again. "You're dangerous." He looks perplexed. "Always getting into trouble," she adds, grinning, "People fall dead at your feet. Every time I hang out with you, there's always some murderer on the loose."

He smirks. It's a good sign, she thinks to herself.

"And," Shiho continues, "when you sing, all glass within a ten mile radius shatters and innocent mockingbirds die. And you know it's a sin to kill a mockingbird. Face it, Kudo, you're a hazard to us all."

Shinichi grins, his eyes shining. "Oh, please," he retorts. "Little girls shouldn't be allowed near toxins and chemicals, now should they?"

She smiles at that incredibly fascinating speck of dirt on the hard-wood floor and tries not to look up again (but she does and she hates herself for it).

A silence follows. It starts to get uncomfortable. So Shinichi breaks it.

"How have you been?" he asks, clearly trying but failing to sound casual.

She gives him this look. "Fine."

"Oh. Well. That's good to hear." Another silence. Another stolen glance.

"I've been attending a university," she adds – a little late but hey, it's the thought that counts. "Studying biochemistry and forensics." She pauses again, unsure of whether or not to continue.

"I definitely hang out with you too much, Kudo," she does with a slight smirk. "All this crime is getting through to my head. That's why forensics, of course."

Shinichi shoots his own smirk back. "That's great. Where at?" Though he has a hint, judging by the current location of her apartment.

"Cambridge."

Shinichi nods. "Impressive. That's a good school."

Shiho shrugs. "Getting in wasn't easy."

"Well, nice job," Shinichi smiles. Genuinely. (She can tell because his forehead doesn't crease and his eyes crinkle.)

"Thanks," Shiho smiles back. And it's also genuine. (He can tell because he just knows her that well.)

They sit down and talk some more.

.

It's also a Wednesday when he comes back. Something about a foreign affairs case and the Secret Intelligence Service. She's just glad to get to see him again (not that anyone, including herself, knows).

Shinichi arrives at three fifty-four. The door is unlocked and he walks in like he lives there, pulling a heavy looking suitcase behind him, with a damp newspaper tucked beneath his arm.

"Was driving twenty-five minutes to the airport too much to ask?" He steers his luggage towards the couch where Shiho sat comfortably with some fashion magazine in one hand and a latte in the other.

She spares him a glance and turns the page. "It's seven degrees outside and hailing. So yes.

"Besides," she continues as he takes a seat next to her, "I'm busy."

"Oh really?" he peers at her British Vogue skeptically.

"Really."

He reads over her shoulder. "'Altitude Adjustment – the season's hottest trends for its chilliest climate.'" Shinichi smirks at her. "Fascinating."

She glares at him. And he seizes the opportunity to snatch the magazine from her hands, pulling out from it a thick but well-concealed stack of papers which she must have been reading prior to his arrival (and attempting to hide from him, the Great Detective of the East who would never be fooled by such an elementary trick).

"What's this?" he inquires, holding the sheaf out of her reach as she widens her eyes and makes to grab it. "Is this–" he skims the first page and looks back at her quizzically, "–a script?!"

Shiho stops and gives him a chilling look.

"Are you auditioning for something?" Shinichi asks incredulously. He steals another glance at the papers. "'Point Blank'? Is this the name of a movie?"

"I –," Shiho falters, her cheeks reddening slightly. Shinichi is staring at her, a (super annoying) disbelieving grin on his face. He cocks his head to one side.

"Well?"

Shiho quiets, her eyes fixated on the ground. "Yes," she murmurs, almost incomprehensibly.

"Huh?"

"Yes!"

"Yes what?!"

"Yes, I'm auditioning for a movie," she huffs. "Though as I see it, it's really none of your business so –"

"Hey, that's pretty cool," Shinichi interjects. She stops. Narrows her eyes.

"What?"

He shrugged. "I said, that's pretty cool. That you're auditioning for a movie, that is. I mean, I know you're a hell of an actress. I just didn't think you were much one for the spotlight."

"I'm not," the blond chemist (actress?) shrugs back.

Shinichi raises an eyebrow. "Then why?"

Shiho fixes her gaze on the rain-streaked window across from them. "Agasa's dead," she states very matter-of-factly with feigned nonchalance. Shinichi looks solemnly at her. "The Organization's dead. Gin's dead. Vermouth is dead. I really have no idea why I'm still alive but I'll take it. I guess because some self-righteous idiot I met along the way –" she glances at him, smiling slightly, "– taught me the value of life."

Shinichi only watches her thoughtfully. Their eyes meet and for a brief, wonderful moment, they just smile at each other. Something weird and unidentified is happening in Shinichi's stomach but he pays it no notice. And the blue in her eyes is brighter than before.

"And this is my life now," she continues, reluctantly looking away. "Not the Organization's. And there's something about the chemistry and lab work that I just unconsciously attribute to being of the Organization – to living in the Organization. It's depressing and at times, it makes me want to avoid that kind of field. No matter how good I am at it.

"Acting wasn't even really my idea," Shiho frowns slightly. "I was just heading back to the lab with a report a few weeks ago when this lunatic – who was apparently a talent agent inspecting the Fine Arts program at the university – approached me, demanding head-shots and sprouting some nonsense about 'the fresh new face of Hollywood.'"

Shinichi chuckles – though he mentally concedes that Shiho's cool aura was like that of a celebrity. And he notes, taking in her features, that she does have quite the lovely, selling face. He could see it well from her new agent's point of view.

"And," Shiho shrugs again, "Acting's alright. So why not?" There was something about pretending to be someone else – putting on a false mask, deceiving others – that once repelled her and now attracted her. Perhaps it was the pretenses that she had had to maintain against those she cared greatly about and wanted nothing more than to be truthful to. But being in films and plays – that was different. It involved more convincing than lying.

She realizes that she has trailed off and Kudo is looking at her expectantly. Shiho sighs.

"Sometimes being yourself is just tiresome... Especially when you have yet to figure out yourself."

Shinichi seems to understand this rather cryptic statement of hers, and nods his head. "I get it." He hands her back the script and smiles again.

She looks at him, almost suspiciously. "You do?"

He shrugs. "Sure. Good luck."

He would never know how much this approval meant to her.

.

It was a Monday when Shiho booked her first role.

Her agent, the American, middle-aged workaholic who had initially discovered her "fresh new face" at the University of Cambridge, was married to the renowned director of the movie adaptation of "Point Blank", the popular British spy novel. His connection guaranteed her an audition, but he would later boast (truthfully) that it was her pure skill that won her the role.

Out of the seven films and TV series that her agent eagerly presented her with, Shiho expressed her interest solely in playing the female lead in "Point Blank". The storyline dealt primarily with a young British spy who, with the aid of a lovely blond ex-convict who quickly falls in love with him, manages to terminate the sinister plans of some Nazi-inspired madman. The parallels to her own life were striking and Shiho decided that if she was going to go through with this insane ambition of hers to pursue acting, this had to be the movie.

And so it was.

.

It's a bright and sunny Thursday when Kudo Shinichi catches a glimpse of Sonoko Suzuki's gossip magazine and promptly flips out.

"'MIYANO SHIHO DATING BIG OSAKA'S TAKAHIRO SANADA'" it read, with a nice, blown-up picture of said couple strolling down what appeared to be Times Square.

Sonoko squeals as her best friend's boyfriend abruptly snatches the magazine from her hand.

"Hey! What's the big idea?!" she snatches it back with a scandalized expression. Ran looks surprised beside her.

"I – sorry," Shinichi laughs, wearily rubbing the back of his neck and sitting back down. "It's just… I know her."

"We know," Sonoko huffs, still indignant. "She's all you ever talk about."

"Oi, that's not true!"

"Is too!"

Ran sighs.

.

It was a Saturday when Shinichi visited Shiho again, on a completely irrational whim.

"It's a publicity stunt, isn't it?" the detective inquires, lounging comfortably on Shiho's couch as she flips through a chemistry textbook. Despite her newly found fame, the actress/chemist had opted to remain in the same flat and attempt to continue her studies at Cambridge University.

Upon seeing her puzzled face, he adds, "Your relationship with that soccer player, Takahiro. Your crazy agent thinks it'll boost your image or something, right?" He's given a strange look.

"No," she deadpans.

"…What?" Shinichi sits up. "It's not a publicity stunt?!"

"No."

He's just staring at her, looking, quite frankly, a little bit heartbroken (except that can't be it), and it's becoming uncomfortable.

Shiho shrugs. "Guess I just have a thing for soccer players." Her remark is almost sarcastic (but not quite).

"Oh."

.

It was a Monday when Miyano Shiho was pushed to record a song for her upcoming film's soundtrack.

The public goes mad. Her agent spots a golden opportunity.

And thus marks the start of Miyano Shiho's singing career.

.

That same Monday, Kudo Shinichi broke Mouri Ran's heart.

"Things change" is the hackneyed excuse he uses in attempt to explain himself (but these things can't really be explained, now can they?)

Ran nods with tears in her eyes and pretends to understand.

.

It was a Wednesday and Kudo Shinichi had decided that he hated Hakuba Saguru about as much as Hattori Heiji did (if not more).

The two detectives are (not for the first time) together at a Kid heist. They have a strict "you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours" kind of pact that is instantaneously broken as the obnoxious, white-clad thief shoves them both into a supply closet.

"Toodaloo, tantei-sans," Kid snickers as he promptly shuts the door in their faces, smirking at the sight of his two favorite enemies so shocked and indignant.

They try just about everything to get out but, evidently, Kid had prearranged this little scheme to get them out of his way (two detectives are more annoying than one, after all) and had the foresight to leave no possible means of escape for the two very resourceful young men.

"Damnit," Shinichi snapped his signal-less phone shut for the umpteenth time. "I could really use a soccer ball right now."

Saguru looks at him strangely but decides not to ask. "Don't worry," he says assuredly. "My girlfriend's brilliant. She'll find us in no time."

Four minutes later, Shiho opens the door.

.

It was a Saturday, and one of the biggest Hollywood events of the year. A grand gathering of the rich and famous, the rich and talented, the rich and ambitious, the just plain rich. Celebrities walk down the red carpet and blinding camera flashes illuminate the scene more than the fixed lighting does.

Kudo Shinichi falls under the "rich and talented and famous" category but that's not why he's there. Actually, he doesn't really know why he's there. A grateful past client of the "rich and ambitious" sort insisted that he come, and well, his mother also insisted, claiming that these events were "just marvelous, darling" and that she misses them so.

So he's there, slightly surprised by the great interest the paparazzi has taken in him (guess he doesn't get out enough nowadays), and nursing a minor headache from all the camera flashes. Suddenly, he's just Kudo Shinichi again, not Edogawa Conan, but oh how he longs to be the latter. Why? (Because Edogawa Conan had Haibara Ai, but shh, he hasn't figured it out yet.)

And then he sees her, donning a dazzling, night blue floor-length gown (Elie Saab, he hears one of the reporters comment), posing with an effortless grace. God, she was gorgeous.

Okay, scratch that – he knows why he's there.

Shinichi makes his way over to her, smirks back, and places a hand on her bare back. They smile for the paparazzi, who were currently going ballistic seeing the two together.

They end up spending the whole evening together, and giving the gossip columns a number of interesting photos and perhaps also sparking a number of scandalous rumors.

But, well, neither can really bring themselves to care.

.

It was a Sunday when Kudo Shinichi realized he loved Miyano Shiho and there was probably nothing he could do about it.

.

It was a rainy Friday in Cambridge, England, and the public was already ninety-nine-point-nine percent convinced that actress/singer Miyano Shiho and renowned detective Kudo Shinichi had a thing.

I mean, please. They were already spotted out together a total of seven times (it should've been more, but those two were remarkably sneaky) and attend nearly every big social gathering together. For God's sake, someone snapped a picture of them having lunch with his mother.

Shinichi sits in his favorite armchair in her new apartment (she upgraded to a larger, more private one) and flips through a magazine he impulsively bought only because he spotted her picture in it – along with a caption in huge yellow block letters, MIYANO SHIHO'S NOT SO SECRET DETECTIVE LOVER.

(Maybe because the magazines tell a story he wishes was the truth.)

"Why are you reading that?" she asks, flipping through another script. She wore an oversized grey cardigan over a plain white shirt and navy yoga pants, but he thought she looked wonderful. "You know it's all just uncreative fabrication by attention-desperate reporters with no respect whatsoever for personal space."

"It's amusing," he answers shortly, glancing up at her and shrugging. The cardigan kept slipping off her left shoulder and it was really distracting.

Nonetheless, he sets down OK! and picks up the newspaper lying on the coffee table – ironically, with his face plastered over it and the details of his latest murder case.

"Wow, you really like seeing yourself in print, don't you, Kudo?"

"Hey.."

.

It was a Saturday and Kudo Shinichi was thoroughly irritated by the number of male celebrities (most of them famous but not famous enough to matter) trying to flirt with his partner (he never really stopped thinking of her as that).

And this woman..

"You are sooo smart, Shinichi." The slightly intoxicated brunette strokes his arm and it's just weird. "Like.. Alfred Einstein smart. That's totally hot." She giggles as if she's said something incredibly witty.

"Er, yeah – thanks." He gently pries her off him and walks over to Shiho, who was handling the attention with a sort of ease that reminded him how she had adapted to the glamorous life.

"Hey," she smirks and tilts her head upward to give him the customary air-cheek kiss. "There you a–"

He kisses her on the lips. Public image be damned.

He thinks maybe he might regret it later, but then he sees the stunned expressions of all the men and the slightly intoxicated brunette irrationally bursts into tears (did he even know her?) and one waiter is actually using his smartphone to snap a picture and someone's shouting
"Good gravy, I knew it!" and she's kissing him back.

He pulls her closer by the waist and tilts her chin up. He can feel the corners of her lips moving upward and the definition of happiness suddenly becomes that moment.

"What are you doing?" she whispers after they break the kiss, their fellow attendees still in a frenzy. She has this sheepish, 'I guess you caught us!' grin but he knows it's all an act.

"Giving the press something to talk about." He replies and reaches down to take her hand

And he never lets go.

.

.

.

"Welcome home," the young detective says, opening the cab door for her even though she once insisted that she is not so stupid that she can't even open a door for herself (he then brought up a previous incident with the Professor's Volkswagen and she didn't speak to him for forty-five minutes after).

"I never quite realized what a loaded phrase that was," she replies, gazing thoughtfully around before stepping in, her eyes betraying the great excitement and nostalgia that was currently consuming her very being.

He smiles softly, watching her face light up as they pass various old Detective Boys meeting spots, the Professor's favorite Korean barbeque restaurant, the park where Genta ripped his pants, the animal shelter she liked to drag him to occasionally, the ice cream parlor Ran took her and Ayumi to for a girls day out, Teiten Elementary School..

"That," Shiho points, "is where I first met you."

"Yeah.." Shinichi takes his eyes off her to glance briefly, then shifts his gaze back.

"You want to know my first impression of you?" she turns her head to face him.

"No, but I'm sure it's unflattering in every way."

"It was, 'Wow, what a huge loser. Who wears bow ties nowadays?"

He feigns hurt. "Sorry I guess I should've focused more on my seven-year old wardrobe than on taking down the most insidious criminal syndicate of all time."

"Apology accepted."

Shinichi reaches across her lap to take her left hand, feels the slight pinch of the diamond against his palm.

And everything just kind of feels right.

She spies him eying the ring on her finger and smiles. "I can't believe I'm marrying you."

"Should I be offended..?"

"No, Shinichi, it's a compliment." His fiancée sniffs, turning towards the cab window once more. They were almost there. He squeezes her hand and she continues.

"I.. have been in love with you for, well, God knows how long," she smiles, both reminiscently and wistfully, returning the pressure. Slightly surprised, he watches her pensive face intently. "I don't know if you know.. but it's hell watching the person you love, love someone else – and so profusely too, right in front of your face." She laughs shakily. "You two were a living fairytale.. I was never your dream girl. So I moved away, tried to move on. I prepared myself for an eternity of unrequited love. That's why.. I can't believe I'm marrying you now."

He is quiet. Then he brings her left hand to his mouth (he never let go, remember?) and kisses it lightly.

"You weren't my dream girl," he admits. "I grew up and lived expecting I would marry Ran, and it was probably number two on my to-do list next to 'change name to Sherlock Holmes' because she was the only girl for me then. But, well, you just can't plan these things. You imagine your life a certain way and think, that's going to be my 'happily ever after' and nothing would be better, except how do you know that, because you've never known anything outside of your perfect little world? But then you find that something else and what you dreamed of doesn't end up happening, yet you couldn't care less because you found something else and – even though you imagined nothing could be better – that something else was better.

"True, Ran was my dream girl. She just wasn't the girl that I fell in love with." He finishes his speech with a light chuckle and scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

She doesn't really know what to say. She kind of feels like crying, to be honest. She just smiles this radiant smile – more beautiful than any he has seen in the magazines – and touches his cheek. "You don't know how happy you make me. But that was so ridiculously passionate." And she kisses him.

"Oh, shut up," he mutters. "I'm just glad it's me and not Takahiro or Hakuba making these amazing romantic speeches for you. What did you even see in them anyway?!"

She stares exasperatedly at him. "Are you serious, Kudo?"

"What?!"

She laughs and leans against his shoulder just as the cab pulls into the cemetery.

"Guess I just have a thing for soccer players and detectives."

.

"Here," he hands her the wreath and she fixes a stray white carnation.

They make their way over to a marble tombstone, pure white against the grass, vividly green due to the springtime and dotted with yellow and pink wildflowers to which Papilionidae butterflies flocked.

Shiho bends to place the flowers gently against the marble and they stand in silence for a long moment, staring at the engravings on the white stone.

Father, reads the first word beneath the name. Shiho closes her eyes, takes a shuddering breath to attempt to calm the incoming flow of tears. Shinichi wordlessly wraps his arms around her.

"Damn it, I'm getting all sentimental." She mumbles into his jacket. He chuckles. Kisses her forehead.

She looks back at the tombstone from the comfort of his arms, her eyes glistening but smiling.

"Hello, Hakase," she speaks quietly.

"Hey, Professor." Shinichi pitches in.

"Just wanted to let you know," Shiho continues, her eyes starting to sting slightly again, "that we're getting married next Saturday. And I wish you could be there.. to walk me down the aisle. And dance with me at the reception. Maybe I'd even let you have a third slice of cake. Vanilla, with raspberry filling – your favorite." She makes a sound somewhere between a cry and a laugh.

"I love you, Hakase."

Shinichi takes her hand and holds it reassuringly. "He'll be there."

She smiles. "Yeah," and looks at Shinichi for a moment. Then leans up and kisses him softly.

"Ready to go home?"

.

It was a Monday and they couldn't be closer to happily ever after.