The Dark Rose on a Weeping Stradivarius

-:oneshot:-

"It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, her fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye."

-Kristin Cashore, Fire

"For pity's sake," Haibara snapped, "stop it!"

"Mm," murmured Conan absently, drawing his bow across the violin's body. A pure note was released into the air, quivering and suspended for mere moments before fading. Conan sighed contently, "Beautiful."

"You're impossible," Haibara retorted, albeit wearily. "Can you at least get out of my lab?"

Conan closed his eyes, bowing a quick and intricate melody. "I have to play to someone," he replied distantly, fingers flying.

"Then why me?" Haibara threw her hands up in exasperation. "Go play to someone else. Agasa, Mouri-san, the kids. Anyone but me!"

"Agasa's busy." He didn't look up or stop playing.

"So am I!"

"Ran's out with friends and the kids are playing baseball." He stopped playing for a moment, raising his electric eyes to hers. "Am I really bothering you?"

The look in his eyes was so serious and sudden that Haibara found herself flustered. "Suit yourself," she finally snapped, looking away. "Just don't expect me to listen!"

A faint, teasing smile fluttered on Conan's lips. "If you say so. Would you like Tchaikovsky or Mozart?"

"I don't care."

"Since I'm in your lab and bothering you," his eyes twinkled in faint amusement, "don't you want to choose?"

"It doesn't matter to me, Edogawa-kun! Music is music." Conan made a noncommittal noise. Something in his cerulean eyes jested at her, in familiar and friendly way. "Fine!" she relented. "Mozart."

The corner of his mouth curled up and tranquility settled over the blue of his eyes. "Mozart it is." He closed his eyes and began a sonata. The piece began slowly, like a lazy trickle of molasses on a scorching summer's day. Haibara knew her back was to him, and so she allowed herself to close her eyes. Conan might have been a terrible singer, but the violin sang like an angel for him.

Soon the sonata had progressed into rapid sixteenth note runs and a complicated swirl of melody with answering calls of harmony. She dared a backwards glance at him and saw that his eyes were focused with a beautiful sort of intensity on his violin. His blue irises were flaming and distant, present and yet in another dimension of beauty only he saw. His fingers were swift and his bowing confident and rapid. The music that was released from his violin—surreal—clear and sweet and—

Haibara slammed her fist down and his music cut off abruptly. When he had his violin in hand, he was too peaceful, too gentle—it just wasn't the him Haibara was used to. She couldn't stand seeing him like that; she couldn't stand seeing him under that light, the soft glow painting him serene and beautiful.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked, chin tilted to the side, blue eyes inquisitive.

"Stop playing for a moment so I can concentrate," she snapped tersely. Snatching a piece of blank paper and a black pen, she began to write. In her meticulous scrawl and under the fluid black ink, a sheet of music blossomed. After a minute or two of silence, she stormed over to him and slammed the paper down.

"What's this?"

"If you're going to play in my lab, play this," she ordered.

"Watashi wa matte iru yo," Conan mused softly and slowly. "私は待っているよ. Did you write this?"

"No." Her response was clipped and curt.

"…?"

"My onee-chan did—we wrote it—" Haibara's voice hitched, "together. A long…" her sapphire eyes misted with something bittersweet, "long, time ago."

Something in Conan's blue eyes softened. "Ah. I see."

And then he began playing. Originally, the music had been written for piano but on the violin—it was something altogether different and yet distressingly familiar. It was a slow, sad piece with bitter tastes of the past and yet there was a note of promise in it, a glimmer of hope and the future. On the violin, it was all the more expressive—full and rich and keening. It was the gentle caress of a tear clinging to a cheek, the butterfly-light kiss of a promise. It was mournful and expressive and it sang with heartbreak staining tears down its face.

The music slowed as he reached the end.

"Play it again," Haibara instructed softly, more a plead than an order. "Please."

Conan nodded, once, and then drew his bow across the violin once more. The music started again, and this time Haibara sang with it—in a voice as sweet and clear as the violin's timbre.

"Beautiful," Conan murmured once more, too quiet for her to hear.

When the sakura flowers shimmer in the sky

When the moon, crescent bright, croons her lullaby

Don't you worry, don't you worry, simply look up at the blue

Always know and don't forget that I am waiting here for you

…

Watashi wa matte iru yo, ai, watashi wa matte iru yo

Itsumo koko, itsumo koko ni anata no tame ni

I am waiting, I am waiting

I will always be waiting for you…

A beautiful young woman with bright violet eyes and a sad, sad smile sang in a whisper alongside the younger girl. Her voice was as soft as the wind, so light that you would think a gentle exhale would send it fluttering away.

Always… I am always waiting.

Aisheteru, Shiho.