"Alas poor Gosho! He is already dead; stabbed with a Kaitou Kid's monocle eye; shot through the ear with Shinichi's singing; the very pin of his heart cleft with a brash Osakajin's bamboo bokken; and am I a man who could actually accomplish such a feat?"

"Why, what is Gosho?"

"More than a manga-ka, I can tell you. He owns the rights to Detective Conan, not I. Tis a true pity only those who have sunken into the deepest depths of fanfiction can comprehend the abject misery I suffer at this truth. Truly I am sorrowed."

(This is what happens when I try to be witty at two-something in the morning. Well, at least I'm parodying something respectable...)

He didn't love her. Not surprising really, when she considered who exactly was responsible for their current predicament. He might tolerate her, fake a smile and sympathetic embrace, but she could discern the smoldering resentment behind those cold, cold eyes. It was her fault that he was stuck in a perpetual time-warp, a web of lies and trickery so vast he might never claw free. It was her fault he was stuck chasing some shadowy criminal organization, a group so villainous that to speak of their existence was death. It was her fault he couldn't be himself, a mystery-loving teenage meitantei with a childhood best friend whom he wished to be something more. It was all her fault, and he couldn't forget. Nor could he forgive.

But then again, she wasn't what one would call forgiving. She held her own resentment towards the midget menace that haunted her heart. He'd saved her from the cold steel of death, death that she welcomed with open arms. He'd broken through her haughty exterior and exposed the frightened vulnerable girl within. He'd given her hope when all around was nothing but despair. He'd made her feel, about the Professor, about the kids, about Him, and she'd never asked for any of it. He'd changed her, damn him, and she didn't know how to get herself back.

How the hell did he get her to fall under his spell? He was no hypnotist, and she no coercive maiden, so why did he wander through her dreams? Why did the mere mention of his name, either name, send palpitations to her heart? For what reason did the sight of his harrowing deduction skills in action put a smirk upon her lips? How did he become the person to whom she confided in her secrets, all of her awful, shameful secrets? She didn't know, couldn't fathom when, where, or how this had happened. But sadly enough, she knew why.

She just had to fall in love with the one person who could never love her back. Who could never look at her and see anything other than the individual who'd destroyed everything. He never let the others know, never expressed his anger, his resentment, but it was there, burning behind those frozen eyes. A burning tundra of pain, rage, hate, swirling in those darkened depths. A glacial frost coating his cheery words, the arctic wind in every handshake. Only she could see the abyss which was just how he wanted it.

No one but her ever saw the dark side of Kudo Shinichi. No one but her ever had to withstand the looks of contempt, the shrieks of madness, the harsh whispers mocking her weaknesses, the barbs piercing straight to her heart. He knew how to fling her secrets right back at her to the greatest effect. He could knock her down, drag her through the dirt, make her feel two inches tall, and yet she always came back for more.

She doesn't know why she fell in love with him. Why she would care for someone who wished for nothing more than her disappearance from the face of the planet, but suffered her presence for the sake of a cure? Perhaps it was the stimulating intellect housed inside his misleading exterior that could rival her own. Perhaps it was the way he broke through her walls, tore down her protections and forced her to acknowledge the child buried within herself. Maybe it was even the way he mocked and belittled her, damning her and pushing her to the edge. Maybe she fell in love with him because he was the only one to ever get through.

But it doesn't matter. He'll never love her. Not as a wife, not as a lover, not as a friend. Not even as an acquaintance. She's nothing to him. For three years she has tried to change his mind but to no avail. He still won't forgive her. He still won't look at her with anything but hate. Three years. Three chances. Three strikes. He's out.

He's had his opportunity. He's had the time to come around. He's had the chance to reconcile, and see her as the human being he created, tearing away her masks one by one. There are no more masks. No more deceptions. There's only her, a woman who made mistakes, so many mistakes, and has been seeking redemption. A way to repent for her misdeeds. And after all this time she's finally found it.

Three years. Three years spent searching, reading medical journals into all hours of the night. Three years spent calibrating test tube specimens, running data analysis on DNA recombinance sequencing. Three years spent testing one flawed trial after another to no success. Three years spent in failure. Those three years are over. She's found the cure. She's found her redemption.

All she wanted was to be loved. It didn't have to be romantic – she would have been content with friendship, acquaintanceship. Even just to be looked at by him without hate in his eyes. But apparently that was too much to ask of the great Kudo Shinichi. He couldn't forgive her. Well that's okay. She's not much of a forgiving person either.

Locking the door behind her, she walked away from the Professor's house, a suitcase containing three year's research in her hand. She'd found her redemption. Kudo could find his own.

Randomly listening to the Spirited Away soundtrack, and this popped into my head. Why? The heck if I know. I'm not quite satisfied with it, but I'll let you make of it what you will.