Conan vaguely remembers Ran's funeral. There had been no body due to the Organisation incarcerating any incriminating evidence. The fogs of amnesia- the desire to forget anything related to her death- blurs his memory of the event.

Still, there is something.

There is a melody he can recall distinctly; a sorrowful chain of notes weaving itself into his soul, each melding seamlessly into the next, each grim, yet forming a harmonious, colorful chorus of voices. Why would he remember such a thing? Why would he remember a song instead of Kogouro's tears or his own, unbearable sadness?

He sprawls his limbs around him, embedded in the tall, wispy folds of his bed sheet. Maybe it embodies the essence of his grief. Maybe as it sang, it was singing with him… for him. Ran plays the piano, he remembers, wincing. Played… He cannot bring himself to refer to her in past tense. It is unthinkable- to fling her memory away so quickly. She is still there… he urges himself to believe his words, she can't be gone. Not Ran, no not…

Stop.

His thoughts are brought to an instant halt. He is not being logical. He has seen this behaviour before- observed it from a distance. It has always been someone else bearing the weight of death. Never him; he has been untouchable. Denial, he labels his frantic conduct. Conan almost tells himself that he is different, that he is not manipulated by such rudimentary psychological structuring, but a voice penetrates the thick haze of his cogitation.

"Eat."

Soft… soprano yet not shrill.

A plate is set besides him. "Do I need to feed you like a baby?" Haibara. She is the only person still treating Conan the same. Not as a dejected, pitiable child- not as a person to be handled with care, not like brittle, delicate china.

Conan replies with an idle shake of the head; he eats as a necessity. For need rather than pleasure. In fact, every task he accomplishes is now a tedious requisite for survival. Maybe… maybe I should stop. He does not believe in his ability to destroy the organisation, nor save his loved ones. His purpose has vanished. Once a puppet to his ambitions, he now hangs lifelessly- the supporting threads of comfort and love having been snipped in one, swift move.

You win, black organisation.

He throws his head back dismally.

Checkmate.

"Don't run from your fate."

Conan gives her a weak, quizzical stare. "That's what you told me, neh?" Haibara peers through her mask, a half-smirk, half-smile plastered onto it. Her eyes though… her eyes tell another story. Sadness. Pure, unaltered disappointment. "Do as you say, not as you do? I know how it is, Kudo-kun, but you cannot run away. Every time you do, someone is injured, someone is falsely convicted, someone dies, Kudo. One failure, no matter how momentous, does not mean you are incapable to save others."

And she departs just as quickly as she came, her passage marked by an inconspicuous shift of air, a tray of steaming curry… and her statement.

These words linger, tugging at his soul just as the haunting melody does.

And gradually, he begins to realise that she is right.

He sits on the leather bench, erect. His fingers hang, suspended over the rows of keys before him. What was it? And why is he trying so hard to remember it? Slowly, he lowers his left hand over the middle C, fingering the C# key uneasily, scraping it with his nail in an effort to somehow coerce information out of the piano. I have perfect pitch. I should be able to remember it. Then an idea is sparked. What key was it again? He squints, sliding his hand onto the border of the piano before gripping it with sudden concentration. Although it is dim, the memory allows him to hum an inaccurate, erroneous rendition of the underlying melody. C… C major? Or A minor?

He ponders: "Most likely A minor."

Do. The sound of a finger digging into a key and unknowingly striking a chord in the back of the grand piano. A small shadow looms over the boy and the keys, a single, slim arm branching from its source. As a chin is pressed against the back of his head, a second limb surges from the figure above, poising itself delicately besides him and thus sandwiching his figure between the two.

They play.

Fingers undulate- caressing the keys ephemerally- arms reaching over and under each other, running up and down the keys. They brush against Conan's neck, fingertips entwining slew upon slew of notes. But he is immobile, following the song with rapt, undivided attention. Tendrils of sound reach out and entangle him in their woeful lament, and he allows them to do so, almost obligingly, as he is drawn utterly towards them.

It is the requiem. It is the song. And he basks in it; he is emerged in its anguish and remorse, allowing his own torments to fuse seamlessly with those presented before him. It compels something deep within him to rise to the surface...

Tears. Warm trails of glistening water- embodying his sorrow in their tiny forms. Drops well in the corner of his eyes but he makes no effort to blink them away. How long has it been since he had cried? He realises now that he has not yet cried for Ran. During the funeral, he had felt hopeless, yes. He had felt the weight of sadness and remorse coil in the pit of his stomach. But he had not once cried. He could not.

Now he does. He weeps almost dazedly, blue, wide glittering eyes fixated on the keys before him. His nails still hang onto the instrument's border while the other being strums his soul with her soft, melodious playing. Tears trickle down, carrying his agony onto the piano. They dapple crisply over black and white polygons, distorting their image in their globular forms, blotting their immaculacy with ostensible transparency, but also true, inky despair.

The music runs a series of notes before ending. Hands remain momentarily before rising smoothly and disappearing behind the boy. The weight of her head on his is lifted as she comes to a stand. It's beautiful, he realises. Somehow, he no longer feels as hopeless- his burden has been alleviated.

"This… song?"

The girl behind him utters quietly: "Grief and Sorrow."

Once she has disappeared, Conan shifts in his seat. He runs his finger over his neck, feeling tiny pricks of water.

Salt water.

"Haibara!" He dredges the house for the girl. "Haibara!? Where are you? Haibara!?"

He turns a corner and there she is. Oddly, her eyes are veined with red, a stray strand of hair adhering to her cheek. "That's the most you've said all week," she simpers. When she does, he can almost convince himself that things are like they have always been. That everything is alright…

But then he notices the moistness of his cheeks, and his purpose is brought back to light.

"Teach me." He pleads her with huge, imploring eyes. "Teach me that song."

She pauses for a moment; hand on hip, deep in thought. The girl stretches out her hand, palm facing upwards: "27, 256 yen."

"Huh?"

"It should take you about two weeks to learn it. Each lesson costs 1964 yen due to my qualifications, and there will be approximately fourteen such lessons. Deal?"

Conan balks, but his expression of astonishment quickly morphs into one of annoyance. 27, 256 yen is a lot for a grade school student. And even for an adult.

Haibara's mouth curls up, drawing her face into a narrow-eyed smirk. "I'm joking." She wouldn't say it out loud, but if a piano piece could help him overcome his grief, she would gladly spend a whole year teaching him how to play it.

"Come," she urges him to follow her as she walks down the stairs.

"Now?" The boy seems to have been taken off guard. Perhaps, he did not expect her to be eager to teach him.

She nods mildly and a small smile appears on Conan's face. Although it holds a twinge of sadness, there was a time where he thought he would no longer be able to smile at all. The little boy regains his senses, hurtling down the stairs, keen on being able to create, no, to weave such a beautiful melody himself.

Together, they will spend countless hours, the piano singing under their touch, their fingers overlapping as Haibara mimics the movement for him.

Little by little, Conan will start to live again.

I guess this will be a bit longer than expected (e-e) since this isn't the end.

Thank you to those who reviewed (krikinalo, VivGlam, and hai-edogawa as the people I answered in PM). Now, to answer the guest reviews:

Guest: I think he is rather blunt. I mean look how he confessed to Ran .-. Yup, his interactions with Haibara are much more special than those with Ran X3 Ah, and indeed I do have a multi-chaptered fic exploring their relationship… it's called Metamorphosis although it only has one chapter atm.

James Birdsong: Thanks :3

Joker Arisu: Was it the tormented Conan that was out of character? Or his response…? Glad you liked it :D

Runa: Yesh, you are right XD Thank you! I hope I'll be able to remain consistent with the quality of my work o.

It's only been two years since I've started to really learn English, so for people to compliment my writing is thrilling :D Thanks guys! And thanks for the criticism also. It helps me improve with every chapter I write.

Question: Would you like me to upload the three soundtracks which inspired each chapter? (Each is based on a song I can play on the piano.)

PLEASE REVIEW for a faster update!