The sun was past its zenith when the car pulled silently up to the house. The driver maneuvered the vehicle to park with practiced ease, his hands needing no direction from his brain. He had only done this a thousand times before. Silence grew as the sound of the engine died away. Seconds, and then minuets ticked by, and still the silence kept. There was no movement on the street, no movement in the house, no movement in the car. The driver's eyes roamed, looking at the empty house, then at the sleeping passenger at his side.

The man moved to gently shake the woman awake then stopped, thinking better of it. The last fourteen hours had been long and hard on both of them, and the days to come would not be easier. Best to let her sleep, he could unpack their things himself.

The sleeper stirred a little as he roughly shoved the door of the rental car open. They could have afforded better, but they had been in a hurry and this had been the first available. The man groaned as he stood. His back would not be thanking him for the nearly twelve-hour direct flight from their condo in Los Angeles to their home in Japan.

That was, however, only a small consideration in his mind. Currently, most of his extensive brainpower was focused on the one place that, no matter where he went, he had always considered home. Everything looked exactly as he remembered it from the last time they had come to visit their son. The garden, though a good deal less flashy and flowery, was flourishing. The door jam was just a little warped, probably from being slammed shut one too many times either by Shinichi in a childish fit, or Ran-kun in a fit of rage. The rest of the house was far from immaculate, but by no means messy. It all looked neat and tidy, but with a lived in feeling.

As the man stood, just watching, his face and features did nothing to show his unexpected anger at the oblivious building. That feeling was a lie. This place that had once been home was a lie. Things had changed forever, the world as he had known it for the last sixteen years was destroyed, and yet the house continued to exist normally. It stood steady, seeming to ignore the death of its only resident, the death of his son and his pride. Unforgivable.

A car door slammed, he jumped three feet in the air, and reality crashed around him. "Yusaku," his passenger whined, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "We're here. You should have woken me."

"Yes dear," Yusaku answered out of habit, "pass me your bag. I haven't been able to get through to Megure-keibu, so we might as well unpack."

Together they walked up to the door, just like they had a thousand times before. He held all the bags; she dug for the key. A ritual of normalcy neither of them could bring themselves to break. "Aha," she said, according to script. "Found it." He stood patiently waiting, completely in character. The door swung open with barely a creak, admitting the two as if nothing had changed.

Satou Miwako was blushing like a schoolgirl on a first date and hating herself for it. There was no mistake in her mind that she had achieved a most spectacular color, based on how hot her cheeks felt. The look on her partners face was also a very clear indication of her own embarrassment, as well as his.

Though a factor, a significant factor, embarrassment was not the only thing making her blood boil. Anger, frustration and guilt were quite present in her thoughts. Anger at both herself for being wrong, and at her partner for being right, frustration at the lack of a solid lead and guilt for losing a key witness.

She let her mind drift back to her lecture. A variation of the same lecture she had seen bestowed on many a rookie, but had never had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of. Until now, she amended. And now on top of everything else, she also felt a twinge of remorse for laughing at all those rookies. Nobody deserved this.

"Not only that, but…" the Inspector continued into what was probably the ninth straight minute of an extremely loud, very humiliating tirade. Satou hadn't felt so berated since she had thrown a baseball through the front window of her father's patrol car. It would have been the year before he died, she had been about seven years old.

"…ringing off the hook…" Satou looked up at her boss, the only person in the world who could make her feel like a kid again, a man she respected deeply and was growing to love like family. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. A smile that was rare in its sincerity and completely disarmingly sweet. Megure's constant stream of sharp words tapered off, unsure of how to proceed. Takagi took his turn at going bright pink, though Satou would never guess just how much her smile affected him.

"What?" the inspector asked suspiciously. Satou's smile remained impossibly bright.

"Nothing really. I was just thinking that we should get back to looking for Ran-san."

Megure thought for a second. "Our guy reported she was at the crime scene not long after you lost her." His tone was accusatory, but his eyes were resigned. Satou could tell he wasn't truly holding her at fault. "I don't doubt it was Ran-kun, he lost her when she jumped the fence."

"The outer fence?" Takagi nearly choked on the words, "but that fence must be nine feet tall!"

"Yeah, that's I'm sure it was her. Ran-kun is the only girl I know of who could do that." Megure explained.

"We already checked the perimeter of the park, and the shortest route to both her home and the Kudou house." Satou stated. "You know her Inspector, where else would she go?"

Another short silence as he considered. "I don't know. I have men on the street looking for her, so there's not much more I can do at this point." Satou winced internally at the resignation she heard in the inspector's voice. "For now lets head back to the Kudou house to regroup. If we're lucky, Ran-kun will show up there."

"We could certainly use the luck." Satou sighed. "I'll drive. It'll be faster." Ignoring the look her boss gave her, Satou made her way to the driver's side door.

"Nothing illegal, Satou-keiji." He warned.

She just smiled. "Who, me? Wouldn't dream of it." Takagi blanched, and put on his seatbelt.

Yukiko was tired. Tired of wondering, tired of crying. She wanted nothing more than to wake up from this terrible nightmare, but she was too tired to sleep. Her short nap on the ride over had done nothing to ease the deep weariness inside her. It felt as if she had been treading water with her close on and not sitting stationary in a plane seat for the last fourteen hours or so. Now she sat perched on the very edge of her bed, looking at nothing and trying not to think.

Yusaku was pacing again. Six steps to the right, turn, six steps to the left, turn, repeat; passing through her line of sight every four seconds. Back and forth, back and forth until she was tired of that too. "Stop it," She hissed, "Just stop."

He stopped. A few short steps took him to her side. She barely moved, barely even made a wrinkle on the dusty sheets. Almost as if she wasn't really there at all. "You should sleep." He said, not quite gently.

"I can't." she said weakly.

"You should try"

"I can't any more than you can." She spat, suddenly angry, suddenly craving the noise and disruption of everyday life. She wanted to start a fight, wanted anything to keep away from the grief that seemed to feed off her very soul. As Yusaku stood and turned to face her, she readied herself for battle. Surely he would insist she rest, or perhaps bristle at her tone, maybe even return fire. After years of marriage she was well equipped for anything he could come up with. He held out his hand to her.

She looked up at him, feeling surprised and cheated by the kind gesture. It wasn't fair. She wanted to fight. "Come," the single word wasn't a request. It was a demand. "I'll make tea."

She took his hand, ready to take the offensive, righteous anger still coiled bellow her heart. He thinks I'll let him diffuse this with tea, hm? Well I'll show him I'm not so easy to deal with. Yukiko opened her mouth to let her poisonous thoughts into the air, but before even one word escaped her all the anger and frustration fled her body. She had felt it; just for a second, the strong confidant hand in hers had trembled.

As Yusaku pulled her to her feet, the bone deep weariness also began its retreat. She looked at her partner, and for the first time since she had answered the phone that morning she could no longer see the smooth confidence and sheer charisma that Yusaku always carried with him. What she saw was her own grief, perfectly matched pain for pain and fear for fear. Yukiko thought she had cried all of her tears, but the feeling behind her eyes told her differently. "Yusaku…" she started.

"Shh. Not now. Lets go have tea." She nodded, and then trailed after him to the kitchen. Tea, she thought, would be nice.