AN: I've been meaning to clarify that English throughout this story will be in BOLD, and Japanese will be NORMAL text. This is far from the only chapter that will be switching back and forth, so I figured I'd make a note of it here.

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Edinburgh I: There Will Be No Intermission

They flew off to Edinburgh the next morning.

They both decided that Aoko would get further diagnosed and begin treatment in Edinburgh. It was a new country – a new start – so they'd be able to stay a little longer than if they tried to do anything in Iran. Shinju would be happy, too, since they'd get to sightsee during their extended stay, and maybe, if she was good, she'd get to see Nessie.

Aoko had a chemotherapy infusion treatment almost every day and finished the first cycle at the end of four weeks. Her hair fell out again towards the beginning, but good wigs were hard to come by on a traveling budget so she just opted to wrap her head in a scarf. She lost her energy to do absolutely anything and ended up sleeping the weeks away in the hotel room as Kaito took Shinju exploring around town.

The first cycle was done. The Scottish doctor she saw had recommended three in total after Kaito made Aoko get the imaging tests that she didn't let the Iranian doctor do. The cancer was indeed metastasis, but the prognosis was uncertain. Aoko never knew she could feel so much relief from an uncertain prognosis. She'd been so convinced that this resurgence was a cut-and-dry death sentence…

Tonight, they were celebrating. One cycle in the bag. (This is going to be a piece of cake, Kaito said. Aoko heaved into the toilet.) They were going out to dinner at some fun Nessie-themed restaurant Shinju wanted to go to, and they were going by foot because it was only a block or two from the hotel, and Aoko thought it'd make her feel a bit better to get some fresh air.

"Shit!" Kaito said suddenly, pulling Aoko and Shinju with him as he ducked behind a large sign on the street. "What's the asshole with legs doing here?"

The asshole with legs in question, Aoko discovered upon investigation of the scene, was none other than the British detective himself, Hakuba Saguru. His wife – Akako, somehow, of all people! – was there as well, face as red as her hair as she yelled at him for something they couldn't quite hear. Kaito almost laughed at the scene; Hakuba always had a way of rubbing people the wrong way, and apparently his wife was no exception. They were seated at a table teetering on the cobblestones of the street, apparent patrons of a classic Scottish bistro.

"Maybe he saw the notice for your upcoming heist in the paper?" Aoko suggested. "Honestly, I really don't know why you insist on doing those still. They just land us in more trouble!"

"It's part of the magic," Kaito said simply, before pulling her along the cobbled road and hoping against all hopes that Hakuba didn't see them.

It was only a half second later that Kaito realized his party was one person less than he started with, and his eyes flew back just in time to see Shinju strutting up to her beloved Saguru-niichan and Akako-neechan.

Hakuba's face turned upwards at seeing her, and immediately those cold calculating hawk eyes of his traced their way back to Kaito's own. His voice was light as air - yet sharp as steel - as he called across the street, "Kuroba, what luck it is to see you in Edinburgh as well."

Fuck.

Okay, be cool. Be fucking cool (hate this fucking guy so fucking much). "Small world, huh?"

"Permissively," Hakuba nodded, before an idea seemed to take hold of him. He swept his hand across the table. "Please, won't you dine with us?"

Kaito cast a glance at the table. Three place settings – who was the third? Shit, did Hakuba and Akako have a child in the middle of this? Whoever they were, the seat was empty, the occupant probably off to the bathroom at the moment. "Unfortunately it looks like your table's already full."

"Nonsense," Hakuba said, waving a hand. Kaito was impressed; he'd never seen such calculated aloofness. "We'll bring another table over. Waiter?"

In the span of a minute two tables were brought together to make one, and Kaito, Aoko, and Shinju found themselves forced to sit down with menus in their hands.

"So, who's sitting there?" Aoko pointed to the empty plate.

"A friend of mine," Hakuba's hawk eyes came out again, staring straight at Kaito. "I really think you'd like to meet him. And actually," Hakuba gestured at the opening door of the restaurant, "here he comes right now."

A stern man in a pressed blue suit.

Kaito's eyes widened in recognition.

"Special Agent Galambos Istvan," Hakuba introduced. "These are my two school friends from Tokyo. Nakamori Aoko, daughter of Inspector Nakamori Ginzo of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's Second Division, and the one I've told you about, Kuroba Kaito."

Kaito found himself shaking the man's hand. It was strong. He was acutely aware of how naked he felt, conscious of the fingerprints and skin cells and natural oils and pure raw DNA he was rubbing off on the man's hand. Galambos's eyes locked on Kaito's, fixed like a predator watching its prey.

"And this is Shinju… their daughter," Hakuba added, a little belatedly. Was it that he wasn't sure how to classify her? Considering the divorce and the ambiguity surrounding Aoko and Kaito's relationship – and their entire living situation in general – uncertainty was certainly understandable. Kaito felt a surge of ecstasy as he realized he had bested the incorrigible Hakubastard, but the joy of the moment quickly fell away as he locked eyes with the stern-faced Galambos again.

"Nice to meet you!" Aoko chirped, oblivious to Kaito's quickly paling face.

"Beautiful headscarf, Nakamori-san," Akako purred (in Japanese, of course, because as Kaito recalled, Akako was never a good student of the English language. Apparently marrying Hakuba had failed to help her with that as of yet). "I didn't take you for the vintage apparel type."

"It's a long story," Aoko dismissed summatively, hoping to bypass the conversation entirely.

"Mommy's hair fell out," Shinju said.

"Fell out?" Akako probed, only as curious as she could be.

"Well – it's a little – I -" Aoko started, floundering for words.

"It's from the stress of dealing with me all day," Kaito interrupted, earning a quick grateful look from Aoko for saving her from the difficult explanation she really didn't want to make.

"Well, you are quite the handful," Hakuba sniffed, before returning the conversation to English. "Anyway, Kuroba, Agent Galambos had some questions that I assured him would be best answered by you."

Fuck this. "Hakuba, I'm not in the mood for you to sic your batshit crazy Interpol puppy dog on me," Kaito hissed.

Hakuba took a sip from his water. "How did you know he was from Interpol?"

"Shut up." Kaito glanced at Galambos. Might as well rip the band-aid off. "What questions do you have?"

"Please, Mr. Kuroba, be at ease for the moment. Mr. Hakuba has explained the case extensively; there is no worrying you can do at this point to rid yourself of my suspicion." Galambos attacked his steak with precise knife strokes. "I am simply curious about the how."

"How?" Kaito echoed in question.

"How is it that a single criminal can have so much evidence pointing in his direction and yet there is not a single shred of evidence with which to convict you? How is it that so many well-trained minds can know beyond a shadow of doubt that you are the man behind the act, and yet you remain free? How are you able to be so suspicious and yet lack any sort of formal suspicion at all?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Galambos grinned. "You play a smart game, but even the best-played games must eventually come to an end. Denial is not an easy course of action."

Kaito remained silent.

"We have hair samples, we have blood samples, we have fingerprints, we have shoeprints. Your silence on the matter is your only defense left. With time, that too shall be broken."

"How can you break my silence on a matter I know nothing about?"

Galambos twirled his fork, wrapping his spaghetti in a tight curl. "We have our methods."

"I think you're scaring him, Galambos," Hakuba drawled. "He's a thief, not a soldier. He's not used to intimidation tactics."

"I assure you, he is," Akako muttered. "Especially of the carnal sort…"

"Oh, for crying out loud – you're married, Akako, stop lusting after me!" Kaito hissed. "I think we have overstayed our welcome at your table so we'll be going now."

Hakuba raised his champagne glass to Kaito, a humorous smile gracing the bastard's lips. "I expect we'll see you at Glenmore Manor tomorrow night?"

"Expect nothing," Kaito spat, rising from the table.

Galambos ran a sharp, clean slice through his steak, eyes piercing Kaito's back as he walked away. "On the contrary; I shall be expecting everything, Kuroba Kaito…"