In England, Ai found herself adapting quickly to her new role within the science team. Studying the cure of the APTX formula she had created, she felt a sense of purpose that helped her adjust to her new life.
Conan, on the other hand, a year later Conan still felt lost. He moved through his days on autopilot; even the simple actions of life were difficult to muster. Every day was like sinking into a vat of thick, sticky syrup – no matter how hard he tried to swim against it's relentless pull, he found himself weighed down by fatigue and inertia.
He'd heard that returning from war could be hard – but nothing had prepared him for this feeling of not belonging anywhere anymore; as if part of his soul remained in far-off places now long forgotten. He found himself resentful of the idyllic countryside that felt worlds away from the action back home.
As the days turned into weeks, then months, Conan and Ai found themselves becoming human experiments. Their every move was monitored and analyzed, a constant reminder of the looming threat of the Black Organization.
"Remember when we were free to live our lives without being watched every minute of the day?" Conan mused one evening, staring out the window at the rolling English countryside.
"Actually, I don't," Ai responded, her voice tinged with coldness. "My time with the organization wasn't much different from this."
"Doesn't this bother you?" Conan asked Ai one day, his frustration evident. "Being watched like this?"
"Of course it does," Ai admitted as they walked together through the sterile halls of the Interpol lab. "But I've spent most of my life under surveillance. At least now, it's for a good cause."
"Right," Conan said. They lapsed into silence, but it was a comfortable one. Conan and Ai entered the lab, they were greeted warmly by a stocky scientist in his late forties, dressed in a white lab coat beneath an old-fashioned safety hat. Beside him stood two nurses, both middle-aged women whose faces were framed by short haircuts; they nodded respectfully to acknowledge Conan and Ai's presence.
The lab was a hub of ceaseless activity, a beehive where every bee knew its job. The tests they embarked upon were rigorous and exhaustive. Drawing blood samples, measuring levels of various compounds, and comparing their results with control materials consumed several hours. Ai, with her meticulous nature, was in her element, ensuring flawless recording and data integrity.
Amidst the bustle, Conan, usually the one to solve puzzles and uncover truths, found himself silently observing Ai. He watched as she confidently discusses with the senior scientists, her youth never diminishing the weight of her words.
It was clear to everyone why Ai had been invited to join this elite team; her youth was overshadowed by her immense capability. Despite being one of the youngest members, she felt no intimidation to voice her opinions, even to the most seasoned scientists.
In a rare moment of unguarded thought, Conan voiced his admiration. "Your dedication to finding an antidote… it's amazing," he said, more to himself than to her, as Ai peered through their microscopes. The words slipped out, a whispered tribute to her relentless pursuit of a cure.
Ai's hand stilled on the slide she was examining, and she turned to him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes that quickly gave way to a soft, vulnerable look they seldom shared. For a moment, the lab around them faded into a blur, and there was just the two of them.
It was then that one of the nurses, who had been observing them with a hint of disapproval, decided to interject. "Conan, maybe you should let Ai focus on her work. We can't afford to slack off here," she chided lightly, though the underlying sternness was clear.
The intimacy of the moment shattered, Ai returned her gaze to the microscope, a faint color rising in her cheeks. Conan, the annoyance clear in the crease of his brow, gave the nurse a sharp look. Without another word, he pushed away from the lab table, his chair scraping against the floor with more force than he intended.
"I'll be in the study room," Conan muttered, and walked out, leaving Ai to her work. The resonance of their moment lingered with him, but now mixed with the sting of being reminded of his place on the sidelines. He would wait, as he always had, for Ai to finish her shift.
In the study room, Conan settled into a chair, its cushions worn from the countless others who had sat there. The walls were adorned with the muted colors of medical posters, and the sterile smell of antiseptic hung in the air, a stark reminder of the environment he had temporarily intruded upon. His mind replayed the moment in the lab—the warmth in Ai's eyes, so quickly dissolved by the nurse's remark.
He drummed his fingers on the armrest, each tap a metronome to the ticking clock of his impatience. Conan's mind wandered, reflecting on how much can change in one year. From detective work to the discipline of home-schooling in an Interpol enclave, with Haibara engrossed in her lab experiments.
A few hours later, the lab door eventually opened, and Ai stepped out, her posture returning to its usual composed state, but there was a subtle softness left from their earlier exchange. She glanced around, her eyes finding Conan, and there was an unspoken understanding that passed between them.
"Finished for today?" Conan asked, his voice casual, as if the intensity of their earlier interaction had never happened.
"Yes," Ai replied, with a nod. "The rest is up to the analysis now."
They walked side by side down the quiet, fluorescent-lit corridor, their footsteps in sync. The silence was not uncomfortable; it was their silence, one filled with words that didn't need to be spoken, questions that didn't need to be asked, and emotions that, for now, didn't need to be expressed.
As they stepped out into the fading light of the day, greeted by the same black sedan that drove them almost everywhere they go. Conan held the door open for Ai as she slid into the back seat, the leather cool against her skin. He followed suit, settling next to her.
As the engine hummed to life, a vibration that signified the beginning of their retreat from the public eye. The city passing by in a blur of lights and shadows. Buildings towered above, windows glinting like eyes that watched without seeing, and people moved along the sidewalks, wrapped in their own lives, oblivious to the two souls in the black car.
Ai turned her gaze to the window, watching the reflection of her own face superimposed on the moving tapestry of the city. Eventually, the cityscape gave way to the outskirts, where the safe house, their current home, waited. Conan and Ai stepped into the house, taking off their shoes.
Yukiko approached them with a pleasant smile, she glanced at Conan who was standing in the corner of the room, his shoulders hunched over and his eyes downcast as if lost in thought. She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before looks towards Ai.
In that moment of silence, no further explanation was necessary. Conan is slowly slipping into his cycle of low-mood and isolation. She watched the two small figures enter their room leaving her in the center of the living room. She rested her hands on her hips and a mischievous glint in her eyes. She had an idea. A fun idea for the weekend.