"And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"
-The Raven, Edgar Allen Poe, 1845
The racking breaths between Its frenzied mewling were the most infuriating. B could only make out a dim impression of his yammering neighbor; a nervous fluttering of light and shadow, moving like the wings of a frightened insect. If B could, he would wrap his hands around Its trachea and squeeeeze until Its hyoid bone cracked. A soft crunch, like stepping on the shell of a beetle. Mmmmmnn. Fantasy would have to suffice; B's hands were cuffed to the railing of his burn-ward hospital bed. That, and Its time had not yet come.
Though his vision was mostly ruined, he could still see the names and life spans of the people around him. They wandered ghost-like through B's grey world. What had since birth isolated him from those around him was now all he had to connect with humanity. B had lost. Skin, hair, sight, the game, L's subservience. All lost. Even his own death was denied him.
"A-Aaaaghhh!"
The phrenetic flutter of black against white muddled what was happening in the next cot, but it was simple enough to deduce that It was flailing Its arms wildly. B gritted his teeth. Was he to be denied even reverie?
"Stop that," he rasped. His smoke-ravaged lungs robbed his voice of its intended authority. The thing in the next cot went still.
"the bugs thebugsthebugs they keep
keep coming
out of the Wheel of the Sun
the Eye of the Sun
like a fountain
sees me seesmeseesmeand
it
buuUURNNNNSSSSSSAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!"
Its shriek provoked the other cot-bound Things around them.
"Samsa, you fuckwit!"
"Shaddup, shaddup, SHADDUP!"
"Muh-Morphine…"
B inhaled slowly through his nose. The intake elicited searing pain from his lungs, and the intended sigh turned into a splutter. His eyes stung at the bloom of agony in his chest, and B cursed the woman Naomi Misora. A few moments! He would have died triumphant in his blaze of glory. Triumphant and free from the wretched, insectile Things of the world instead of incapacitated among them as he now was.
There was a tug on the sleeve of his hospital gown. B whipped his head around—neck cracking audibly—and tried to make out what it was he was caught on. It was a hand. The Thing in the next cot gibbered and tugged again. Repulsed, B jerked away. It held fast to his sleeve.
"the Eye
sees me
you have to help"
Its voice was hushed; hoarse with what B guessed was fear.
"No." He did not bother to disguise the lack of affect in his voice.
"you must the Eye it
watches sends
bugs the bugs the
curses
word salad
echolaliaiaia
help meeeee…"
Its whisper trailed off into hitching sobs. It did not release his sleeve. For lack of his thumb, B ran his tongue across the fronts of his upper row of teeth. So It had an organic thought disorder…interesting. The plan formed almost unbidden. This was going to be a fascinating experiment.
"What is your name?"
"…" It did not answer, preferring instead to rock back and forth in Its own cot without releasing B's sleeve. Aggravated now, B ran his tongue hastily over his teeth again.
"If you don't tell me, I won't help you."
It whimpered, and spoke.
"sometimes I have to think whetheretherether to answer when people ask my name because
the Eye
always watching always…"
It trailed off. B's eyebrows knitted for as long as his raw skin would permit. Irksome. To complete this experiment, B would have to approach it from a different angle. Within moments, he had assumed the persona befitting the situation. "I wonder, are you familiar with the correlation between names and power?" He made his voice quiet, conspiratorial. It said nothing. B continued, unfazed, "It is said that when you give someone your name, you're giving that person a vital piece of you with which they can work all manner of spells."
It stopped rocking.
B licked his lips. This part of the experiment required the subjects mind to be in just the right malleable state of delusion to succeed. B drew himself as close to the partition in the hospital curtain as his restraints would allow, and whispered as if divulging some great and deadly secret.
"If we trade names, I can take the Eye away from you."
It dropped B's sleeve. The offer hung in the air for several seconds, growing stagnant. B was about to consider the experiment a failure, when It spoke.
"samsa granger samsa"
B allowed himself the indulgence of a smile. The first step of his plan had been executed smoothly.
"My name is Beyond Birthday."
Disclaimer: Death Note (manga, animation, novels, etc.), its story, and characters are the property, copyright and trademark of Taugumi Ohba/Takeshi Obata/SHUEISHA Inc./Madhouse/DNDP/VAP, and no ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by their use in the work(s) of fan fiction presented here. This fan fiction constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This fan fiction is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.