A/N: Very old work, but I was extremely proud of it at the time. I find the relationship between Beyond Birthday and Alternate fascinating (if there ever was one), so I made up my only little fic to it. Well... okay, 'little' is kind of an understatement XD

Narcotics

One-Shot

"If you cannot find the truth
right where you are,
where else do you expect to find it?"
- Dogen Zenji

It was weird how it happened, really. To think that such a thing would be so parallel to later events and were it not for the drugs and the cover-up that no one could prove, perhaps it wouldn't have been comparable. Everyone knew of the death of A. It had shaken the timbers that Whammy House was founded upon. Of course, it could've been expected. It should've been expected.

And yet, the surprise of the event turned many orphans upside-down. Heads were screwed with, minds tampered with and really, who knew of all the ways children – no matter how smart – could've reacted to such reality? No one ever thought of Whammy's House as a sacrificial pit in which children were merely discarded if they didn't meet standards. There was a "pass" and a "fail". Those who "passed" followed L. Those who "failed" were transported out of Whammy's to a brother orphanage there, where they would wait until a family dropped by and showed interest. Of course, the latter didn't happen as often, as all – if not, most – of the children under the roof of Whammy's were smart enough to be considered as an heir to the title of "L".Hacking, writing, painting, memorization, mathematical calculations; everything any adult would be tested in college were thrown onto the shoulders of the orphans, challenging them, daring them to complete the task they were give.

It was strange, though. One might ask, "Why are children being tested like adults? They must have some freedom to be kids while they were still young." No. There was no freedom at Whammy's. Though the games numbers reached at least four digits, though some children laughed and smiled as they played outdoor sports, there was no freedom. The games were not truly games to the orphans and they knew that. They were more tests, to test how fast they could come up with a strategy to win and yes, the orphans knew that. But those were the fun kind of tests, the tests orphan could look forward to if nothing else in their lives, if to look forward to something besides succeeding L.

Beyond Birthday thought that ideology was downright sad. He had to be the only orphan in the entire Whammy System – yes, that was what he dubbed it – that did not focus on becoming the next L. No, in fact, he knew he could surpass L easily. His arrogance was not becoming of him, but he was in no way attempting to please anyone, least of all the teachers. And definitely not Whammy himself. No, he didn't even aim to please L. He desired the downfall of L. He craved it.

But whoever said he couldn't have a little bit of fun along the way?

A was the first target.

Born and abandoned in a small town in Italy, A was picked up and sent to the local orphanage where he, a mere three years old, knew how to multiply numbers up to twelve. Seeing the potential, the orphanage contacted one of the nearby brother Houses to pick up A. Though they knew not what the Whammy System did to the orphans, the naive caretakers did know they taught advanced lessons to gifted children. A, once Aiden Romaro, now became the first back-up for L: Alternate. He was the first to be experimented with. The first to have his head tinkered with, studied, tested in various forms of education. And he passed.

The Whammy System grew. Beyond Birthday, admitted not a few days after A turned twelve and only a month behind him in age, didn't mind the change in his life. He, too, had been abandoned, but for his red eyes, the unnatural glow that made him known as the Reaper of Whammy's House. Hearing such childish remarks made Beyond grin with satisfaction and he carried out that title, though no one could really prove it.

Thus A was a perfect "first."

The Italian boy had been stressed as of late, staying up late to study and his level of memorization was steadily falling. He could not retain information as easily anymore and he had headaches often, so often that many turned into migraines and there were times when he couldn't think. Beyond Birthday found such things amusing. He had always excelled in anatomy and biology at the House and seeing real bodies crumple under tension headaches with just the slight contraction of muscles over the skull. Just one contraction, a bit of a spasm, and the person is distracted by the pain. How delightful, Beyond thought as he watched these episodes day after day. Each day, the headaches grew worse and each day, Beyond's grin got wider. Oh, how he could toy with such a desperate mind. Despite that Alternate was ahead of them all, Beyond knew he was very much still just what adults would call "a child". Smart in his grades, had very good common sense and a strong sense of stereotypical morals.

But Beyond was not after such things. He was after what wasn't there inside A's head. And that was the specter of "failure". The boy had been raised believing he was L's clone, the one who would, without a doubt, succeed the original detective. Beyond knew it wasn't true. With the headaches and the slight nausea every now and then, Beyond knew there was no way that Alternate would last a day. Perhaps not even the first twelve hours. So Beyond knew that Alternate was getting desperate. And what better way to have fun than to fuel such desperation until the boy cracked?

Beyond made his way down the hall, his only noise being the bottle in his hand shaking pills carrying 500 milligrams of acetaminophen with a mere five milligrams of hydrocodone. One might ask, "What is he carrying?" Those without a medical degree could hazard a guess. Those who researched painkillers in their free time might know something.

Beyond Birthday had Vicodin in his hand. One might ask, again, "What is it going to do?" Well, obviously if it had acetaminophen in it, then it would be to relieve pain, yes? And the itty bitty tiny little spots of hydrocodone mixed in can be discarded because there's so little in it. Many would come to the conclusion that Beyond would be giving in to Alternate's determination to become L and thus trying to help him. Flip it around and then the image shown is Beyond as a murderous dark creature who is attempting to get A to overdose. Of course, that was the original plan, but A was no fool. He knew an attempt on his life when he saw one.

But he had never been up against Beyond Birthday, the devious, cunning, psychotic Reaper of the Whammy House. Beyond Birthday knew what to do and how to do it. All that was left was the actual actions he needed to make. Because just over-dosing was never any fun.

A gentle knock turned into a harsh tap and it was not a minute before the door flew open, revealing to Beyond what it truly meant to be stressed and physically drained. A's dirty blonde hair, falling down to his shoulders, was in disarray, and his hazel eyes were underlined with bags from months prior. Clothes were disheveled and the fire-red shirt hung off his shoulders. A had lost weight. The once perfectly fitting brown pants now hung slightly as well. Beyond, not concerned with such observations, held up the bottle of Vicodin.

"Beyond thinks Alternate is in need of assistance." His tone was cold, filled with false concern, fake promises that he hadn't even uttered.

A gave Beyond Birthday a cold look. "I do not require assistance from the likes of you, Beyond. I am perfectly capable of handling my own needs." Besides, A knew that B was up to something when he showed false concern. Only way he knew it wasn't truth was that he had known Beyond for a while and in that time, he understood what it meant to be fucked up in the head. There was never remorse for the dead in Beyond's mind, never any feeling that he should meddle in other people's business except for when he wanted something and most of the time, that "something" was to show reign of dominance over the other orphans.

Not that A could prove it, of course, considering Roger never caught the devil child.

"Oh, but I disagree, Alternate," Beyond's voice was silky smooth and he grinned like a Cheshire cat, as he always did. "Beyond thinks that Alternate has been having pain as of late and seeks to remedy that, as fighting with another who isn't at their fullest is no fun at all."

Sure, the logic seemed very much like Beyond and sure, the logic itself seemed reasonable. But A was no so desperate as to take the bottle and use the medicine. "I am perfectly fine, Beyond. Now take your leave." A had always been something of a poet.

A made a move to shut the door, but Beyond stuck his foot in it, stopping him. With little effort, he pushed open the door, entered the room, and shut the infernal blockade behind him. A looked as if he was trying to become angry, but seemed too tired to build up the anger to shove Beyond out. "Beyond, please leave." At least he was trying to be considerate.

"Beyond will not leave because his task has not been accomplished." Again with that annoying logic of his... "And because he believes that Alternate is in need of a distraction from all his work."

"I like my work," A countered, his hand gripping the back of his chair as he attempted to stand up straight. "I am capable of handling it myself without your help in any way, shape, or form." He straightened ever so slightly. "You bring me pain medicine layered with logical fallacies in hopes that I'll listen to you and do what you want me to. You give me a simple solution to a complex problem that won't work."

"Beyond thought that Alternate said that there was no problem."

A mentally cursed. "Even so, I will ask you one more time. Leave."

"No."

"Leave!"

"No."

A took a step, but buckled in strength as a wave of pain washed over his head, coming back and stabbing him as if to remind him that it was still there, despite the distraction standing across the room. A rested a hand on his head. "I don't have time to deal with you. Leave my room now."

Beyond shook his head, wavy black hair falling into his blood-red eyes. "No." He looked up above A's head. The red tint over his eyes made clear A's real name – one Beyond Birthday had seen many times before – and the remaining lifespan. The life span was small now. Beyond knew he had been correct.

"Take the pills, A." How unlike Beyond to refuse to call him "Alternate" or "Just Another." Especially now.

The Italian boy looked up and glared. "Get out."

"I will if you take the medicine."

"How do I know it isn't laced with poison or anything, since it's coming from you."

"Why would I want to kill you by poisoned medicine?" Beyond almost rolled his eyes. It was inconceivable for him because it wasn't fun that way. The taker died a peaceful death. Beyond hated that.

"Why would you want to come and help me?"

"Why won't you just take the damn pills?" Cursing. How out-of-character for Beyond.

"You do realize that this is all extremely random and out-of-character for you, right?"

Now Beyond did roll his eyes. "Beyond thinks Alternate is becoming increasingly paranoid and more naive." A, in his fit of anger, swiped the bottle out of Beyond's hand.

Bad move. "That was very rude, A. You just grabbed it out of Beyond's hand."

"You told me to."

Beyond moved closer. "Beyond told Alternate to take the medicine to relieve his headaches. Not to grab it out of his hand."

A set the bottle down. "I don't see the difference."

"Beyond thinks Alternate must be punished for his act of rudeness."

"Wha—"

Took late. Beyond grabbed hold of A's wrists and pinned him to the wall. There was no passion in this. There was no love or concern. That became clear. Nips and bites rained down on A's neck as he struggled to get free. His fatigue kept him in Beyond's hold.

It was a sinful act, truly. The tight grip that kept A from getting away, the sharp teeth biting hard enough to draw blood, the tearing of cloth that instilled a deep fear into his mind, and the mattress – once so soft – hitting his back like a harsh slab of wood... it was all just so sinful that A didn't know whether he wanted to cry or just scream. He thought he did both. He knew he had cried in pain as he felt the sword bury itself into the sheath he called his body with no preparation, no love, no passion, no feeling of any kind behind it. And during it all, Beyond had slipped pills into his mouth when he kissed him, tickling his neck to make him swallow the medication, the connection being an unspoken promise of virtue with no truth behind it.

And then came the knife. The sweet blade of steel, so finely sharpened to a point, so long and slim; a perfect size. The knife of those false promises dug into the skin of A's chest, slicing thin lines down and then across his abdomen, up his arms, to his wrists, his fingertips, and to his cheek. Beyond was quick to his point by slicing a sketchy letter "A" onto Alternate's cheek. Not so fancy as the older orphan's handwriting, no cursive feel to it, no pious features. It was rough, sketchy, very much like Beyond himself. It made his insides crawl with glee.

And then it was over and Beyond sat up, looking down at the orphan who looked so tired, so pained, so scared out of his mind, his mouth open in a silent scream that Beyond heard quite well. "Do not worry, Just Another. Beyond has made sure to send him off nicely. You should thank Beyond for his hard work."

The hazel eyes just widened slightly and stared at the devil child with a mixture of placid fear that turned his face white as his tired mind processed what had happened. There was pain everywhere, between his legs and his back, on his neck and across his chest. And strangely, the cheek in which Beyond had carved the first letter of the alphabet was numb and A couldn't feel anything there. His body was heavy. It wouldn't get up. His eyes reminded Beyond of a deer in headlights and despite how much that phrase was used over and over again, it was the only way to explain it.

"Beyond thinks A is going to die soon. Beyond can see A's truth and he knows it's going to happen soon. Cannot say what time or in how many hours or minutes, but Beyond assures Just Another that it's going to happen." There was that Cheshire grin again. "And he has enjoyed it very much."

A laugh – or was it a cackle? – rang out in the room and A felt he knew what it truly meant to be afraid. No sentiment, no concern, no passion were reflected in Beyond's eyes, as he knew they never existed in the first place. Eyes of blood. Eyes of sin. Those eyes, so ungodly, so inhuman, just looked at him.

Pathetic.

There was no truth. In the world where Beyond Birthday existed, there was no truth and there were no lies. There was only everything surrounded by a veil of nothing and that was the true reality in which all the orphans lived, but could not see it. Beyond Birthday, after leaving the House, shattered the reality and the rest of the children created the one before he had come, that false shroud covering their eyes and showing a world that only focused on who they were trying to become. Reality had become a dream for everyone else. Beyond Birthday, however, always saw the reality of the world, the disgusting, rotten world that had death shining around every corner.

In truth, there is no such thing as reality anymore. But that is a lie. In reality, there is no such thing as truth. So using truth, there is no reality.

Thus the world is a lie. Beyond Birthday was the only one who knew.