Disclaimer: We don't own Death Note.

A/N: Here's our mini BB story. It's our first time writing a horror/angst kinda story so this should be exciting! Hope you enjoy and please review!

Chapter 1: Ace

She awoke with a start to the suffocating darkness. There was no air. There was no light. Darkness pressed in on her face, muffling the sounds of the world around her into a nearly silent hum. She was screaming inside for someone to help, but the cries never reached the outside; never voiced the desperation of her panic. She flailed her arms, reaching out into the darkness. And she found him. She felt him. He was holding her there. B.

And suddenly, there was a light. Far away, across the planes of blackness that filled her senses. But it was creeping closer. Soon it would be near. Soon it would engulf her. And yet, even as the bright light came for her, the panic was replaced by an odd sense of calm. She knew her fate now, and she would not fight it.

"I love you," she heard him say. "And I'm sorry."

They say when you're about to die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. So why was it that as the blinding light of death crept toward her, she could think of nothing but B? His face, his voice, his every motion filled her mind. And then, as the light met her and erased the darkness around, she realized that B was her life. He was her entire existence. He was her love. He was her soul. And now, he was her murderer.

Dark hair hovered in front of B's eyes as he scanned the mess hall of Wammy's house. Rows upon rows of the best and brightest sat crowded together, the noise of their conversations echoing through B's head; an irritating buzz he couldn't seem to drown out, even with his own ever racing thoughts. Red scrolled above their heads, revealing the very identities they sought to hide and the ticking clock of their predetermined deaths. That was the curse of the Shinigami eyes; to know a name and lifespan before you even knew a personality.

He poked at the mess on his plate with his fork, glancing back up at the sound of a footstep. It was a blonde girl with judging eyes that instantly turned B off. She was just like the others. She hesitated at the empty seats around him, but then continued onward, off to a table with more suitable neighbors obviously. B was alone again, and yet he wasn't surprised. Though, he wasn't the only one who ate alone.

His eyes crossed the hall and fell on who was perhaps the classmate he despised the most. The classmate who ate alone, not because he was shunned away, but because he chose to. L. He was, according to everyone in the school, the best. The absolute greatest mind in the world. Fifteen. Raven hair that fell in every direction but the way it should be parted. A baggy t-shirt and blue jeans that fell so uncaringly on the hunched over back of the boy who wore them. Fifteen, and destined to be the world's greatest detective.

And for this reason, B despised him. In his own opinion, he could be the best. Would be, if not for L. He was the barrier that kept everyone from seeing B's own talent. And yet, B knew the position belonged to him. He had the mind, the determination, he just lacked the support. The blind fools of the orphanage who couldn't see that he was the best. Of course, the red scrolled above this man's head…L Lawliet…didn't indicate an abnormally short life, and he would be above B in everyone's eyes for the remainder of those years to come.

And yet there was another. An A. A second person that had surpassed him mentally and therefore put him in third place. A runner up.

His eyes traveled along the tables, resting on her. Sixteen. Younger than B, but just barely, and a long lifespan that guaranteed her aging through the years. They called her Ace, but he saw that she was really Allison Holloway. She was second to L, and one above B. Long auburn hair that fell around her face, which lit up as she spoke to those around her. Quite the social butterfly. She never ate alone; never was alone. She somehow managed to come in second place, despite the obvious social network that one would assume to be a distraction. And yet, she was different.

Clearly, she was not just like the others. She was different from the blonde girl who had refused to sit near B, and different from those who laughed around her. There was a fierce determination in her eye; an obvious sense of justice and hard work that could not be ignored. B almost considered her a rival, like L, but he didn't. As he studied her, he concluded that she would be nothing. It didn't matter if she was A and he was B. His target to match was L, and all others were nothing. She was meaningless.

Though, despite his will, B wasn't sure how to surpass L. He was not sure how to show his superiority. He would never be L, so it seemed useless to try to match him. No, he would have to beat him. To make himself the best while at the same time removing some of L's credibility. One day, he would know how to do just that, but for now, he would stay at the orphanage and uselessly let the days slide by him.

B looked back to his plate, deciding the nutritional value was not worth the pain of eating it. He grabbed both sides of the tray and stood up, carrying it toward the clean up area where a few others stood. He dumped it in the bin and turned, glancing at his feet as he walked. Green, blue, green, blue, blue, red…he never could make sense of the pattern of the tiles. And suddenly, there were bare feet in his view, and he looked up to see L standing before him, clearly not watching where he was going either.

"I'm sorry…" the dark haired boy muttered, moving around B and dumping his own tray in the container. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued out of the mess hall, staring straight ahead as he walked. B stared after him, blocking the path of those that shuffled around him.

"Hey, move it," a sharp voice said from behind B. He turned to see an annoyed looking brunette girl edging around him, and stepped out of her pathway. She shot him a glance and continued back toward her friends that she probably didn't deserve in the first place.

B moved his feet forward, past the tables upon tables of students. He felt a few glances on his shoulders, but ignored them. He passed A and her friends, and finally reached the doors, which he pushed through and into the hall. Soon it would be time for class, so he headed that direction. He would sit there alone for a while, but it was no matter. All he needed was his thoughts.

"Seat's taken," a dusty haired boy said as B approached. The class was empty, aside from this child who obviously felt the need to go to class early as well. B's dark eyes lingered on the boy for a moment before he reached out and slid the chair from the desk, sitting down with deliberate finality. The boy looked at him before rolling his eyes and turning from B. He wouldn't turn back to talk. They never did.

The seats filled up around him as student after student piled into the classroom. To his left, the early arriving boy who had claimed B's seat, and to his right a peppy girl who's voice cut through the air like a bell. B resisted the urge to tell her to shut her mouth as he eyed the door. Finally, there was L, shuffling in calmly and taking the seat in the front. He pulled his knees to his chest and sat, waiting like the rest.

And to the back, there was Ace. She was chatting with care free casualness to the group around her; girls and boys alike. The girls looked to her with obvious envy. Her features were flawless. Bright green eyes and a smile that washed away worry; any girl there wouldn't hesitate to trade places with her.

The boys looked at her with obvious wanting. She was clearly the most beautiful in the room, and therefore the prize at the end of a race for her affections. Ace of hearts, if you wanted the full nickname. All the kings, jacks, and jokers alike wanted her, but she was the only copy in the deck. And it was clear, through her polite conversing with the boys around her, that she would never draw their card. They were just hopeless fools to the game, and so clearly not destined to be the winner of her affections.

"Page fifty-nine, where we left off yesterday," the hopeless instructor said as he entered the room. Most of his pupils had surpassed him mentally, and so the lessons were reviews, at best. B nearly pitied his efforts, but he only had a year or so left to live anyway so there was no point in wasting sympathy on him.

Books and papers shuffled as the students complied with his demands, B included in the lot. L was the only one who left his desk blank, and the teacher looked to him.

"L, your book?"

"No need. I recall the information perfectly," L explained, placing his thumb to his lip. "The text of page fifty-nine began with the phrase 'Justice has been a concept debated among individuals for many years,' correct?" The professor checked his notes and nodded, a smile gracing his face.

"Excellent work L. It's always good to see someone so devoted to the work as to memorize it." B glanced to his book bitterly. He did not need to have it open either. He could remember every word on that page, and every color printed. But, complying with the demands of the professor, he once again let L surpass him. Yet again L came out on top in a situation in which B could have reigned supreme.

"Well L," the professor continued. "Since you are clearly prepared, perhaps you could share your opinion on the subject with the rest of us."

"Yes," L agreed. "I feel, though I'm sure I don't have to stress this point to many of you, that justice is supreme. There is no greater purpose than to deliver ultimate justice to an enemy, and to win the competition."

"Hmm any opposing opinions?" the professor asked, looking to the group. B so desperately wanted to argue with L in a point, but he found that he often agreed with him on most subjects, and this was proving no different. Justice was supreme.

But, among the inferior classmates that wouldn't dream of arguing with L, a brave hand shot up.

"Yes Ace?" the teacher asked. "A different viewpoint?"

"Yes," Ace nodded. "Now please, don't get me wrong, justice is an important subject, but don't you think compassion is an equally important one? Sympathy for your enemy's actions that might explain why they did what they did? Justice is satisfying, but not everything is about winning and losing." The professor was nodding, and B didn't think he had any sort of opinion to offer. Thankfully for him, the bright minds in the room could drive their own debates, and so L picked up the argument.

"I see your point," he acknowledged, "but I have to disagree. Everything is about winning and losing, and therefore the sense of justice would have to come before a sense of compassion. Aside from a few forgiving exceptions, which might very well include you Ace, most people would rather see their enemies paying the price for the wrong's they have inflicted rather than forgiving and taking the time to understand their actions."

"In terms of human nature as a whole, perhaps," Ace agreed. "But I think your opinion on compassion stems from your own dislike of losing. Am I wrong?"

"You're quite right actually," L agreed. "I hate losing."

"Well there you go," Ace nodded, smiling slightly in her triumph. "That means that for you everything is about winning and losing, but not to others, which means the concept of justice isn't always on top." L was looking at her with unblinking eyes, and the slight nervousness that rose up in Ace was evident to those around her.

"I see…" L mused, placing his thumb to his lip. "But unfortunately I find that you are quite wrong Ace. You yourself have proven my point that everything is about winning and losing."

"Care to elaborate?" Ace said, raising her eyebrows. The room was a pit of silence, everyone's eyes glued on the small debate ensuing. And everyone knew what was coming. No one ever debated with L on the pure fact that his intellect allowed him to think ahead of opponents, and this was proving no different. Much relating to the topic, Ace was about to lose.

"Certainly," L agreed. "You claim that winning and losing isn't everything, but this conversation now is nothing more than a competition. If compassion had been you're driving force, you would have left my opinion alone, accepting my beliefs as my own and feeling no need to argue. However, you raised your hand and attempted to convince me of your own ideas. And when I disagreed, you continued the debate in attempt to make your own opinion above mine. You raised your hand to win this argument against me, correct?" Ace was completely speechless. She had no counterargument for that, and so she backed out.

"Let's just…agree to disagree," she winced. It was pure defeat, and what was worse that he had been right. Now that she had lost, she realized how important winning had been to her. L turned back around in his seat as the professor read from the book robotically. B glanced at L for a moment before shifting his gaze to the redhead. She was looking at her book, but so clearly going over the debate in her head meticulously, searching for a place she could have said something better. B found himself wanting to talk to this girl. To share with her his feelings of defeat as well. They were both alike, despite all their differences. They were both runner-ups to L. But he knew he would never speak to her. She was A and he was B, and there were more differences there than anything.

B kept his head down as he wandered through the crowds in the hall. He preferred it this way. There was no point in looking at the faces of those who would never regard him as anything. They would never see his true personality, so he had no interest in knowing theirs. And beyond that, their deaths were already written above their heads. Scrolled out in the vivid red writing that he had always been able to see. He never understood why he had that power; the eyes. He learned at a young age not to get close to people with life spans that promised they'd be ripped away from that world, and it wasn't long before he learned not to get close to people in general. If they weren't taken away, the relationship would end in betrayal. It was human nature. That's what B chose to tell himself; to keep himself from wanting the closeness that other humans sought. Closeness was nothing but a weakness. Closeness, relationships, love…all weaknesses.

And above all that, there was no one. B had no one. No parents, no friends. There was no one to be close to in the first place. His life was alone.

Left, right, left, right; the rhythm of his walk was steady. Not in a rush to go anywhere, but in no way wanting to linger any longer than he had to. There were fabrics brushing against his arms, the bare skin of others, and occasionally the hard corners of books and other items. Everyone headed in different directions as the noise of conversations and motion swarmed the hall.

Suddenly, B was stopped. A force he had not been expecting that knocked him backward and momentarily made him forget what was going on. And when he looked back up, it was her.

"Ow…" she mumbled, straightening herself back out and holding the place on her head where they had collided. "I'm so sorry, I just wasn't paying attention! You're B, right?" He held his head too, a throbbing he could have done without. Sharp and pounding.

"Uh…yes?" he managed to say, unsure of why this redheaded girl had any desire to stop and talk to him. She should push past; brush off a rough apology and move on. But instead, she lingered, smiling in a genuinely friendly way back at him.

"I'm Ace," she smiled carelessly. "I don't think we've ever been formally introduced." B's hand left his head and he stood before her, unsure of what to say. What does one say in situations like this? They'd never met. They had no history together at all. He kept his face straight as he spoke, deciding it best not to waste a smile on a chance encounter.

"No," he said. "I'm B, as we've established." And that was the end of what he assumed was needed for this meeting. He made to continued around her, but then there was something on his arm. Her hand.

"Well, you don't have to run off so quickly," she told him, turning in such a way that they were facing again, but on opposite sides from before.

"Why not?" B wondered. "This was nothing more than an accidental meeting, and I doubt we'll have conversations in the future. There's no point in continuing what is bound to be a pointless waste of our day." Ace narrowed her eyes.

"That was cynical," she pointed out. She was looking at him with her full attention, and B found himself intrigued as to why she would want to continue this talk. "What makes you conclude that we will never talk again? Or that this talk would be a waste of our day? Maybe we were meant to run straight into each other today. Maybe one of us will have an impact on the other." It was B's turn to narrow his eyes. An optimistic viewpoint much different from those around.

"We don't associate with the same people," B said simply. He had no desire to argue with this hopeful stranger he would never speak with again. He watched as her eyes scanned his face, taking in the dark hair, the brown eyes, and the unreadable expression that looked back at her.

"You don't associate with people," she continued. "But you're going to. Because you and I are going to get to know each other better. I'm going to show you that us running into each other was for a reason. And I'll bet we have more in common than you think." It was B's turn to scan her. They were nothing alike. She was beautiful, with clothes that fit her slim figure and reflected bright colors that apparently stemmed from her cheerful personality. He was plain, with a black shirt and worn out jeans that reflected nothing but his indifference toward others. And yet she insisted that they were meant to be something more than just two people brushing by each other.

"Very well," B said, giving in to her convincing tone. "Show me." He looked at her, and she nodded.

"Soon," she agreed. "And so I will definitely see you later," she added this with finality and held out her hand to him. A common gesture; the symbol of an agreement. B held out his, and she grasped it. Her hand was warm in his, and he took a moment to absorb the feeling of another person's touch. And in a moment, it was over. She smiled and turned away from him. Though he still believed this to be a chance encounter, he accepted that he would meet with her again. When, however, was uncertain.