Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.
I'm so sorry for writing this! Please don't hate me! I'm sorry!
It would have been wrong to have expected any more. Actually, Beyond felt that the lack of restraints had been rather generous. Yes, in a perfect world there would have been less, or even none; but the world was far from perfect, a fact which he was not deluded by.
He was, quite literally, fastened to an upright, vertical table. From the neck down to the feet, his body had been wrapped in an artefact of clothing designed like a straitjacket, which held his limbs in place with leather belts and metal buckles, many of which managing to press through the material and jab at his skin painfully, which would inevitably leave bruises all over his body once he was free. Assuming he was allowed to move at some point, of course.
His mouth was held shut by what seemed to be a dog-mask designed for the human face, bars of metal keeping his jaw tightly and painfully closed. A fool may have thought it unusual that he was called from his cell, which was then something he was longing for, to have a "talk" with an "old friend" of his, only to have his jaw fastened along with the rest of his body. Obviously, those fools did not know the man who had arranged the meeting.
What lucky bastards those fools were.
Talking hadn't been on the cards, at least for BB. It had been years since they had stopped running around in the yard as children, but the games he was forced into playing still continued, as they would until his death. Which, hopefully, wouldn't be all that far away. It was unrealistic to assume he could last another sixty years in prison, thankfully.
The back of the table was facing the door, but the door itself was far too heavy to allow for a surprise entrance. Supposedly, he had been positioned in such a way to allow for an intense and dramatic entrance, but the truth was Beyond didn't really care. He had been strapped up for hours on end without food or water, in too much pain to even consider sleep, with nothing but a grey wall to stare at and his thoughts for company. Dangerous company. The setting reminded him far too much of those nights spent trapped in the dark. That was the point, and he knew it.
But knowing that it was intended for him to be afraid made it so much easier, so much calmer.
There was a scraping behind the door as a key pressed into the lock.
Sccrrrthnk.
Chhhhhlnk.
The noise echoed inside the prisoner's head, even if in reality it had been barely audible.
It was finally time.
How long had it been since the day of his failure? How long was it since he awoke to those white hospital walls, white sheets, white flooring, white shirt, white teeth from a smile, white, white, white, white? The days had blurred into one, like an endless dream that he could never escape, a dream that belonged to someone else who was using the pain and despair as a method of entertainment, his screams becoming music, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP!
No.
That was enough. The game was done, and Beyond had lost. He wouldn't play his games any more. He couldn't make him.
L couldn't hurt him any more.
As expected, the door scraped against the floor with a slow, loud screech, and even with being inside a maze of hallways, a cold breeze found its way inside.
L was wearing trainers. They squeaked against the floor as he shuffled.
Tsch. Tsch. Tsch. Tsch.
He remained hidden behind the table and out of BB's vision, just as expected. It had been worth what little sanity he had in exchange for learning the detective's move set; the way his brain ticked like a machine. He was a machine.
Tick Tick Tick Tick.
The sound of his brain working.
Tsch. Tsch. Tsch. Tsch.
No, the sound of him moving again.
Had his mouth not been restrained, the successor would have bitten his tongue as he prepared for that familiar hunched body to come into sight. He wished, how he wished, that the restraints were a precaution out of L's fear of him; that he was afraid of getting hurt by Beyond, and that the only way he felt safe was if the younger male was held down by leather straps and metal buckles.
They weren't.
Because, to L, he was not the scary murderer the reporters dubbed him as.
He was nothing more than a disobedient dog.
That broken little animal who should have been put down long ago, but was kept alive as a way of amusing himself with. The rabid little mongrel who killed three innocent people.
Why?
The raven-haired man finally showed himself.
He circled the table, keeping his eyes focused like a predator would on its prey, thinking of the fastest way to take down its kill, looking for the weakest point to hit. There were plenty to choose from.
But Beyond wouldn't go down without a fight.
He hadn't changed since their last meeting. Even his expression was the same blank, emotionless stare it had always been.
He always concealed his smugness, pretending it wasn't there for everyone else. They were the only two people who knew this side of him existed.
The only living ones, anyway.
Crimson eyes focused on the wall. He would not watch his attacker. He would not acknowledge him. No good would come from giving him what the reaction he wanted.
Block everything out...
Listen to the sound of your breathing...
Endure it.
"You look tired. How have you been sleeping?"
He was waiting for a movement of the head or a change in expression.
So much as an eyelash moved.
Wonderfully.
"Have you become used to the new routine yet? I understand that it would be a difficult change."
'Wake up. Try not to get fucked over.' Not all that different.
"Would you like me to take that mask off? It looks quite painful."
It wasn't an offer of kindness; he just wanted a reaction. How could he speak of pain when he knew nothing of it? How could he act like he understood how it felt to be human when all he understood was how to be a machine? There was no calling him dead when he'd never been alive.
A bony pair of fingers brushed against BB's cheek as they worked at removing the metal clamping his face together. He couldn't deny that it felt wonderful to have it off, tingling sensations rushing through his mouth as he tried to inconspicuously move his jaw.
It hadn't even begun, but already the weight of the situation was hurting. No wonder they both ended up with everlasting slouches.
L examined the object he had removed, twisting it over in hands, holding it up as if considering putting it on his own face. He didn't, of course, and dropped it to the floor with a clang before kicking it away with the side of his foot.
The only reason it was ordered it to be worn was to cause a painfully numb jaw, which it succeeded in doing. Moving his tongue made him realise just how long he'd gone without water. It felt like sandpaper. Inadvertently his teeth found their way to his dry lips, trying to massage the feeling back, but instead splitting the skin enough to cause the sticky wetness of blood. Beyond rubbed his lower lip against the upper, spreading the irony taste over as much as he could. It made him feel sick, but at least it was liquid.
The man standing before him frowned. How disgusting.
With the back of his wrist, he forcefully rubbed the blood away, knowing his successor would have to give his all not to tear his hand off. How like the dog he was to bite the had that feeds him.
"Your lips are dry. Are you thirsty?"
"No." Talking hurt his throat more than anticipated, causing Beyond to wince with his reply.
"If you want water, all you have to do is ask for it."
"I'm not thirsty." That was too easy a trap to fall into. L would not manipulate him so easily.
A sigh.
"...You can't blame me for your being here, Backup."
Yes I can. You put me here.
"I'm here because of you."
"That's an immature accusation. You know why you're here."
"Because I'm a killer? I don't agree with your double standards, Liar."
It was dangerous ground to be treading on; L would have prepared for this. Prepared for being called out for what he was. How could he not? He always knew he was a monster, and it had only been a matter of time before someone else saw it too.
"Don't compare myself to you, Backup." He kept his cool expertly, of course.
"Why shouldn't I? We're the same, Liar. I'm your perfect copy in every way."
"No, you aren't. Don't think such repulsive thoughts."
Damn. He was too calm with his retorts. If this was his plan, what was he trying to achieve? L was expecting to be called a monster, but what was his next move going to be? There was no way he was going to suddenly accept the truth of those words after living a lifetime of repudiation.
"We're even both murderers, Liar."
L turned away. "A committed suicide."
"No! Stop acting like you didn't want him to die. You keep pretending that you're the victim, when you practically handed him the rope!"
The detective hissed.
"You don't understand, Backup."
"Enlighten me."
His back was facing the restrained man, but even without seeing his face it was evident how he felt. His words were not pained. He suffered no guilt. He wasn't ashamed.
"I had no choice. There was no other way to convince them." L tilted his head to the side, looking behind him out of the corner of his eye. "The weight of being L would have driven you both to insanity. You wouldn't have survived more than three years." Yes, I calculated.
He continued. "But it was more than that. Every life, every death, every ruined life and destroyed family would be depending on you... And you would fail. You would lose control, and how many would suffer because of it? I tried to explain it, but Quilish and Roger refused to accept it. They wanted to foolishly believe you could manage it all like I did. But you aren't my Backup. You were broken."
Beyond couldn't prevent himself from flinching at the word. Years later, it still shook him to the core. The memories of the crying child clawing at the door of the basement, alone inside the darkness, screaming to be let out, while that same chant sang over and over again.
B the broken, B the broken, B the broken.
It hurt.
Be the broken, be the broken, be the broken.
It had to be a lie; all of this was an act. There was nothing so selfless about L Lawliet. He had no excuse for leaving his replacement trapped in the darkness. He had no excuse for destroying him.
L could feel his pain from several paces away, knowing how deeply he was cutting by bringing the memories he had tried, he had so badly wanted to suppress back into view.
"I had to show them what you are. A killed himself when he saw what he was, but you went on to prove me right. You refused to accept it, trying to believe you could surpass me in another way: as a criminal. You wanted to use the fact you were broken as an advantage."
And look where it got you.
Beyond chewed the inside of his cheek, more curious to know where this was going than furious enough to break his cool exterior and, once again, submit to the taunts thrown at him. What he wouldn't give to choke the man before him without the consequence of it handing over a victory. L did not deserve to die laughing in the knowledge of being right. If B was broken, it was because he was made that way. The provocations, the mind games, the false promises, the same repeated words of being nothing but dirt under the detective's shoes that he worked everyday to eradicate...
Was it that he couldn't bear to be replaced? Not by some copy who would cheat his way through life using the eyes of a Death God to his advantage. Not by some child who folded under the weight of a single case. They would have screwed up the reputation he had given his life to create. They would have put an end to the single Gothic letter. Was he really expected to allow that to happen?
"Even as a criminal you failed, Broken. And did you honestly believe you could be me?"
"Yes. Yes I could. But you never even gave me a chance."
The older man looked confused. He held out his arms, indicating to the walls of the room and then to the table Beyond was bound to.
"This was your chance."
"What? That doesn't make any sense! If the only way I could have surpassed you was as a killer, then how could I have become your successor as L?"
He let out a small "Oh" in realisation. "I didn't mean your chance to become my successor. I meant your chance to be me. Isn't that what you tried with Misora?"
That was an unexpected turn. Until then, the conversation had just been about his position as World's Greatest Detective; but suddenly it was personal. Not that it came to all that much surprise to Beyond; he knew he was hated and always had been. What a shame; they could have made such good friends.
Murdering him would have been better.
Crimson eyes bore into their onyx counterpart, seething with unblinking eyes.
"Do you even know what you've put me through? What you put us through? And for what? For the self-satisfaction of being better than us?"
It was their final meeting, meaning the final chance to get a confirmation of a question he had known the answer to for a long time. It was irrelevant, and it changed nothing, yet he needed to hear it regardless, as if knowing would suddenly even things out, changing the explanation for it to make sense, finally giving him some peace.
Peace.
Did such a thing even exist?
There was a squeaking of trainers as L moved over to the previously discarded mask on the ground, before picking it up and bringing himself closer to the detainee with the object held in front, his intentions clear.
Tsch. Tsch.
There was no struggle to fit the metal back into place. Making a fuss would be pointless, after all. Those same pale fingers tangled themselves with locks of raven hair as they worked at reattaching the straps, but more gently, carefully, as if handling something of extreme fragility. The touch was repulsive, but Beyond had little choice other than to allow those hands to linger.
He stayed frozen as the older man stood on the tips of his long, monkey-like toes, having to stretch his back into almost straightness to reach an ear.
It was only a whisper.
"I put you through Hell. Affliction, indignation, melancholy, malignity... Isn't that how it feels to be alive?"
How unlike a machine it was to feel such a human emotion as jealousy.
The goosebumps remained long after L withdrew.
Tsch. Tsch. Tsch. Tsch.
It echoed across the room.
L? Where are you going?
The sound of him leaving.
This... This isn't funny any more! Let me out!
Being left alone in the darkness.
Don't go! Don't leave me here! Please! I don't want to die here... Please, Lawliet!
But not this time. This wasn't a child crying in the fear of never seeing the light again. Not this time; this was the end. This was their last goodbye.
Why are you laughing?
The door handle clicked, but he refrained from going any further.
"Your name won't be forgotten, B the broken."
B the broken.
B the broken.
B the broken.
Be the broken.
If you read this while thinking "This would work better if the roles were reversed." then I did my job.
Thank you very much for reading. Reviews mean the world to me. Again, I'm really sorry for writing this.