I do not own Death Note.

Sighing to himself L Lawliet rubbed at his wrist, the very same wrist that had just five minutes ago been attached to the love of his life, although through a six foot chain. Returning his hands to his pockets he slouched towards his computer, his brain whirring in time with the hard drive as he tried desperately to ignore the loneliness that he now felt.

He was L after all, he did not feel such frivolous things as emotions, they would only hurt him. As demonstrated by his relationship with one Light Yagami. Mentally pushing that thought out of his mind he resumed the search for Kira, although he knew deep down that he had found him. 'And fallen in love with him,' his inner voice sang, as he scowled at the monitor.

So inwardly focused was he that he did not notice the entrance of the man with the knife. He did however notice the shadow that fell over his workspace, and the lone finger that trailed slowly down the nape of his neck, dipping underneath his loose shirt to run down between his shoulder blades.

Startled his mouth dropped in a gasp that promptly died in his throat as he caught a glimpse of black hair reflected in the screen that displayed Light's report. As the finger dragged painfully slowly down his spine Light's report was replaced by an image that had his stomach churning as he tried to keep his expressionless exterior, knowing that his visitor was watching intently for any change in his demeanor. Warm breath fanned across his cheek as two pale arms rested against his shoulders in a disturbing embrace, demanding his attention.

"Hello, L Lawliet. Long time, no see, hmm?" The man drawled as his knife traced lazy patterns against L's thrumming jugular. Unhappy with his lack of response his visitor spun him around violently in a sudden motion that had him cry out in surprise.

Hands grabbed the arms of his chair as a body loomed over him, making him shrink against the back, much to the delight of the man towering above him. He found himself staring at L, assaulted with the overpowering smell of strawberry jam as he held up a portion of black wire with a large grin. Wide black eyes locked with jeering red ones as the severity of the situation dawned on the detective.

"You know how much I love our little chats L. And I just can not stand it when we get interrupted. Now this," he wiggled the scrap of wire for emphasis, "ensures that we can continue uninterrupted." He finished, eyes hungrily roaming over the detective's frail frame.

L's gaze however was focused on the man's wrist, and the sole handcuff that decorated it, a half inch of severed chain swinging slightly with every movement he made. Beyond noticed this and chuckled softly, a gravelly sound that had L's breath hitch, as he straightened and began slowly pacing in front of his captivated audience, a sinister display of authority not unlike a predator stalking his prey.

"Unfortunately," he feigned regret, "there were complications that somewhat hindered my getting here. Complications of a certain detained variety. But," he turned to smirk at his detective, "we don't have to worry about that anymore. Which is rather liberating if I say so myself. You know," he whispered conspiratorially, "I think that they thought I was crazy."

There was an uncharacteristic silence from the murderer as he allowed his detective to imagine what he had done to remove said complications; and knowing Beyond's past he already had a good idea, one that was emphasized by the blood that was splattered haphazardly over the white scrubs that hung off the man's emaciated frame.

"Now," his linguistic fixation dragging the vowel sound across two beats, a peculiarity that ensured his was always an audience hanging on his every word, as he tasted and weighed each word to keep those that were privileged enough to listen in constant suspense, "that I have you, I have to think about what to do with you. I must say, you made this much easier than I had originally anticipated and so I am ashamed to confess that I do not have a solid plan yet. Sure I have a general idea but I was intending in drawing inspiration from watching you over a series of weeks, in order to increase the irony. As you must already know, I am quite the fanatic for irony."

His was a twisted smile as he lifted up the bloodied knife, preening in his distorted reflection, an extremely narcissistic idiosyncrasy he had developed at the orphanage. Whenever he was deep in though, usually contemplating some form of sadism, he would gaze lovingly at himself, through any available method.

Sighing dramatically Beyond raised his head to glare at the detective through his fringe, lips curving into a sinister grin as he reached into his pocket and produced a syringe filled with an ominous clear liquid, "Never mind, what is done, is done. I will just have to improvise is all. Sweet dreams, Lawliet."

Terror flooded L at the implications of Beyond's statement and he aimed a swift kick at him, knocking the needle out of his hand to roll uselessly across the floor. He then kicked him again, this time in his shocked face, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling unceremoniously across the nearby table.

His instincts screamed at him to run, and he obeyed, thin legs carrying him to the doorway, to his freedom. As he was nearing the doorway a figure appeared, forcing him to stop and back up against the wall. With a groan Beyond picked himself off the floor, and staggered to the wall, blood gushing from his wound and dripping into the floor.

Leaning his forearm above L's head he chuckled, menace bleeding into the humorless sound, making L whimper and flatten himself against the wall. The figure blocking the exit came forward, "You really should not have done that" he informed, twisting a lock of hair between his fingers…