Title: Five Minutes to Midnight
Pairings: L/Near, B/Near (non-consensual)
Rating: M (for graphic violence, rape, and yaoi smut...)
Genre: Romance/Drama
Summary: L thought he had put him away for good, but now he's back, and he has taken the only thing L ever truly wanted for himself...
Chapter One: In the Dark of the Night
A lone figure crept toward the orphanage known as Wammy's House, the home of the most intelligent orphaned children in the world. There were no lights on within the large house, but the man kept to the shadows nonetheless...he could not afford being seen on such an important mission. As he drew closer to the mansion, he wondered silently to himself how he would find the first successor. Surely, he thought, it will not be easy. He had been told through his source in London that the boy was "unique" in his appearance, and in his attitude toward others. He had also been informed that, as far as appearance went, the lad was said to resemble L just a little. Hahaha...how very funny. Perhaps I am looking for my twin, hm? The dark-haired man did look quite a bit like L, save his dark ruby-colored eyes. He had even dressed appropriately for this occasion, mimicking the white shirt and jeans he had always seen his look-alike wear, and even donning an old, ratty pair of tennis shoes. If one did not stare directly into his eyes, he could perhaps fool them for a moment into thinking that he was the great detective himself. He slipped ever closer to the open first-floor window which was his seemingly elusive target. Finally, he reached it, and crawled gracefully through to the other side, careful not to leave any trace of his presence.
He hurried down the stone corridor, steps as silent as the deadly serpent that lays in wait to make its strike. No sound emanated from him, no sidelong glances to indicate nervousness or a sense of insecurity. He had come prepared, that is certain. Prepared over many long nights, conditioning himself and bringing himself all the more closer to his goal. The successor. L's only possession that truly mattered anything. He remembered the day that he had found out about this precious gem, the same day he had formulated his plot to snatch it quickly away from his nemesis.
–Begin Flashback–
A single fluorescent bulb illuminated the otherwise pitch black interrogation room, shining upon the only furniture within the space, a small metal table and two rather uncomfortable-looking chairs, one with arms that were presumably for the use of handcuffs. A sallow, dark-haired man was led bound into the room, and sat in the chair opposite the door, handcuffs fastened tightly to the arms, and also to his wrists. After the guards left, it only took about five minutes for another man to enter the room and take the seat opposite his suspect. This man was identical to the other, save for his black, mirror-like eyes and notably strange posture. This detective, L, stared into the ruby eyes of the killer (for, 'alleged suspect' or no, he knew that this man was guilty), and waited for what seemed like an eternity before speaking.
"Why?"
Crimson eyes stared back at the detective, a mischievous light within them.
"...What means the most to you, L?"
"You have no right to ask me anything."
"But, I need your answer to dictate my own."
The detective sighed, placing his hands upon his knees and not saying a word, but still staring at the criminal.
"You cannot do this forever. Being L, I mean. This cat-and-mouse lifestyle you are so accustomed to will have to end someday. You shall grow old, wither, and you will need to cease being who you are. ...What will become of the great L? Not you, I'm not all that concerned over your retirement plans, but who is there who can carry on as you have? Or will you allow the world to be overrun with criminals and derelicts?"
The detective continued to stare at him with those owl-eyes, no expression clouding his features. However, was that a spark of anger in his eye? Fear, perhaps?
"...My mortality has nothing to do with this situation."
The blank expression had returned to its flawless state. Ruby eyes brightened, a smirk appearing upon the pale face of the accused.
"Oh, but it does..." You don't know how much your mortality really does change this situation, L...and here I had thought you would be a bit more of an enigma. Tsk, tsk.
The suspect, no, the cold-blooded killer, continued to evade L until the bitter end of their "interrogation". In the end, he simply confessed...yes, he had killed all those people...and he did not regret it one bit.
The man, who went by the alias of BB, or Beyond Birthday, was sent to prison for life.
–End Flashback–
Yet here he was...his single connection in the States had proven most useful in getting him out of the little predicament L had placed him in, and his informant from London had not disappointed, either. He had, in fact, located L's successor, after all. B noticed that all the children were in their rooms, doors shut tightly and lights off. He did not have time to try each door–he would just have to look for an abnormality. This was not going to be easy, as the house was expansive and filled to its limit with children of the highest academic skill. He continued down the corridors, making his way through the labyrinth to try and find the boy he sought. Door after darkened door he passed, and he was slightly concerned, though not perturbed, that he might not be able to find the child in one evening. That would mean returning to the scene of the crime, which was most definitely impossible, and downright dangerous when a great mind like L was involved. Just as he thought his luck was turned for the worse this evening, he turned a corner to find a softly lighted doorway. Perfect. He inched up to the door and peered inside. It was a playroom of sorts, and it was not exactly busy at this time of night. In fact, there was only one child inside, and B had a feeling, deep in his stomach, that this was the one he was looking for. The boy had wavy white hair, which he twirled with his right forefinger and thumb, and wore white pajamas and socks. He appeared to be about twelve, fairly short and very slim. Yes, this was the one, B was sure of it. He knew it had to be abnormal to have pristine white hair when one was so young. So, he strolled casually into the room, not forgetting to slouch and shuffle along like the detective he was portraying.
"Hello L." The child did not look up from his puzzle, but simply greeted him without a glance. This, B thought, suggested a form of closeness between the boy and L...how odd. He didn't think L could get close to anyone. However, if there was anyone L would need or want to become close to, it would be his successor.
"Hello." He did not know the boy's name, and this would have to be corrected soon. He walked to the other side of the room, into the shadows, and picked up a toy robot that appeared to have been hand-painted with great dexterity and skill. On the sole of the robot's left foot was painted in tiny letters the word "Near". Hm...this could do. He held the robot aloft and looked to the white-haired boy, who now stared back at him with black mirror-like eyes. Heheh...he even has the look of L. One would almost suspect they were related, if not for the fact of this being an orphanage.
"This is yours, I presume?" He hoped that he was right...it would make his job quite a bit easier, and would keep him within the time frame he had given to the driver at the street.
"Of course." The boy's gaze went back to his puzzle, which was entirely white with a small black "L" in the corner. The same "L" that the detective used to identify himself. That's enough to seal the deal, one should think.
"Near...come with me." He walked to the door, listening as the boy hesitated before rising to his feet. He led the child down through the corridors, back the way he came, and, having passed up the room which he had entered from, finally came to the kitchen of the orphanage. B walked to the door, motioning behind him for Near to follow, and twisted the knob gingerly. Giving the door a light push, he walked out onto the grassy lawn which he had crept across minutes ago. The boy behind him had stopped at the door. B turned, looking at the boy with his face in shadow, hoping the lad had not noticed his ruby eyes any time previous. Instead, the child was looking at his shoes, or lack thereof.
"If we're going outside, I will have to put on shoes.." B strode over to the door once again, reaching out his hands to the boy and hoisting him up into his arms like a package.
"That's alright. I will carry you...it's not far." He smiled softly at the small, warm body pressed up against him, and walked a bit more quickly across the lawn and into the line of trees that edged the property.
When they reached the road, he noticed that Near had almost fallen asleep. The boy's face was nuzzled into his neck, his hands clutching gently at the fabric of his shirt. B smiled, opening the door to the automobile and sliding in, Near still laying in his lap. He gently stroked the porcelain face, admiring the softness of the skin there. Yes...this one will be fun to break. Slowly, painfully...and there will be blood. He returned from his macabre musings only when the driver signaled that they were at their destination. He stood, exiting the car and making his way around to the driver's window to supposedly pay him his fee. He fingered the knife in his jeans pocket, but chose not to spill any blood this evening...he would save that for the boy in his arms. He paid the driver, very well in fact, and made his way up to the large apartment building, one of many identical buildings in this dark part of London. He climbed the shadowed stairs, finally coming to the door of his own temporary abode, purchased specifically for this heist. He used his key, and entered the simple three-room apartment with a bedroom, kitchen, and large living area. It was sparsely furnished, to say the least. There was a bed in the tiny bedroom off to the left, and the kitchen had absolutely nothing to offer in lieu of nutrition of any kind, unless you counted strawberry jam as being overly nutritious. The living area in the front of the apartment, however, had been a bit more cared for, and was set up to its current owner's standards, and needs. In the center of the room, far away from any window, there was a place for a lighting fixture. This, however, had been removed and was replaced with an odd chain that glinted somewhat maliciously. The end of the chain was a simple loop, small yet large enough that anything smaller than a human fist could pass through. Through this loop B had strung a set of handcuffs, also glinting along with their friend and neighbor, the chain. These were left open.
In front of this setup was a small laptop computer, with a tiny eye-like contraption attached to the top. The computer was off, as was the eye, and they rested quietly in this dark room. B smiled down at his simple apparatus, the key to all his fun. Beside the computer sat a few tools of the trade: a knife, some rope, and some pieces of paper which contained his ideas and useful information. There also sat a small straight razor, away from all the rest. This was, by far, his favorite tool, his pride and joy. It was a souvenir of his first victim's, and he cherished it above most other things in life.
B debated in his mind on where to put the boy. On the bed, or in the little apparatus he'd set up in the front room?... It was a tough decision. On one hand, he almost wanted the boy to get a good rest before he was tortured. The more awake they are, the more fun it is... On the other hand, he did not want to waste time, and did not know how much the boy knew of self-defense, so he did not want to wait until the lad was awake. His decision made, and wanting to minimize the risks involved with his project, he pulled at the wrists of the child and slowly placed them into the metal cuffs. He let the boy down gently, gradually allowing his thin wrists to support his own weight. When hanging free of B's grasp, Near was almost ten inches from touching the ground. Well...someone's going to be sore in the morning. B walked into the kitchen and grabbed a jar of his jam, and trotted off to the bedroom to sleep. Today had been a productive one, and he would need a lot of energy to carry out tomorrow's plans.
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A/N: Yeah...that would be the first chapter of my first fan fiction story involving angst. XD Oh, it is so strange and lovely. Well, tell me what you think in a review. No flames, please...I am an emo kid, and you know we can't handle that sort of criticism. (That was a joke. Thanks, thanks...I'll be here all week.) I hope to have the second chapter up soon, and...this could prove to be a pretty long story. Yay. Also, ALERT: I am in dire need of a beta reader, so please, if you've any love for this story at all and have a bit of experience, tell me in your review, or in a personal message. Thank you very much. Until next time...farewell. (Also a side-note...if you have any idea for a better name for this story, please do tell me...I couldn't think of anything, so I just put the name of the song I was currently listening to. XD)