Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor any of the characters contained therein.

Summary: B hated nothing more than he hated fate, and A wanted a life worth living. For different reasons, L was important to them both. Rated M for language/violence/gore. Some spoilers for Death Note: Another Note, and my story The Worst Feeling Ever.

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Aleister Wept

"Things we see coming still have the power to shock and dismay us when they arrive. No one wants to believe in fate – or I suppose no one who imagines that misfortune is likely would want to believe in it. Realism forces us to hope for free will, whether we have it or not."

– Quillish Wammy, 1953

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1. Overture

August 1, 1998

"There was nothing you could have done."

As many times as he'd heard it, he knew in every instance that it was a lie. A kind lie, perhaps, though often the kinder of lies did more damage in the long run. He'd nodded politely at each lie, taking small comfort in the intent if not the content.

Everything was always someone's fault. In fact, things were generally several someones' faults, particularly when unintentional consequences were taken into account. No one escapes personal responsibility, he thought, regardless of whether they acknowledge it. Not me, not anyone. They are responsible for the actions they took, and I am responsible for the actions I did not take. He was trying to find some lesson in it all, but the only one that sprang to his mind was one he'd already learned: Do not get personally involved. Worse, he knew that the dead boy would have disagreed with him vehemently. They'd argued so often. He wished he could argue with him still, if only to hear his voice and know that he was still in the world.

The question "Why" would not leave his head. Oh, he could think of numerous possible explanations and motivations, all stemming from certain personality traits as well as preceding events. But none of it justified the decision. Why would he do this, he thought, after everything he had weathered before? He had the strength of will. He understood his importance . . .

For a moment, he stopped pacing. Did he not know? he wondered. Did I fail to convey how integral he was to all this? Thumb leaving his mouth, he pressed his hand to his forehead. Or was this murder after all?

When he'd first heard the news, murder was his immediate thought, followed by a certainty of who the murderer must be. The evidence had refuted him, however. Even if there had been no eyewitnesses, the security footage was clear enough. The boy who had never learned to swim had executed a perfect swan dive from the bell tower. The angled sunlight had illuminated his face as he'd stared straight out across the treeline, his features in sharp relief as he spread his arms – but that wasn't the chilling part, nor was the splatter of blood and bone and brain when his skull had shattered on the cobblestones of the courtyard at Wammy House. No, it was the smile he'd had as he'd made the jump. Under other circumstances, an observer might have said he looked truly joyful. And if that observer had known him very well, he might have said that he looked more joyful than he ever had before.

Perhaps I never truly knew him, he thought, swallowing. Perhaps he kept more to himself than I realized. Sighing, he turned back to the box of the boy's personal effects. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know him more now that he was gone, but he had no choice. Knowing was his business, and understanding was his obligation. I owe him no less than that and much more than I can ever repay. Reaching in, L pulled out a stack of envelopes, his eyes drawn to the sole unopened one. Setting aside his expectations for the sake of objectivity, he slid a long pale finger under the flap and opened the envelope marked simply "Algernon."

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DON'T stop reading this, Ally-oop – not until the end!

I know you hate me. I don't blame you – I'd hate me too. But this is too important not to tell you, and since you won't talk to me, I'm writing it. 3 days from now, you're going to die. I kept it from you for so long because I was trying to find a way to stop it. I'm still trying – I haven't given up. Because I don't hate you, and I don't want you to die.

Remember when I proved it to you? All those names and dates I wrote down when we went into Winchester that time? You kept the list, I know it. And they all died when I said they would. You didn't want to believe it – hell, you accused me of killing them somehow when we both knew that was impossible. I never lied to you. I kept some stuff from you, stuff I knew you wouldn't want to know, but I never lied, and I'm not lying now. YOU ARE GOING TO DIE.

I don't know how it's going to happen – I never know that. A date is all I get, that plus a name. There's one more thing I want to try: locking you up in a safe room. Did you know there's a bomb shelter underneath the basement? Roger thinks no one knows, but I found out AND I know the code to get in. We can stock that place with enough food and water for a few days and seal you in there, just until the date has passed. We can talk via the commlink, if you want to. It might not work, but there's a chance it could. You know how much I love being right, but I want to be wrong this time. I want you to live.

You can keep hating me. Like I said, I understand. But I want you to try not to die. If you can think of a better plan, go for it – I'll help if you'll let me. You probably won't believe this, but I'd switch places with you if I could. Then again, you probably wouldn't believe I'd write such a sappy letter as this anyway. I had to, though. I fucking hate fate, and I'm tired of it winning. Just once, I want to win. Don't you?

For what it's worth, I really am sorry. Even if you never stop hating me, you'll never stop being my best friend. They may have called you Algernon Lyell Oppenheimer when you were born, but you'll always be Ally-oop to me.

C'mon Ally – we're a team, remember? One more time, let's defy the odds.

The Beeb

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Author's Note: This is one of the angstier things I've written. It's a prequel to Death Note, and fits in with most of the other fanfics I've written for that. I had considered folding Aleister's story into a longer story, but I decided he deserved the spotlight this time. This will have seven parts, and the "chapters" will generally be shorter than mine usually are. I decided to rate this M just to be on the safe side, but any input you'd like to offer will be appreciated.

Definition: Overture – beginning; opening theme

Songs: "Last One in the World" – Mark Lanegan

"Sugar" – System of a Down