A/N: To everyone enduring the cliffhanger: thank you and congratulations, your patience has been rewarded. :D
This is a chapter that I've been looking forward to writing for a long time, but it ended up being difficult to write. Part of the reason why that is should become fairly obvious in the reading of it… I'm so evil to characters in my stories. Please note that the rating is now "M" for mature. When asked, one of my betas said it didn't quite warrant the change, the other that this chapter was straddled between "T" and "M". So we're upping it to be on the safe side.
It's highly recommended that the suggested music be listened to while reading this chapter, as it was listened to whenever the chapter was being outlined, written, or edited, and went a long way to pin down certain points.
I don't often dedicate my writing, but I feel the need to do so for this chapter. So:
To the survivors.
Betas: Voice of the Shadow Realm & SkyTurtle3. (Give them love, they were pressed a bit for this chapter.)
Music: Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace, The Beginning is the End is the Beginning by The Smashing Pumpkins, and Lucifer's Angel by The Rasmus.
Warning: Rated 'M' for disturbing imagery, psychological trauma and gore, read with caution. True name reveals are a possibility.
Disclaimer: Death Note and related characters © Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. Death Note: Another Note and related characters © NISIOISIN.
...
What's My Name?
Part Seven, "Freak"
Raven Ehtar
...
"Children and savages are always cruel."
~Samuel Johnson~
...
It was raining again. It had been trying to get up a good start all day, but always seemed to stall out before getting very far. Now it was so cold that what was coming down was as much ice as water. It wouldn't be long before the season finished its change and the countryside was enveloped in its white winter coat.
Beyond watched the slow transformation through his bedroom window, the condensation of his breath mating the obstruction of half-snow on the other side of the glass. The round of clinging steam grew and thickened until the moisture beaded together and dripped down to gather on the sill. Outside, more droplets were doing the same in a kind of reflection. Beyond stared at the competing beads, his thumb tracing the "B" he had finished carving into the windowsill absently.
-glinting metal, a slow, cruel smile twisting his features-
It was a good, deep mark, not one that was going to be removed by sanding. They would have to replace the entire sill to get rid of the errant letter after he was gone. The wood was rough, and offered a tactile contrast from the cold, smooth surface of the window his forehead was pressed against.
The sky was just beginning to show the first signs of darkening, the skeletal shadows of trees reaching along the ground towards the orphanage. It would be time to eat dinner soon. Beyond didn't want to try and make his way down the stairs. He wasn't sure he could stand to be around anyone just now, or that his legs would hold him when he tried to get up. He wasn't hungry, anyway.
"-not so it shows-"
He supposed he should have known better. The proverb of all good things coming to an end had long been one of the working gears in Beyond's life, it wasn't likely to change. Had he really expected the promises of a boy barely older than himself to change anything? Nothing had changed. Everything was still the way it had been years before. He'd just been given a brief window of peace before life resumed its natural rhythm.
He'd forgotten how fast it could be, or how disorientating. From the number of hands that had seized him, he'd known there had been more than one person, but how many? They turned him, pushed and pulled and sometimes passed him from hand to hand until Beyond couldn't tell where it was they were forcing him to go, or even how far they were travelling. Wherever it was, it was out of sight. Hidden.
-worse was they were quiet. If they had made some sound, whispers, sniggers, threats, it would be one thing. Silence meant they were serious-
Beyond's unfocused gaze caught sight of the nearly invisible reflection hiding in the windowpane. False black hair chopped and mussed, deceptively dark eyes burning in a pale as paper face, mouth pulled into a pouting frown… he looked even more like L in the freezing glass than ever. There weren't even any bruises to be seen. All of his… mementos… were covered.
When responding to danger, the body has three ingrained responses: Fight, flight, or freeze. Beyond's options of either fight or flight were stolen by the hands that held onto him, so he fell back to his third and final alternative.
He froze. Hidden in the back storage room with the three boys that had grabbed him, he stayed frozen. When one let go and the other two held on, he didn't move. When the hand was removed from his mouth, he didn't call out. When the third boy mocked him, told him why they were there and what they would do, Beyond did not respond. It was all too familiar; he knew there was no escape.
-fingers dug into his arms until the places where they pressed went numb. One of them had longer nails, those sharp pains took longer to lose sensation.
"Look at him!" Pain raked across his skull as the third boy pulled his hair, forcing his head to one side. Beyond grunted but didn't cry out. Making noise might compel them to silence him.
Warm breath fluttered on his face as the boy - Nathan Pierce; 76, 8, 1, 4, 19, 12 - leaned in close to him. "He thinks he's L already. Well, you'renot. And you're not better than us, either, freak."
Nathan let go of his hair, and the other two pulled his arms further behind his back, threatening to dislocate both shoulders. Beyond bit his lip to remain silent. "You both remember-"
Beyond breathed against the glass of the window, causing the moisture to bead together faster and drip to the sill, competing with the droplets on the outside. Both sides would reach their end, but one would get there first. Would it be the ones on the outside, constantly buffeted and at the mercy of the elements, or the ones on the inside, who were more sheltered? More sheltered… but forced to progress faster than was natural. Beyond breathed out again, placing mental bets on which category would win the race.
Beyond watched the water on his side speed to its end, wondering if it wanted to die.
-no matter how many times it happened, the first blow always caught you by surprise-
There'd be no point in trying to get away, he knew that from experience. He'd be caught again, and then they would be angry, his punishment worse. Better to put up with it, get it over with and leave, than to struggle and drag it out.
"-remember, places where it won't show-"
If he just held still and let them have their fun, it'd be over with so much quicker. They would get tired and bored with his lack of struggling or screaming, and give up.
-caught a sliver of light shining through a crack in the door, revealing the merciless edge of a box-cutter-
He just had to stay quiet.
It wasn't true, what all the stories said. There were no heroes in the world who charged in at the last moment to save you. In real life, there is no rescue. In real life, people aren't even aware when these things happen. There could be salvation waiting a mere wall's thickness away, and it would never come, because people were deaf and blind to it. If the tormentors were clever, they could do whatever they pleased and no one would ever be the wiser.
One thing that could be said for the children of Wammy House: They were all very clever.
Beyond, still as a stone and watching the rain spatter down on a slowly dying world, felt something hot bubbling up within him. Not fear, his usual companion, but anger. It filled him up, roiling and twisting in his gut until he felt more nauseous than before. Anger not just towards the ones who had hurt him, but to those who were meant to be shielding him.
-cut off his own scream as the razor carved into his flesh, the bright metal staining with thick, blackish red-
L, Roger, Mr. Wammy, even Any. They all told him, in word or deed, that they would protect him.
-blade cut deeper, twisting-
Where were they when he needed them?
-low chuckles-
They who promised that his life would be better here?
-his attempts to remain silent failed-
Why weren't they saving him?
-whimpers, sobs-
Why was he enduring this alone?
-flashing, dripping blade paused, its wielder observing his handiwork with a grimacing smile. For so small a thing, it could ruin flesh effectively. For how young the one holding it, he knew just how to use it.
Beyond sniffled as quietly as he could, swallowing back more sobs before they could escape. All of his effort to stay as blank as possible was for nothing. If this had just been a beating he could have done it. If this had been any other orphanage, with any other orphans, he could have done it. But these children were cleverer than the average population, and more calculating. They didn't want to vent by using their fists, they wanted to cause pain and prove their supremacy.
And they knew how to make the pain as terrible and lasting as possible, without getting caught.
The blade closed in again, to further caress and destroy-
The drop on the inside of the window found the sill first, by half a second. Beyond lost his own bet. Rain lasted longer than sheltered condensation.
The anger was illogical. Roger's office was on the other side of the building, Mr. Wammy and L were still in Guăngzhōu, and Any had been buried in his books, probably still was. Beyond knew that if any of them had known, they would have stepped in. He'd even overheard Any defending him once, telling another orphan to back off and leave him alone. Beyond never found out who it was, Any had stepped in so quickly. It was surprising, and it had been one of the things to solidify his friendship with the freckled boy.
The anger was illogical, but it was still there.
Beyond shifted in his seat, pulling away from the window, and hissed as the stinging pain reasserted itself. He had cleaned and bandaged his wounds, but there was still some friction that played along the fresh injuries.
"-take them off of him-"
If he were to walk into class now, he doubted that anyone would notice anything wrong with him. He'd worked hard to be unnoticeable, and that worked in favor of his torturers. No one would question his quiet or paleness. Cecilia's death would also be working to their advantage, distracting everyone with their grief.
-the storeroom was cold, and Beyond couldn't help but shiver as he was held in place, forced to stand and watch in nothing but his boxers as Nathan Pierce came close with the razor-
He would have his nightmares again. If not tonight, then the next, and for many nights to come. They hadn't visited him for a long time, but today would have them resurfacing. If the cuts across his body and the humiliation of being stripped and helpless weren't enough, then the fire certainly would be.
After he'd been cut, they'd burned him, leaving the lighter lit until the metal was blisteringly hot and pressing it into the gashes. Around his hips where the waistband of his pants would continuously chafe and rub, the fronts and backs of his knees and elbows, across the front of his armpits where movement would reopen them and sweat would sting them, his ankles and soles of his feet so every step was agony… all precise and all invisible. These and the other places he was cut were all hidden when he was dressed, and would continue to torture him long after he left the storeroom. By the time the lighter was brought out, he'd nearly been senseless with pain, blood loss, and the vague fear that they would go too far and accidentally kill him. How could he know for sure? His own numbers were a mystery to him.
The distinctive sound of metal striking flint made him look up, and the sight of the tiny flame ignited the old terror waiting within him. Practically hanging between the two boys holding him, he'd finally put up a fight, but he was too weak to break free. They just mocked the fear he finally showed, and went on.
-finally screamed as the metal seared into him, but one of the boys holding him slapped a hand across his mouth, stifling the sound. Even now, there would be no rescue-
How they had managed to get him back to his room without being caught, either by teachers or wandering children, Beyond didn't know. He was too dazed, concentrating on anything but how badly he hurt, about the scene that had just been played out, to take in what was going on. He remembered being half-carried, half-walking down the halls and the distant sounds of Nathan Pierce and his cronies talking lowly to each other, and then the feeling of falling through space as he was shoved into his room. The pain of his head hitting the carpet was nothing.
-didn't try to move right away, just lay face down on his floor, waiting. He could still feel a presence behind him, standing in his doorway.
"Do I even need to tell you what will happen if you say anything?"
Beyond almost laughed, not because it was funny, but because there was no other response he could come up with to the pain and exhaustion. When he felt he could speak without either laughing or crying, he spoke. It was the only word they had gotten out of him during the entire time, and he only said it once:
"No."
After they left, Beyond stayed in place for awhile, waiting until he was sure he wouldn't fall over as soon as he tried to get up. Then, staggering still, he'd gone into his bathroom to assess the damage and clean away the mess. Peeling out of his blood stained clothing, he couldn't help but note that they hadn't bothered to button or zip up his jeans when they'd redressed him.
The cuts hurt, and because of their placements they would continue to hurt as they healed, but they were mostly shallow. Nothing had been seriously damaged, and he could take care of cleaning and dressing them all with the small first aid kit all the bathrooms were equipped with. It took longer than it should have to get clean, but he had to move slowly, and was occasionally interrupted by the need to retch into the porcelain bowl.
More than two hours later he was clean. The trails of itchy, drying blood were sponged away, all his future scars cleaned, salved and bandaged or gauzed, and himself dressed in a fresh set of clothes. His soiled ones he would find a way of disposing of later.
Now… now Beyond wondered what he should do next. Telling any adult what had happened was out of the question, and not just because he said he wouldn't. Bringing attention to this would only guarantee a repeat of it. But keeping silent was no solution, either. He wouldn't back down from his position as "B".
And Beyond couldn't take that kind of torture again.
He had to leave. He had to get away from this cage before it suffocated him completely.
Beyond got up, the cuts and burns flaring to life, and walked out his door, only stopping long enough to shove his bandaged feet into his sneakers. He was leaving Wammy House, and to hell with anyone who got in his way.
...
It would figure, when he let his feet take him wherever they happened to go, that he would wind up here.
When he arrived at the cemetery gate, it was just becoming dark in earnest, with cloying shadows not only of the trees clawing their way across the paths, but of tombstones as well. As the sun went down, it was as though the dead were clambering their way back up into the world, their dark, shadowy forms visible only from the corner of your eye. The living would do well to avoid walking among them, for danger of joining the dusky brethren in their eternal rest.
Beyond walked amid the stones and shadows without fear, only being careful where he set his feet on the darkening path. The dead held no terrors for him, even at night; it was the living he wanted to avoid. Amidst the departed he would be granted some measure of peace.
No one had seen him leave the House, as everyone had been in the dining room. He'd ridden out unmolested into the chill evening that threatened snow, wearing nothing save his shirt, jeans and shoes. He wasn't even wearing socks, and gauze didn't have much value for holding in warmth. With the sky still sending down sporadic bouts of freezing rain, Beyond was soon soaked through and shivering.
He hadn't paid any attention which way he was going, nor did he know why he'd pulled up at the gate, his tires crunching and scattering gravel. Still following some inner prompting, he left the bike at the gate and gone in on foot, where his body still appeared to know where it was going if his mind didn't.
He came to a stop in front of a grave that had become familiar to him. Etched forever into the stone:
C
Cecilia
Young Potential Taken Too Soon
He stared at the epitaph, his muddled mind finding no particular reason why he would have come to this place. He'd just wanted out of the House, why was he at C's grave? His brain was too fogged to find reason, so he just concentrated on what was, rather than why it was.
The stone, with its name and numbers scratched deep into the granite, took over Beyond's awareness. The rough surface, the gentle curve of its apex, how fresh and new it looked with no mosses clinging to it and its base newly planted in the soil. His body chilled further, the mixed rain and snow soaking through his bandages, numbing him. Beyond didn't notice.
The name and set of numbers showing how long little Cecilia had lasted in her time on earth became Beyond's entire field of vision. It was ridiculous how close what was written on the stone was to what Beyond saw every day over every person's head. When one died their label was forever burnt out, freeing them from the reminder of their fate, only to be replaced with another. One that everyone could see.
Ironic that when he died, everyone would be able to see his numbers, when he had never been able to.
The rain plastered Beyond's hair down flat to his skull, tiny trails of lingering black dye snaking down his face. He had no sensation left in his ears or nose, but he could feel the water dripping down his body. Daylight was quickly losing its battle with darkness, and his breath froze in the air, birthing tiny clouds.
With fingers that could no longer feel and moved sluggishly, Beyond slid a dark contact out of his eye, one half of the world lightening the barest fraction. He stared at the extracted disc for a minute before taking out the other one, his pupils feeling instantly more vulnerable and cold without their covers. So small, they didn't cover more than the tips of his fingers, but they had made such a difference. He'd been able to walk without fear among his peers, and had gone for months without worrying about being moved along to the next orphanage in a long line. He'd felt as though he'd finally found a home… And it all came crashing down today.
The child of garnet eyes, clothed in dripping sleeves and the deepening shadows of the dead, snarled.
Beyond crushed the soft plastic in his hands and flung them out as far as he could. It didn't matter! None of it! It didn't matter if his eyes were red or if they were black, he was still a freak! It didn't matter how well he did or how high in Wammy's system he was, it didn't protect him! It didn't matter how hard he tried, he was the exact same scared little boy as when he'd first arrived.
Beyond's frozen, bloody gaze drifted to where two empty plots awaited their sleepers. The final resting places for A and B. The twelve year old boy stared into his own grave.
It didn't matter, because eventually, he would die, and all he had accomplished would crumble away to dust.
Suddenly more tired than he remembered being in a very long time, Beyond left C's grave and the plots that would eventually possess himself and Any. His feet were completely numb now, but it wasn't surprising. His canvas shoes were completely soaked, and what was coming down now was more snow than rain. In the dark and his legs leaden, Beyond stumbled down the path like a drunk.
There was a stretch of trees the path twisted through before opening again for the graveled parking area, and Beyond didn't make it through them. He was too tired, too cold to keep going. He knew that he was in trouble. The abuse and blood loss had probably thrown his body into some amount of shock, and now to be caught outside, at night, soaking wet and with the temperature plummeting, his prospects were diminishing every second. And no one knew where he was.
Somehow, even knowing his position, Beyond couldn't quite find it in himself to care.
Deciding that he wanted to sit, Beyond walked off of the path and up into the slightly deeper shadows of the trees. Finding a small hollow formed by a tree's jutting roots, he wedged himself in and leaned back against the trunk. It felt so good to sit, to rest. He'd grown so cold that parts of him were starting to feel warm again. That was an extremely bad sign, but for now, it just felt good. The boy nestled back further, pulling his knees close.
In the failing light he couldn't see much, but Beyond could see the stains on the knees of his jeans. It was blood. The cuts in his kneecaps had reopened when he bent them too far and were soaking through the bandaging and his pants, ruining a second pair. Beyond couldn't even feel it anymore.
Staring at the seeping, creeping patches, Beyond smiled a little, his eyes drifting closed. Most boys his age, their knees would be stained with mud from play, while his were with blood. He found that fitting, somehow.
With snow beginning to fall heavily and the sun nothing but a memory over the horizon, Beyond fell asleep surrounded by the dead.
...
…
…
… Well, Beyond thought groggily, if I'm dead, the afterlife sucks.
Beyond slowly surfaced out of a dreamless sleep, and found that he'd rather preferred it to what was waiting for him on awakening. He'd fallen asleep with a growing feeling of warmth and all of his pain effectively numbed by the cold he had actually been surrounded with. Now he was certainly warm and laying on something soft, but his body felt heavy, and every pain he remembered - plus a few new ones - came back to rake over his nerves with renewed enthusiasm. He probably wasn't dead, but if this is what he had to put up with to stay alive, he could do without it.
He tried to move, his body was sluggish to respond. What was meant to be a roll over onto his side only resulted in a slight shift to his left. This was enough, apparently, to get someone's attention.
"You're awake!" Beyond flinched at the sudden volume, but whoever it was didn't notice. There was the sound of running feet, a door flying open, then that same voice yelling to someone distant. "Hey! Go get Roger, quick, B is awake!" The thumping feet came running back, and a weight pressed into one side of the bed, making B roll a little more to his left.
He opened his eyes, getting just far enough to make out the spare room that had been made into a sickroom for Cecilia. It was bright. The light that crept in caused the dull, hitherto unnoticed throbbing at the base of his skull to sharpen. Deciding that sight wasn't as high a priority as he thought, Beyond covered his eyes with a hand to block out the intrusive light. Or he tried to, anyway. There was something wrong with the way his body responded to commands; motion was exaggerated, even though everything felt ten times too heavy. The result of trying to cover his eyes with a hand was that his entire arm flopped heavily over his face.
"Are you alright?" said the voice concernedly. It didn't matter that he couldn't see who was talking; Beyond recognized Any's voice better than most others.
Beyond licked his lips, grimacing. The inside of his mouth tasted like a sewer. A dried out sewer. His first attempt to speak only resulted in a strangled squeak. A second try was more successful. "No." He paused, the exact memories of his most recent experiences making their way through the mind fog. He started to feel nauseous again. "In fact," he said lowly, "I think I'm incredibly far from 'alright' at the moment."
The supine boy couldn't see his friend, but he heard him shift, and felt the pressure on his side of the bed change. Any's voice lowered, as though he were trying to prevent someone from overhearing him. "What the hell were you doing out there, Beyond?" his hissed, one of his rare uses of Beyond's name telling him how affected he was. "You could have died out there, you great bloody idiot! Why would you even want to go to a graveyard at night in November?"
Beyond didn't reply. He couldn't answer without getting into every aspect of what had happened, and he didn't feel like sharing. Nor did he feel like he could construct a plausible lie on the spot, he wasn't up for it. So he remained silent.
Lack of reply didn't stop Any in the least. "Beyond, they're… they were talking about you condition when they thought I wasn't listening. About… things they found during your examination… B, what happened?"
Beyond felt himself stiffen. Of course they found the fresh lacerations on his body. And when they decided to come in, they would question him about them. They had to. And what would he say? That he'd done it to himself? He couldn't name names, or he would only get the same treatment again later. It didn't matter if his 'telling' had been unintentional, any punishment the boys received would be taken out of Beyond's hide.
And until the adults came in and started their inquiry, he had a concerned friend waiting to hear why he'd been half-frozen and looking like the losing end of a fight with a shredder in a cemetery. From the intensity and subtle tremble in Any's voice, he wouldn't be put off, either.
Well, too bad, Beyond thought, deliberately turning his face away.
"Hey-!"
Further protests were cut off by the sound of the door opening again. Any quieted immediately, and Beyond felt him twist around to see who it was that came in.
That had to be Roger at the door. Beyond did his best to gather together his scattered senses. Roger could be cursed persistent, and Beyond's bedridden state would be of no help in deterring his questions. The man would want to know as soon as possible who had hurt him. Ready or not, Beyond would have to deal with it now.
The voice that spoke wasn't Roger's, though. It was too light, and assumed a tendency to sound surly. If a voice could have a posture, this one would have slouched. "Any," it said, "please exit the room for a few moments. I would like to talk with B."
If the elder orphan was as surprised as Beyond at L's sudden appearance, it was lost in his attempt to fight the detective's request. "But L, he just woke up and-"
"-and I would like to speak with him with as little delay as possible," L finished smoothly. He paused, and Beyond imagined they were attempting to stare each other down. Finally, "If he's not feeling too tired when we've finished our discussion, then I'm sure he will be willing to spare you some time. For now, though, I have to ask you to leave us alone."
There was another pregnant pause, and Beyond wondered how far Any would press the issue. If he would get himself bodily removed or if they would both end up leaving the room to continue their argument and forget about him. He hoped so.
But no. There were lighter footsteps, the door opening and closing, and Beyond was left alone with L. This was so much worse than if Roger had been the one to question him. With L there was even less probability that any lie he told would be effective, or that he would give in if Beyond proved to be too resistive to answer questions. Biting the inside of his cheek, Beyond waited, determined to not be the first one to speak.
When it felt as though he had been waiting for more than ten minutes for L to either ask him something or to leave, the detective finally made a noise. Footsteps. Bare feet on carpet and the gentle sound of worn jean legs brushing against each other. It travelled all the way around Beyond, to his other side, where it was joined by the sound of curtains rattling along their rod.
"The room is darker now, B," L said quietly. "It should be dim enough for your eyes to handle comfortably."
Still feeling strangely heavy and robotic, Beyond removed the arm from his eyes and cracked them open a sliver. It was much dimmer without sunlight streaming into the room, and the throbbing in his skull remained mere background. He could just see L's legs as his vision cleared.
"How are you feeling this afternoon, B?" L asked with no hint of condescension.
Beyond was still on guard, regardless. This was just the beginning; this was L slowly working his way to the real issue instead of jumping straight to the heart of it. It was slightly out of character, but Beyond doubted that L had ever been faced with something like this quite so close to his own doorstep. That didn't mean Beyond would make it any easier. "Thirsty," he said flatly. "Headache. Body hurts. Tired."
"All understandable, even taking into consideration the day and a half you've been laid up here. There's a glass of water and some Advil on the bed stand, which should help two of your complaints."
The boy looked and found the items. He was so eager to drink the water that he almost forgot to swallow the capsules as well. When the glass was drained and his tongue no longer cleaved the roof of his mouth he fell back into the pillows, sitting up. Glancing back, he saw L was pulling a wooden chair close to the bed. "A day and a half?" Beyond asked, the rest of L's comment sinking in.
"Yes," L said, planting his feet onto the seat of the chair and settling back onto his haunches, shifting slightly to find a comfortable position.
The younger boy attempted to calculate in his head, but it was too full of cotton to work properly. "When did you get here?"
In the dim room, with the only weak source of light coming from behind him, it was hard to make out L's expression. After a moment he said, "Approximately three A.M. this morning."
And he had to have flown in from China, stalling his case twice in a month's time. "That was fast," was Beyond's only comment.
L's head tilted to one side. "Quite," he said blandly.
After that it just seemed to be a matter of waiting before L started demanding names and details of Beyond's attack. The boy concentrated on his shields, staring down the seated sleuth.
His legs curled underneath him in their customary position and his thumb in place at the pouting curve of his lower lip, L looked intently back at the boy. Then: "I see what you've done to your hair, and heard from Roger how exactly you managed it." He leaned forward slightly, head down as though he were imparting some secret tidbit of information. "He's still somewhat upset over it, just so you know."
Beyond stared at the detective, garnet eyes wide as his elder completely switched gears.
L continued, oblivious or ignoring the boy's incredulous stare. "I suggested that he let you purchase your dyes from now on, or to visit a proper barber's shop, since you are obviously very determined. It should save everyone some trouble, including the housekeepers, and save on some wear for our washroom appliances. Although," he added as an afterthought, "it is somewhat amusing to see Roger struggle between being upset over the mess your experiment made or proud of your ability to concoct it on your own. He's not a man used to such ambiguities, but he may have to acquire a taste for them, being in charge of this particular orphanage."
The teenager paused in his monologue, and gazed off into the middle-distance somewhere over Beyond's sickbed. The boy wondered what kind of trick he was trying to pull to get him to talk. L noticed the dark red eyes on him and affected an innocently curious demeanor. "Yes?"
Beyond blinked. "What?"
"You wanted to ask something?"
"No."
L pointed at Beyond, waggling his finger to indicate the boy's entire face. "Your expression denoted otherwise. It was the very picture of inquisitive befuddlement. Please tell me what it is you want to know."
He sighed. "I was just wondering what you were talking about."
"Ah." L nodded shortly, his naturally black bangs falling into dark eyes. "That's reasonable, although perhaps a better way to say it would be that you wonder why I am talking about Roger's sluggishness in adapting to new modes, rather than what. I know you're intelligent enough to grasp the general idea."
Beyond nodded, feeling more tired the longer the conversation went on, although he was fairly sure that it was because of L's way of communicating rather than talking in general.
"Perhaps you were also wondering when I would ask you about your assault."
The boy stiffened instantly. He tried to read the man's expression, but his attempts were hindered by the black curtain of hair still obstructing the man's owlish eyes. "Perhaps you worry," he continued, voice flat, "about being hounded by difficult questions regarding the origins of those wounds. The mien of them is obvious enough, and the possibility of retaliation should you own up the identities of the perpetrators not far-fetched."
Beyond shifted under the blanket covering him. He was suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm, his two-day old wounds itched under their dressings.
If L noticed B's fidget, he didn't acknowledge it. "Even knowing your level of intelligence and practicality, an attack of such cold brutality no doubt left an impression on you. It's not so difficult to imagine that you might shield your attackers out of some misguided sense of self-preservation."
By now Beyond's head was bowed as far as it could go, hiding his face just as L's was behind his bangs. Picking at the blanket in his lap, his reply was a defiant mumble. "I won't tell you who it was. It doesn't matter."
"Oh, doesn't it? I beg to differ on that point." The wood of the seat groaned as the man sitting in it shifted his weight slightly. "Beyond the obvious outrage of the attack on your person, we also have to consider the potential hazard such personalities could present to others as well, both here and when they have grown to adulthood. Speaking as an agent who works to put a stop to such activities on a global scale, letting this incident go as superfluous is not a palatable option. Despite any personal objections you may have on this subject, it is important to me and to this institution." L paused, apparently waiting for some kind of reply. When Beyond failed to do so, he went on. "Fortunately, I won't need to question you directly. Which is just as well given how resistive you're being."
Beyond glanced up through his hair. "What do you mean?"
L's face was bland. "Who do you think I am?" Thankfully that was a rhetorical question, and L didn't wait for an answer. "Less than 24 hours ago, I received a panicked phone call from Roger, telling me that a second child was at Death's door in the space of a few weeks. Worse, the damage he suffered appeared to have been inflicted by fellow orphans unknown. I dropped what I was doing, delaying my case in Canton for the second time, with the sole purpose of discovering what I could and rectifying whatever possible." The heavy hematite eyes seemed to cloud, growing even darker. "There is no way to truly put right what has already been committed, but there are some things that can be attended to."
"In my list of completed cases," he continued after a barely perceptible pause, "I have acted in the interest of several that either centered around or involved some form of child abuse. I know that when faced with direct questions, the victim is unlikely to be forthcoming."
Beyond bridled at being called a victim to his face, but held his tongue.
L, for his part, was fiddling with one of the candies his pockets always seemed to be lined with as he talked. "While I prioritize the well-being of the Wammy House and its occupants, my time is of some value. Coming here, I already had it in mind to proceed without any contribution from you. For one, there was no indication of when you would be recovering from your state of unconsciousness, and once you did, no guarantee you would behave any other way than as you are. The conclusion of all this being," L popped the candy, a red and white striped peppermint, into his mouth, "that those responsible have already been discovered and dealt with."
Beyond felt his heart sink. So, it didn't matter that he hadn't said a word. By his carelessness in coming under medical care, he had exposed his attackers. They were already undergoing whatever punishments L had decided to dole out, and would be less than forgiving the next time the saw him. The slowly dulling pain at his joints where the razor edge and heated metal had touched him suddenly seemed insignificant compared to the imaginings of future encounters Beyond was assaulted with.
"What's happening to them?" he asked.
"Given the nature of their misconduct, the only appropriate action was expulsion."
Beyond's head shot up, sending a small jolt of pain as his headache tried to reignite. He stared at L, not sure he'd heard him right, praying that he had, anxious it was some sort of cruel joke… "What?"
"Well, perhaps 'expulsion' isn't quite the right word, since this is technically an orphanage. Let's say instead that they have 'transferred'." L got up, hopping out of his chair in his usual fashion and nearly sending the seat tumbling backward. Shoulders curving forward in a gentle arc, he looked down at the boy in the bed. "It was a concept we had in mind back in the early days of planning the Wammy House, to have an auxiliary outpost, to handle such things as overflow, infectious outbreak, serious interrelationship issues and the like. Until now it has remained empty, but ready." The man sighed, his already slumped posture deflating a little more.
"It's unfortunate that its first residents are there as a matter of rehabilitation."
B was stunned. He had imagined himself remaining forever on the lookout for the trio that had cornered him, worried they would take whatever frustrations they had out on him if he proved convenient. It seemed impossible that he had been spared from that, all as he slept.
A spidery hand deposited a candy in his lap, making Beyond look up. L gave him a rare smile. "We're here to create heroes," he said. "Not monsters."
...
Quillish Wammy watched as L exited the room where B was convalescing after his ordeal, where Cecilia had not so long ago rested before her final decline. The slightly rotund, sandy haired child with the smattering of freckles across his nose didn't even wait for the detective to clear the doorway before forcing himself past to get back by the side of his friend. Any had been holding vigil over the red-eyed boy since he'd been brought in. During the report given by Roger, he and L had learned that Any was also the one to spot the younger boy's bicycle at the cemetery gate during the search. L let him pass without a word, and walked close to his compatriot, rolling some sweet morsel or other across his tongue.
"Well?" Quillish asked without preamble.
L shrugged his bony shoulders. "He does poorly," he said, red and white stripes peeking from behind his teeth. "But he's not as declined as I had feared. My orders to the psychologist and staff still stand, however."
The gray-haired man nodded his understanding. Once the extent of B's trauma had been understood, L had given instructions to every adult in the facility to keep an eye on the boy when he was recovered, to watch for any unusual behavior. The psychologist was to surreptitiously feel about for any potential for B to repeat what had been done to him on other children.
L walked past Quillish, continuing down the hall. The case here was done, and the teenager was impatient to get back to the one left behind. And, Quillish suspected, the boy also wanted to be away from the House out of some sense of guilt. These children were all here trying to emulate him, and were in fact committing the very acts they were meant to prevent on each other. Quillish fell into step a stride behind and slightly to the right of L. "Do you think that B is a danger to himself?" he asked the white back in front of him.
The soft, raven black locks shook from side to side. "Not in the way you mean. But he's apathetic in regards to his own safety, and reckless, which doesn't make for a good combination."
Quillish hesitated a beat before asking his next question. "What about toward others?"
Again the head swayed. "I think that B harbors about as much malice towards other people as I do, Quillish."
...
A/N2: I now suggest that everyone go out and do something happy. Have a picnic, do a little dance, eat some cake, something. :p
So Beyond is being pressed, but isn't quite over the edge yet; which means something more has got to happen to get there. Poor kid, the things I'm doing to him. (As a side-note, I really wish there was a 'Psychological' option for genres.)
Guăngzhōu and Canton are both, in fact, the same city. Located in southeast China, it's a port city on the Pearl River with a combined population of city and urban areas of about 16.9 million. O.o
By now everyone should be used to the time leaps that are happening between chapters, but as a small warning, there will be a larger than average one between chapters 7 and 8. It's also likely that the next update will take a little longer than this one did, mostly because it's not as high priority with no cliffhanger to satisfy, but also because I need a little recharge after writing this chapter. L's dialogue alone wore me out. -.-;
Thanks for reading, everyone, I'll be back before too long! ^^