The last chapter. This story turned out to be a lot longer than I ever anticipated. Over 60k words, on the backstory alone. A 100+ pages, on Google Drive. Over 9 characters were created for this backstory, with Allie being the main star. Though this started as a random idea, I am proud to have an OC to call mine, who has a distinct personality and is realistic (at least I hope so).

Thank you all for joining me on this journey. A note, on the future of this story, is at the end.

~.~ Disclaimer ~.~

See previous disclaimers, as nothing has changed. We will take ownership of Allie, and any mistakes you point out. Otherwise, they belong to someone else, and those owner, deserve your respect.


For the young boy with blonde hair, his whole world consisted of pain. His bruises throbbed with each heartbeat, his blood felt like it was on fire. His right leg was still bleeding from that lucky shot the mugger got in and the gauze that was wrapped around the wound itches terribly.

Pale blue eyes looked down to see a needle in his arm and some strange liquid entering his body through the clear tube. 'Huh, that must be why I don't feel any pain.'

He didn't remember much. There was an old man and a creepy teenager who offered him a home. They gave him a new name too. 'Pillow? Gill? No, that's wrong.' He closed his eyes briefly and forced his drugged mind to remember. 'Mello. My name is Mello now.'

Mello's mind was too hazy to question the change of his name right now. In his drugged state, he found that it was simpler to accept the strange things that kept happening around him. When he was somber and clear of the drugs in his system, he could then try to detangle his new life.

He groaned as his mind wandered to the world around him. Hospitalized, unblemished white stretched as far as he could see. The bed was lying on was stiff and uncomfortable, which was a drastic change from his normally soft mattress. He had been in enough hospitals in his young life to recognize the standard look. The newest thing in this bland environment was the constant beeping coming from behind the curtain.

'Was that a heart monitor?'

The young boy groaned in agony as the continuous sound pounded loudly inside his sensitive head. He wanted a new neighbor if the one next to him was going to be hooked up to such an annoying machine. Mello tried to roll away from the sound but he found his right arm, the one with the IV stuck in it, was restrained down to prevent movement.

'I have the worse luck.'

With another groan, Mello let his head fall back onto his pillow and his eyelids grew heavy as whatever medication they were giving him kicked in. The drowsy haze was strengthening around him and he couldn't find a single reason to fight against the call of sleep.

As darkness was about to welcome him into its arms, the hospital room exploded with sound. Mello gave a soft cry, jerking against the restraints in surprise, as dozens of voices filled the room. He was particularly startled to catch a glimpse of a large group running past his bed. He recognized the older gentleman in the center of the group, he was the one who had offered Mello a home. In his thin arms was the limp body of another child.

Spit, vomit and blood covered the front of the pale blue pajamas and he could not see his chest moving. Mello was frozen as he watched several nurses clear the area across from his bed. They were bringing in a lot of equipment and tools. The last Mello saw of the child was the older gentleman laying him on a single bed and then he was swallowed up in a hoard of buzzing doctors.

It was too much energy to process what he saw. With a soft sigh, Mello's eyes slid close.

"She's not breathing."

"We're losing her."

He fell asleep.

o.0.O.0.o

With a groan, Mello tried to roll over to go back sleep. The pain medication was wearing off and he was slowly regaining feeling in his body, including the throbbing pain of his injuries. Even more annoying, he could swear that the awful beeping had doubled since he last went to sleep. He was aware of a nurse fiddling with the tube attached to his arm and in the next second, Mello fell unconscious.

o.0.O.0.o

On August 26th, 1995, Wammy's House had to attend another funeral. This time, a plot of ground found near the back of the orphanage, was torn up and a headstone was placed down. Everyone was forced to attend but only three souls truly grieved. Unlike Jenna's funeral, Beyond stood alone as they lowered the tiny coffin into the ground.

Unlike before, L and Watari attended this funeral, though they chose to stand separated from Beyond. They could sense his desire to be alone, and gave him the room he unknowingly asked for..

Nobody threw a flower into her grave. No sobs could be heard, and no words of remembrance were said. Even the three of them that truly mourned her, said nothing. What was the use? They all knew she was dead, and the dead couldn't hear them. The time for words had passed.

After several hours, nearly everyone drifted away and her grave was filled. Beyond stayed rooted, not moving a muscle away from her side the whole time. 'Is this all that's left of you?' He reached out a hand to brush the engraving, and as the groundskeeper continued to bury her.

'A'

"Leave behind an impression and the world will never forget you."

July 6th, 1982 - August 23rd, 1995

"What impression did she leave behind in that vast mind of yours?" He asked L, who was lurking in the shadows of a nearby tree. He didn't answer, but BB was unsure if this was because he didn't want to answer, or because he didn't have an answer. "Did she teach you how it felt to be alone? Or how it felt to never amount to the what was expected of you?"

His fingers were tracing the simple letter. Her alias. That's all she would be remembered by now, the title she wanted to shake off. "Or did you learn just how far you could push your pawn pieces before they break?"

"I'm sorry."

"That's it? That's all you have to say as you stand in front of her grave!" His fingers grasped the edges tightly, his soft fingertips digging into the cold stone.

"Nothing I say will change what had happened. Nothing I do now will change your mind frame."

"I use to worship you." Amazing how one event could change the thoughts one had about a person. Beyond couldn't look away from the single letter and the tiny amount of time the dates displayed.

"I know."

"I can't defeat you, she showed me that." 'If only I had listened.' "You're replacing us."

"It's not their fault that they display higher potential."

"I know . . . it's yours. You couldn't be happy with our progress. You had to seek a better toy." With his free hand he gestured to the freshly filled grave he stood upon. "How many do you plan to fall for you and your justice?"

"I'm sorry," was his parting words.

Beyond didn't turn around but he could hear L leaving the area. His feet were dragging, scuffling the leaves that litter the floor. Beyond didn't care anymore. His thoughts were focused on the headstone that mocked him. 'How long before I join her? How long until people knew them as B and A, the letters of failure?'

"I won't let us be forgotten, Allie." Beyond finally voiced his final farewells, his heart wrenching as he remembered that she never did reveal her birth name to him. Allie, the name he had given her when she wanted to hide behind her alias. "I'll find a way to defeat him. The world will remember us."

o.0.O.0.o

Her head hurt fiercely and she was uncomfortable. Her mind was foggy, spinning in circles as she tried to recall something, anything. She remembers the color red. Cloudy grey. The sound of sunshine and sweet laughter still echoed through her mind. Her body felt used, crumpled and stressed out. Nausea rolled in her stomach, forcing her to gag several times before she started breath through her nose, expelling the horrible feeling. She glanced around, trying to distract her mind from her sick stomach.

She was in an awful hospital. She hated the smell and look of hospitals, she knew that now. It was too clean. The white color judged her and made her feel uncomfortable. She didn't feel clean enough to be in the room. The smell of bleach was powerful, but not strong enough to wash out the lingering scent of death and sickness. She hated hospitals.

"You're awake."

The young girl jolted in surprise. She hadn't realized anyone had been in the room with her. She let her head loll to the side so she glanced at the gentleman sitting by her bedside. She squinted her eyes, trying to glance at him from all possible angles from her prone position.

He was older than she expected, an elder already. His face was lined with wrinkles. Laugh marks could be seen on the corner of his lips and his eyes were developing the beginning of crow's feet. Between his eyebrows, frown marks were visible. He had a thin mustache on his upper lip, neatly trimmed and styled. His hair was already whitening but dark brown streaks from his youth were hidden in the snowy hair.

Bright blue eyes were hidden behind square wire rimmed glasses. He was looking at her with concern, his worry evident in his very posture. The sight of his fancy suit made her nervous, for reasons that lurked in the very back of her misty mind. Guys with suits were bad news. They asked too many questions and had their own agenda to fill. Her curious gaze morphed into a challenging glare.

"Who are you?" She muttered.

She watched him hesitate, which only filled her with more distrust. "I'm a friend."

'Liar.' "What's your name?"

"That's not important."

She was determined to found out why he was here. The doctors wouldn't let a stranger sit with one of their patients, would they? "Where's my family?" She didn't remember them but she knew she had one.

She wanted to be brave but with each question he avoided, she was growing nervous. Why wasn't he answering anything? Who was he? Why was he here? Why didn't she remember him? Why?

"Doctor!" She jolted forward, screaming at the top of her little lungs. "Doctor! Nurse!"

At the same time the older man reached forward and pushed her back into her hospital bed. She flailed around desperately, wanting to get away from this stranger. She ignored the IV in her arm and the various machines hooked up to her. She just wanted to get away.

"Stranger! Doctor, help me!"

She jerked to the side and gasped loudly. There was no pain but she could feel something tearing. Her skin came apart and warm liquid started to flow. She froze in surprise and looked down to her right side. From beneath her ugly hospital gown, she could see a blood puddle growing in size. She whimpered at the sight, unsure why she was suddenly bleeding. Was this why she was in the hospital?

Finally, several nurses filtered through. Most of them went to her side, helping her to lay back down. They carelessly brought her gown up, displaying her underwear and naked right side. She could only blink stupidly at the sight of a fresh surgical mark about 9 inches long running diagonally across her side. Stitches had been holding the wound close but she could see that she had torn several in her thrashing.

She didn't like the sight of blood. She didn't like the vivid color or how it was her staining her skin a light pink. The color brought back feeling of loneliness, happiness and fear. She was confused and she felt sick again. The world around her was tilting and darkening the longer she stared at the cut.

From the corner of her eye she could see another nurse carolling the older gentleman away, both of them speaking in low tones that she couldn't hear. She saw his blue eyes flicker back to her and she blinked stupidly at the sight of tears in his eyes. Who was he, truly?

That was her last thought before she fainted.

o.0.O.0.o

When she woke up, she was surrounded by strange faces once again. She stared emotionlessly at them as they flocked around, asking her questions and crying over her generic answers. She couldn't remember them. She couldn't remember anyone, but they claimed they were her family. A young man with brown hair and a slouch and a pretty black haired woman with a round belly. Even the doctors vouched for them, and while she accepted that she had amnesia, and these people were her family, it didn't make her feel any more comfortable around them.

She had been in the hospital for a week and still nobody would answer her questions. Instead, they chose to ask their own and it was annoying her.

"Do you know the date?"

She was trying her hardest to ignore the doctor asking the questions. Her head was resting on her overly fluffy pillow, looking out the hospital window to her side. "Autumn." The tree on the other side of the glass was changing colors, its green leaves drying and turning various shades of brown and yellow.

The doctor huffed from her side, displeased by her answer. "Do you remember your family?"

'Red eyes. Black hair. Twins? Brothers? Blonde hair and a sneer. Brown hair and a joyful laugh. Bright blue eyes crying as he was pulled away.' "I have a father and a mother, with a baby brother to be born in four months."

"What about their names? Or memories of them?"

'Numbers. A bloody knife. Two warm bodies besides her as thunder rumbled outside. Candy. Bees. A gravestone. Pain and pressure.' "I don't remember anything."

"That's okay. How about your full name?"

'Nobody is allowed to know that. Alyssa. Alexis. Alias. Al-. All-. Alli-.' "Allie."

"That's progress." The doctor tried to sound so damn excited but he was a terrible actor. She continued to watch the leaves fall off the tree outside. "You remember your childhood nickname."

"It's what he would call me," she whispered to herself.

"Who?" Of course the doctor heard her.

"I don't know."

He asked more questions but she refused to answer. She tuned him out, waiting for him to leave. She didn't want to talk anymore. The questions hurt her head and made her heart twist uncomfortably.

"Hey doc," she interrupted his questioning. "Why am I here?" Her hand reached down to stroke her side, careful of the healing wound there. "Why did my kidney fail and why can't I remember anything?"

Finally, the doctor was quiet as he hesitated. She could see his reflection as he looked pityingly at her and smiled at her back. "Your parents have decided that it's best if you remember that on your own."

"What if I don't?" Finally she turned her head to look at him. "What if my memory never comes back?"

"Sometimes, the mind shuts down to protect itself. It might be best if you don't remember. You have to remember that your mind chose to forget these memories for a reason. Maybe in the future it will come back to you, but if it doesn't, I wouldn't worry." He stood to his full height and patted her hand, which was resting on the railing of her bed. "You're young. You can make more memories."

She stiffly nodded once before turning back to look out her window. She was done for today and her doctor knew it. He sighed before leaving her alone. His visits were growing shorter each time he came by to talk to her and secretly, Allie was glad for that.

She gazed at the window but this time, she focused on her reflection. Pale skin with dark bags under her eyes. The hospital gown was too large, swallowing her thin body and giving her a masculine look. Messy black hair was spiked in every direction. The pixie cut looked home done, with some strands longer than the others. Shadowed green eyes looked back at her, judging her as she judged it. As she watched, the green eyes became moist and filled with tears. The reflection in the window cried silently as she looked at the stranger reflected there.

'Who am I?'

o.0.O.0.o

The death of A shook the foundation of the orphanage. Changes were made immediately, and while they could not change the death of the young orphan, it was done in hopes that history would not repeat itself. Bullying was not allowed. Any children found bullying, physically or mentally, were expelled and sent to a few home. Test scores were no longer made public and only the top five children knew the results. This was done in hopes of protecting those scoring highly.

The legends of L were still whispered about, but they were no longer worshipped like they use to be. Those who had letters as names were given a new home, with a new name. Many said that this was done to give the new generation a fresh start but honestly, Watari made the decision because he believed they were too close to the old system, and would be unable to reform. He didn't send them away, but gave them a new beginning. An action that should have been done, years ago.

Despite the changes, the dream of becoming L, still lived on. Near continued to score highly, higher than his predecessors. Matt and Mello fully recovered from their injuries and when they started to compete, they scored just behind Near, proving to be adequate competition for the albino. Who was left of the original project watched in surprise as Matt and Near proved to be the newest version of A and B. Watari secretly compared the new trio to the old one, and found too many similarities for his liking.

Two months after A's death, Beyond disappeared. He was seen going to bed but when morning came, he was gone. The only proof of his existence was an L carved into his desk and blood smearing the wood, turning the L into a B. A bloody knife rested on the desk, its handle wiped clean of any fingerprints.

It was the final straw for L. He threw himself into his work, tirelessly solving cases that interested him. He was brilliant, unmatched and hated by many detective agencies. He never cried or spoke about A or B, but Watari knew when he mourned and afterwards, he was lonely. He knew that L always watched storms and while doing so, he would eat strawberry cake. In his free time, he would search public records for anyone with the initials BB, though he would not find any desirable results. He would remember, he would search, but he would never talk about it.

Watari could only stand by and watch as his dream, the legend of L, came true. When alone, he would mourn the son and daughter he had lost. He would never forgive himself for not helping them. He had plenty of warnings but his desire for another L, they had both been so close, had overrode his parental instincts. He reached up an aged hand to wipe away the tears that streaked down his cheek.

The most difficult choice he had made was letting A go. His hands stroke the picture the family had sent him. It showed A sitting beneath an apple tree. She was carefully holding a newborn baby, her smiling eyes brighter than the green apples around her. She had gained her weight back and though under her eyes were still shadowed, it wasn't as heavy as before. She was also wearing a sundress, looking more feminine than she had in years.

She looked happy. This new life had revived her, giving her the life she should have had from the beginning. Without the boys, without him, she was just a young girl who had finally achieved her dream. The dream she couldn't remember now, but had been willing to die for.

He cried and mourned for the girl he lost but, he was glad she was happy. Against the odds, he had managed to give her the gift she had always wanted. A final gift from a father to a daughter.

Someday, he hoped it would be less painful to see her happy without them.

o.0.O.0.o

Three years passed before Watari knew it. The day was special to those who knew what it stood for, while others treated it as a normal day. It was a rare occasion, as Watari and L, were actually in Winchester, staying in the orphanage that they had founded. L had barricaded himself away, refusing to even show his face to the new protogees of the L program.

He had only opened his bedroom door once, since arriving and that was this morning. With a well worn mask, and unreadable expression, L quietly requested strawberry napoleon. He didn't mention why, but both of them knew.

Strawberry napoleon was a recipe that Watari had yet to master though, so instead he had contacted a local bakery nearby. It was a small establishment, run by an even smaller family. The last update Watari received about the pastry shop was the owner, an elder woman, had quietly passed away just a few months previous.

The bell made a quiet chime as Watari opened the glass door. The smell of bread, sugar and chocolate filled the area. In a glass display by the register, dozen of different sweets were on display. From the hidden back room, a gentleman appeared, with a small baby wrapped in pink, nestled in his arms.

"Welcum," he greeted breathlessly. He spoke with a heavy accent but his words were understandable, if not a big slurred.

Watari dipped his head in greeting and leaned down to peer into the display case. They were all elegant cakes, created with skill and patience. While L was only thinking strawberry napoleon, Watari knew he would want more sweets as the day continued. While he was here, he should order more and lend support to a small business.

As Watari straightened out of his crouch, his knees popping twice, a small offering on top of the display case caught his attention. It was a small slice of velvet cake, topped with different berries, resting on a disposable paper plate. Folded up in front of the slice, was a small note with a name written sharply down. 'Streunen'

Watari found it odd but chose to not question it. Instead he turned and placed his order. As the list of pastries grew longer and longer, Watari could only watch in amusement as the man's eyes grew larger and larger. Finally done, Watari watched the conflict cross the man's face as he debated whether to reject Watari's order or not.

"Wait, lon tem," the young man's accent had thicken with his anxiety.

"I can wait," Watari assured him.

With one conflict solved, the man was still unsure. He looked at the sleeping baby in his arms and then to the back room. Watari couldn't hear movement from the back, and he had yet to glimpse another person. The man's family was not around, which would make it difficult for him to bake with an infant in his arms.

"I can hold her if you like," Watari offered.

The bakery owner glanced at him with suspicion in his eyes. His grip around the baby tightened unconsciously, which cause the babe to murmur in protest. Watari couldn't help but smile at the protective nature of the new father.

"I can sit right there," he pointed to a chair that was in sight of the back room. "I won't move and you can keep an eye on us as you bake."

"Aksepable." The man moved around and carefully transferred his precious bundle into Watari's waiting arms.

Watari took the infant with ease, holding her close to his chest while making sure to support her head and neck. The girl whimpered, screwing her shut eye even tightened as she debated if she felt comfortable or not in the new arms. Watari walked over to the nearby table, the girl's father watching his every step, and took a seat. Satisfied with their position, and Watari's child holding skills, the man disappeared into the back to start the order.

It took some time. The little girl slept through most of it, though there was one time that she opened her brown eyes and looked up at the stranger holding her. She was quiet, just studying the strange man above her. Watari chuckled at the fascinated stare and gently tapped her nose, causing the girl to giggle too.

"What is her name?" Watari asked over the sound of a mixer.

The man paused, surprised at the question and then answered quietly, "Jenna."

Watari never forgot a name, and he never forgot the children he took into his care. His heart twinged painfully at the name, the name he had given one of his own children. "Oh?" Watari looked down at the brown eyes staring at him. Was it a coincidence?

His free hand reached down to dig out a photo he carried around with him. It was the last photo he had received from Allie's family, exactly one year ago. She was alone in this photo, studying a book intensely while sitting at a clutter, messy desk. Her hair was still short, the messy curls almost covering her face. Ink and dirt were smudged on her hands and she was now wearing glasses.

"Streunen," a quiet voice murmured.

It was by great skill, and the weight of a baby in his arms, that kept Watari from jumping with freight. He turned startled eye to glance at the man who was now standing by his shoulder. He too was looking at the photo Watari held.

"Do you know her?" There was too many coincidences now. The baby sharing a common name, and now this man speaking of Allie with familiarity.

He nodded twice. "Streunen use com in, thrice years ago. Momma loved her. Streunen use tull us duzon stories." He smiled down at the little girl, who was reaching her chubby fists out for her father. "Use tull us about gurl, her frend. Streunen miss Jenna ufter her death. Momma named me dauhter ufter Jenna, in mumury of Streunen."

'Allie use to come here. Allie had another family she would go to when her heart was heavy. She even told them about Jenna.' "Do you know what happened to . . . Streunen?"

A sad, haunted smile crossed the stranger's lips. His eyes moved down to look intensely at the photo Watari held in one hand. He looked like he had lost something important to him, and Watari realized, that the same look at been reflected in his eyes, not long ago.

"Thught she died. We thught Streunen was wit out home. Momma use to put a sles of cake out for her, wuting for Streunen to com back. I thunk, Streunen jut went home."

"She did, for a little bit." Watari didn't fight him when he reached for his daughter. He put the picture safely away and handed over the new Jenna, the next generation to fill the world.

The man smiled at his daughter, letting her gum his finger as he lead Watari back to the counter. On top of the display case was a dozen different boxes, each one filled with a different delicacy. As he was paying for the money, Watari notice the man studying him. "You Streunen's family?"

Watari paused, unsure how to answer. "I was."

He accepted that answer with a disappointed huff. "She happy?"

Was Allie happy? Maybe in the early years, before the pressure started to wear her down. In the final years that she was with them, she was discontent. And he had been unable, unwilling to ease her turmoil. There was no way for him to answer that without lying to the young man.

So he didn't answer. He paid for their orders, with cash, and gathered the armful of boxes. The man's simple curiosity turned to suspicion, but with the care of Jenna now in his hands, he was unwilling to start an argument. Watari could feel the weight of his gaze as he moved towards the door. Three years had passed, and Allie was still proving to be a surprise. Who knew she had gain friends in such an overlooked establishment?

"I would get Jenna check for allergies," Watari warned. "You never know what a child may be allergic too."

The door chimed as he exit, leaving the small family behind.


Thank you again for reading this. I know this story never got as much attention as, say, Broken Doll. However, it was a fun story. I got to create an OC (which is already risky when it comes to FanFiction), and I can safely say that Allie will likely return in later stories of mine. I simply put too much work to retire her forever.

Why does this sound like good-bye?

Well, to be honest, I don't think I will be continuing this story. I lost my co-writer, who was supplying me with ideas, and not long ago, I was attacked by some extremely toxic fans. The idea of a Female 'A' is not new, but for this story, does not seem to be embraced. I understand that, but that leaves me with no drive to continue this story. I was mainly writing for my co-writer, who left a few chapters back. Then I was writing for the fans, and being attacked was a surprise, though I don't take it to heart. So I promised myself to find a stopping point, and the conclusion of the Childhood Arc is good enough for me.

I hope, in the future, to return to this story. As I mentioned, I love Allie, and I love her character and the planned interactions in my head. However, I want to turn my attention to come out of 'writing retirement', and that for me, means rewriting Broken Doll first. Afterwards, I may come back to this story, and continue it. So, I want to put this story on a hesitant Hiatus. I hope to see everyone again, sometime in the future.