Ah, Beyond Birthday. In short, he's a nutjob murderous version of L with Shinigami Eyes – of course he was going to be popular. There was a dormant fanbase for him lying in wait before he was even created…
The need arose to deal with him Poison Apple. Or, specifically, his death, and the further rift it creates between our hapless "lovers". Can L possibly become any more pissed off with dear little Lighty?
Yes. Yes he can.
Please note that this is the only place in Poison Apple in which Beyond Birthday will appear. He will not become a regular feature of the story after this – it is unlikely that he will even be mentioned again.
SPOILER ALERT: If you have NOT read Death Note: Another Note, plan to, don't want it spoiled, but ignored my warning at the bottom of the previous chapter anyway, let me again bar your way with my army of Spork-Wielding Sock-Puppets of Doom (don't ask…):
If you've read the book, fine. You may pass.
If you haven't read the book, and a.) don't plan to; or b.) don't care if it gets spoiled, you may pass.
If you haven't read and DON'T WANT IT SPOILED, DON'T READ THIS. It unravels the huge fuck-off twist in the book, so I don't want to hear anyone whining about how I wrecked Another Note for them. So YOU MAY NOT PASS, WRETCH.
(Incidentally, someone wrecked it for me. I enjoyed it anyway, but I wasn't at all shocked by the ending…)
Additionally, you may have guessed by the chapter of this act that BB gets his own Disney Princess reference.
Because how unfair would it have been to leave him out?
:3
Poison Apple: Act Minus
Glass Slipper
"I still can't believe you were cheating," Light said, his tone a little incredulous as he looked up at the ceiling; he was sprawled naked under the bedsheets with his hair in truly spectacular disarray. The warmth between them seeped throughout the room, tinting the air with the comfortable drowsiness that always accompanied them when the elements of their relationship were finally let loose and simultaneously drawn together, unbidden outside the damning rules of the investigation.
"Cheating is a very strong word, Light-kun," L replied sweetly, glancing down at him – he was sitting up on his side of the bed, fully dressed again and nibbling at his thumbnail. "I prefer to call it 'manipulation of card sequence to one's advantage'."
Light averted his eyes towards the detective, meeting his charcoal gaze.
"Don't try and worm your way out of it," the teen snapped haughtily. "We played Twenty-Ones as a fair means of deciding who got to top, you weren't playing fair, I caught you and it serves you right. For what it's worth, I hope you can't sit down for a week."
L shifted on the bed, facing Light with a playful pout.
"What an unkind sentiment to direct towards your lover, Light-kun."
"You're not my "lover", you drama queen," Light bit out.
L blinked at him, pout turning to moue.
"Then what am I?" He tilted his head. "Am I your boyfriend?"
Light gave a short laughing snort.
"As if."
"Man-friend?"
"Shut up." Light kneaded his forehead. "You're just… I don't know. I don't know what you are to me."
"Just a friend, then?" L clicked his nail thoughtfully against white teeth. "No, wait. I think I have it. I believe we are 'Partners of Circumstance', Light-kun." He jingled the chain as though to underline this notion.
"Right," Light agreed with a nod. "It's all just circumstance. We're chained together so we're constantly close and have to share a bed and everything, and because of that—"
"—We have become involved in a relationship of this nature." L gave a quick, quiet little sigh. "Oh, well. Better to have – and to be – a partner of circumstance than nothing at all."
"It's nothing personal, you know," Light replied airily, fidgeting with the sheets. "I wouldn't consider any human relationship to have the "lover" status. That the kind of thing that only happens in movies. You know, that kind of black and white passionate love affair where nothing else matters, not even death, or… well, whatever."
"Oh." L was nodding in understanding. "Yes, I see your point. If we were "lovers", you could confess to me that you were Kira and I would just look into your eyes and say "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn", and then… gather you in my arms and carry you upstairs to the bedroom."
"Right." Light rolled his eyes at the clichéd romance movie reference. "But in reality, if I were to say that I was Kira, you'd have me arrested on the spot."
"Are you Kira?"
"No." Light sighed deeply. "Nice try, though."
L gave another small sigh of his own and leaned in towards Light, resting his head on the boy's shoulder.
"Well, be that as it may, I like being partners of circumstance with you, Light-kun," he said at length. "I never realized how nice it is to be close to someone, to have someone you care about…"
Light affectionately mussed the detective's ebony hair.
"Thankyou, Ryuzaki, but… surely you care about Watari too? And your little brothers…?"
"Yes, but it's not the same thing that I… well, with you…"
"I should certainly hope not."
L smirked deviously.
"Well, I do care about them, anyway. Very much so."
"So you're not a completely heartless, lying bastard."
L looked up at him.
"Heartless, you say?"
"I just said you weren't completely heartless." Light paused. "You're definitely a liar, though."
"Yes," L replied glazedly. "I suppose I can't argue with that."
Light gave a faint little laugh and snuggled down comfortably under the bedclothes, pulling L close to him so that they were cuddled up snugly together – the detective fully clothed and with his head resting on Light's bare chest. They both tracked the easy rise and fall of mutual breaths, cadence kept in time by their satisfied rapport.
"You promised me éclairs," L reminded him, long after the small verbal pulse points had faded away into blissful silence.
"I know," Light responded drowsily, sleep tugging at his sleeve and dipping his head lower into the pillow. "I'll get them… tomorrow… I keep my promises… I'm not a liar… like you…"
L just sucked at the cuff of his own sleeve and didn't say anything, already feeling the rhythm of Light's chest slow to a sedated breathing pattern.
Of course he was a liar; almost his entire reputation as L was built on the lies he'd spun people to claw his way to the top, the Lind L. Taylor incident being only one example of hundreds. And he'd lied to Light a whole lot too, the card games the latest but neither the first nor the last.
Hell, he'd even lied about those little brothers, the secret bulging like an undigested rat in a snake.
L was sitting on the floor outside the bathroom door, just to the left of it, when Light came out after his morning shower, a towel around his waist.
"Did you have a nice shower?" L asked dully, glancing up at him with his dead accusing eyes.
Light ignored him the way he'd taken to doing as much as he could, going back to the bedroom to get dressed for university. L got up and followed him, standing in the doorway as Light discarded his towel and pulled on his shorts and a pair of designer jeans.
"There was no blood, I presume?" L went on softly.
"L, I'm not in the mood for this right now," Light replied with a scowl, making sure to show his disregard for his presence by rifling through the wardrobe for a shirt, not even acknowledging him enough for eye contact.
"Are you ever?" L murmured, tilting his head and appraising the snub with no great distress.
Light ignored him again, buttoning his shirt and pulling a black V-neck jumper on over it. He rubbed the towel over his damp hair and then ran a comb through it, turning towards the bedroom door to leave for the kitchen—
—And finding L startlingly close, his eyes suddenly looming like dark pitfalls, blocking both his path and his view of the doorway.
"Light-kun, can I tell you something?" The dead detective asked, eyes glazed and dull and unblinking. The tarnished lenses slowly shifted across Light's face, but did not return his gaze; it was more like the tipping of a glass, pouring sight down his countenance with nothing but the impassivity of gravity.
"No." Light couldn't ignore the way those blank eyes pulled a shiver from him, drawing it out like a painful splinter; it was all he could do just to push his way through the tremor and shove L out of the way. "I never like anything you tell me. I don't care, L."
He left the bedroom, but L followed him as persistently as a shadow, unfazed by his rebuke.
"Go away, L," Light bit out warningly, not turning to him as he appeared in the doorway, rather starting to make some toast.
Again, L ignored the order and crossed over to the kitchen table, sitting down and once again neglecting his crouching position for a normal stance. He neatly folded his arms on the table's surface and waited for Light to join him there, however desireless the younger man was to do so. When Light eventually did trudge over, it was with a cup of coffee, a plate of toast and a jar of jam. L watched him with immense interest as he spread the jam on his toast, precisely as an artist with his brush, and then finally spoke when Light lifted one piece of it up to his mouth to take a bite.
"There's something I thought you might like to know, is all," he said dully.
"Like what?" Light responded moodily through a mouthful of toast and jam.
"My little brothers," L said cryptically; "…my heirs."
Light's cinnamon eyes widened and he lowered his toast a little.
"What… about them?"
"I lied about them."
"Wh…?" Light blinked, then gave a shake of his head. "No, they… they exist, you even… even mentioned them yourself the other night… Mello and Near… they exist, I know they do…!"
L gave a dry smirk, knowing he'd fully arrested Light's attention with that one sentence.
"Oh, yes, they exist," he agreed expressionlessly. "And so does the third, but you don't seem to know anything about him, so I won't fill in any blanks for you regarding him."
"But then… what are you talking about?" Light snapped frustratedly. "What do you mean, you lied?"
L gave a shrug.
"I mean that I lied," he said, getting up again. "I told you that I had three little brothers. That's not true. It was never true. Well, as far as present tense goes, it would be fair to say that now there are only three, but that is a subtracted number, you understand."
"Then… then how many were…?"
"Four," L said softly. "There were four."
Light's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Then why did you never mention the fourth one?" He demanded.
"A number of reasons," L replied, leaning across the table towards Light. "The most prominent of which being that the fourth one – or the first one, to be fair – is dead."
"Then why does it matter?" Light snapped, going back to his toast once he realized that whatever L was telling him wouldn't be a help to his current mission. As usual he was digging up the past, revealing bones that had long since lost their frame and their relevance. "Why are you telling me now, after all this time?"
"Because I want you to understand that even if you hadn't killed me, I would still have an incredibly personal reason for hating Kira. It's a reason I've always carried with me. But it seemed easier not to tell you about it, especially when we were chained together and… well, what did we call it…? Oh, yes – "partners of circumstance". It was something I preferred to keep it to myself during that time, because I never believed one hundred per cent that you were Kira, Light-kun."
Light gave a disgusted snort.
"You're making it sound like I killed your… brother or heir or whatever he was," he said coldly.
L's eyes took on an odd, lifeless glint, as though packed with tarnished tinfoil. He leaned closer still towards Light, with some kind of shattered smirk distorting his pale face.
"Does the name 'Beyond Birthday' mean anything to you?" He hissed, voice barely audible as his cold breath whistled between teeth of condemnation.
Light's eyes widened and he blinked a few times, stunned into silence by the unlikely connection.
"He died in prison in early 2004, if your memory needs refreshing," L went on, his voice savagely low. "He died of a sudden inexplicable heart attack—"
"He was your "little brother"?!" Light burst out incredulously. "That maniac was one of your heirs…?"
"Oh, so you do remember." L leaned back again in satisfaction.
"Of course I remember," Light hissed, recovering from his shock with practiced ease. "I remember writing it, thinking it a strange name… It's one that always stuck with me—"
"How ironic."
Light glanced at L in disgust as the full recollection was dusted off.
"But what stuck with me more was what he did," he growled. "The crimes that I punished him for… The Los Angeles BB Murder Case, am I right in remembering?"
L gave an absent nod.
"Yes. Naomi Misora helped me solve that case."
Light's eyes narrowed further still, leaving only venomous slits.
"Which of your wretched protégés are we talking about here, L?" He seethed. "I can't believe what you're saying – that Beyond Birthday was honestly one of your heirs? He murdered three people and then mutilated their bodies in absolutely horrific ways—"
"I never said I was proud of what B did," L interrupted icily.
"Oh, B," Light sneered. "You even have a cute little nickname for him."
"It's not a nickname, it's a codename. Beyond's codename from Wammy's House, like I am L."
"Is that so?" Light's eyes darkened with unapologetic antagonism. "Well, just so you know, the knowledge that Beyond Birthday was your "little brother" doesn't change anything. I'm not sorry I judged him. He deserved to die—"
"Yes," L interrupted calmly. "Perhaps he did. Regardless, as I have always believed, it was not your place to decide that, Light Yagami."
"Well, that's why you died, isn't it?" Light spat.
L said nothing, only sat at the opposite side of the table, utterly motionless.
"Why are you bringing this up, anyway?" Light eventually went on, sipping complacently at his coffee. "After everything that's happened, what difference does it make that you lied about how many fake brothers you do or don't have?"
"B's actions were inexcusable, but so was his death. There was no way you could have known what B was to me, but I'm afraid I took your killing of him personally, Light-kun. Even back then, all that time ago, when we were "partners of circumstance", it was a hatred that came with the percentage of my suspicion of you. Yes, even when I loved you, I knew that if I were to be proven correct about your guilt, it was something I could never forgive you for."
Light was struck silent again at this point, and L leaned in towards him again.
"If you must know," he went on, his voice almost gentle, "I've never fully blamed you for becoming Kira. I've seen the Death Note, I know its power – and its power is one that is tempting to humans. I understand that. If it had fallen first into my hands instead of yours, I cannot say that I am one hundred per cent certain that I wouldn't have done something like what you did. I don't think it's entirely your fault that you became Kira, Light-kun – that is, I don't think every single one of your intentions was truly evil. Indeed, even my own death… I understand why you needed me dead. I was the biggest threat to your cause, so of course it makes logical sense that you needed to get me out of the way. When I take that into account, as angry as I am, I suppose I can even forgive you for it. At the end of the day, we both know I'm not here to seek vengeance on you for killing me. But why did I bring up B after all this time, you ask?"
L stepped back again, giving a sudden deep sigh.
"Or perhaps a better question," he mused, "is "Why did I neglect to mention him before now?"… The truth is, for a long time, I wanted to pretend he had never existed. As you may have guessed, he wasn't much credit to me or to Wammy's House, and after he died… I felt that I didn't have to be guilty about him anymore. He tried to kill himself, you see. He obviously didn't succeed, and it wasn't as though I could have stopped him even if I had known, but in the end… I suppose I drove him to it. The mere fact that L existed drove him to do what he did. The murders, his attempted suicide… He was like you, I suppose, Light-kun. It wasn't his fault, not really. His mind wasn't—"
"Don't you dare compare me to your defective heir!" Light blazed furiously. "There's nothing wrong with my mind."
"B was mad," L murmured, not listening to the younger man. "It wasn't his fault. He never should have been chosen as my heir, he never should have been allowed to leave Wammy's House, but he didn't get the help he needed, and when he didn't meet expectations we just pushed him aside and chose new heirs…" He looked up at Light again. "That's why I never mentioned him," he said more firmly. "I wanted to pretend he didn't exist because it's my fault that he turned out the way he did. I don't know if I could ever have saved him, but the point is that I didn't even try."
The dead detective gnawed at his thumbnail for a moment or two.
"Beyond Birthday was the forgotten one," he said softly. "The one we pushed away, but it really wasn't his fault, and I suppose I mentioned him after all this time because I just want you to know that his death is something that I cannot forgive you for, Light-kun."
He tilted his head and his dead eyes again glinted a little with a life that he did not possess.
"I never, ever will."
"You've noticed it too, then," L said, sipping at his rapidly-cooling tea.
Watari gave a weary nod.
"L, you're only twenty as it is," he said tiredly, "and I certainly don't expect you to die anytime soon, but you did agree to the notion of training heirs to be the next L should anything befall you, and we let you pick the candidates yourself after A proved to be a mistake—"
"Yes," L murmured, putting the teacup down. "Well, I confess that not even I expected A to hang himself. Regardless, it's far too late to be worried about him. It is B who concerns me. He certainly shows signs of being quite severely disturbed."
"I've lost count of the times Roger's had him in his office," Watari murmured, sinking into his own chair. "He can't get anything out of him. He's been with the social workers, the psychologist… They can't diagnose anything, his symptoms are too varied to be from a single specific psychological illness, yet it's as if the characteristics are manifesting themselves in reverse order, pairing syndromes that are not normally possible in humans. In the end, all we can conclude is that B is 'abnormal', which doesn't really help us in terms of treatment…"
"I know, I know." L rubbed at his temples – he was just barely clear of his own teenage years and the sixteen year old B was causing him problems. "The fact that he nailed a live rat to the headboard of his bed so that he could watch it die speaks for itself…"
"The trouble is, this could be another case like A," Watari pointed out. "It was the pressure of being chosen as your successor that drove him to take his own life. It's unclear as to whether or not this maladaptive behavior B has exhibited is due to his position as your heir, or…"
"I don't know what to do, Watari," L said softly. "I chose B myself. His intelligence… well, it's highly likely that it matches mine, if not more so, and he seemed so eager to take on the role even though he knew what the pressure of it had driven A to. It's possible, as you said, that the same thing is happening to B, and if that's the case, what should we do about it? I know B well enough to say in advance that he wouldn't take very kindly to the suggestion that he give up his position as my heir."
"My suggestion is quite the opposite, as a matter of fact," Watari replied, making L look at him curiously. "I think it would be in our interest to choose more heirs. Perhaps two more…?"
"Do you think that's a good idea?" L hopped out of his chair and went to the window with his hands in his pockets to look out at the empty play-yard at the front of Wammy's House. "If being my heir is what's driven A and B mad, perhaps we shouldn't be training any more—"
"I think a lot of it comes from strength of character, too," Watari interrupted gently. "I don't recall ever seeing you erecting a noose from your doorframe or nailing a live rat to your bed."
"But I'm the first L," L murmured, his shoulders sagging further. "I didn't have a reputation to live up to."
"Well, even so, I think it wise to choose some more candidates worthy for the title of L," Watari replied. "It's a mistake to only have one at a time. When A died we had to start over with B, and if B… well, if anything were to happen to him, we'd be back at Square One all over again…"
"I…" L gave a small sigh, gazing at his reflection in the window of Watari's office. "Alright. You have a point, Watari."
"Would you rather choose them yourself, or take a look at the ones Roger has put forward?"
L glanced sharply at him.
"You've already discussed this?"
"We'd never have taken any action without your say-so, but Roger and I have previously discussed this, yes." Watari paused. "He is very concerned about B's behavior too."
"You're so sneaky," L said snippily, coming back to the desk, but he was smiling faintly even so. He took the few loose sheets from Watari's hand to look through them.
"These two," he said almost immediately, putting down the two top sheets onto the desk. "Mello and Near."
"That was quick," Watari said, bewildered.
"I'd considered them anyway, back when I chose B, but they're so young… I mean, Near's only eight…" L gave a shake of his head. "Regardless, these two, Watari. They're the smartest two kids here after B."
"Alright." Watari gathered up the sheets. "I'll inform Roger of your decision. Will you talk to Mello and Near yourself?"
L gave a nod.
"Yes. I spoke to B about it myself, after all." He looked idly through the rest of the sheets. "By the way, I'd prefer to treat these new heirs as separate to B."
"I…a-alright, if that's what you want, L."
"And in that case, there are only two in this new category. I want three. Here." L handed Watari a third sheet. "I'd like to choose Matt as my third heir."
Watari glanced bemusedly at the sheet.
"Matt…? Are you sure?"
L nodded again, certainty stemming from an unknown source.
"He's more than capable, I assure you," he said confidently. "I'll talk to them all myself about the position, but there's someone else I should talk to first, don't you think…?"
Watari closed his eyes and gave another small, weary nod.
"Yes, you probably should."
L picked up his teacup and drained what was left of the drink, setting it down on the saucer again with a clink and heading for the door of the office.
"You know, for what it's worth," he said, pausing at the door to glance back at Watari, "I do have a lot of confidence in B's abilities."
"I know," Watari replied kindly, but L was already out of the door, letting it swing closed behind him.
L wasn't one for being afraid or shy of other people, but he always hesitated before knocking on B's door. He wasn't afraid of B either, it was just…
Well, it seemed both unkind and hypocritical to say that B was weird when L knew he wasn't exactly Mr Normal himself, but even so…
"Go away!" He heard the teenager snap from the other side of the door; which the young detective took as an invitation to push down the handle and enter the room.
The room was dark, as it often was, lit only by a dim bedside lamp that did nothing to illuminate the room. If anything its only function was to make the shadows seem even more oppressive, since its light could not penetrate the thick darkness.
"B?" L closed the door behind him, looking around and locating the boy hunched near the bed.
"I said go aw—!" B started, whirling on him with a snarl; but then he aborted the angry imperative and his expression altered when he recognized the intruder. "Oh, L…!"
There was a toothy smile on his pale face now as he approached the detective; even L was unsettled by how similar B was in appearance to him. It wasn't that B was his exact carbon copy, but they had a similar build and complexion and B even had the same jet black hair. To be frank, if B wanted to make himself look like L, he could probably pull it off flawlessly.
"What are you doing, B?" L asked suspiciously, noting that B first glanced at the place directly above his head, then met his gaze before looking away, casting his eyes across the dark floor as though he was searching for something he'd lost.
He frowned when B's eyes furtively returned a second time to the air above his head, slyly swiveling up without head movement to accompany the gaze – B had a habit of doing this to everyone he met, the young detective had noticed.
"What are you looking at?" He asked, not giving the boy time to answer his first question.
"Nothing," the teenager replied, answering both questions and instantly snapping his attention back to L's face. "What are… I mean, you…"
"What do I want?" L supplied dryly. "I just wanted to have a little talk to you, if that's alright."
What little color had been in B's face to begin with drained right out of it with astonishing speed, leaving him white as a chalk pillar.
"I didn't do anything," he said quickly, trying to suppress the sullen guilt radiating from him as he repeatedly stubbed his left foot against the floor.
"B, I don't want to know about the rat, if that's what you're worried about," L replied coldly.
"That was an experiment," B said defensively, cocking his head back as though his guilt had been instantly transfigured into pride through some alchemy hidden even from L himself.
"I don't care, I don't want to hear about it." L said, silently discomforted by how quickly B could change emotional gears without stripping his internal hub. He crossed over to B's bed, stepped up onto the sheets and settled into his crouch, noting that B was watching him very intently from where he was standing. "It's just that I've made an important decision and felt that you should be the first to know about it."
"Oh?" B tilted his head in interest.
"Yes." L took a breath and then exhaled. "I've chosen three more heirs in addition to you, to be treated as a separate "unit" from you, and—"
"No!" B cried, throwing himself down on the floor by the bed; kneeling up to grasp desperately at the bottom of L's jeans. "I'm your heir!"
"Of course you are," L said patiently, "it's just that I've decided that it's not fair to place all of the burden on you – after all, that's what most likely led to A's suicide, and—"
"I don't mind, I want the burden!" B pleaded, now grabbing at L's hands and clasping them between his own very similar ones. "I'm stronger than A, I don't need to you make it easier for me…! Please don't pick more heirs, L! I'm the only one you need, I'll do a good job, I promise!"
"B…" L worked one of his hands free from the teenager's frenzied grip and placed it on the crown of his head to calm him as if he were a child. "This is for your benefit. We're all… well, we're worried about you, and I think—"
"Worried?" B hissed, accusations barbing his tongue. "Who's worried?"
"I am," L said firmly. "It doesn't matter who else is. Now look, I honestly didn't expect you to make this much fuss, and I'm not very impressed that you have, so please stop this. I won't have you dictating what I can and can't do regarding the succession of my title. I'm not taking your position as my heir away from you, understand?"
"But I'm your heir," B whispered, his voice quavering slightly, though it was difficult to tell if it was from suppressed tears or rage. "I want to be L, I want to be you…"
L pulled away from him completely and got off the bed, disquieted once again by his volatile mood swings, changes that seemed to hinge on the whim of a single word, swerving chaotically back and forth between extremes…
"I'm not going to put up with tantrums from you, Beyond," he said icily. "Perhaps we should discuss this when you've calmed down and given thought to how much this is going help you. Please remember, you would still be first in line for my title."
He stepped across the room again, bare feet noiseless on B's bedroom carpet as he headed towards the door.
"L, I'm sorry," B wailed, pulling himself up. "I wasn't having a tantrum, I'll talk now—"
"No. You're not calm." L looked at him, nibbling at his bottom lip. "You see, Beyond? This is what we're worried about. I'll… I'll come and see you again later, okay? I'll bring some cake and we can sit and talk about it properly."
B wasn't left with much a choice, and gave a indifferent shrug and a nod.
"Okay."
L gave a tiny nod of his own and opened the door – and as he did so, a small frog hopped out from the darkness under the bed and bounded to freedom down the hallway. L watched it go, then turned his attention back to B – the teenager actually stepped back in fright from the glare L shot at him.
"And please make sure you've finished your torturing of small defenseless animals before I arrive," he said coldly, and he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
The sixteen year old gave a sulky little sigh; then reached into his pocket and withdrew, clutched tightly in his fingers, the other small, quivering frog he'd caught earlier that afternoon.
"He's only got five more years left in him," he crooned to the terrified creature as it squirmed across his nimble fingers, hopelessly trying to escape, "which is a pity, but more than I can say for you."
(It really hadn't been B's fault.
That didn't excuse the murders – it didn't exempt him from his guilt. B had always had an extremely sadistic streak in his nature, evident from an early age in the way he "experimented" on whatever small creatures he could catch. Rats, mice, fish and frogs from the pond, spiders, even the odd bird or two…
They all fed his cruel and twisted whims.
L had despaired of him, Roger had punished him and the other children had kept away from him; but the former two, along with Watari, had all reasoned that tormenting small creatures was just a childish phase of Beyond's, one that he would grow out of when he reached adulthood.
It was, after all, a form of "playing God", a childish trait evident also in Kira – in Light Yagami, who himself had been very young when he started on his campaign to rid the world of criminals.
To B's credit, he did grow out of killing frogs and rats and coating their corpses with quicklime (all the sooner for him to have nothing left but their off-white bones); unfortunately, the only reason he lay off them was because he found that killing other humans was far more entertaining than taking the lives of lesser creatures.
B had been rejected long before he'd gone to Los Angeles and killed his first victim, Believe Bridesmaid. L's choosing of Mello, Near and Matt as further heirs – the Hydra formulation who would go up against Kira after his death – hadn't exactly been the first nail in the coffin of B's right to the title of 'L', but it certainly had been the last.
After all, it was B's rejection that had caused him to go to Los Angeles – that entire murder case had been nothing but an elaborate bid for L's attention, after all. L had been a fool not to read it in B before it had come to that; not to read it in his reaction to his initial telling him about the three new heirs. B's view of L was complex, to say the least; he respected him, adored him to the point of worship, so much that he wanted to be him, but he also despised him because if he was L then it meant that B couldn't be, and he hated that L had seen fit to pick three other successors, it made him feel betrayed and unwanted, like L didn't see him as good enough to succeed him anymore…
L hadn't understood that. He'd been too busy to understand B's simultaneous infatuation with and hatred of him. He'd only really understood during the LA BB Case, and by then it had been far too late to do anything about it.
When Naomi Misora had called him and said that a detective calling himself Rue Ryuzaki had shown up in the house of Believe Bridesmaid, the first victim, and had described his uncanny appearance, he'd understood.
He'd always observed, of course, that B could make his likeness his own with very little effort, after all. Near was the one with L's mirror mirror eyes, but B had his white-as-snow skin and black-as-ebony hair as well as the intellect to detect and mimic even the slightest nuances of L's behavior.
B had wanted L's attention – all of his attention – and hell, he knew how to get it. L had been sickened by the LA murders, but not remotely surprised. Even the Wara Ningyo dolls nailed to the walls at the scene of each crime were reminiscent of that rat he'd nailed to the headboard of his bed.
This was B's retaliation, after all; his way of telling L, plain and simple, that he didn't like it one little bit that he'd chosen more heirs, nor indeed that he didn't appreciate the way he'd gradually been pushed away and ignored in favor of the new successors.
It was true – L couldn't deny it. He'd paid more and more attention to Mello, Matt and Near and less and less attention to Beyond on his visits to Wammy's House. He hadn't known how to deal with B anymore – even he couldn't put a stop to his sadistic tendencies, after all. He'd thought that perhaps B was only doing it for attention and that maybe it was best to just ignore him, but…
Well, it went without saying that B didn't like to be ignored.
In retrospect, Beyond Birthday's story was something of a shattered Cinderella – he'd been there first, the prized and prestigious heir, but then the others had come along, and they'd fallen into much better favor; Mello, Near and Matt the Ugly Sisters to B's Cinderella, and B himself was pushed away and ignored, even though he'd been there first.
And maybe L wasn't much of a Fairy Godmother, to say the least, but it still stood that he hadn't made it all better; no-one had swept down and transfigured a gilt coach from a pumpkin and made Cinderella the most beautiful of all and sent her on her way to the ball that would change her life.
Even when he was left behind with nothing but his priceless Shinigami Eyes and his impaled mice, nobody came to give B his happy ever after.
Until the day he died at Kira's hand, he hadn't a single glass slipper to his name.)
Roger seemed to assume – always with a sagacious smirk – that whenever L showed up at Wammy's House, he would be the one putting his three young heirs to bed, and wordlessly expected him to do so.
L didn't like losing, incidentally, but there was no point in fighting this battle – if he ignored them, Matt and Mello would run riot throughout the orphanage all night and Near would fall asleep on the carpet.
Given Mello and Matt's mile-long CV detailing various breakages and assorted incidents involving indoor fireworks, helium gas and skateboards, L thought he had better not be the one responsible for leaving them unattended all night while he worked and ate cake. He might have been the world's top three detectives but he wasn't much good at mending broken banisters or making the children responsible for breaking them mend them; besides, he didn't trust Mello and Matt not to trample Near if left unsupervised.
As it happened, he was carrying Near, who had indeed fallen asleep while L hunted for Mello and Matt, finding them in the kitchen stealing cookies. It was all he could to hold Near with one arm while marching Mello along by the scruff of his neck with his other hand to keep him away from Matt, whom Mello had slapped when he thought L wasn't looking over the ownership of a prized chocolate-coated oatmeal cookie. Matt himself was hanging onto the hem of L's top, padding sleepily after him, eyelids drooping like a heavy flower head.
"You two get ready for bed," L said wearily, kicking open the door to Matt's room and pushing him in. "I'll come check on you after I put Near to bed."
He delivered Mello to his room amidst the blonde's protests that the cookie really had been his (not that it mattered, given that L had "confiscated" it, making it his by default) and went next door with Near, who hadn't woken up throughout the entire escapade.
He was glad Near tended to slouch around all day in his pajamas, because it meant he could just put him straight under the covers without waking him. Roger would probably whine that Near should have brushed his teeth before bed, but L personally would have been more fussed if this had been Mello – Near didn't share his and Mello's cavity-collecting sweet tooth.
However, Near stirred whilst L was tucking him in, opening his dark eyes drowsily.
"I… fell asleep?"
"Yeah, it's late." L brushed some of Near's snow-white hair from those mirror eyes, filmy with sleep. "Do you want to use the bathroom?"
Near shook his head softly.
"No, I'm okay."
L smiled and gave a tired sigh, sitting normally on the edge of Near's bed. He pulled out the cookie he'd taken from Mello and nibbled at it.
"What's wrong?" Near asked sleepily, watching him through half-lidded eyes.
"Hm?" L glanced at him. "Nothing. I'm just jetlagged, I think. I just flew in from Los Angeles this morning."
"That was… that big murder… case, right…?"
L nodded and stood up, petting Near's hair affectionately.
"Yes, but don't think about that right now, not while you're trying to sleep. If you want to know about it, I'll tell you tomorrow."
Near gave a little smile, which was soon lost to a yawn.
"Goodnight, Near," L murmured, leaving the room.
"L!" Near called lethargically after him, making the detective lean back into the room.
"Yes, Near?"
"It… it was him, wasn't it…? B…?"
L paused; but Near was clever, and there was no point in lying to him.
"Yes."
Near gave a nod and snuggled down deeper under the covers.
"I… thought so…"
L shut the door and sank down miserably outside it, clutching his knees to his chest. It didn't matter that Near was incredibly intelligent – he was still only eleven years old, and that was what was sad about this whole B thing.
That an eleven year old could nod and be so unsurprised by the revelation that those horrific murders had been the doing of someone who come from this same place, who'd been on the same path…
To be unsurprised, almost as though he'd expected it, even when L himself had not.
"He's the reason," L said from the armchair furthest away from Light as the younger man sat on the couch in front of the TV, diligently writing names down into his precious Death Note. "B, I mean."
"Shut up, I'm busy!" Light snapped savagely.
"I can see that," L said quietly.
"Go away if you don't want to watch this," Light spat. "I'm not going to stop my judgments just because you're haunting me. And you can shut up about your precious B, too. I killed him… what, three years ago? No offense, but this is a severely delayed reaction."
"Not really," L replied. "I'm not talking about B himself, particularly. To be honest, there are a lot of things I'd rather not remember about him. It's just… his death…"
"Yes, yes, you can't forgive me for it," Light said distractedly.
"No, not that. It was the cause of something too, you see." And when Light finally looked up at him, L went on; "I always believed that what Kira was doing was wrong, but it wasn't until you killed B that I became truly determined that I would catch you no matter what."
Light smirked, his smile laced with arsenic.
"How sweet."
"Don't get me wrong, Light-kun, it wasn't because I thought B any better than any of the other murderers you've ever killed. It was because… when you killed B, for me, it proved your justification for your killing spree wrong."
Light's chocolate eyes narrowed, touchy as ever when it came to morality.
"How… do you mean?"
"You justify your "judgments" via reasoning that if you take away everyone in the world who commits an evil deed, it will ultimately remove evil itself. But what you fail to understand, Light-kun, is that many of the people who commit evil deeds are not evil themselves. To take B as an example to symbolize thousands of cases… he wasn't sane. He was an extremely disturbed person, and granted, the murders he committed were of a truly evil and vicious nature, but… I honestly don't believe that B himself was evil. I'm not excusing him for what he did – it was vicious and twisted and he certainly deserved to be punished for it, but he simply never fitted into your "subtraction of evil equals good" equation."
Light gave a indignant snort.
"Do you really think that's going to make me stop, L?"
"No. In fact, I would be stunned if it did. But I felt that I owed you an explanation, of sorts. If nothing else, your justification for being Kira is severely illogical, and your killing of B proved that to me. You think that killing "evil" people will stop evil, but you've obviously never considered people like B. He didn't choose to be that way, Light-kun, just as people before him haven't chosen to be that way, and the way people after him won't choose to be. To be honest, your logic is positively Medieval – you know, when they didn't understand the idea of mental illness and thought that people who displayed disturbed tendencies were werewolves or possessed by the devil or witches. And what did they do with them…?"
"They killed them," Light replied stiffly.
L nodded meditatively.
"And yet B still horrifically murdered three people in Los Angeles," he said. "They didn't stamp out that "evil" any more than you will. It's the same thing as punishing someone for having cancer, a disease one has no control over."
"Statistics show that my methods are working," Light bit out angrily. "Crime levels have dropped dramatically—"
"Those statistics wouldn't have stopped B, you know; and neither would the fact that you exist. If you'd been Kira at the time of those LA murders, he'd still have killed those people."
"He must have had a very important motive, then," Light responded coolly, getting up to signal that the conversation was drawing rapidly to a close.
"Yes, I… I suppose to him, it was." L gave a small shrug as Light left the room with his notebook. "Who knows, maybe poor B had a point…"
…After all, you never considered that what B did was someone else's fault.
Narroch: Warning, B rant ahead. -- Right, so I thoroughly enjoyed Another Note, having read it while in the hospital with the flu. But there were quite a few things that bothered me, the main one being the portrayal of B's character. In the story B displayed very obvious psychopathic tendencies: his guiltless murders, moral apathy, and fearless grandiosity. He was also portrayed as having psychotic symptoms as well: unstable sense of reality, obsessions, deviant behavior (the laughing...? Come on.) However, psychotic and psychopathic mean completely different things, and are never found within the same person. In real life you just don't get killers who are cool calm and efficiently manipulative in one instance, then laughing and mentally unstable in the next. Yet, popular culture loves to portray this; Hannibal Lector, and Disturbia are good examples of the stereotype. It is just so aggravating to read something and be thrown off by the unrealistic symptoms... It was something we tried to address in here, by making Wammy's House unable to diagnose him, but in all honesty B wouldn't really have existed...
Sorry for that. I'm a psych major... oo;
RR: She couldn't resist…
Anyway, yeah. That's that. That's Beyond Birthday dealt with – he will not be mentioned again, nor will he miraculously come back to life and turn up in the main body of Poison Apple…
Well, as usual, there is fanart to be gandered at over on our DA, and our forum, Poison Apple Shoutbox (found on my profile), is open all hours if you have any questions, rants, complaints, suggestions, etc, about the fic.
Thankyou for reading! TTYS!
- RobinRocks and Narroch xXx