(Most knew her for her acts of cruelty, fewer worshipped her for her lack of judgement, and only the dead recognised her kindness.)

.

Beyond tilted his head to the side, his make-up underlined eyes partially covered by the hair falling into his vision. Through the black strands he could see Anna's bed, the sheets twisted and the blankets half way to the ground; but the girl herself was missing.

His ears twitched as they picked up the sound of a mug being placed on the kitchen counter and a knife chopping against a wooden board in a steady rhythm. He sniffed, the smell of boiling vegetables and herbs invading his nostrils.

The serial killer's stomach did a happy flip. Yes, he preferred strawberry jam and sugary coffee over everything else but who could refuse a piping hot, home cooked meal?

He grinned, turning on his heel and stalked towards the kitchen area. As Beyond turned the corner, he innocently crossed his arms behind his back, letting himself let out a soft and cheerful whistle.

A whistle that ended immediately once he met the glare Anna was sending towards him. He halted, almost tripping over his own feet and then half considered walking backwards away from the scene in the direction he came from. Anna rolled her eyes, picking up the chopping board and swiping chopped potatoes into the tall pot of boiling water. She reached for a carrot and began to chop it so furiously that the man by the entrance was surprised the blade didn't cut right through the board.

Beyond swung on the back of his heels, frowning at the back of her head. Her long hair was pulled up into a ponytail and the few strands that escaped it irritated him. "Did… Did I do something wrong?"

It was a rather silly question and so he wasn't surprised when the girl by the counter scoffed and almost sliced her fingers off, knuckles white from the tense grip on the knife. What had he not done wrong?

Anna paused mid-cut and held the knife above the surface, her eyes unfocused and staring past the wall in front of her. Her fingers trailed along the sharp edge of the blade lightly as if fondly stroking nothing more than the skin of another human being. She took in a deep breath and curled her fingers around the metal of the weapon, the grip angry but loose enough not to slice through her palm.

"You know," she spoke up, tilting her head to the side, "at first I was genuinely surprised at the fact you locked the rooms of your – well, I suppose to some extent they are ours for I had a part to play, no matter how small – victims. It is the first sign of a suicide and yet you mutilated the bodies in such a way that the very thought of a suicide would be ridiculous. Thus the action seemed ridiculously pointless. But in the end it is not as complicated to figure out as one would assume. What's the point of making the rooms look locked from the inside if it didn't play a hand in the grand finale?"

Beyond opened his mouth to interrupt but she silenced him with a glare over her shoulder. "I am no detective, Beyond Birthday, but I am not stupid!"

The man in question flinched. Somehow the sound of his full name coming from her in such an angry tone seemed like a death sentence. And from the way he eyed her fondling that blade he might not have been far off. Then her words registered and he frowned, slowly looking up through thin, black strands of his hair.

Keeping his head straight on his shoulders was a chore he didn't submit to.

His lips moved, forming around the words awkwardly. Only a moment later did he realise that he had not actually spoken, and repeated himself out loud. "It has to be done – this is the only way that the case will remain unsolvable. L cannot catch a serial killer when there isn't one out there. He and his little pawn will chase loose ends, grasping at straws of evidence that is not there to be looked for in the first place and the case will be dropped."

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat and to give herself enough time to gather her rushing thoughts she placed the knife back on the board and turned down the gas on the oven, placing a lid over the boiling pot. She sighed, holding her head up so the tears brimming in the corners of her eyes wouldn't fall.

"I hate you so much," she whispered, closing her eyes and gritting her jaw when Beyond chuckled and shifted on his feet, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

"I know," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. A smile attempted to pull the corners of his lips upwards but gave up.

"Don't make fun of me!" Anna yelled, slamming her fist into the counter and whirling around to glare at him. She wasn't wearing an apron to cook in; only a pair of jeans and a grey woollen jumper and she wiped the tears that fell from her eyes with a sleeve, inwardly convincing herself that she was crying because of the onions she had to prepare earlier.

Beyond didn't avoid her eyes instead staring at them head on and shadowing his own emotions behind a mask of indifference. On the inside he was screaming, pounding every hard surface with his fists, pulling at his hair but this was one time that he refused to let his feelings rule him.

Anna growled, wiping loose hair from her face, the strands sticking to her forehead from the steam. "You told me that you chose the victim's names so that it would set off a red flag in L's head. That it would taunt him. But Beyond," she took a small, shaky step towards him, swallowing thickly, "your name is not above the victims' – it is equal to them." She closed her eyes and buried her hands in her face, choking back a sob, her hands muffled by the pale flesh of her fingers. "Beyond Birthday: the fourth and final victim."

Beyond finally looked at her and with a sombre expression on his face he left his resting spot. He approached her and wrapped his arms around her. For a moment Anna was stiff, as if resisting but soon what little anger she had towards him faded and she buried her head in his chest, sniffing, curling her arms around his waist.

"Please," she croaked, speaking through a mouthful of a black shirt. "I know it's selfish of me and I am not even ashamed to admit this, but I do not want you to leave. I don't care about your challenge to L, I don't care about anything – I just want you to stay." She pulled back, wiping her nose with her sleeve again and offering him what she prayed was an intimidating glare, though in truth she looked like a sobbing toddler. "I will not allow you to end this case in your suicide."

Beyond chuckled, rubbing her upper arm in a comforting manner. He hunched until his eyes were level with hers and let his hands travel upwards until they cupped her cheeks.

He held her face in both of his palms, offering her a soft smile. "Did you really expect a happy ending, my dear?"

Instead of answering Anna glared, nodding furiously. Beyond almost laughed, stopping himself at the last second. He inched his face towards hers slowly, waiting for her eyes to flicker close. First he kissed her temple, Anna sighing contently and curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Then he kissed the corner of her lips, his right arm reaching for the thick, rectangular object tucked in the back of his jeans.

Anna's eyes never opened as the blunt edge hit the back of her head, the girl releasing a sudden breath before falling to the floor awkwardly, her head softly bouncing when she hit the slightly warm tiles.

Beyond sighed and let his hands drop to his sides limply, the book falling to the ground with a dull thud. He stood frozen for a long moment, his chest barely moving as he breathed, his fingers curling into a fist and then unclenching repeatedly. Finally he took in a deep breath and squatting down beside Anna's unmoving form he lifted her into his arms.

He carried her to the bed with such mournful silence, he might as well have been carrying a corpse to rest inside of a coffin instead of an unconscious girl to her bed. Beyond laid her down, tucking the blanket tightly around her. As he brushed the hair out of her face, his finger trailing downwards from her temple until it rested on the space above where he first held a knife to her liver, he muttered an apology under his breath.

The lid of the pot shook, the metal edges clanking together as a cloud of steam emerged from the forced gaps, water spurting out and dripping into the cooker, extinguishing the flames.

He left no sign that he was ever there – wiped the fingerprints from every corner. Gathered up his clothes, the things he gave her such as the gloves and the mobile phone, other supplies and even cleared the fridge free of strawberry jam and as he hoisted the heavy bag over his shoulder he spared a moment to reflect that it was quickest time he had cleared the scene. As Beyond's fingers wrapped around the door handle he hesitated, his face inching to the left to give Anna's form one last look before he paused and violently shook his head. He whispered one last apology, swallowing the lump in his throat, and it took him all he had not to slam the door on his way out.

Perhaps people were right. Perhaps goodbyes truly were the hardest.

He couldn't find it in himself to utter one.

.


.

Firstly, Beyond got rid of the unnecessary items he had acquired during the short stay at Anna's. He removed his fingerprints but any remains of his DNA would not have mattered for nobody would look for it in a waste container of a Chinese restaurant on the other side of town opposite to the crime scene. He almost regretted binning the gloves and the phone but pressed one last kiss to both of the items – breaking the latter into half a dozen pieces of course and eliminating any chances of recovering data from the device.

His meeting with Naomi before their 'stake out' was short and brief and to the point. A few days earlier the investigating duo discovered that the third victim's body has been displayed as a watch. Only the acting time arrows themselves were rather insignificant in the bigger picture, for the number 061550 was not the time at all, but the construction approval number for a condominium - a massive complex in the valley, in Pasadena.

There were two potential victims. Naomi noted the woman named Blackberry Brown who lived in condo number 1313. Beyond pointed out the second: a man named Blues-harp Babysplit, who lived alone in condo 404. For a moment they argued, looking for the connection between the room numbers and the significance of the days between the murders before Beyond steered her to the right direction.

"But remember, Misora. The number of days between the murders. The crossword puzzle reached the police station on July 22nd, the first murder happened nine days later on July 31st, the second murder four days later on August 13th. If the fourth murder is to happen on August 22nd that will be nine days later again. Nine-four-nine-nine and not nine-four-nine-four? Even though nine and four equals thirteen?"

Well, he didn't really steer her anywhere at all – he simply spat out the speech to play with the agent's self-doubt. It did not matter to him which of the victims Naomi thought would be targeted or on which day, for neither of them was his intended target, and the two suspected targets were at safe houses for the time being.

L's hand was very easy to lead indeed.

Naomi Misora had acquired the gun – of course she did – and seemed confident in catching the killer that very evening. Beyond hid his smile as they parted ways to their assigned rooms, deciding simply to go by same-sex arrangement. He turned around for the last time to offer last minute concern for the FBI agent's safety but she offered him a smile, saying that with the gun and her capoeira skills she is more than equipped to deal with whatever the situation throws at her.

Rue Ryuzaki made a show of bowing and offering to let her be the one who places handcuffs on the killer's wrists.

Once inside Blues-harp Babysplit's home, Beyond locked the door and didn't waste a second in starting his usual pre-kill routine.

The early morning found him lying on a mattress in the bedroom, drenched from head to toe, having showered himself with gasoline, his eyes staring at the first thing the next person will see – most likely Agent Naomi Misora – when they open the door.

And by then it will be too late for her or L to stop him.

He smiled, letting out a harsh and cruel laugh into the stuffy air. "L would lose. B will win. B was the top, and L was the bottom. Hahaha. L will grovel at B's feet." He grinned, his teeth stained with blood from where he had bitten his lip an hour ago. "The copy will surpass the original."

He let nothing, not even a single thread of a lead to what he actually looks like underneath all of his make-up, and after the damage he will inflict it will be impossible to determine what he looked like before. No connection would be made to Wammy's house or his true identity. There will be no solution. He had created a problem that cannot be solved.

He coughed, the dryness of his throat making it harder to breathe but he didn't let himself drink as much as a drop of water. The sunlight drifting though the window reminded him that he was supposed to be burning by now, but cleaning the house from fingerprints took longer than he expected – took longer for a single person to do it as opposed to two people.

Well, that's what he told himself. He wasn't about to admit, at his winning move, that his own slow actions were led by the thought of the girl he has left behind. Irritatingly distracting questions kept jumping to his head.

Anna was unconscious in her apartment and he couldn't help but wonder if she was awake. Perhaps she was crying again or maybe she was running towards the crime-scene-to-be right now – in which case he should really get on with the task at hand – with the intent to give one last attempt at changing his mind, or maybe in the end he had hit her too hard and she was neither awake nor running nor crying and under all those blankets her chest was not moving and her lips were growing blue and cold.

He shook his head and took in a deep breath, refocusing his gaze on the ceiling and forcing all thoughts, irrelevant to that very moment, leave his head. He had done everything according to his plan. Not a single fingerprint will be found at the scene, just like the others. He had turned the thumb lock by hand, nailed a Wara Ningyo doll in the wall in a spot directly opposite the door, broke the sprinkler system, turned off the alarm and even allowed himself a moment to lie down and calm his head.

He held up a rectangular box, hands as calm if they were floating in still water and with a single stroke of his fingers he lit the match.

"L…

"I won."

.


A/N: I owe you for this cliffhanger, huh?