Note: Once more, I thank all the considerate people who've read/reviewed. My only regret is that I am such a slow updater... and for that, I apologize.

Oh, and I forgot to mention: I don't imagine that BB looks exactly like L. It was mentioned somewhere in Another Note that he just puts on make-up and such to appear like him. Of course, B hasn't even met the guy yet (or gone completely nutty; I believe insanity is a process), so he looks just like any ordinary kid.

...With satanic red eyes.


"Love Lies Bleeding"
B Careful

--x--

Hahahahahahahahahaa...
Feel good...
Feel good...

You've got a new horizon;
It's ephemeral style.
A melancholy town where we never smile.

Windmill, windmill for the land.
Turn forever, hand in hand.
Take it all in on your stride.
It is sinking, falling down.
Love forever; love is free.
Let's turn forever, you and me.

- Feel Good Inc., Gorillaz

--x--

Surprisingly, she did actually let me in. With all of my dramatics and noisemaking, I figured she would just leave me out there in the hall to die. Well, I mean, I did get slapped upside the head upon entrance, but... I'm sure it was a heartfelt smack. After all, she seemed like a lonely person.

"I want you to call me Beyond."

Her hand paused near the Jenga (1) tower and she looked up at me.

"Look, B. I told you. Real names--"

"--aren't allowed, I know. But when we're alone and no one's listening. Then I want you to call me Beyond."

She sighed and turned back to the game, removing a wooden block with slow precision.

"Just not Backup. Backup sounds awful, doesn't it? Alternate is bad too. Can I call you Amy?" I rambled, plucking a block haphazardly and causing the tower to wobble.

"You will call me A. If you want, I can call you BB. That sounds somewhat endearing, I think."

"Hmm," I agreed passively.

She carefully removed another block from the tower.

"Are you related to Mr. Wammy?"

"Hm? Why would you think that? Wammy is a common name."

"...No it's not."

"Yes, it is." I saw the corners of her mouth twitch. "In Zimbabwe." I snorted and chuckled, and she smiled silently. So, yes, they were related. My first guess would be a grandfather-granddaughter blood relation. Though, I suppose it would be too nosy to pry further and confirm it.

"He's head of the House, right? Mr. Wammy?" (2)

"Yes, though he's rarely ever here."

"Oh. Do you miss him a lot?"

"I don't miss him at all," she answered curtly. I noted the bitter clip in her tone and decided again not to pry.

The Jenga tower was slowly eroding, and our equal mounds of blocks slowly rising. It was her turn, in which she gently pushed a block out into her pile. Watching this, I noticed something for the first time. She only played with her right hand.

I reached around the tower and lifted her left arm. She barked a "What do you think you're doing?" at me, but I ignored her and focused on the gold bell that dangled from a simple, braided string around her wrist.

"What's this?" I asked, touching the bell lightly. It was tiny -- like a very small Christmas ornament -- and made a little tinkling noise when it shook.

She sighed and flicked my hand away. Standing up, she moved to the bunk bed and pointed to a dreamcatcher that hung from the corner of the top bunk's wooden rail. "The bell was attached to that," A explained. "I wear it as a good luck charm."

"You believe in luck?"

"I believe in faith."

She sat down again without further explanation and we resumed the game. It was my turn, and as I pulled a block lazily from the bottom of the tower, the whole thing suddenly collapsed.

"Loser rebuilds," she stated.

--x--

That night, I huddled into the covers of the bottom bunk in A's room. I had (lied) told her that I didn't know where my own room was, and she (grudgingly) graciously allowed me to share a portion of her own.

Blinking, I stared at the wall beside me and watched as my vision shifted slowly to a hazy red. This was what I called my night-vision; it only activates in the dark. (Like a superhero!) It's very pretty, though. It makes you feel like you're looking at the world through a translucent, red jewel.

I heard the mattress above me shift slightly. "Still awake, A?" I murmured.

"...Still awake," she replied quietly.

"You wanna hear a story?"

"What I want is for you to shut up..."

Petulant as always.

"Okay, so," I began anyway, "once upon a time, there was a man who owned a farm."

"You're just going to--"

"And this man, he lived on that farm his whole life. He did, his father did, and his grandfather before him did."

"--ignore me, aren't you?"

"This man, he had a wife and a son, and they lived happily on this farm. It was peaceful. There was an endless expanse of blue sky, hanging low over their golden fields of wheat and barley. Every day was sunny and tranquil. The gentlest of winds would sweep across this property, sending its blessings from faraway places, and turn the windmill that stood in the corner of the field, just turning and turning away."

A was quiet.

"Once, the farmer and the farmer's son were standing by this windmill, and the father said, 'Son, this windmill is the symbol of our family and the love within us. Today, it's my job to keep this windmill going. Someday, it will be yours.' And the son understood. But as he looked up above his father's head, the windmill halted.

"When the farmer realized that the windmill had stopped, he climbed up a ladder to fix it. Then he fell and smashed his head. The farmer's wife, shocked, fell into a coma and never came out. So the son fled that farm, but not without looking back every now and then to wonder why he knew the windmill would halt."

There was silence.

"...I'm sorry, BB."


Disillusionment

--(A)--

I woke up.

No, it was neither a sound nor a feeling. Rather, it was the lack thereof. The silence woke me.

My first instinct was to check the bottom bunk, and climbing down the wooden ladder, I was not surprised to find it empty. Somehow, the unnatural quiet of the room was evidence enough that BB was no longer here. My second instinct was to worry.

-x-

I wandered down the dorm hallway, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of B. He wasn't in the bathroom. There were only three upstairs, which were all vacant, and there was no point in going downstairs to use one. I yawned and wondered vaguely as to where that troublesome boy could have gone. The only other place worth going to in the middle of the night would be the kitchen, where I was now headed. Descending the steps of the main stairway, my half-asleep mind flitted around in a pool of random, meaningless thoughts.

And then I wondered... what if BB was a sleepwalker? What a pain.

Such were my meaningless thoughts. Thus was I blissfully distracted when, about four stairs from the ground floor, I inhaled the scent of smoke. Or, rather, when I choked on this smoke, hacking myself into a fit.

The sudden constriction of my breathing jogged my mind, and I was startled out of my daze. I knew what this meant. Recalling the fire drills we used to do in the insane asylum, I dropped to the floor, covering my nose and mouth with an arm. I hadn't noticed it before -- it was already dark in the area -- but black billows of smoke were floating aimlessly in the lobby, gathering from some unknown source and spreading its deadly toxins. At this rate, I couldn't turn back and climb the stairs again; the smoke would overtake me.

Crawling along the tiled floor, I tried to find the front door in hopes of venting out the lobby. So I found a door, yes, but it was hot to the touch, and I feared that I had mistakenly discovered the barrier between myself and the fire. Looking up, I saw that it was Mr. Wammy's office, the door slightly ajar...

I looked down at my left wrist.

...and my own bracelet dangling from the door knob. The bell tinkled mutedly as a deluge of smoke rushed past it.


Motivation

--(B: one hour later)--

I strolled along through the woods, keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of a highway. I had money -- I'd saved up over the past couple years, and though it wasn't much, I only needed the change for a bus ride. Or, if I was lucky, I'd be able to score a free hitch hike. In any case, I needed to find my way to the closest road and the nearest town, and then I could make plans from there. But there was no hurry, really.

Pushing through the endless stretch of trees and shrubs (as well as the occasional spider web), I relied on my night-vision to guide me around obstacles. At some point, I was aware of a loud rustling overhead, most likely a troupe of birds fleeing from some danger. If I strained my senses, I could hear the very, very distant clashing noise of the orphanage's bell tower. Perhaps this was an emergency signal. Of course, I was not surprised. I simply forged ahead.

I would have, at least, had I not been tackled from behind at that very moment. Oh, but I was not surprised.

"A," I breathed. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Is... that... all you have to say?" she ground out, tone kept painstakingly low.

I grinned sheepishly, despite my face being shoved in the dirt.

"So," A began again, "you were trying to frame me, is that it?" She thrust her fist in front of my face and shook it, making the bracelet on her wrist jingle with inappropriate merriness. "Start a fire -- a distraction -- while you slip away unnoticed during the commotion. And in the end, the evidence would point to me, and you would have the time to escape. You're a psychopath, you know that?"

I sighed, disappointed. "Well, you got most of it. Please don't misunderstand."

I twisted wildly and flipped over, possibly crushing my companion.

"I wasn't trying to frame you," I said calmly. A writhed furiously under my weight. "After all, I set the alarm clock. I made sure you'd wake up."

She stopped struggling, and I sat up tentatively, giving her space to breathe. "What alarm clock?" she asked warily.

"Ah, well, maybe you woke up before the alarm?" I said, avoiding her gaze. I didn't dare look her in the eyes. That's what they tell you in scout camp and country lore -- never look a beast in the eyes. It signifies a challenge. "I set the alarm clock so you'd wake up, and I hung your bracelet on the door so you'd know it was me. Of course, I'm sure you would have known anyway..."

She backhanded me in the back of the head.

"What's wrong with you?!" she shouted. "The whole orphanage could be burning down! Everyone would be dead because of you!" For such a little thing, A could be rather intimidating.

"Nuh-uh..." I whined, rubbing my head. Perhaps I would have slapped her back -- her violence was unwarranted, I'll have you know -- but I knew better than to pick a fight with a rabid animal. "I checked everyone before I left. No one's going to die tonight."

"WHAT?!" she exploded.

I was sure I was going to get another beating, so I quickly explained, "Remember? Remember when I told you about the numbers?"

She lowered her hand a bit.

"The numbers that I see are lifespans."

She grew suddenly quiet, perhaps contemplating my words.

"...Don't be mad, A," I murmured, placing a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. "All I wanted was to go home."

"And this was your plan the entire time?" she growled, still staring pointedly at the ground. Well, we both knew the answer to that. There was no need to respond to the question; rather, I responded to the underlying plea.

"You can come, too, if you're lonely."

A remained expressionless and silent.

"Because, you know, the numbers never ended for my mother," I explained softly. "You understand, don't you? The windmill never stopped turning for the farmer's wife."

She surprised me.

"I'm not going anywhere with the likes of you," A stated coldly. "Despite your reasoning and your intentions, you put our lives in danger. You set a building on fire, B. What you did was wrong."

But... no one died. It was a harmless diversion.

"Why?"

"You really don't know... do you?"

--x--

We ended up going back to the orphanage.

After a thick silence, A had simply turned and left. With this rejection, my resolve to run away began to die, and so I followed her reluctantly. I brooded the whole way, though -- whining about trivial things, like how much I missed the jam we used to make on our farm.

After the woods began to thin, Wammy's House could be seen in the distance. The venerable, slightly Gothic building stood as proudly as it ever did, only slightly charred on one small portion of the western wall. Nevertheless, it was fine -- as expected. There seemed to be a small crowd of adults and children rounded up in the yard, standing impatiently in their night clothes near a couple of police cars and a fire truck. A stopped walking and I stopped walking.

They may have been worrying about us, since we were absent during this crisis. Or, they may have already accused us both of starting the fire. Either way, we knew that approaching the group would be an awkward task, and we both pondered how best to go about this.

A decided, as usual.

"I'll race you."

I stared at her in wonder. I was under the impression that she had been giving me the silent treatment.

"...'kay. Fine."

"Loser establishes our alibi," she stated.


(1) Jenga: another kids' game. Basically, you build a tower with these wooden rectangular blocks, and then the players take turns removing one block at a time from the tower, but without making it fall.

(2) Roger does not exist yet! :O He'll come along later; I promise. (For all you Roger-lovers out there...)


From the Author: Yes, I know, it's an awful pun (referring to chapter title), but I happen to like this awful pun. And speaking of B: do not be deceived by his cuteness!

As A mentioned in the last chapter, B does not know the difference between right and wrong. Of course he would know that things like lying and stealing are "bad" -- that's basic kindergarten ethic -- but I think it's more complicated than that. He seems to have an "inevitable" mindset. You see, in Another Note, B only killed people whose life spans would have run out on that day anyway. So, in his way of thinking, he was not really doing anything wrong by killing them, because they were bound to die. Likewise, BB doesn't find it wrong to set the building afire, because everyone was bound to survive.

Then again... is this really "wrong"? Would you side with A or B here?