B: Woah, Light and Natalie is your OTP here? I have to say I'm surprised, only because...well, hm, I'm not sure. L and Sam is delectable indeed, and the other two pairings are all sweet in their own ways, I suppose. We used to have one-word descriptors of each. I think it was... Light and Natalie was sinful, L and Sam was sweet, Near and Anna was adorable, and I can't remember Sierra and Mello's. *headdesk*
Matt does need someone. We should do something about that. Even though I don't know what we'd do. Give him Max? Buuut...
I'll be sure to add as much MelloxSierra as possible where I am in writing it, okay? I just don't know if I can insert more in the parts I've already written. I can warn you know you're coming up on a lengthy LxSam phase of this story, once BB's done. *nod* I know that much.
Ed Edd n Eddy fanfiction...might be a thing; I dunno. xD I just sorta wrote them on my own (and now cringe whenever I so much as glance at them).

Amy: YES. BBxDoor should be a thing now. Pfft, though I have to say you've got down how I tend to write things nowadays. It seems I have a tendency to be terrible to characters I write about. Soo... Sorry 'bout that; your mindset is probably my fault. xD

Mrs. Lawliet: BBxDoor is just so perfect. Yep. All of us should make this a thing; yeah.
Spider interrogation would be incredibly effective, I think. People should use it.
Aha.

ChukFolchart: I...am not sure if I should be giving you a reply here, but I noticed you asked about the stages of the mind sync. I really, really enjoyed your first review, so long and wondrous - were you able to get the reply? I did attempt to create a guide for you there. If not...well, tell me, and I'll try and recite it again here where it's more probable you'll see it~

Beyond opened his eyes and stared with dull eyes at the ceiling. It was slowly eroding, he could tell, but still strong. This house wouldn't collapse for quite a long time. He wouldn't be here that long, so he didn't care. Unless he was buried here, but he'd be dead, so it wouldn't matter. He sat up and turned his body so that his feet were placed on the ground off of the mattress. His shoes were still on. He frowned, remembering very clearly everything; all that had happened. He stood. The empty jar of strawberry jam was at his bedside. …Or rather, mattress-side. He didn't even spare it a glance.

He walked to the wall, noticing there was very little light pouring in from the broken window. It was early. Perhaps his inner alarm clock had woken him up at six, as he always woke up anyway. He thought on last night, his eyes narrowing. Walking the streets, laughing like a madman and chanting nursery rhymes he was surprised he remembered at all. No, that hadn't been smart. It hadn't been smart at all.

His fist flung to the wall, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. He thought that perhaps he heard a few pebbles as well. He didn't react. Such stupidity; and here he was in Kira's house? His eyes closed, but he did not lash out at the wall again. Instead, he took his hand away, his fist still clenched, and opened his eyes again before walking steadily out of the room. His hands relaxed. He could remember how he got in, and so he headed there with a purposeful stride. Teru Mikami was waiting for him. He was situated on a chair, reading a day-old newspaper that was lying out on a table. He was writing something down, and B thought he could hear him mutter a word under his breath. "Teru Mikami," Beyond greeted, and the man looked up.

"Beyond Birthday," he returned, removing his glasses and setting them on the table. He closed the black notebook he was writing in.

B smiled effortlessly. It was nothing more than shifting muscles to him. "I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience last night. I was not myself."

"Don't apologize," Mikami responded. "All I want is to know how you fit in with Kira. You don't have a lifespan, and as you have the eyes, I can say you know that means that you own a notebook. I know you're involved, so tell me; what is your relationship with the first Kira?"

B began his fabrication of lies and half-truths flawlessly. "He doesn't know me, nor I him. Not personally. I found a notebook, and happened to be a Kira supporter. It was pure luck that I met another Kira while roaming the streets."

"Tell me this, then: why were you not yourself last night?"

"I recently lost a friend of mine to L, or Near, or even Mello. I was having her get closer to those who used to be on the Japanese Kira Investigation Team, therefore to learn more about L and Near and Mello. It was this way that I learned who Kira was, along with the help of my shinigami." He began implicating his knowledge of the Kiras from Anna through Sophia into his tale.

"How did you know who was on the Kira task force?" Mikami asked.

"The original Japanese task force, really," B answered smoothly. "That was in the police database, and from there I gathered my information slowly but surely, with the help of my shinigami and my eyes."

"How did you get information from the police database?" he questioned.

"I hacked into it. It wasn't that hard."

"Why did your shinigami help you so much?"

Beyond shrugged carelessly. "He was a weird shinigami, I guess. He wanted me to know who Kira was, actually. I don't know why."

"Where is your notebook?" Mikami inquired.

B pulled the corner of his mouth into a smirk. "Isn't that supposed to be a secret? Confidential?"

Mikami lifted the notebook he had been writing in, and held it up for B to see. It was black and without writing on its cover, its edges sharp. Then he set it down again. "My notebook," he said, tapping it lightly.

B raised his eyebrows. "Mine burned." (Oh, how funny this is!) "It burned along with my friend in my house. Someone burned it down." And he supposed she did burn, but not alone. He burned too, and they both died…. But now Sophia couldn't come back, could she? The In-Between made Death's hands so very slippery, but in reality Death had such a strong grip.

Mikami nodded slowly. "That might have been Mello…. What makes you think it was L, Near, or Mello, though?"

B shrugged again. "Maybe I'm paranoid."

Mikami seemed to contemplate this, nodding slowly again. "You no longer have a home, then." It was more a statement than a question, but it asked something nonetheless.

"No. I escaped my house and now I'm missing to the world, presumed dead. I tried to save my notebook, but couldn't. I didn't know my friend was there until it was too late."

The man closed his eyes and nodded. "Alright. You can stay here, if you'd like."

B thought of the moon and its phases, and hesitated. What if the Full Moon phase came around (which funnily enough was tomorrow night, on the lunar calendar of reality) and he acted similarly to last night? What would Mikami do? What of the Fog; would he give something away? "Sometimes I don't act the same. I lose myself, and I can't stop it. I don't want a fellow Kira having to handle that."

"It's fine." Mikami smiled elegantly, his eyes narrowing. "Kiras should stick together, and I need something to do anyway."

B returned a smile of his own. Effortless and nothing. Fake. "I appreciate that, but I can find my way on my own."

Mikami's eyes hardened. "Beyond, I cannot allow someone in your condition to roam the streets. I don't know what would happen. You understand. I'll take care of you when you need it, so you don't do anything you nor I will regret. Besides, you've seen me here, and I can't have anyone knowing where I am. I'm a wanted man."

"Wanted for what, may I ask?" B asked him. "I'm not staying with a man I myself don't know about, and as a former Kira, it is unthinkable to be staying with a criminal." Oh, the irony of that statement.

"Don't misunderstand. Near or L has sent out the message that I am wanted for murder, without specifying that I was killing criminals for justice."

B nodded. "Speaking of which, am I allowed to take a turn asking questions? It's only fair."

"Of course," Mikami responded.

"What is your part in all of this? Why and how are you Kira?"

"Kira chose me specifically to work for him when he was in a situation in which he couldn't judge."

B closed his eyes and nodded. "I see." Yes, he remembered him now. Anna had told Sophia about him; he was the man Light had chosen to judge when Near was closing in on him and the task force was watching him closely. He was put in jail; which was probably why he was a wanted man now. Mikami had probably escaped somehow, perhaps even with Kira's help.

"In any case, you are staying, at least until I'm sure you're alright on your own," Mikami informed him. "Alright?" B didn't really think he had a choice, and so he nodded. Mikami smiled slightly. "Now, what would you like for breakfast?"

"I'm… in a chair again," I commented, looking down at myself. I looked to the camera. "Hey guys, are you up?"

"We're here," came Mello's voice.

I could feel myself starting to get restless. That trip of death and heart attacks between worlds had probably sped up its process. I began tapping my foot; it was the only thing I could really do. Ohh, this would be a fun time indeed. I could always sink backwards into Light's consciousness….

"Oh, hey," I greeted Mello. "Um, I have to use the bathroom."

"…Sierra will go down to escort you to a restroom."

"Cool." I could soon hear the clicks of the locks, then the creak of the door; the footsteps down the stairway. Eventually, I could see Sierra. She came towards me and quietly began undoing the restraints. "So how've you been, Sierra?" I asked her with a smile. It was nice to have someone more… homey to work with. Someone familiar. A friend. Family.

"We've been okay," she said. Her voice was absent. Perhaps she had a lot on her mind. …Wait. I blinked. She'd used 'we.'

"Did you just reach the final stage?" I asked her as my shoulders and hands were freed. I stretched.

"Yes," she answered. "But I'll be back to myself soon enough; just you wait!"

I smiled again as she freed my legs, and soon I found a blindfold getting pulled against my eyelids. "Is this really necessary?"

"Sorry. It's just a precaution."

I laughed as my hands were tied behind my back. "Jeez, what are they doing to you? I hope you don't turn into some sort of criminal." Her hands paused in their work of knotting the rope, and I laughed weakly. "That sounded bad, didn't it?"

"Yep!" she chirped, then spun me around a few times, and suddenly I had no idea which way was which. No sense of direction. And the darkness… I couldn't see…. I didn't really like the feeling. Not at all.

I laughed nervously again. "I feel like I'm playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey."

She squeaked in amusement, and began leading me to the bathroom, wherever it would be. Yes, I did believe being kidnapped would be very… fun indeed. I was looking forward to making it home again.

"Yes, thank you for your cooperation," said L, and clicked the button on the mic to end the connection with the police force. B would try to die this Sunday, on the twenty-seventh. L was having the police set up thousands of surveillance cameras up in Shinjuku, where it would occur. Mostly alleyways and inside abandoned buildings, really. However, that could never be enough when it came to BB, so he would also be setting up multiple groups of police workers in different strategic spots around the area. He would catch B before he could commit suicide. He would win against B. Again. And this time he would be on death row, not in a mental hospital. Even if Near was right and Sophia was dead, B could still find a way out. He had to be able to. It was the way he was. But soon… soon it would all be over, and B would be dead. Then L could focus on the Kira case again, and soon enough Kira would be caught. Perhaps L would take a break for awhile, given he wasn't dead. (Yes, perhaps he could spend some time with Samantha….) He would wait for more interesting murders and mysteries and cases to come about after Kira was gone for good, and until a case sparked his interest, he would, perhaps, be able to relax for the first time since he was eight.

Ahh, what was he doing? Fantasizing? He never fantasized. It might have been the Bond… or maybe he was softening to humanity at last. Who knew?

"I want pocky," Sam mumbled, and L's mouth twitched. It was funny. Cute? Was that the word? Samantha's psyche told him it might be. Yes, he deemed it 'cute' how she gave the largest of hints when she wanted someone to know something. She did this particularly when it came to 'fangirling'…. It was as if he didn't know exactly what was going through her head. As if a miniscule clue wouldn't alert him, the detective. I mean, sure, he was initially awkward, and he still was, but he understood things such as relationships and 'fangirling' better because of the Bond….

L found himself smiling, but stopped. "Samantha, we both know you want the game, not the treat," he said expressionlessly, and dropped a strawberry into his mouth.

He watched as her face reddened slightly. "That's mean…," she muttered.

"Not at all. It is fact," he answered, fingering another strawberry.

"Meh…."

He poked the strawberry into his mouth. "I am a detective. I state fact," he said, his mouth full. "And as a fact, you want to play the pocky game; with me, to be precise. I can say this because of the Bond, and though you know I was going to say this aloud, it is making your face flush redder."

"I know…," she frowned. "Jerkface."

He swallowed, looking up to the ceiling. "I haven't been called that one before." He grabbed a strawberry between his thumb and forefinger, and held it up. "I am willing, you know," he said. "You just have to come over here."

I hate this stupid Bond…, she thought, frowning deeply as a wave of heat rolled over her, making her face blush an even deeper red.

No you don't, L's thoughts responded. Sometimes they felt as though they were talking – or thinking – to themselves, with the way the Bond worked. Ha.

Sam hesitated, but eventually stood and shuffled over to him, her face red as ever.

You were thinking of strawberries, correct? he asked her rhetorically, and held up the strawberry. Sam let out a little squeak that she thought was supposed to be a whine. Like she was trying to say something like, 'You're so meeaann….' But all it was was a little squeak.

He looked up at her with wide eyes, seeming innocent. 'What did I do?' He stuck a small bit of the strawberry into his mouth; his lips looked so soft, and—

SAM, what the hell are you thinking?! Don't think that; don't think that; don't think that…!

She hesitantly leaned forward and took a hold of the strawberry between her own lips. The taste of strawberry filled their mouths as they came very close, very fast. Strawberries are relatively small, after all, and despite the fact this was a pretty plump one, there still wasn't much space to cover. And eventually their lips made contact, and L's thoughts asked her if she was happy now, which only made her warmer than she already was.

There was a click somewhere behind Sam; in front of L. A sound like, "L, we—" before there was silence again. But they had recognized Roger's voice, and immediately pulled apart. Sam put her hands to her face, perhaps in an attempt to hide her deep blush.

"Yes, Roger? What is it?" L asked calmly.

Roger looked at L's expectant face and Sam's curled forward form for a moment before asking, "…Am I… interrupting something?" in a dull voice.

"Just eating strawberries," L assured him, and Sam let out something like a sob. Or maybe a choked laugh.

Roger frowned. "…Right," he said. "As I was about to say… L, we have the police working on the preparations already."

"Good," L smiled at him, and Roger furrowed his brow in vague confusion.

He'd never seen L smile like that before.

B sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, his finger tapping on the ground. That fog, that purposeless Fog that dumbed him down and slowed him down and—ohh, it was nothing. Not Nothing, but an insignificant sort of nothing. It was nothing more than the man who'd been torn by the Bond. Yes. But when Sophia had died and ripped half of him away (Near, that filthy cheater, he had torn him up), she had also damaged the film that had hidden the past he'd disregarded. The child he thought had died so young…. The child that evidently hadn't died… had only hidden, subdued and forgotten, trapped in the darkness of nowhere in the confines of the mind of the new Beyond Birthday. That child, the one who knew what it felt like to care; that was what surfaced when the Full Moon came and he wasn't right, not even for him.

"A—child…," B muttered through clenched teeth. He shuddered. No, no, don't let it start again, B. And stop it, Beyond; stop it; not even during the Full Moon do you care about other's lives, not even the people from your past, because you know they'll all die, and all of them are dead, they died already, and you knew they'd DIE.

His heart leapt into his throat. Sophia's blanket. Where was it? Lying somewhere at his old hideout? No, no, he couldn't have that. But he'd get again, he'd get it back soon and….

Wait, he'd buried it with Sophia. What was he thinking? He squeezed his eyes shut tight. Stop it. No, it didn't matter. He'd die on Sunday; he'd be dying then and he'd commit his last murder. The last murder; himself. The last time on the job as Beyond Birthday the serial killer. Better than getting stuck on death row. "Hing, hang, hung… see what the hangman done," he said drily. "Hung, hang, hing… see the killer swing." He pictured himself being led into an execution chamber, and laughed. Oh no, no, he was the top criminal of the world, he couldn't be caught now! A man standing up to Kira and challenging L; what a guy; what a guy. He wondered idly if anyone idolized him at this point, which just got him laughing some more. Yes, the idolatry of a serial killer. Hah! "Here comes a candle to light you to bed; here comes a chopper to chop off your head," he grinned. "Chop, chop, chop, chop; the last man's dead!" he cried, his voice rising in hysterics. You'll burn on Sunday, he reminded himself. "Willy, a helpful boy but not well-sighted; built a fire and self-ignited; with the flames dying down and the room growing chilly, would someone please relight Willy?" he asked no one, and laughed again.

An odd thought struck him: what would his parents think if they knew he'd tried to burn himself alive? "It doesn't matter," he said to himself, his voice low yet high and wavering with breathy laughter. "They're all dead now, because we all die; we all die, boy-o, don'tchya know? And you know better than all of them; know better than them all; you're Death, remember?!" He laughed again. "Don't ever laugh as the hearse goes by, for YOU may be the next to die!" He thought of the mirror again and his laughter and his mother and how she wondered if maybe he was insane but he wasn't he just knew too much from the moment he understood what the numbers meant…. He knew when his adoptive older brother would die, when his father would be killed, when his mother would die and he would be orphaned but it didn't even matter because they were already dead to him; they died before they were dead because he knew; he KNEW.

'Stop talking about your brother like he's dying tomorrow! He has a lot of life in him yet!'

'He's dying soon, Mommy; he's dying next week. Why don't you believe me?'

He remembered learning what they meant early on; so early on. There was a man in his village that began to have spots of blood on his handkerchief. The numbers told him that there were five days left, and so he counted down, marking it on a childish Winnie the Pooh calendar at three years old, and he watched the man die on the fifth day. Then he understood, and he got it, he got it, and everyone would die; everyone would die, and he had to accept it because everyone was going to die!

And it was then that the child died and withdrew and became trapped as the sharp-eyed mind of Beyond Birthday emerged and became existent. It was the child that had glanced in the mirror and had been afraid. Had no idea what to do but to laugh and laugh and LAUGH…. But after that, emotions dulled. Time became not a varying flow, but a precise ticking of a clock. Death became a part of him, one with him, and Death was who he was.

"Because the Silence is my comfort and the Shadows are my friends!" he exclaimed, and cackled.

He'd tried to explain it to his father once, and he almost got it. He thought maybe his son had some special ability; that was all. He thought perhaps it was a part of his major intellect. (Beyond particularly liked doing the large crossword puzzles in his father's paper.) But B never told him he was meant to die that day when he was mugged in an alley and killed, just as he never told his mother on the day that she went on that train. It had been his older brother that had gotten it best, though. An orphan taken in by B's family, soon found to have a serious illness. It was he who also understood death, who saw it every day whenever he looked in the mirror, whenever he felt that pain in his chest; the light-headedness. It was funny; how they were still somehow opposites. B would look in the mirror and see no numbers at all. He sometimes wondered if maybe his brother knew when his own death would happen. A special power indeed. But Beyond never had any attraction to him other than the familiarity, and he died soon after B had turned four.

"Mommy, mommy, I am sick; send for the doctor, quick, quick, quick!" he cried out. "Mommy didn't get it; she didn't get it! She didn't get that we die; that we're all going to die because we all DIE; we all DIE; we all DIE; we all—!"

"Beyond!"

He didn't look to the voice, but stopped speaking; stopped laughing. His breathing was shaky. He stared at nothing. For a moment, he thought maybe it was his father that had called his name, but then he remembered that he wouldn't say 'Beyond,' he would say his old name that he'd gotten rid of. And then….

He looked at the black-haired man, and at first didn't even recognize him. The letters floating above his head was the first thing that reminded him. "Teru…," he said slowly.

"Yes," Mikami confirmed. "Beyond, calm down. You're fine. Snap out of it."

The shaking slowly subsided, though his body was still stiff and his eyes were still wide as they stared up at Mikami with contracted pupils. He eyed the floating red letters above Mikami's head, noting yet again the lack of a lifespan. "We all die," he said softly. It was almost a whisper.

"Yes," Mikami agreed. "We all die. Even gods must fall eventually, because we are all mortal."

The tension slowly drained out of his body until his eyes had dulled again, losing that unnerving frenzied look they'd had.

"Are you alright?" Mikami asked him seriously.

"Blood…," he responded absently.

"Blood?" Mikami repeated. He eyed B's hand, which was clutching his side subconsciously. "Are you injured?" he inquired.

"Oh; oh yeah. Stabbed by a thirteen-year-old. So imprecise. It was messy; so messy…."

"Why?" he frowned.

"She didn't like me, I guess."

His eyes narrowed. "Alright, Beyond. Can you show me your injury? I have some medical supplies."

"Sure; sure…." He lifted his shirt slightly and tapped at a bloodied bandage. He'd likely re-opened the wound with all that laughing.

Mikami surveyed the wound for a moment before saying, "I'll go get my medical supplies now. Stay right here. Just relax."

B didn't respond, but Mikami did not wait for an answer. And the Fog had come, and it enveloped him in its thick, impenetrable entirety.

Okay, so, we've got a snippet of B's past... but next week we get to learn all about him~

Fun Fact: Have I ever mentioned how fun I find it to write about insane people?

Review? For the Pocky Game - strawberry edition?