MoonDance

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No, I do not own Death Note.

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Her long, wild black hair framed her thin, gaunt frame. The girl, a mere child of twelve, pressed her back against the familiar, white-washed walls of her bathroom as her mind whirled, anguish clashing with logic. A pitiful, guttural sound emerged from her lips and she buried her face in her hands – her shattered gray eyes, wild with emotion.

“I never wanted this, Beyond,” she said hoarsely, tilting her head back so that she could see a pair of cold, crimson orbs. “It’s sick, how he toys with us l-like we’re his, like as if we’re little more than pawns for him to cultivate.”

“And are we not, A?”

The girl ducked her head, eyes shadowed. “I’m not stupid. I know we were made in his o’ so holy image - to be his mirrors.” Her breath came out in quick, uneven heaves as she stared fiercely at the ground. “But, be that as it may…he is no God. Not mine at any rate.”

Beyond released a deep, sinister thrill, his body literally shaking from laughter. “Not – Your – God?” he repeated, crooning loudly in amusement. “You’re an atheist, A. He’s the closest to perfection in this world.”

“That’s untrue.”

“He controls everything,” Beyond crooned, his crimson eyes glittering sinisterly. “All he has to do is snap and those idiots will roll over and let him have his wicked way.” He grinned, viciously. “There’s no bargaining, no challenge. To be L, is to be a Top. He'll never have to submit to anyone.”

A shook her head, biting her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “No, that’s an oversimplification,” she said quietly. “I assure you, I can bring L to heel.”

The messy haired man gave her a wide, creepy smile. “Really.”

“Yes, but…” A shook her head uncomfortably. “…I’m not sure if I am willing to pay the price for it,” she finished, her voice dropping to a bare crescendo. When she looked up, she was surprised to see that Beyond's attention was focused on a a space somewhere above her head.

Her time of death was flucuating wildly - it increased one second and the next it disappeared. And for the first time in his life, Beyond was at a loss. He didn't know what it meant....

"Yes...don’t do anything stupid A," Beyond said finally, his deep, crooning voice completely serious. "You may be my closest ally," he said slowly, as if the words were completely foreign. And they were. "...but even I will not stick out my neck to save you from L's wrath when you're caught."

A's gray eyes flashed. And the burning, red visage began to grow, expanding in the pit of her stomach, warming her cold, dead soul so that she felt human again. I won't be caught, she thought furiously. I won't.

Beyond allowed his lips to fall into its familiar, creepy grin when he finally saw her time of death settle. I wouldn't have allowed you to die so soon anyways, A, he thought, chuckling aloud. He leaned forward and gave her a loud, wet kiss on the cheek, leaving a sticky imprint of jam, before ambling away.

It was...a relief to know what she wouldn't die in the next two hours.

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A wiped her cheek, sighing at Beyond's strange shows of affection. She quietly walked into her room, digging through her closet and drawing out the thin knife that she had filched from the kitchens. With a faint, slightly mad grin she reentered the restroom and locked the door.

I can break him. We, his successors, are his true weakness.

And with one quick swipe she began slicing her wrists; digging deeply so that the sharp knife nicked her veins. A continued, laughing wildly, as she used her blood to write out a message on the mirror.

Tell me, L. Lawliet.
What sort of monster must one be,
To be loathed so by his own reflection?

She continued cutting, feeling liberated by the searing pain and crimson streaks that trickled across her pale, white skin. A refused to think, having already accepted her decision weeks ago; she had wanted to die so badly, to escape. But she had been hesitant...worried about leaving Beyond behind.

But after today's conversation, she felt that...she could change L, make him relinquish his God complex. She could bring him to heel. And perhaps, by doing so, she would be able to give Beyond the life that he deserved - to make him to be more than just Backup in L's cold, detached eyes.

A tilted her head, her steely gray eyes cold and emotionless. She would succeed in her endeavor one way or another. Her suicide…would serve as the gravest insult in his eyes: the idea that his mirror, in every sense but the physical, detested him so much that she’d prefer death over resembling him; that he was truly no God. She idly drew the knife across her bare skin, ignoring the bite of steel against flesh.

She wanted out.

It didn’t matter how, but she refused to live another day in his shadow.

Whether it was due to the loss of blood or the shoddy concoction of drugs she had carefully measured out, A’s vision began to blur. And yet, she refused to remove her gaze from the surveillance camera. She grit her teeth in determination; she wanted L to see her in her last moments; she wanted him to know that he was the one responsible…wanted him to know he had failed…

That he was no God.

Dimly, she heard the sound of footsteps and harsh voices demanding entry from beyond her bedroom door. A gripped the knife tightly, her hand trembling ever so slightly as she raised the blade to her throat. She had to finish this before they found her.

Her free hand caressed her throat, locating her jugular...

The last thing she remembered before her sight faded into black was the distant sound of her bedroom door breaking and Roger’s horrified gasp.

She was finally free…

Beyond gave a harsh, half-hysterical laugh as he stood before her open casket, dressed in a simple black tee shirt and slacks. His hand reached out and gently stroked A’s pale, cold cheek as he leaned forward, staring at the spot above her head. They were wrong. The doctors were wrong. He could still see the numbers ticking away above her. Alive. A was alive. He threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sinister chuckles caused everyone at the funeral to turn and stare disapproving at him.

She had won.

She had beaten L.

He roughly shrugged off Roger’s hand, knowing that the caretaker believed that he had gone mad with grief. It was common knowledge that he and A were best friends – inseparable since the day they met. Beyond bent down and gently placed a sloppy kiss on her forehead, pushing aside her dark brown locks.

When she’d told him of her plan to escape, he had laughed.

You just didn’t do that to L. It was…blasphemy to spite a God so. And yet, she had proceeded with her suicide. She had taken her life – the life that L objectified as his – and destroyed it.

Beyond clucked his tongue, shaking his head in amusement.

Had your suicide succeed, A, you would have done nothing more than dent L’s blasted pride. You would have still lost. He forcefully broke the stem of the rose he was holding, tearing his fingers upon the thorns, before placing the bloody flower in her pale hands. But you lived…you survived…and in doing so, you beat L at his own game. You are free. You are no longer under his control. You’re no longer his successor.

As Roger tapped him on the shoulder and gently led him away, Beyond spared A one last glance. Tonight, after she was buried, he’ll come back for her. He’d take her, create an alternate identity for her, and release her into the world…

She had won…

Crimson red eyes glittered sharply as a cruel smile bloomed upon his face. He stared, undeterred, at the hunched figure leaning inconspicuously against a rotting willow tree. And as intelligent ebony eyes met his, Beyond released yet another crooning laugh.

Now it’s my turn, L.

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An instinctive shiver trailed down his spine at the sound of Beyond’s mad laughter. Stoically, L observed the teenager with wide, unreadable eyes. He had always known, to a degree, that B was not stable. But up until now, he hadn’t been too concerned. A has always managed to reign in Beyond’s wildness; she was the only person Beyond truly listened to. A…kind, soft-spoken, little A. She had been the heart of the orphanage...

The raven haired detective bowed his head, refusing to move closer to the coffin. And though L’s face retained his perpetually impassive quality, his hands were clenched tightly against his sides, shaking with frustration.

This was unacceptable. He was L, the best detective in the world. He of all people should have anticipated this; should have foreseen that A would lash out like this…

But he hadn’t.

And the clues had been all there…

He had dismissed his misgivings, deluding himself into believing that everything was fine. He had ignored way A’s thin, scrawny form grew smaller and smaller after each of their lessons; the way A’s once steely, strong gray eyes had acquired a strangely shattered quality; the way she dipped her head obediently to his every word…as if she had become a puppet, his puppet.

L shifted uneasily, not liking the direction his thoughts were heading.

He had gone over the tapes of A’s suicide at least a dozen times. L had watched, mesmerized, as the twelve year old sliced the blade through her skin, a cold, contemptuous expression upon her face. She had stared blankly into the camera the entire time, even as the light slowly bled out of her eyes.

He was Justice.

He was infallible….wasn’t he?

The raven-haired man stared down at the ground, ignoring the heavy footsteps behind him, signaling Watari’s approach. He chewed on his bottom lip, his dark eyes focused intently on the ornate mahogany coffin in the middle of the clearing.

The two stood in silence, both lost in their thoughts.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

L glanced over at Watari, taking in his haggard, tired expression. The older man had grown to love A as a daughter; her suicide had hit him especially hard. L dipped his head in affirmation, taking Watari’s vague statement for what it was. Blame. The young man nudged the ground with the toe of his shoe.

“B is lost to us as well,” L murmured, finally breaking the silence. “He will not stay at Wammy’s without A.”

Watari’s eyes were dark and seriously. “I know.”

It was strange…

To think that he had managed to destroy two perfectly good lives without even trying. L closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Perhaps he was destruction. Perhaps that was all there is to L. Destruction of criminals; destruction of evil; destruction of all.

Frankly, it frightened him.

And for the first time in eighteen years, L was forced to reevaluate his convictions and beliefs… forced to revaluate his position as L. And bit by bit the sheen cloth of immortality that L had once worn proudly, slowly began to slip off his pitiful frame. And as days turned into months, piece by piece his convictions and delusions fell until there was nothing left. Nothing left but his mortality.

L was no God.

No more.

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A/N: So, how'd you guys like it? Should I continue? REVIEW please!!