Holy Mary, Mother of God

Silence. The halls were dark, only lighting up when the lightening split the sky outside. Thunder. Loud, roaring thunder. A storm was coming. It brought a crooked grin to his face. How appropriate, he thought. A warning, for what was to come. Would he notice it? ? The great detective. Would he pay it any heed? Most likely. He knew exactly how his mind worked.
The same for the other. What was the point then, in being so discrete? For fun, he guessed. It was like a game. A game he and his "opponent" had started long ago. The final stage was set, and the victor would soon be revealed.

His grin faded only to be replaced with a smirk. His bare feet moved slowly, lazily, along the wooden floorboards. How long had it been since he was last here? Years. Yet it felt as if it were only yesterday. . Everything was as it had been that night. The night he had cracked, the night he had left the orphanage. The night he had killed for the first time. The sudden urge to laugh out loud at the memory stabbed at him. Oh, how much he had enjoyed his first kill. He couldn't suppress a giddy chuckle. The look of udder incredulous fear in your victims' eyes. The adrenaline rush. Intoxicating, addicting. An absolute high.

He rounded a corner, and kept going straight, down the seemingly never ending hallway. There were no windows in this part of the building, so it was pitch black. His smirk only widened in amusement. He felt like the monster in the books that he used to read when he was a child. The monster that would sneak into the little boys room, and wait in the shadows until he saw his chance to jump out at the poor unsuspecting child and gobble him up.

The sound of thunder was dulled by the thick stone walls of the orphanage. Besides that, there really was no sound at all. All the orphans were in their rooms, dreaming away. Dreams.
He let another chuckle slip from his lips at the word. If only the little brats knew what was waiting for them beyond the gates of the orphanage. The world was no place for dreams. Only nightmares.

He came to stop in front of a large wooden door. Ah, the memories the sight of this glossy hunk of dead tree brought. A grin spread across his thin pale lips. 'I wonder, have you changed?'

He reached for the brass doorknob, and turned it slowly, making as little noise as possible as he pushed the door open. He was greeted by more darkness. At the far end of the room, the outline of a person standing in front of the window turned slightly, and went back to facing the window. Lightening split the sky outside, illuminating the room for a fraction of a second before casting it into darkness all over again. A second was all he needed to take in the form of his obsession. The reason for his existence, and downfall.

The door was closed, enclosing them in silence and darkness. A minute or so passed before the room lit up with artificial light. There was still silence.

"L" He said simply, his crooked grin slipping back onto his face. The silence was broken; the thick layer had been easily snapped much to his surprise.

L, stared at the man in front of him, unblinking, and completely unsurprised. "B" was his reply after another minute of deafening silence.

B stepped forward, now standing only a few feet away from him. His hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his old faded jeans. Same as L. The two stood perfectly still, staring into the others eyes. Searching them almost. Nothing. It was like looking into a mirror. All they saw...was themselves. Merely a reversed picture. An opposite, yet the same in a totally twisted way.

"You're not surprised." B gave the detective one of his spine chilling smirks. "Why is that, I wonder" he continued.

"To be surprised is to be caught off guard. I was neither" L let his gaze roam the others' body. Nothing had changed since he last saw him, that night so many years ago. He was taller, sure, but his mannerisms were the same, his face, his hair, his clothes, his eyes. Those eyes. The eyes of death himself. Hallow, and empty, yet they ran deep with something not even L could identify.

B laughed a cold, humorless laugh. "Obviously," He let his eyes roam the other as well. Again, nothing had changed. He was the same, exactly the same. Same height, same hair, clothes, no, not everything was the same. One thing was different. His eyes. Those eyes of his had long ago been unreadable. Now they were as clear as glass, he could see everything. Every thought that went through L's mind, every emotion he was feeling at that very moment. It was all laid out for him, in his eyes, like an open book.

"You're slipping, L" He said, brow furrowed in confusion. This changed everything.

The dark haired detective shrugged. "It's tiresome to hide behind masks"

"Since when?"

"Since you stepped though that door"

B blinked; letting what L had said sink in. "For me?" he blinked again, looking away from the older male for a split second before looking back. "You know what I'm here for. Why show weakness? Why now of all times?" his voice was calm, but demanding.

"Because you won't do it," L shrugged his thin shoulders. "There is no point in hiding behind my stoic mask around you, B"

"I won't-?" An animalistic growl rumbled in his chest. How dare he?! Arrogant bastard! "How are you so sure that I won't do it?!" he shouted, his body shook in rage.

The corners of L's lips twitched up into a small smile. "You never were one to see things through to the end. Or have you forgotten the reason for your departure?"

B gaped at the other incredulously. Silence fell over the two for what seemed like an eternity before L broke the silence again.

"Judging by the look on your face, I am 100 percent sure you haven't" An amused grin etched itself across L's lips. "Don't work well under pressure do you, B?"

B's eyes narrowed dangerously. He had never in his life felt the urge to kill this strongly before. He wanted to strangle him, gut him, make him bleed, anything. He hated him so much. Words couldn't describe the hate he felt towards him. It would be easy to kill him too. L looked so weak, and fragile, like he could snap him in half over his knee. His neck, oh how he would love to run his pocket knife over his throat. Let him taste his blood; let him drown in the very thing that gives him life.

Pray for Us Sinners now.

B reached into the back pocket of his jeans. Something cold and smooth met his fingers, and he enclosed his hand over it, bringing it out into the open.

L watched with interest. Surely B wouldn't kill him. He couldn't. He wasn't. L had him figured out, and B hated it. The fact that no matter how many layers of brick B added to his wall, L always managed to easily bash his way through. Knocking it down and leaving him to put it together again.

With a quick flick of his wrist, the blade was brought into L's field of vision. It caught the light, and cast it with an exaggerated, eerie glow. B had yet to take his eyes off L. The blade held between them, as silence one again enveloped them.

L, once again, broke the silence. "Waiting for an invitation?"

B's eyes bore into L's. He could read his emotions. He was shaken up, but only slightly. L was certain that he wasn't going to do anything. Nothing was going to happen tonight. That's what L was thinking. It infuriated B to no end. He was going to prove him wrong. That, he'd make sure of.

"Depends, are you going to give one?" B said, with a playful smirk. A game. That's what it always had been. A childish game.

L gave a playful smirk of his own. "Kill me, B" His shoulders shook with his silent laughter. L was winning, and he knew it. "I dare you"

Ah, so it was that kind of game. B smiled, and drew back the hand that was holding the pocket knife. L had won. He had been right. He wasn't normally one to follow through with plans, nor did he work well under pressure. L, one, B, zero, but not for long. He was going to make sure that this game ended in a tie at least. He was going to trick L. Outsmart him at least once, then he'd be satisfied.

There was more silence. L opened his mouth to say something, but his words died in his throat as B brought the pocket knife down into his own stomach. L's eyes widened as blood splattered onto his shirt, staining it a dark crimson.

B laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed some more, as he drove the knife repeatedly through his stomach. The front of his shirt was red now, not white, his blood was pooling around his bare feet, but he continued to laugh, his eyes never leaving L's.

L stood frozen in place, his eyes never leaving B's. How could he have not seen this coming? Wasn't he supposed to know the boys every move? His every thought? What went wrong? He didn't move, he couldn't. The great L, was frozen with fear, and confusion, a combination of emotions that he had never felt before.

"Beyond..." He whispered, eyes still wide.

B's laughter turned maniacal. It sent shivers up L's spine. The pocket knife fell to the ground along with its previous wielder.

B grinned up at L. The look of his face was priceless. L hadn't been expecting this. He had expected B to just walk away with his tail between his legs, like before. No, not this time. He had tricked L, and he was loving it.. Oh, how he wished he had a camera, but, he was going to die soon, how silly of him. It would have made a great Kodak moment in his book though.

L finally found the strength to move. He stepped forward, and knelt down in B's blood, it made a sick, squelching sound as his knees made contact with the warm liquid. "Beyond..." he said again. B laughed silently, He was enjoying L sounding like a broken record.

B looked up above L's head, and grinned. He could see L's lifespan. It had been a winning move on his part. L was not destined to die yet. Not for another couple years. How? He wondered. B would never know. Maybe a car accident? Diabetes? He chuckled at the last one, he had no room to talk, seeing as all he ate was Jam.

And in the Hour of our Death.

"You weren't meant to die tonight, L. You were right" B's voice was fading. He was fading. It wouldn't be long now. "Again..." he continued.

L remained silent. He was at a loss for words. "You are not meant to die tonight either, Beyond" He said after a while.

B closed his eyes, and for a second L thought he was already dead. But he opened them again, they were dim, as was the smile that spread across his blood stained lips. Beyond. He had gone so long without hearing his name. Coming from L, made it that much sweeter. Why though? He hated L. Hated him with every fiber of his being. Hated him as much as he loved jam. Why then? It was so frustrating.

"That's where you are wrong," A cough sent blood spilling from his mouth, covering L's cheek, and neck with its fine crimson color. "I'm confused, L" he whispered, eyes drooping. His psycho serial killer exterior had fallen and lay shattered on the blood covered carpet. Death was finally taking over.

"What about?" L asked calmly. As calm as you can be with someone bleeding to death in your room.

"This feeling. I'm trying to transfer hate but another emotion is in the way" he rasped out. "It's as strong as my hate. W-what...what is it?..."

L stared down at the younger male beneath him. "I believe..." There was a short pause as L searched for the word. "It's love, B"

B blinked once, twice, three times. Laughter, raspy, bone chilling laughter. "Love, and Hate. A fine line between them indeed" He turned his gaze up towards L.

"I..." he coughed, and slowly reached up with one pale, bloody hand.

L got the hint, and met him halfway with his equally pale hand. He laced his fingers with B's, watching him. "What is it?"

"I hate you, L" The smile on B's face was unlike anything L had ever seen before. It stopped his breath short in his throat. The boy looked serene and peaceful. "I won, right?"

L nodded without hesitation. "Indeed you have, B" He unconsciously tightened his grip on B's hand. It was cold. As if he were already dead. Perhaps that's just how B always had been.

Outside church bells were ringing. Thunder roared, and lightening flashed, creating an oddly comforting symphony.

L smiled. He understood now why B was, well, B. He had confused his emotions, and acted upon them without knowing what they meant. He was like a child in an adult's skin. A monster, the world had called him. But, L knew now, that his killings were nothing more than a child scared and confused. How he did not see this sooner was beyond him. It was too late now.

"Beyond" He whispered, leaning down so his face was level with his.

B blinked, staring up at the older male. He blinked again to show that L had his attention.

L did something he hadn't done in years. He pressed his lips gently to B's blood stained forehead. "I hate you"

B smiled, the same serene smile that had rendered L breathless. "I'm glad" He closed his eyes as the bells rang for the final time, and let himself fall into the sweet dark oblivion of death.

L felt B's hand go limp in his grip. The younger boy still had a smile on his face. It brought tears to L's eyes. But he shook them away. His stoic mask was put back into place, and he stood, giving B's body one last look. "Well, there's one thing you beat me at, Beyond' He smiled sadly, making his way to the door. "You have died before me" He turned the light off, casting the room into darkness. L stood in the doorway, half expecting B to jump back up and laugh at him. No such luck.

He turned and left the room, whispering something under his breath as he walked down the pitch black hallway. "Holy Mary, mother of god..."

Amen.

A/N: So, this was actually the first Fanfic I ever put up here. But, I changed the name because really...it sucked. It still sucks, don't get me wrong, but I had no idea what else to name this thing. Ugh, epic fail dude...epic fail...

Review dudez, this was my first, and no one even spared a glance -pouts- makes me feel sad. cheer me up.

Matt.