A/N: 'Ello there! I've been quite busy with school, but I finally managed to find some downtime to launch this story. Well, please enjoy! :)

Prompt: B/A.

To: TheCatchingLightAlchemist.

Note: Here, I use B, Backup and Rue interchangeably; A, Alternative and Alexandra likewise. I don't own Death Note or The LABB Murder Cases.

Fishy Business

He had come this close to telling her the truth. Oh, the horror.

It started with the accident.

L and Quillsh had been gone for the last five days, spending the House's first March Break in a decade scouring Europe's finest orphanages – courtesy of Quillsh himself, of course – for more geniuses to sniff out and collect. Now that Wammy's was up and running again after its long hiatus, Roger had explained, it was time to put it to good use: to fill it up with the most unfortunate but brilliant children in existence, those who aspired to make a difference in the world.

While L had been perfectly content with his first two choices, Quillsh had insisted on the benefits of having other alternatives and extra backups. Not only had they appreciated the pun, "A" and "B" were actually looking forward to meeting new candidates. Alexandra wanted to make new friends, and Rue had his own reasons.

B thrived off competition. Nothing could take his mind off their voices more so than the dark fuel of envy. The strange thing was that he was never too sure of whom he was really jealous of. Was it L, who A always went out of her way to impress, or was it A, who L constantly showered with praise and attention?

Either way, it helped keep them at bay.

He smelled it seconds before he saw it.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?"

Alternative attempted to hide the reeking bundle behind her back, but it was too late. Backup stared her down; guilt was written all over the six-year-old girl's face.

She tried to sidestep him, but he spread his arms wide to block her escape through the front doors. "What have you got there, Princess?"

Her mouth tightened. He noticed that while Alexandra's skin was white as a sheet, her nose was slightly pink. She was obviously holding in tears.

Rue stretched out a hand, palm flat and expectant. "Give it to me."

"No."

"You're not allowed to leave the premises."

"Who's to know?" she retorted, jutting out her chin in defiance.

"Er, everyone?" B wiggled his fingers at the primitive camera situated just above them, overseeing the building's entrance. However, he knew that it was just a decoy; there was a nanny cam hooked to the bottom of the contraption.

She folded her arms. "I've already disabled it," A said with an air of smugness.

B shook his head mockingly. "You're so naïve. I was talking about the…" Backup trailed off and slowly mouthed the two words.

"Damn it."

"Exactly."

"So what happened?" he asked gently, switching tactics. When the Eurasian girl hesitated, he drew her close and began stroking her cropped hair. His nostrils automatically convulsed; whatever she was concealing in that bag was secreting a stench much like that of blood, but less metallic and more sour. Alarmed, he shifted his gaze to the string of red numbers floating beneath his nose. No, it was nothing serious at all.

The brunette's small and pudgy frame wracked with sobs as she finally broke down. "I'm a murderer," Alternative whispered against his chest, and a somewhat delicious shiver ran down the adolescent's spine.

Hmm?

"Don't be silly," Backup crooned.

"Rue, I killed him."

What an adorable, darling drama queen.

"Who?"

"Arthur."

Although she couldn't see his face, B glared daggers at the young girl in his grasp. Arthur Pendragon was L's pet Asian arowana. Our guardian had entrusted them with looking after the fish while "Lancelot" and Wammy were out on their recruiting spree. It was one of the first of many tests that they would be subjected to.

How dare she commit such a terrible crime – how dare she fail L so early in the game?

Agitated, Backup stuck a hand in his normally combed hair and scratched ferociously at his scalp. Not that he suffered from dandruff or anything; he was stimulating his brain. Physical contact helped a lot. It was something he had picked up from L himself, among other things.

"I knocked over his bowl when I got out of bed," A explained, sniffing quietly. "By the time I finished refilling it, he was already dead. Please, Rue, help me –"

His heart swelled with pride and he melted a little. "Help you cover it up?" he drawled, crouching down to look his precious Alexandra straight in the eye. "Don't worry, Princess. Let's just flush him down the toilet and buy ourselves a replacement."

She turned a dangerous shade of green. "He deserves better than that."

"Fine then." Backup proceeded to drag her by the hand toward the kitchen. "Follow me."

Moments later, the duo was standing before the oven, watching Arthur's slimy corpse sizzle within one of Quillsh's weathered old cooking pans. Its once-glittering pale pink scales had browned almost immediately, giving them a nice crispy texture. It smelled like bacon grease. If Roger decided to be nosy, that would be their excuse. B was drooling just looking at it.

A, on the other hand, seemed on the verge of passing out. "Was this really necessary?"

"Of course," Backup said smoothly. "In Japan, over 95% of the dead are cremated."

"Arthur's a fish –"

"Was a fish. And an Asian one at that, too."

Alternative fell silent.

"We'll scatter his ashes to the four winds."

His fellow successor scowled. "When I die, I want a proper burial, just like my parents."

It was as if hell had suddenly frozen over. The words were instantly on the tip of his very tongue, dangling and itching to be unleashed. It bore down on him, this itsy bitsy thing called a conscience. Love required trust and honesty, and the latter was the only thing he couldn't find his way around.

"The truth will set you free," his ass. The truth would put him behind bars, with nothing and nobody to keep him company except them.

What exactly would he say, anyway?

Oh, my foster parents weren't really abusive. I gave myself those bruises – when the cops showed up, I had no choice but to frame them. But that's not even the worst of it. Oh, no. I was the one who slipped them the ecstasy. I thought I was doing them a favor, you know? Their time was running out. They only had a few hours to live. I wanted them to die happy. They weren't bad people, really.

I'm sorry, Alexandra. I never predicted that there would be other casualties.

He could never do it. He could never come completely clean and confess his mistake. Maybe one day though, when he was ready, he would tell her about the Eyes. And them. Maybe then she would understand that none of it was his fault. She would hug him and kiss him and make everything all the better.

But not now. Not yet.

A particularly sharp hiss filled the air, and he was jolted out of his reverie when he realized that the noise had come from his own mouth.

B cleared his throat. "When you die?" he repeated A's last words in a low voice. "You're far too young to worry about things like that, Princess. You have so much ahead of you."

"The Grim Reaper doesn't care how old you are," she replied solemnly.

He could have sworn he felt his left eye twitch. "Good point," he muttered.

In one swift movement, he reached across the stove and cranked up the heat to maximum. The coils under the frying pan grew brighter and brighter until it emitted a piercing whistle.

That had definitely been too close for comfort.

A/N: Just a thoughtful little piece, nothing too heavy but pretty ominous all the same, haha.

Hope you liked it ^_^