(3) Year 2

By the time Kevin was two years old, his personality had emerged in full force. He was not an affectionate child. Occasionally, when he was tired, he would grab onto Gilbert's dangling coat belt when they were out and about, but he no longer came to snuggle with Gilbert in the mornings. The dark-haired man didn't really miss it – he was happy to be left alone to sleep.

Kevin had a bitter, bad-ass scowl on his face most of the time, and the things that made him smile were a source of concern for his foster father.

There was the time that Kevin emerged from playing outside with a cat in his arms. Its arms and legs jutted out in an uncomfortable-looking way as it struggled to get out of the boy's tight stranglehold.

"New toy," announced Kevin, dropping the cat into the box where he kept his blocks, puppet and ball.

Gilbert froze in horror at the sight of the cat, which quickly jumped out of the box and headed right for his chair. He jumped up on the chair to get away from the cat, his face contorted with fear. Kevin looked at his foster father's reaction and an evil grin smeared itself across his face. Luckily for Gilbert, the cat made a speedy egress out of a nearby window and they never saw it again.

)(

Kevin had a propensity for getting into mischief of one kind or another, and Gilbert was beside himself in trying to come up with useful punishments for the child. He started by simply thinking of how he himself had been punished when he was younger, and vaguely recalled being shut away by himself for days on end once when he had gotten in trouble at Vessalius house. It had been a traumatic experience for him, but he knew Kevin was made of stronger stuff, and thought maybe a relatively brief hour or two in the basement might work out just right.

So one day when Kevin had eaten an entire box of cookies in one sitting, Gilbert picked him up under the armpits, slung him over his shoulder and hauled him kicking and fussing down to the basement. He put him down on the cold dank floor, and then bolted up the stairs two at a time.

"This hurts me more than it hurts you," Gilbert said, voice wavering as he endeavored to shut the door to the basement. The memory of Kevin's confused facial expression lingered in his vision when he closed his eyes to take a nap. He'd barely drifted off to sleep when he heard a knock at the window. His eyes flew open and there was Kevin outside the window peering in.

Futile. It's absolutely futile to try to change this kid.

The next time Kevin was naughty – he loved to yank on Gilbert's hair and was none too gentle about it – Gilbert decided to try his new tactic. He grabbed Kevin and hugged him tightly.

"Annoying!" yelled Kevin, trying to squirm away. "Let go! Annoying!"

"No hair pulling," said Gilbert sternly, using the choppy sentences he'd learned to use since becoming the parent to a toddler. "Be nice. Will Kevin be nice?"

"Kevin be nice! Let go!" the boy said, trying to beat Gilbert's chest with his fists.

"No hitting," Gilbert stated firmly. "Hitting is mean."

After a moment, Kevin's thrashing and hitting stopped. He looked up at Gilbert, frowning. When he was released from the man's arms, Kevin ran into his room, and shut the door. The dark-haired man fell asleep on the sofa, but when he awoke an hour later, he heard strange sounds coming from Kevin's room. When he opened the door, he found the boy was using a stick to hit his puppet and other dolls.

"I kill you!" shouted Kevin to the inanimate objects as he smacked them.

Gilbert's memory brought him a vision of fighting side by side with Xerxes Break – him with a gun, Break with a sword – and he swallowed hard. The future needs the person who this boy will become, he thought. And I need the person this boy will become.

That coming Christmas, Kevin had one large present from Gilbert to open. When the wrapping paper fell away, the boy's eyes sparkled. He picked up the small toy sword in his hand and pointed it at his foster father.

"I kill you!" he said, with a slasher smile on his face.

"Don't kill me," said Gilbert, shaking his head. "You need me."

"I don't need you!" Kevin got up and ran into his room and started whacking his toys with his new gift.

Gilbert leaned back in his chair and put his hand on his forehead. When will he learn? Oh yeah, in about seven decades or so. He sighed and lit up a cigarette.

to be continued