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Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin characters are all owned by someone else.

Notes: Enishi’s POV, Kevin’s POV. This one is a bit off the wall.

Warnings: This makes little sense. Not only that, but it’s sick and wrong. The mind of a psycho… It’s difficult to get into such a mind.

Recommended: Do NOT read before reading chapter 33 of My Life. [Edit: Ch 32 (The Smoking Gun) at this site. --HB] I promise, you’ll be confused.

Moments in Time: Chapter 6 - Conversing with Criminals

There was no describing how much I wanted him. Not so much in the romantic manner, but I wanted him nonetheless. I wanted everything—him, his life, his family, friends… all of it.

But it was not to be. Even when I held him, had his very life in the palm of my hand, he was not mine. I had to have him. Unfortunately, whatever I did, he slipped further out of reach.

Still, I tried. I tried not to let it show, even though I was certain he sensed it. I went so far as to threaten him. The way he shrank and shivered… it sent thrills through me. I did that. Me. No one else that I had seen could do that to him. Well… that one guy, but that was my doing as well. Pity the cops had to show up when they did. I really wanted to see it.

That, at least, is mine. I took it. I own it. I carry it—his undeserved innocence—with me. His sweet, carefree manner…

But wait… that was taken by that man in the truck. Curse him. That was out of my hands. I had been waiting. It struck before I was ready, my adulthood only just in my grasp. So how was I to know? I did the best I could, considering. Those scars… the ones he got after that truck hit… I gave him those. Who thought I would be so happy to give something away?

Then—and damn them anyway—they took him back. Someone must have had some kind of control over him because no matter what I did, I could not convince him to return to me. His fear of me was greater than ever. It gave me a rush, but it was not what I wanted. I wanted it all. I still had not gotten his tears, his empathy, his love… his life.

My personal fantasy? I wanted to bring him to the edge. I wanted him to swear his devotion when I brought him back. He’s capable of so much… so much potential in that little body of his. I wanted to have it. Imagine! Imagine what it would have done for me. Imagine what success, what happiness it could have brought me, to hold that. For him to love me like real family. Funny how a man will still love their own, even if their own shoves a knife between his shoulder blades.

There never was enough time, it seems. First, it was that truck driver. Then, the cops. And… and then Kevin.

I hated Kevin. Hated him. But he was very good at what he did, not to mention we both knew too much about the other to ever have to fear betrayal. Funny… I guess he betrayed me in the end anyway.

They met at the corner of Concord and Seventy-third. It was an empty, rundown area, and no one would glance twice at the men meeting by the side of the road.

His outdated, silver Cadillac parked in the breakdown lane of the narrow county road, Kevin glanced in the rearview mirror as a pair of headlights came into view, a truck slowing as it approached.

“They’re here,” he muttered, glancing over to the man in the passenger seat.

The soft clunk of the opening door was his response, and he looked over his shoulder to the back seat.

Kevin narrowed his eyes at the man as he exited, annoyed at his callous behavior. Snorting impatiently, he shoved the driver’s door open and climbed out of the car to watch the proceedings.

“In the back,” a bulky man stated, presumably answering a question. “Think he woke once, but he’s out now.”

“If he’s not hypothermic from exposure,” Kevin muttered, pushing his hands into his pockets to ward against the rapidly dropping temperature.

Kevin sighed and got back into the car. He was just the driver this time. Well… the driver always got them to where they were going, even if that was not the predetermined destination.

Enishi was not happy. He was never happy when the kid was involved. I’ve known him since he was a ten-year-old runaway, so I guess I could be considered the utmost authority on this.

I felt sorry for both of them, truth be told, although more for the kid. Nothing that kid did would ever be right. Not enough to meet up to his so-called cousin’s standards.

I met him once, before he ever got mixed up in Enishi’s sick little mind games. He was a cute little squirt, playful and friendly. Always trying to make his dear sister proud. Kind of pathetic, actually, but cute. I could almost understand why Enishi was after him.

It really was strange, how Enishi depended on this kid. He really deteriorated when the kid was gone. I’ll never understand what it was about him that Enishi seemed to need so much… to crave. No doubt about it, it was sick, but there was nothing that would change it. At least, until he went a little too far.

Mike had it coming, I will admit. I’d known the bastard for years, and I’ve never liked him. Not that I really cared about Kenshin—the kid had turned into a class one ass—but what Mike did… that was too much. I don’t regret pulling the plug on him. Enishi wasn’t going to kill him, but a few incriminating words convinced him Mike was enough of a threat to warrant it. Now, Mike may not have been a threat to Enishi, but he deserved what he got.

The scene at the kid’s house was not a pretty one and one I’ll likely never forget. I never wanted to kill Enishi in front of him. I was going to wait until later to do it. Well… I couldn’t very well let Enishi kill him. Mike, yes. The kid didn’t deserve it.

So I shot him. Strange, how people react to that. The kid took it pretty well, considering he’d been shot and had a concussion on top of it.

It was well planned. I convinced Enishi to bring the kid to his own house, although the reasons I gave him were completely fabricated. We made certain the uncle was out—he’d be back by four as always—and got into the house with the kid’s own key. Mike was whacked, Enishi (a little ahead of schedule) also whacked, and the kid would live if he got medical attention soon. My own accounts were in order, a considerable amount of money transferred from one Enishi Yukishiro’s account to mine almost twenty-four hours prior, which I then intended to withdraw and place in an entirely new account, new name, new everything, in Mexico.