Disclaimer: I don't own Halloween. Or any of the actors or actresses. Because that might qualify as slavery. Which is illegal. Much like claiming that I own copyrighted material. Which I don't.

AN: Well, much like the rest of my stories, there was a long ass gap in writing because of that chaotic thing called life. Anyway, I'm a bit disappointed with the chapter (But then, I'm disappointed with just about everything I write), but I hope it's enjoyable enough given that big break.

"Talking"

Thought

Time Passage

Two weeks. She'd been dreading this for two agonizingly long weeks. She didn't want to mention it to her classmates, heavens only knew what would happen if some of her crazy friends would do if they found out that she was related to the Michael Myers, but that meant that she had to hide something from them. And if there was one thing that Annie Brackett and Lynda Van Der Klok were good at, it was getting her to spill her guts. In spite of her quickly cracking nerves, she had to grin at the fact that she'd actually managed to keep those two out of her business for once, and how nuts it must have driven them to know that.

But now she was almost wishing that she had said something. They'd been greeted by someone much younger than they expected, probably an intern or something of the sort, who had quickly gone to alert the man who claimed to have been her faceless brother's doctor for his entire stay in the facility. He seemed kind enough, but even as she reached to take his outstretched hand she couldn't help thinking about how weird it was to be speaking with a complete stranger who undoubtedly knew infinitely more about her own flesh-and-blood brother than she did, and possibly more than she ever would if the elder Myers was as reclusive as he'd been described in the little information that she'd been able to dig up on him.

"It's a pleasure, Miss Strode. I'm Doctor Samuel Loomis." She gripped his hand, smiling in return.

"You too, Doctor Loomis. I've been reading your books a lot lately."

"Oh, have you now? Developing an interest in psychology, are we?"

"It was more interesting than I thought it'd be, but mostly I was hoping you might have written something about, well, you know…"

"Michael, yes. I haven't finished it yet, but your brother is the primary subject of my new book. I'm expecting it to be published within the next few weeks, actually. Oh, but how rude of me. You must be Mister and Missus Strode." He extended his hand to them as well, but it was plain to see that beyond their polite responses they were far less enthused about the coming meeting than their daughter.

"I suppose we should get a move on, then. There are a few things I should probably tell you before you meet Michael face to face. If you don't mind, I'd like to hear what you know of him first though." He gestured for them to follow, and they began making their way through the halls.

"I don't know much of anything. There's not really a lot of information about him anywhere. Let's see, I know that he lived in Haddonfield. Aaaand, that his father died when he was young. And about the trials and everything." Even the internet had failed to get her much more than the coverage of the murders and trial, little of which actually told her about Michael himself. Most of it was just statistics, opinions on the trial, feelings about the victims, and so on and so forth. For someone so infamous, Michael was surprisingly difficult to learn about. She ignored the worried looks from her parents, who were less than pleased that she'd been digging up the gory details of what had happened to her biological mother and sister. Oh, they understood her need to know these things, but it was upsetting all the same.

"Hm, hm. I see. In that case, there are probably some things I should warn you about."

"Warn me…is he dangerous?" That should have been obvious. "I mean still dangerous?"

"Possibly, but I doubt it. He hasn't acted out at all for, oh, I'm not certain how many years now. He never speaks anymore either. I feel I should warn you that he can be quite intimidating, however." The child's natural stature and strength were, to put it quite simply, amazing. There was never any sign that he'd so much as performed a single pushup since his entrance into the sanitarium, and his diet was no different than any of the other more potentially dangerous patients, yet he was built like a man who worked out daily. Intensively. And if ever there had been a child whose growth was unaffected by a questionable diet, he was certainly that one.

And now they were at the entrance to what she presumed was a visitation room. Doctor Loomis spoke briefly with a slightly graying Hispanic guard, who gave her a quick smile before walking off. Doctor Loomis turned to them, gesturing towards the door at his left.

"We'll be bringing Michael in shortly. If you would, please-"

"I'd like to see him alone."

"Laurie!"

"Sweetheart, I don't think that's-"

"I would highly suggest that you be accompanied-"

This was…not remotely surprising. It was obvious that they would object to her seeing the murderer alone, and all things considered, they probably would have objected even if he wasn't a murderer. Yet somehow she just couldn't bring herself to ignore the feeling that things wouldn't go so well if everyone else was there. Or maybe she was just being selfish, trying to be alone with the one thing that connected her to that identity of Angel Myers. Regardless…

"I'm not seeing him if I can't see him alone."

Even if she might have been a "goody two shoes" in the words of Annie and Lynda, she was still perfectly capable of being manipulative. Admittedly, it was in a slightly more childish way, but she was a teenager and thus entitled to act like one on occasion, and considering the importance of this meeting and how uncommon it was for her to act out, this seemed like a perfect instance of just such an occasion.

"You guys can stand outside the door or something if you feel like it, but I'd really, really just like to be alone with him for a little while. Please?"

Some said that puppy dog eyes were a cheap tactic. She preferred the term "efficient." With only a few moments of bickering, she'd convinced them to do exactly what she'd set out to do, and why was Doctor Loomis looking so pleased?

"You know, I felt that something like this might happen." Oh. That was why. He gestured to the door on his right. "So I made sure to pick out this room in particular. This door leads to a room just beside the one where we'll be bringing Michael. The two are connected by a thick, one-way mirror, and while I understand that you wish to be left alone, I must insist that we at least be allowed to observe in case any intervention becomes necessary."

She couldn't argue against that. It did make sense, if for some reason this man decided to break what was apparently years of being docile out of nowhere. With that, she walked into the room Doctor Loomis has indicated, ignoring the sounds of him reassuring her parents as he led them to their own side. The room was rather simple, a table, a few chairs, a mirror that must have been a cover for the one-way glass…Frankly, it reminded her all too much of those interrogation rooms she'd seen in so many movies, and it suddenly hit her that she really had just insisted on being alone in a room with a man who had murdered his own flesh and blood.

Not far away, a man wearing a red paper-mâché mask slipped another piece of paper on to his newest creation, hearing the door behind him being unlocked but otherwise unresponsive. No doubt it was Ismael.

"Hey, Mikey, come on buddy. Today's a special day. You've got a visitor."

Doctor?

Michael tilted his head, not looking away from the unfinished mask sitting in front of him, but the motion was more than enough for someone that had been watching after the boy for as long as this particular caretaker.

"Nope, it's not Doctor Loomis this time, Mikey. I think it's supposed to be a surprise, but it looks like a young lady wanted to come see you."

Lady? Young lady? Mother dead, stopped coming, Judith dead, wouldn't come, Boo gone, couldn't come, so who?

The process was familiar, though he almost never left his private little cave of solitude unless absolutely necessary. Shackles on his arms and legs, connected by smaller chains at the waist, while he shuffled along towards whatever destination Ismael or Loomis had in mind. Though for the first time in a long time, Michael was somewhat curious as to why he was being moved. There were only two people that spoke to him now, and of those two, only one actually had him leave his room to do so.

So why, he thought upon reaching their destination, was he being taken to one of the private visitation rooms? Ismael opened the door, allowing him to enter before stepping in behind him. There was someone sitting at the table, presumably this "young lady" Ismael had spoken of, and truly she must have been young to have been so small…

Huge. It was the first word that came to her mind when the giant stepped into the room, led by two guards with its arms and legs held together by chains, slippers dragging as it shuffled towards the table. She absently considered the possibility that when the bible spoke of a behemoth, this hulking creature may have been what it was referring to. It wasn't just his physical size, though he must have been at least seven feet tall. He had a presence about him, something that seemed to call attention to him and dwarf everything else in the room. As he made his way towards the table, his head turned, eyes landing on the wide-eyed girl halfway across the room.

And then he stopped.

Mom? No, mom is dead. Who is this? She looks like mom. Why does she look like mom?

An unconscious tilt of the head, various options running through his mind, but only a few that seemed plausible.

Little Boo? This can't be Boo. Boo is a baby. But they look alike. Her hair is pretty like that too. He wanted to touch it. And so, shuffling forwards towards the table, he decided that he would. However, those watching the spectacle weren't quite so calm when he didn't stop at the opposite side of the table as the guard moved to catch up to the man who by no means should have been able to move so quickly in chains.

Anxiety turned to genuine fear when suddenly, unexpectedly, he closed the gap between himself and his visitor and practically shoved their faces together, mask mere inches from the teenage girl. And though they couldn't hear it through the soundproofing, the Strode's let out an audible cry of alarm as Loomis tried to reassure them that the guard was more than capable of keeping things under control.

"Mikey?" From what Laurie could see the guard seemed confused, or nervous, probably both if he was on the same page as her right now.

His face, mask, moved out of her sight for a moment, off to her side. She resisted the urge to brush away the strands of hair, his hair, tickling her cheek as he hovered close to her, breathing quietly but deeply – sniffing? It was hard to tell, but she didn't dare try to get away when he was so close. The tense moment continued for hours, or perhaps minutes, Laurie honestly couldn't say, before the white and blue mask descended in front of her again (And what was taking those guards so long to get him away?), just low enough to peer down into her eyes with his own.

Looks like mom, too little to be mom, could be Boo. Strange smells, things that Judith always wore, but still…Boo. Yes. Ugly, but mom never said I was ugly, would Boo think I'm ugly? No. Boo was innocent, like his mother had been. She would never find him ugly, no matter how he tried to convince her otherwise, and his little sister wouldn't be any different.

After a seemingly endless silence he pulled back and lifted his arms towards his face, and the chains actually snapped as he leaned down to get a better grip on his mask. With a single fluid motion, his decision made, it was dangling at his side from one hand, and soon found itself on the ground. He leaned towards her, and she briefly felt a pair of rough lips press against her forehead, and once again he was sitting back calmly with his hands resting on his knees. With a slight tilt of his head, he looked into her eyes one more time.

"Boo."

AN: Well…it's been a long break. But as I've told those reading most of my stories, unless things really go all to hell, updates should be much more often from here on out. Should be. Either way, I don't intend to let another year long gap come between them. Thanks to everyone that's stuck with the story all this time, and I hope you enjoyed it!