A/N: First, general content warning for post-traumatic stress disorder as well as panic and anxiety attacks, plus the usual gore, violence, and deaths of minor and supporting characters - basically what one would expect from the Halloween series.

Second, this is indeed a sequel to my previous story, Rules of Conduct; lots of references are made to events that happened there, so I highly suggest you read that first if you haven't already. Just like the previous story, this is an AU/canon mash-up of the Rob Zombie remake, where Halloween II (2009) never took place but which draws characters and events from all the previous films. But most importantly, this was heavily inspired by the 2018 Halloween film and will feature characters and events from there - but does NOT include the characters of Karen and Allyson. I'll try and explain why at the end of the story.

And thirdly... this was not a story I ever intended to write. I wrote Rules of Conduct to be stand-alone and did not even consider writing a follow-up for the longest time. But I got quite a few people begging for a sequel or a continuation or something incorporating the new movie that the writing bug bit me again, so to all those people who reviewed or commented or messaged me ideas, I would just like to say... I hate each and every one of you.

On to the story!


CHAPTER 1: The Last Visit


Smith's Grove Warren County Sanitarium was a beacon of white: white hallways lit by white fluorescent lights that glinted along white marble floors, strolled along by patients wearing white uniforms and nurses and doctors in their white hospital scrubs. The barred windows permitted little light. There was a faint antiseptic smell in the air and, in the distance, the echoing clang of security doors being opened and shut, the jangling of keys.

It was all very different, Aaron thought, from the mental institutions he and Dana were used to.

An unsmiling guard was regarding their paperwork from behind the glazed window of his own little cell, a half-hexagonal room jutting out from the far wall. Another wall bisected the room, its only entrance and exit being a heavy metal door. The guard's room sat right in-between that wall, so that he could see, through very large, shatterproof windows, any visitors coming inside… and any patients attempting to escape outside.

While they waited, Dana adjusted her headset, connected by a long wire to her bulky recording device. Aaron saw her wince slightly at the screech of static in her ears, whirling some dials before pushing the mic towards herself.

"Testing, check, check, 1, 2, 3," she said, nudging a couple more dials. At Aaron's inquiring look, she nodded.

Aaron put on his most professional voice, ignoring the decidedly unimpressed looks they were receiving from the guard. "We are now here at Smith's Grove rehabilitation facility, one of the largest of its kind in the state. Though we have not yet entered the main part of the hospital, we can already see that it is a maze of long hallways and clean, sterile rooms, with the only noise – so far – being the buzzing the of the lights.

"Smith's Grove Sanitarium is not only one of the largest institutions; it is one of the most famous. It is October 30th, All Hallow's Eve, and today we will be interviewing Dr. Ranbir Sartain about one of his patients – in fact, the most infamous patient the hospital has ever had – and who has spent the last twenty-five years in captivity."

Dana smiled as Aaron ended his monologue, then, her back to the cubicle, gave a little twitch of the head towards the still unsmiling and possibly very hostile guard.

It was understandable. The guards here were very intimately aware of this most infamous patient.

At that moment, the light above the door flickered from bright red to cool blue, and a sharp buzzing rang through the lobby. With a heavy groan, the door swung open, followed by a rather short, but still authoritative man wearing a white doctor's coat. He could not have been more than forty, but his thick hair was already graying, his face wrinkled about the mouth, though this was covered by a rather large mustache. Dana lowered her headphones, smiling as the doctor stepped up to Aaron and her.

"Ah, Mr. Korey, Ms. Haines." The doctor shook each of their hands. "Yes, I recognized your voices, very good… And I think all is in order?" He glanced towards the guard who, with an air of grudging resentment, gave a curt nod. "Shall we begin?"

"Of course," Dana said. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us today. We were hoping to have this opportunity to see your patient before he is to be transferred. The new facility is not quite so accommodating."

The doctor made a disparaging comment about the rival institution that was drowned out by the buzz of the door.

As expected, the hospital was indeed a warren of similar looking corridors and doors and rooms, each designed to be the same length and width as the one preceding it. Aaron only half-paid attention to where they were going, focusing on his questions – and getting all the answers into Dana's mic – as he and Dr. Sartain conversed.

"Barring one night, Michael Myers has called this hospital his home for the last twenty-seven years. In that time, he has seen two of his assigned doctors come and go, as well as over a dozen temporary caseworkers, therapists, and psychologists, not to mention being tested, interviewed, and observed by countless more. All have walked away with very different diagnoses, from catatonic schizophrenia to dissociative fugue to retrograde amnesia. I hope to be his very last."

"And how long have you been treating Myers?" asked Aaron, raising his voice over the clacking of their shoes against the hard floor. Dana wheeled her mic around towards him.

"Just over a year." The doctor had reached a door, a twin to the one in the lobby. He pulled out a card from his pocket and swiped it. With an identical buzz and flashing of lights, the door swung open. "Dr. Samuel Loomis was a colleague of mine. He was there almost from the very beginning, even made a trip to the school Michael was at when he saw the first warning signs. Perhaps a day earlier, and he might have prevented a tragedy… or seen the creature unleashed for the first time."

Dr. Sartain hummed to himself, eyes temporarily glazed. Aaron shot a bemused look at Dana, who only shrugged, hiding a smile. These doctors… some of them were almost as mad as their patients.

The doctor picked up the thread of his conversation. "Dr. Loomis treated Michael for over fifteen years before concluding that there was nothing he could do for his patient. His case fell into abeyance temporarily when Loomis resigned, at least until that night."

Aaron exchanged a glance with Dana as they slid through the doorway. Did anyone here even speak the word 'Halloween' in this building?

"After Michael's re-capture, he was remitted to Dr. Beckett's care for the next nine years, and I picked up where he left off. Or rather, where he chose to leave off. I suppose my predecessor also felt he had done all he could for his patient. I have had a long and enduring interest in Michael's history, so upon Dr. Beckett's resignation, I personally lobbied the University of Illinois myself to be assigned to his case. This way, please."

Another security door to pass through and the threesome resumed their interview.

"You have stated that each doctor has come away with a different diagnosis. What has been yours, particularly in contrast with your predecessors?"

Dr. Sartain waved them down another hallway. Through the grilled windows, they could see flickers of sky and grass – clearly, they were passing by an outdoor area.

"Are you aware of Dr. Loomis's theories?"

"Only from his books. We attempted to contact him several times, but he is off on another promotional tour. And from what we have seen from past interviews, he does not enjoy answering questions about Michael Myers."

A nod. "He wishes to move on with his life. Half his career was spent with Michael, after all. He had the most in-depth examination of his patient's state, and concluded he was a creature incapable of deciphering good or evil. A man in bestial form. 'Pure animal instinct', he stated. Dr. Beckett reached a similar conclusion but with opposite potentialities. Michael Myers might not have the moral compass of a normal human being, but even the most bestial of men, he reasoned, was capable of emotions, of feeling some kind of kinship. He thought Michael Myers might be reached. Trained. Tamed."

"And your conclusion?"

But Dr. Sartain had stopped. "And there he is."

Aaron and Dana turned.

They were looking through a large viewing glass into an almost empty room. Light streamed through the barred windows, striking the shining floors and illuminating the hulking figure. He was sitting, restrained and manacled, at a bare table that was dwarfed by the sheer size of him. His back was to Aaron and Dana, but they could make out long, dark brown hair and the barest outline of a mask, held to his head by a length of string.

"Remarkable, is he not?" breathed Dr. Sartain. Aaron thought he had never seen the doctor so alive until this moment.

It took another for Aaron to remember to speak. Not out of nervousness, of course, but at sheer amazement that he had come this far. "We are looking through a window into a visiting room. Michael Myers sits within in, shackled, caged, unaware he is being watched at this very moment."

"Oh, make no mistake, he's aware," Dr. Sartain interjected. "But whether he chooses to make you a part of his awareness... that is up to him alone. Do not underestimate him."

Aaron nodded, swallowing hard. "May we enter?" He had to admit that even behind the thick, soundproofed window, the sheer presence of the man was electrifying.

Without another word, Dr. Sartain swung open the door.

There was a chill in the air that Aaron did not think was due to the air conditioning alone. Classical music was being pumped into the room, but despite the cavernous size of it, both the tune and their accompanying footsteps were curiously muffled. With wary hesitation, Aaron and Dana stepped around the hulk of a man, giving him a wide berth as they moved to face him.

Dana moved the recorder towards Aaron, flicking her eyes down at it, then back up to him.

"We are now in the room with Michael Myers himself," Aaron said, eyes fixed on the man. He tried to peer at the man's face through the strands of hair covering his face, his mask. What was Michael Myers thinking? Was he scrutinizing them, analyzing them, aware of them at all? "At the age of ten, he murdered four people, including his own elder sister. Seventeen years later, he escaped to kill another dozen, almost all in his hometown of Haddonfield. In all those years, he has not spoken a word – not said one thing in a quarter of a century."

He stared at Michael Myers, yet the man had not given any reaction, any indication that he had heard anything Aaron had said.

"Yet standing here, one cannot help but feel that he dominates the room."

Aaron regarded Dana for a second. She nodded, adjusting the mic outward once more. Aaron moved cautiously towards the chair opposite Michael Myers's. He winced at the scrape of the chair legs against the floor as he pulled it out, then sat gingerly, at the very edge of the seat – as if he were in the presence of a feral animal, fearful of any sudden move. He could not detect the slightest shift in Michael Myers's posture, the tiniest hint that he even knew Aaron and Dana existed and were sharing the same space as him.

"Michael," Aaron said. "My name is Aaron Korey, and this is Dana Haines. We've come a long way to talk to you. About Halloween night."

Nothing.

"Can you look at me, Michael? Speak to me?"

Silence. A prickle crawled along the back of Aaron's neck.

"Do you still think about that night? About the people you killed?"

Not one response.

Aaron moved forward. "Your sister."

The air itself seemed to sharpen. Aaron stifled a triumphant smile.

"Do you remember her? Judith Myers? Your mother? Or all the others who died?"

Nothing.

Aaron tamped down on a frown. Had that perfect awareness changed at all? Had he shifted his attention from either of them? Had he even noticed them? Dana had moved forward a step and was adjusting the settings higher on her set.

He shot a glance towards Dr. Sartain, who had entered and was standing in a corner of the room, observing with the dispassionate eye of a scientist. At the doctor's nod, he reached for his bag.

"I've a friend who works in the district attorney's office. He let me borrow this." With the timing of a professional actor, he drew out a clear plastic bag. Inside was something dark grey, mottled with cracks of black; something he and Dana had examined minutely, memorizing every inch of it. "Perhaps you recognize it."

Nothing. And yet...

"You feel it, don't you?" Aaron held out the bag, dangling it like a treat to a pet. The atmosphere of the room was pulsing with tension. "It calls to you." He could sense the change, but could not pin it down, whether that focus was narrowing or diffusing away from them. "Look at it, Michael."

The silence lengthened, drawn out. Aaron's nerves were on fire, but the doctor had not said a word to stop this.

"Look at the mask, Michael. Look at it."

The very air was crackling.

"Look –!"

The door opened, its screech breaking through the silence of the room.

"-be outside if you need anything, Mrs.-" The guard's voice, so discordant in its bland normalcy, cut off abruptly as he looked inside. His gaze took in Aaron and Dana, Dr. Sartain in the corner, and the bag, which Aaron had let drop ignominiously on the table.

Dr. Sartain sprang forward from where he had been standing. "Ah. Mrs. Lloyd."

The guard stepped aside to let in a young woman. She was blonde, fairly petite, in the midst of adjusting her purse when she stepped clear of the door and saw the two journalists. Aaron saw surprise flicker across her face, then something else, almost too brief to be noticed – a sharp, and strangely familiar, analysis, taking in Aaron standing at the end of the room, Dana with her headset and equipment, and Michael Myers, still as a statue.

Then her gaze swung to Dr. Sartain. "What is this?" she demanded.

Aaron frowned, exchanging another glance with Dana. It was not just because of this woman's behavior, the way she had looked at – and then dismissed – him and his partner. There was something else about her; the feeling that he had seen her before. He retrieved the mask and stuffed it away, then stepped aside from the table. Dana followed; Aaron noticed she was still recording.

"These are Aaron Korey and Dana Haines," Dr. Sartain said, "journalists for a well-known radio station."

"Journalists." The woman's tone was clipped. She glanced back at the door, then at the doctor.

"We're investigative journalists," Dana spoke up. Aaron thought she sounded a touch defensive. "We run a segment that examines true crime and unsolved mysteries. Our broadcasts have won several awards, and brought new attention to previously unexplained cases. One of our stories led to a tip that gave police several promising leads on a crime that had been deemed a cold case for several decades. We try to shed a new light on mysteries, and people, such as Michael Myers."

The woman's glance moved to Michael Myers himself. Aaron, following her gaze, blinked – had Michael Myers moved slightly in their direction, his head shifted half an inch towards them?

The woman's glance was lingering. Something changed in her face for a moment, though Aaron could not put a word to it. But when the woman looked back at them, it was gone, replaced with a still, set quality.

"Are you a visitor?" Aaron asked. He stepped closer, trying to figure out that strange feeling of familiarity he was getting from this woman.

The woman tensed, her hand grasping for her bag. "Yes."

Aaron looked back at Dana, equal parts excitement and caution running through him. If this woman were some visiting doctor or psychologist, then this was an unexpected boon, an opportunity to gain a different opinion or even to sit in on a session with Michael Myers. On the other hand, the Michael Myers case was quite famous. If this woman was another true crime aficionado, she was potentially a rival, and with Dana and Aaron's purpose and identities already revealed, they were at a disadvantage.

"We were unaware Michael Myers was receiving any visitors," Aaron said, trying to probe his way into the conversation.

"Perhaps you will be so obliged as to speak with them?" Dr. Sartain suggested.

The woman stiffened. "No."

"But Ms. Strode, as the patient's sister, you would surely provide some valuable insight into his mind-"

Aaron could not stifle a gasp, echoed by Dana behind him, as the pieces fell into place.

"Laurie Strode… You're Laurie Strode!" Of course she was; now that he had the name, the face was instantly recognizable from Dr. Loomis's book. Laurie Strode. Angel Myers. Michael Myers's younger sister, the only surviving member of his family. Her image had been splattered all over the book, along with all the lurid details of her life. Poor girl, Dana had said when had first begun reading of the case. Aaron could only concur: to grow up the sister of an infamous, institutionalized murderer, in the very town where he had committed his bloody crimes… He wondered how long the woman had been aware of her relationship to this serial killer before the book came out. Hopefully long enough to have accepted it, that her adoptive parents had seen fit to let her know. Imagine if she had learned about her family relationship from a best-selling book...

The woman, Laurie Strode, bristled. "Mrs. Lloyd," she said. "I am – I was – married."

Aaron attempted to regain his self-control, as he could see Dana was trying to as well; this was such an unexpected windfall that they had to take advantage of it. He knew Dana had to be itching to go through their files on Michael Myers, to find all that had been written about Angel Myers. Laurie Strode. The only reason she wasn't was because reading case files, when the subject of the file was standing right in front of you, was probably bad practice.

"Mrs. Str - Lloyd," he said, and was satisfied that his voice betrayed almost none of the excitement he was feeling. "In our segment, we attempt to find new angles on well-known cases such as yours."

The woman, Laurie Strode, gave a little jerk and started to say something, but Dana hurriedly added, "We try to bring a more human side to the information – some new understanding that goes beyond hard facts and numbers."

Aaron stepped into the silence just as quickly. "You are the only survivor of Michael Myers's attacks – both of them, in fact. If you are willing, we would like to sit down, talk to you about how you have been affected, to shed another light on this man."

Laurie Strode went rigid. "No." It was spoken in a tone of flat dismissal. "I'm not talking to any of you." She swallowed, eyes darting nervously between the two of them. "There is nothing to learn from what happened – what he's done –" She broke off, breathing quickening, then said, "You shouldn't have come here. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have let him see –"

A shocked pause. Her gaze had traveled down to Aaron's bag. "What is that?"

Belatedly, Aaron realized he had not pushed the mask fully out of sight. Part of it was sticking out of the opening, enough to see the dark hair and cracked, latex material. "This?" Aaron made a show of looking down before attempting to tuck it in further. "Merely a piece of evidence."

Aaron had heard the phrase 'the blood drained from her face' several times in his life, but he had never actually witnessed it before. He was witnessing it now, for Laurie Strode had gone chalk-pale at the sight of Aaron's bag.

"That's the mask," she whispered, taking a step back. "You brought that mask here?"

"We were attempting to gain a reaction-"

"A reaction?!" She had backed herself up against the door. "You come in here, with your new insights and understandings but all you really wanted was this, wasn't it, you wanted him to notice, you wanted him to-"

Dr. Sartain hurried forward, hands held out in a placating gesture. "Mrs. Lloyd, you need not worry. This is a controlled situation, a minor experiment. Nothing has come of it. Please, we can leave, speak outside-"

"I am not speaking to anyone!" Laurie Strode wrenched herself away, hands twisting on her purse strap.

Aaron shot a slightly panicked look at Dana, knowing the situation was beginning to get out of hand, that they were letting the best opportunity they'd ever had slip through their fingers. He said, "Ms. Strode, just calm down, we can –"

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down!" she exclaimed; she was backing herself up into the wall. "You don't know what you've done, you've –"

A sound shattered the conversation. As one, Dr. Sartain, Dana, Aaron, and Laurie Strode turned towards the source.

Michael Myers had just moved.

More to the point, he had wrenched apart his cuffed wrists until the chain holding them had gone taut.

And he was looking at them.

My God, it worked, was Aaron's first thought. Next to him, Dana was frantically checking that her equipment was on; he knew she was dying to play back the recording, to make certain they had captured that sound.

Was it the mask? Aaron's words to him? The conversation between them and Ms. Strode? Aaron did not know for sure… but he had ways of finding out. He had the mask still in the bag, so surely, if that was the source, he need only hold it out again. He gripped the bag's opening as he stared at Michael Myers's back, steeling himself for what could be the greatest breakthrough of their career. And Michael Myers himself… did he seem – Aaron could not know how he knew this – more ready? Like a spring pulled to its furthest length, ready to snap? Ready for him?

And he had just moved again, Aaron realized; just a little tilt of the head in their direction, but for Michael Myers, it was a dramatic shift. Yes, the mask had indeed had an effect. Now, as Dr. Sartain had said over the phone, they just needed a little more of a push.

He made to go forward –

Only for Laurie Strode to move faster, pushing herself in front of him, in his way.

"Get out," she hissed; even with her back to him, Aaron could see that her entire body had gone tense. "Go. I have to – I have to talk to him – take care of this –"

She could not be serious. He could feel the very air of the room crackling with barely-held suspense. By his side, Dana was staring wide-eyed at the scene before him, hands white-knuckled as she gripped her equipment. She could feel it too – the rising sense of anticipation, that anything-could-happen feeling. Michael Myers at the ready – it was an incredibly dangerous situation. And this woman, this girl who was small enough that Myers could snap her with one hand if he felt like it, who knew better than anybody in the world what he was capable of – she wanted to stay? To speak with him, a man who had not said a word in twenty-five years, who (if Dr. Loomis's book was correct) had shut down even to his own mother?

Who was this Laurie Strode anyway?

Aaron tried one last time. "Ms. Strode, if we might sit in on this, we'd be quite grate–"

"You are not staying!" she snapped, whirling around. "You've done more than enough here!" There was a determined look to her face; she was moving towards Michael Myers as if she were a ball and he the string, raveling her closer. "I have to be alone with him." Her eyes flicked to the doctor. "Get them out."

Dr. Sartain looked at Aaron and Dana and made a helpless gesture. He knocked on the door, which opened. A guard led him and Dana and Aaron out, but Aaron couldn't help noticing the doctor's aside glance back right before the door closed. It was furtive, so quick he almost missed it, but Aaron still saw it – the laser-focused look, mouth open slightly in… what? Wonder? Anticipation?

It was almost as memorable as the sight of Laurie Strode, walking to her brother like a martyr to execution... and Michael Myers, who, right before the door closed on him, was following not Aaron, or Dana, or his own doctor, but her path with the subtlest turning of his head.

Then the doctor turned about, and he was all professionalism, so much so that Aaron wondered if he had imagined the look.

"We need to see what's going on in that room," Aaron demanded as soon as the door was closed.

Dr. Sartain nodded. "Oh, I quite agree. Come, this way."

The good doctor began rushing them down the hall, taking a right into a slightly smaller one. As they half-walked, half-jogged to keep up, Aaron leaned in towards Dana. "Laurie Strode. What do we have on her?"

Dana shook her head, mouth twisting. "Almost nothing, from what I remember." She pulled out a manila file. "Most of the research focused on Michael Myers… and I'm sure her records are still sealed and confidential." She raised her eyebrows. "Not much to go on, really. Just about everything is from Dr. Loomis's book."

"Where he barely even mentioned her," Aaron muttered, disconcerted.

Who was this Laurie Strode?

"I have some newspaper clippings." Dana rifled through papers as Dr. Sartain beckoned them towards a heavy-looking metal door. She brushed aside a glossy photograph of the Strode girl, which Aaron recognized as the one from Dr. Loomis's second book, copied and magnified the size of a full sheet of paper. The girl in the photo was younger than the woman they'd just encountered, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen, but unmistakably the same person.

Dana picked up one clipping. "Here. One about Myers's second spree of murders." She handed it to Aaron and gave a distracted smile to Dr. Sartain, who was holding open the door to what was presumably an observation room.

Aaron perused it, but it was nothing he had not already known – a list of people Myers had killed, where it had occurred, names of survivors.

The mystery only deepened. According to Dr. Loomis's retelling, Michael Myers had pursued Laurie Strode – his own younger sister – with even more persistence than his other victims; for what reason, nobody knew, though given he had murdered one sibling already, it was not unlikely that had been his intent as well. Certainly the one thing the articles agreed upon was that Laurie Strode had suffered at his hands… by all accounts, she had been found some miles from where she had shot the man herself, bloodied, traumatized, and almost incoherent from shock…

And yet, she was here, visiting the man who had stalked and terrorized and tormented her. Why?

Dana nudged him in the ribs, and Aaron realized with a slight shock that they were looking through a one-way window, not too dissimilar from the one through which they had first viewed Michael Myers.

"I apologize, as the room does not permit you to listen in on the actual conversation," Dr. Sartain said, "but you may at least watch. I, in fact, have had the fortune of observing Michael Myers's and Laurie Strode's interactions on numerous occasions through this very room, but never one of this... intensity." He gestured towards the room. "Let us see what will happen."

Aaron and Dana moved forward.

"We have just witnessed a rather extraordinary thing," Aaron murmured into Dana's mic. "A visitor for Michael Myers himself, from his only surviving family member – and, one could say, his only survivor – Laurie Strode."

Unlike Aaron, Laurie Strode had taken a chair on Michael Myers's right. From where Aaron was viewing, she was facing almost towards him, while he could only see Myers's profile. Yet he could tell she was sitting close to Myers, quite close; she could not have been more than a foot or two away from him. Her arm was resting on the tabletop, her body leaning forward, eyes on her brother's masked face.

And Michael Myers was listening to her, Aaron was sure of it.

It was the tilt of the head, cocked towards Laurie Strode's face, her moving mouth. It was the relaxed set of his body; not the near-catatonic slump of before, but a looseness in his shoulders, his arms. His hands, which had been held taut and fisted, were now hanging unclenched at his sides. And as she continued to speak, to lean closer, he tipped his head towards hers… actually was, infinitesimally yet observably so, shifting himself so that he was facing her, only her… as if his entire body were riveted to hers.

"Quieting the beast," Dr. Sartain said.

"It's remarkable," Dana whispered.

Aaron tugged her headset towards himself. "Having met the caged animal, we received no change in behavior – no significant change," he amended. "Yet now we are witnessing Laurie Strode – the survivor of both of Myers's attacks, younger sister to the man himself – speaking to him. And not only that, he appears, incredibly, to be listening to her. One might even saying he is responding to her."

There was another moment of silence. Then Dr. Sartain leaned forward.

"Perhaps she will treat us to... ah." Even as he spoke, Laurie Strode was leaning forward, hand reaching for her brother's face... no, his mask. "Unbelievable, is it not? No other person could even consider touching his mask, let alone removing it. Why, there are stories amongst the guards… well, never mind that. Just know that none of them, nor the nurses, nor even his doctors, would think of touching his masks. And yet, he allows her to, when anybody else would... shall we say..."

He made a slashing motion across his own throat, as Laurie Strode, alone with her brother, touched the mask gently. Aaron held the scene in his mind: the intense young woman, only slightly taller than her brother even with her standing and him sitting, her hand outstretched; and her hulking brother, head tilted slightly upwards to look up at her, utterly quiescent.

"I must admit, I'm struggling to understand this," Aaron said, speaking just as much for himself as for the radio. "Why she came here. After all, he tried to kill her."

Dr. Sartain smiled and leaned forward, as if imparting a great secret. "According to whose account?" he asked.

Dana's glance was almost as stunned as Aaron's. Just about every source agreed that Michael Myers was, in layman's terms, a complete psychopath, utterly incapable of feeling compassion or empathy for any creature; a totally insular, self-centered beast. Yet Dr. Sartain had just posited this incredible idea that –

"Are you saying… that the Michael Myers… might actually care for her? For Laurie Strode?"

Dr. Sartain gave a little shrug, as if he had not just dropped this , astounding, completely unfounded theory into their laps. "I cannot take all the credit. It was Michael's former doctor, Dr. Beckett, who came up with the germ of the idea. As I said, he hoped to tame the creature. This…" he gestured towards the visiting room, "…was his way of testing the theory."

Now the look Aaron exchanged with Dana was one of excitement. They had been looking for a new angle; well, now they had found one, something nobody had ever considered. It was almost melodramatic, a Beauty and Beast story… Michael Myers, man with a heart?

One thing was for certain: they had to speak with Laurie Strode.

"How often does she visit?" asked Aaron, pulling his eyes away from the sight. Inside the room, Laurie Strode had lowered her hand but was still leaning forward, speaking intently to her unmoving brother. Aaron searched her gaze for any sign of hostility, of hatred. The man she was sitting in front of, her own brother, had murdered just about all members of her biological and adoptive families, not to mention friends and classmates; surely there had to be some resentment on her end. Yet he could see no sign of it.

"She has come once a week for almost three years, usually during the regular visiting hours. Given Michael's impending transfer, we allowed her an exception today. Dr. Beckett has also bent the rules for her on, of course, Halloween; the day appears to be something of an anniversary for him. And she comes, quite faithfully. Fulfilling her duty, so to speak. Typically she will stay for half an hour, speaking with him-"

"With him?" Aaron interjected. "Does Michael Myers actually talk to her?" Had Myers broken his famous silence for his sister?

"As far as I am aware, he has not."

"Then-" What can she possibly talk about with him? was Aaron's unspoken question.

"On the rare occasions I've stepped into one of their visits, she has spoken about mundane details - her daily routine, her workplace, her children-"

"Children?" It was Dana who spoke, a note of shock in her voice.

Dr. Sartain nodded, still watching the scene before him. "It was Dr. Beckett's opinion that Michael needed an incentive to remain here - he was convinced that Michael could break out at any time, that he was simply choosing to stay, biding his time until he received some signal only he is privy to. The visits from his sister and, yes, her children, were intended as a reward for his… good behavior."

Aaron heard Dana let out a small breath; beside her, he shook his head, still stunned. Children… given Laurie Strode's age, they could not be older than ten years. And then there was that other disquieting thought… that there were more Myers family members running about…

"As you might expect," said Aaron, "both of us learned about the Michael Myers case through Dr. Loomis's two books. Yet it's surprisingly difficult to dig up more information, considering how recent his crimes were. And Dr. Loomis attributes little importance to Laurie Strode in his first book."

"Yes," Dr. Sartain mused. "The other sister, he called her."

The other sister reached out again, for the mask, Aaron thought at first – but no. Instead, she had brushed a hand over her brother's face, moving some strands of hair away. The gesture was almost tender. Loving. And completely at odds with where they were and who she was doing it to.

Who was this Laurie Strode?

Aaron tore his eyes unwillingly from the window. "Dr. Loomis's second book is only slightly more forthcoming. Apart from some known facts," birth dates, adoption, all the gory details of the attacks, "he characterizes Laurie Strode merely as a victim, though an important one."

Dr. Sartain nodded. "Dr. Loomis held the theory that Michael was specifically targeting his family. He had many theories as to why. That only by murdering his blood relations could he calm his rage. That Laurie Strode bore, to Michael's mind, a resemblance to Judith Myers, or possibly Deborah Myers, and he was re-enacting his first murder. That he acquired a sexual thrill from the killings, and from family members in particular. Thrill of the forbidden." He fingered his chin thoughtfully. "Michael's next doctor held the very opposite opinion, naturally. He felt Laurie Strode was the only person Michael might care about – the closest he can come to caring for anyone."

"And what do you think?"

Dr. Sartain paused a moment. Aaron and Dana waited on tenterhooks.

The doctor said, "I think… in fact, I believe… that Laurie Strode is the only link Michael Myers has to any goodness he has remaining in that soul of his."

Aaron let that hang – the perfect ending to any interview – as they watched Laurie Strode place a hand on Michael Myers's shoulder and stand.

His gaze followed her all the way out the door.


To be continued...