Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership over the Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, or Friday the 13th franchises. Each character is copyright to their respective owners.

CHAPTER XVII – Dr. Loomis

Candlelight lightly bathed two figures in the dark. One sitting on an old bed, the other embraced by the shadows, staring at one another. Charli knew that she should run, but the instinct of flight was simply not there. If anything, she was relieved that he was not who she would expect to terrorize her.

While Springwood was not his usual domain, the moment she had crossed the town's threshold, Michael had known Charli had returned home. Even though their interactions were few and brief, he had easily become attuned to her. He couldn't explain this particular ability of his, that instinctive knowing. It was the same with his little sister, allowing him to follow her, and finally end her life. It was like following the sound of one's heartbeat, each one was distinctive, and he knew each one.

Michael had considered following Charli to wherever she went, but deemed it pointless, knowing she'd come back. During her absence, he maintained his watch on her house, studying her family, particularly little Gabby. During the nights, he expected to be summoned by Charli to her dreams, having been cornered by Freddy again, but she didn't. He barely felt a pull each night, not strong enough to bring him there, but enough to get his attention. And for the first time in his life, he felt concern. Such a feeling bothered him, like everything else Charli had incited in him.

For his entire life, he was impassive to everything, his drive to kill fuelled by a rage he couldn't fathom, but he didn't question it, nor held any doubts about what he did. Never with his big sister, nor any of his little sister's friends and those who simply got in the way. Doubt was a very foreign concept to him, and to not have any was freeing. The irony was that, for Michael, it had served as a chain. He only came to learn that the moment his knife plunged into his younger sibling, that he was just a mindless puppet. Only two people had ever given him the gift of dubiety, Cynthia Myers and Charlotte Baines. This new found self-awareness was something he needed to explore before it slipped by him again. Cynthia was gone, but Charli was still here, now sitting in a shadow of his home, looking up at him with an expectant gaze.

"Hello, Michael,"she softly said, her smile halfhearted, eyes full of sadness.

Myers tilted his head sideways by a marginal degree, the movement so subtle that she nearly missed it. While her fear of him was minimal, she felt it necessary to at least look for his usual weapon of choice. Nowhere in sight, she assumed he had it hidden somewhere on his person, not that he actually needed it to hurt or kill her. His sheer strength alone was enough. Judging by his relaxed stance, Charli figured he wasn't out to get her at this point in time. Perhaps she could have a civilized talk with him, without the threat of injury or death. She didn't think her skull could handle anymore trauma.

Slowly, she shifted along the bed, moving closer to the corner, as if to give him some room, hugging her legs as she watched him. Michael inclined his head again, as though curious of her intentions. "Will you sit with me?" she asked.

So, Charli wanted to talk. Michael stared at the space left for him on the small bed, then stepped out of the shadows. The bed groaned under his weight as he sat, his back straight with half-curled fists resting on his thighs. It was odd to Charli, seeing him sit rather properly. She had expected him to take a seat with his back hunched over, head leaning down. The more she pondered over it, the more his current position seemed to fit him. He was on guard.

"As far as I can tell, he isn't here," she said softly, not certain as to whether she was answering a silent question, or if it was a reassurance. Michael turned his head a small fraction towards her, an indication that he was listening. Not wanting to think about Freddy, she immediately changed the subject. "Is this where you were living before we met?"

As per usual, Michael didn't respond, but he wasn't about to allow Charli to get away with avoiding the subject hanging between them. Charli barely had time to sense his intention before his hand snapped towards her arm, none-too-gently jerking her towards him, his firm grasp slightly twisting her limb. The teen nearly fell forward as she attempted to follow his lead to lessen the discomfort in her arm, barely catching herself as a free hand caught the overalls he wore. Her head shooting up, her breath caught when she realized how close their faces were, with Michael's eyes staring hard at her like black diamonds.

Feeling uncomfortable for a completely different reason, she grew angry, pushing against his chest. "Let go of me!"

The attempt to remove him did little to nothing to affect him. Instead, the next few seconds became a blur as Charli suddenly found herself pinned to the bed, Michael leaning over her, holding her left arm above her head. While momentarily winded by the sudden movement, Charli still managed to glare up at the masked killer. Furious, she was sorely tempted to remove that stupid piece of rubber, but then she was suddenly very aware of, and very distracted by, his other hand.

Rough fingertips grazed her cheek, following the outlines of the bags under her eyes. The girl stilled, not wanting to deter him and make him angry, thus take it out on her. Instead, she watched him distract himself with his own curiosity, which almost seemed innocent, when in actuality, she knew such simple gestures were really him asking questions. His eyes expressed his true emotions, even if his real face under the mask never changed appearance, while his touch was how he chose to communicate. Silence spoke volumes when it came to Michael Myers.

Right now, it felt like he was asking, How much sleep have you gotten?

Swallowing, she murmured to him, "He makes it difficult for me to have a decent night's sleep."

Those digits of his... If she was not already asleep, she would have found his touch almost soothing enough to make her doze off, which was why she was struggling to concentrate on speaking. Still, her exhaustion was prominent, so she closed her eyes, hoping her brain could shut down, at least for awhile. Michael watched her, loosening his grip on her arm before running a thumb over her scars, another wordless question. He wanted to know what had happened over the last couple of days.

Her reply came out easily, though tiredly, "He made me bring in people from the outside for him to kill, so he'd get stronger. He can't kill anyone in Springwood yet, because the town is unknowingly ingesting a drug that stops them from dreaming." The teen sighed, opening her eyes again, staring past Michael at a ceiling she couldn't quite see. " Even if they weren't, people who already know about him would immediately suspect him, and they'd essentially treat him as they did before and banish his influence. I'm immune to the drug, and as you're well aware of already, I can pull people into my dreams. What are the chances of that happening? One in a million? A billion?"

The revelation simply made her feel like crying again, and so the tears from before resumed, streaming down to her ears and disappearing into her splayed out hair. This time, her misery was expressed quietly while her chest simply hurt. Michael stilled his fingers, his usually vacant face now pulling his brows together under the mask, forming a puzzled wrinkle above the bridge of his nose, darkened eyes glittering with something belonging solely to him. For once, Michael knew where his rage was coming from.

His next question took shape when his hand moved to the side of her face, cradling it in his palm as his thumb wiped away her tears. The moment he did, Charli stared at him with a startled look. He could understand, as he wasn't known as someone who could be gentle, let alone act like he actually cared. Did he care? History would normally dictate the answer as no, but no one truly understood Michael, not even the doctor who tried to break through to him for fifteen years. Michael didn't really understand his recent behaviour either.

The walls Charli had built up to guard herself from being broken down by those like Freddy, already full of cracks due to being manipulated to obey his whims, crumbled under the simple comfort offered by Michael. Feeling overwhelmed, salty rivers flowed more freely as her voice cracked, "Why me? Why did it have to be me? I can't deal with this. I'm so tired... All I want to do is sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see him, and even when he's not here, I feel him! And because of him, I've been living in fear for myself, my friends, my family, and people that I'm helping him kill!"

The teen put the heels of her palms to her eyes, frustrated for a multitude of reasons, and trying to will her eyes to stop fucking leaking. She felt pathetic, weak...worthless. It finally happened. Freddy had thoroughly broke her, and it only took a small kindness from Michael to finally push her over the edge. Unfortunately, the tears refused to stop, and her body shook as she sobbed. The more she cried, the more her frustration expanded, making her feel worse in a vicious and endless circle. As it went on, she hiccoughed, and in an attempt to stop it all, she bit her bottom lip, almost hard enough that she would soon break the skin.

Michael was at a complete loss, much like when he had found her, curled up in terror because of thunder of all things. Screams of fear was something he could deal with, as he usually just silenced them anyway, but a teenage girl he needed to keep alive suffering from an emotional breakdown? That was a whole new ballgame. All he wanted was for her to stop crying and wailing, but he didn't know how to go about it.

Getting irritated, he grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from her face, jarring her enough to cease her episode. Charli looked up at him with her puffy eyes, hiccoughing once before going completely silent. Satisfied, Michael lightened his grasp again. Realizing she hadn't answered his previous question, he just stared at her meaningfully, expecting her to grasp it this time. Her dark pools stared back, and he could see the way she was hesitating.

Why didn't you call on me? To Michael, it was clear that Charli needed Michael's protection, but had chosen not to utilize that. He needed to know why.

After a long pause, she finally answered, "He's getting stronger. He nearly killed you last time. If I bring you in again, he might succeed this time. The more souls I bring him, the more powerful he gets. There isn't any point to calling you."

Though her logic was sound, Michael didn't feel satisfied. The answer she gave felt...empty, only creating more questions. Being a multiple murderer, his life shouldn't even carry any weight to someone like her. Anyone else in her position who was sane would have freely taken advantage of using him to further extend their own life. It brought back those feelings of uncertainty in him. Was it possible that she pitied him? A stone-cold killer? With those weird abilities of hers, could she sense what was really going on his head?

Before more could be exchanged between them, something nagged at the back of his mind. Something familiar. He went still, focusing on the latest distraction, completely ignoring the girl. Whatever it was, it was far too tame to be a threat, unlike Freddy. Wary of his sudden change in demeanour, Charli watched him, half-expecting him to lash out at her like before. Fortunately, he didn't, but it still alarmed her.

As she went to ask what was wrong, the words died on her lips, as though losing all control, the sound disappearing. Her sight turned to blackness, Michael's mask fading from her vision. Sound returned slowly, muffled, becoming clearer by the second as a voice roused her. It was masculine, making her briefly wonder if Michael had spoken. As her mind cleared itself of sleep, she inwardly reminded herself that Michael didn't speak, and that the voice she was hearing was actually her father's, accompanied by the sound of banging on her bedroom door.

"Charlotte! Get down here at once!" Mason demanded. Charli could barely hear her mother trying to calm him down. "God dammit, Claire, I've had enough with her behaviour as of late! I'm ending this once and for all for her own good!"

Still lying in bed, slightly dazed from her short nap, Charli stared blankly into space, her pillow still held to her bosom like some sort of lifeline. It was surprisingly easy to ignore her father, recalling the dream she shared with Michael. It was surprisingly devoid of Freddy's presence, and Michael had been...reasonably civil, which seemed strange to her. It struck her as uncharacteristic, yet everything she sensed from him wasn't influenced by an outside source this time around. And what was with his sudden distraction?

Continuing to ignore her old man, the teen got up, gathering a couple of things from her wardrobe and bag before heading down the steps. The voices on the other side ceased as she unlocked the door, opening it to reveal her parents. The brunette barely regarded her father, who was clearly ready to explode, blatantly walking past him, heading for the bathroom.

"Don't walk away from me, Charlotte!" She paused, but didn't turn back. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, young lady!"

Charli was too tired to give a single fuck about his inevitable scolding. "Dad," she began quietly, surprising Mason into listening, "I'm taking a shower. I'm exhausted from the trip, so if you're going to yell at me, spare me 'til after dinner. I'm not in the mood to listen or care."

Without waiting for an answer, she simply resumed her trek to the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind her. Oddly, Mason had said nothing, which was a first. Her father had always been the type to jump the gun. Shout now and ask questions later. It was a wonder how he was directly related to her grandparents, Faye and Noel. It brought to mind the whole argument of nature versus nurture.

The girl remained in the bathroom for half an hour. Half that was spent soaking under the spray, the other half spent drying her hair and then staring at herself in the mirror, the whole time pondering over Michael Myers. Dinner was made by the time she went downstairs, and the family ate, conversing little. She helped her mother clean the dishes, as sort of an apology to making Claire worry. It wasn't until the kitchen was completely tidied that Mason approached her. As she put away the last dish, she sensed him behind her, and sighed as quietly as she could manage, already weary from the words they would exchange.

Mason waited until she was facing him before speaking firmly, "From this point until further notice, with the exception of school and your job, you're to remain home at all times." At this, she gave a very pronounced frown. "You will no longer hang around those kids you think are your friends." Now she was about to protest, but he continued resolutely, "You will not even talk to them. And to make sure you don't, I'll be calling their parents."

"That's not—!"

"Fair? Oh, I think it's completely fair. I've been putting up with this behaviour from you for long enough, Charlotte. They're a terrible influence, and I won't have them manipulating my daughter any longer."

Shaking with anger, Charli glared at him with a cold gaze. "They've done more for me than you could know! If you keep me from my friends, I'll truly be on my own! I hardly have the strength as is to face it!"

"Face what? What could you possibly be afraid of? That monster from Halloween?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

"My nightmares!"

Blood ran cold, and she turned away from her father's quizzical gaze, leaning over the sink and staring out the window. She hadn't meant to say it. It was a taboo subject that she didn't want her family privy to, particularly her dad for a couple of reasons. Firstly, he was originally going to be targeted by Freddy when he was but a child, simply out of Freddy's jealousy. Second, she figured he would think she needed professional help. He already thought she was acting strangely. Though, who was to say she didn't need it at this point? If she actually survived 'til the end, she was probably going to need therapy to recover.

With a long sigh, Mason came up behind her, hesitantly placing hands on her shoulders. She tried not to shudder, as such physical contact reminded her of Krueger's bad touch. "I won't pretend to understand what exactly is going on with you, but that's why your mother and I are here; to listen."

Shrugging him off gently, she turned to face him, making eye contact. "That's the problem, dad; you don't listen. But, even if I explained everything, I doubt you guys would understand, or you'd freak out. And frankly, it's better that you don't know. You'll sleep better."

He shook his head. "Now who's being unfair? Charlotte, you're not giving us a chance to understand. You're going around with these friends, a lot of the time behind our backs, making us worry about whether or not you're dead, since there's a psycho running around out there. It's like you don't trust us."

Her dark gaze lowered. "It's not you I don't trust..." Well, that was half-true. "I know you just want to protect me, but sometimes I can't help but think that'll just do more harm than good. Ground me if you want, but I'm not going to just stop seeing my friends. If I stay cooped up in this house, I'll go crazy." She was already barely hanging onto her sanity by her fingernails. Walking around him, she headed to leave, saying in finality, "I have school tomorrow. Goodnight." She left, leaving her father to cross his arms and shake his head.

The drive had been long, even longer to settle into the motel room and calm his nerves with some liquor. Loomis slept through the night, restlessly, and by morning, he was jittery again, the alcohol having worn off. Though it left behind a small headache, and thus he took some medication. By the time he got to the school, the headache was gone, but his nervousness was doubled.

The retired doctor stepped into the main office, greeted by the secretary, "Good morning."

"Good morning," he replied in kind with a nod.

"And how may I help you?"

He stepped up to the counter, resting on arm on it to lean against. His leg was starting to hurt already. "Yes, my name is Dr. Samuel Loomis. I was sent down here by my superiors so that I could speak with some of your students. Is, perhaps, the principal and the school counsellor around? I'd like to discuss my reasons being here with them."

Understanding, she got up, heading over to a door. "I'll call them on the PA system. Hopefully they'll be able to come to the office as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

With that, she stepped into what he could see as a small room with a sound panel. Within a moment, her voice came on through the speakers, echoing throughout the hallways, "Would Principle Shaye, and Dr. Warner please report to the main office. I repeat, would Principle Shaye, and Dr. Warner please report to the main office. Thank you." After a minute, she came out again, sending Loomis a smile, which he returned. "They should be along shortly. Just take a seat."

"Thank you." And he sat, waiting barely five minutes before the first man showed up, being the principle.

"I was called?" he said.

"Yes, Mr. Shaye," his secretary affirmed. "There's a doctor here who wishes to speak with you and a few students. Dr. Loomis, this is Wesley Shaye, the principle."

Sam stood, shaking the man's hand. "A pleasure, sir. When the counsellor arrives, I'd like to discuss certain matters in a private setting. Your office, perhaps?"

"Of course."

When Warner arrived and introductions were out of the way, Shaye brought them both into his office, the trio taking their seats. Loomis started off by stating where he came from, and then why he was here. He explained the story of Michael Myers, watching their faces gradually change from intrigue to discomfort. Knowing about Myers and what he had done, it made the pair anxious, yet, much to Loomis' own fascination, they almost appeared...relieved?

"Curious," he said, "you two seem as though you're glad it could be Michael."

"Oh, no," Shaye quickly denied, going on to explain, "it's just Springwood has...a bad history, one no one would like to relive again. You understand, of course?"

Though perplexed, Loomis nodded. "Of course."

Warner spoke up then, having been listening quietly and intently to Loomis' anecdote, "Isn't this a matter for you to discuss with the police?"

"They're already well aware of my presence here. I'm here just as a consultant, as I am, officially, retired. As Michael's former doctor, my colleague thought it would be best to send me to Springwood. If it isn't Michael, then I simply return to Haddonfield."

"What if it is Myers?" Shaye asked.

At this, Loomis gave them a meaningful pause. "Then I will do everything I can to help the police capture him. He isn't like those other killers, who are just men in the end. He isn't human. I once shot Michael six times to save a young girl from meeting the same fate as her friends that night. I looked away for but a moment, and when I looked back, he was gone. Months later, he found her, finishing what he started."

"You mentioned that he disappeared," Warner put in. "Judging by what you told us, Myers follows a particular modus operandi. He murdered both sisters, and with his entire family deceased, it makes no sense for him to come all the way to Springwood. I mean, why would he come out of hiding and come here?"

"That I cannot tell you," the retiree admitted, "as I do not know. If Michael is really here, I intend to find out why. Therefore it's essential that I speak with these children, the ones who were attacked. I would like to help your town capture him before more lives are lost."

Both men gave each other looks before Mr. Shaye turned back to Loomis. "As much as I would be willing to let you speak with them, it's not my place to do so without their parents' consent."

"Not to mention the fact they've had enough to deal with," Warner added. "It was a traumatizing experience, being attacked and surviving the encounter. They're lucky to be alive. And Miss Baines..." he hesitated.

"What about her?" Loomis asked somewhat impatiently, irritated that he was being rebuffed.

"She's under a great deal of stress," he said finally. "As I'm professionally and personally bound to strict patient confidentiality, I cannot go into detail without her permission."

Though frustrated, Loomis replied, "I understand."

After all was said and done, the retired doctor, having been told to speak to the parents instead, went to the police station. While he was already informed, the sheriff was reluctant to believe the boogeyman was in town. According to him, there was no way Michael Myers would travel all this way just to kill a few teenagers. It wasn't plausible, but to Loomis, pure evil didn't need rhyme or reason. As he spoke with the sheriff about speaking with the parents of the survivors, he also tried to learn where the killings happened. He also asked about whether there were houses hidden in the trees, or if others had gone missing.

Having learned all he could, he went on his own in his car rental, driving off to the forest first. Following the directions given to him, he eventually found the clearing, the area having already been swept for evidence. Getting out, he immediately felt like he was being watched, sending a chill down his back. Leaves crunched under his shoes, the cool wind blowing softly. His dull blue pools peered into the thick of the woods, looking for any sign of a presence.

"I know you're here, Michael. Watching me. I can feel it in my bones. I've known you since you were six years old. Fifteen years is a long time to get to know someone...and how they think." He waited, naturally receiving no response. "It's been over eight years since that night you went trick or treating. You must have had a lot of time to think, and yet you haven't changed. What was it about your sister, Judith? And then Laurie? Or do you prefer to call her Cynthia?"

As Loomis' gut told him, Michael stood amongst the trees, keeping to the darkest shades, which wasn't difficult, as the days were growing darker with winter approaching. He gave the old doctor a once-over, seeing that little has changed. He was balder, and the limp was more prominent, but those instincts were as sharp as ever. It didn't surprise the killer that his old hospital had gotten wind of his presence here, and even less surprising, they sent Loomis to make certain that he was whom they hoped he was not.

"You knew I would come, didn't you? Because you know me too. Who do you pursue now, Michael? Is it one of those kids? I've looked, Michael. None of them have any blood relation to you. So why?" Sam knew that man wouldn't answer. Michael had not spoken since he murdered Judith. "Who is it? Is it Evangeline?" Michael was in the midst of moving to another shadow when Loomis then said, "Charlotte?" The shape stopped, and Loomis sensed a small shift in the air, as though Michael's mood affected it. So, it's that girl. I'll need to speak with her, and get her out of danger.

If only Loomis knew. It wasn't Michael that chose to come here. However, he wasn't about to let the doctor get in his way. See, he knew how Loomis thought and what he planned to do. Loomis couldn't protect Charli. Not from Michael, and certainly not from Freddy. Perhaps he'd let the old man try, but knew in the end he'd fail. Charli's words echoed in his thoughts, words that claimed even he was no match for someone like Freddy. While he knew she said it out of logic, Michael took it as a personal challenge. He had not only survived impossible odds against men, but also the threat of a supernatural being. He was much stronger than anyone gave him credit for.

"I won't let you have that girl as you did your sisters, Michael."

Hearing such a claim puzzled the masked man. Upon retrospect, he supposed Loomis had sound reason to believe that Michael intended on killing Charli. He likely still would once the situation with Freddy was over, but the thought had hardly crossed his mind as of late. Something about her calmed him whenever she was near. At times, her gentle touch reminded him of a past long forgotten, before that night over two decades ago. As a result, her tears were starting to affect him, the memory of their last shared dream causing his fists to tighten, knuckles turning white from the strain.

"Please leave, Michael. Leave these poor people alone. Wasn't Haddonfield enough?" the doctor begged, his plea woven with desperation and exhaustion, but his words would not reach Michael. They never would. They both knew that, and Loomis felt like he was only talking to a ghost of the past, one that would never answer him. Weary from this one-sided conversation, Loomis' tense shoulders drooped down, before the old man turned towards the car, feeling Michael's eyes, even long after he had left the forest.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Eva asked Charli for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Naturally, Charli was pretty sick of it after only the second time her friend asked. "Every time you ask me that, my okay-level drops a point," she replied somewhat testily. Charli had grown tired of wallowing in misery from the last couple of days. Her well of tears had dried up for the time being. "So, for the last time, would you please stop asking me?"

Defeated, Eva flailed her hands. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry. I can't help worrying about you. The weekend was, to say at the very least, pretty fucking rough."

Nick and Logan lingered behind a few paces while the four of them walked from school. Eva gave them explicit instructions not to get too close, for Charli's own comfort. The goth had met with Charli in the girl's bathroom between classes, asking for more details on what happened, learning that Freddy had made another lustful advance towards Charli. Suddenly, all the misery she felt over Stephanie made sense, so Eva promised not to bring it up with the guys for now. That had led to her constantly asking Charli if she was okay. And though she insisted she was fine, the three of them had decided to escort Charli home from now on.

They were closing in on Elm Street when Charli stopped, watching as a car drove by. The others also watching, none of them recognizing the man behind the wheel. He slowed to a stop at the intersection of Elm and Almont, looking at the street signs before turning left onto Elm. Having a peculiar feeling about that man, Charli cautiously continued, turning the corner to see the rental vehicle stopping in front of her house.

"You know him?" Logan asked.

When she shook her head, Nick then questioned, "What does he want at your house?"

"He could be a cop," Eva suggested.

"I don't think so," Charli finally said. "I think he's a doctor."

"How do you know that?" Logan asked again.

"She has the ability to just know things. Remember?" Eva exclaimed.

"Right, right..."

"Well, what does he want?" Nick reiterated.

"To talk to me," Charli realized. Did it have to with the murders over the weekend? No, the man would have been a cop.

Feeling anxious about that, Eva placed her hands on Charli's shoulders in a slightly protective manner. "Do you think it's someone who knows about Freddy?"

The thought had definitely crossed Charli's mind. Warner was on her long list of those she didn't trust. Perhaps he believed her mental health was deteriorating and called in a higher-up. She did mention having trouble sleeping. Inwardly, she cursed at her slip-up. Her father might have been too young to remember or know Freddy, so she thought it doubtful he'd call a doctor for that reason.

"I don't think you should go home," Eva suggested. "Maybe I'm being paranoid, but..."

Logan nodded. "I agree."

Charli turned to her friends. "I appreciate the concern guys, but I don't think I have to worry about that man. He's not from Springwood. I don't know his reason for being here, but I doubt he came here to collect me and put me away."

While that was a lie, as she said it, it felt like the truth. She didn't know whether he was here because of Freddy or not, but she knew he was connected to something, much like her. It only made her inclined to find out what that something is. Perhaps he could help her.

"I'm going in," she decided. "I'll talk to you guys later."

Bidding their reluctant farewells, the trio watched as Charli trekked towards her house, the man standing in front of her door, having already knocked. She stood at her gate, taking the moment to observe him from afar. He was elderly, shorter than the average man, and bald atop his head. From what she could see, his leg had been horribly broken at one point, giving him a permanent limp.

He knocked again, pressing the doorbell afterwards. "If you're looking for my parents," she began, passing through the gate, her voice causing him to turn around, "they're at work."

Loomis was surprised to see the teenager at first, but then thought this was a golden opportunity to speak with her without police or parents hovering close-by. "Actually, if you're Charlotte Baines, I'd much rather speak with you." She stopped before the steps, looking up at him with dark eyes that somewhat reminded him of Michael, but hers were not tainted by evil. "I'm Dr. Sam Loomis. Is it alright if we speak? Inside, perhaps?"

"I've been taught not to talk to strangers, let alone invite them into my house." For now, she was testing him, to see if he was here for nefarious reasons. So far, he was not ringing any alarm bells. "What do you want?"

She was guarded, he noticed. Post-trauma, most likely. He inwardly shook his head. He wasn't here to analyze her, He was here for Michael, and if possible, to stop him. "I've been sent here by my superiors to determine whether the man that attacked you on Halloween is in fact a former patient of mine."

At this, a different bell rung loudly, one of revelation. This man wasn't here because of Freddy at all! "You're...from Haddonfield," she murmured too quietly for him to hear. Watching her steel her features, Loomis clearly heard her tell him to, "Leave."

A/N: I think I'll leave it there. So, no time-skip yet, but soon for sure. Had a bit of a struggle with this chapter. If things go as planned, hopefully I'll have an easier time writing the next one. I'm sure some would argue that Michael is incapable of having any attachment to anybody. Keep in mind, this is an alternate-universe that combines bits and pieces of the original movies and remakes. Also, this is a fanfic, I can do what I want! MY Michael looks and experiences human emotion like in the remakes, while his past is similar to the classic movies.

I switched the story category back from being labelled as "crossover" to regular, because let's face it, crossovers don't get a lot of traffic in comparison. And Freddy's the main antagonist, so it's mostly a NoES story anyway. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed. Please leave a review/follow/favourite! Until next chapter!