A/N: I was having some problems with my other account so I have decided to move everything over to this account. I could not get onto to my other one, XxScriboxX, and the email attached to that one was deleted so I could not get my password. I am just going to delete it (because I did get back on, but already made this one, and do not want two accounts).

I plan on continuing this story soon.

Thanks to those who have stuck around and those of you who are new! ENJOY!

1990. September 22nd

Dr. Charlotte Hurst had arrived at Danvers State Mental Hospital only one hour before her first session with the notorious killer Michael Myers. She had been contacted by the hospital for the criminally insane after her most recent book on the inner mental workings of Psychopaths and Sociopaths made the best sellers list. She had been the leader in the field of the criminally insane and at the young age of twenty five. She had been the youngest graduate ever of Stanford University and had published some of the most ground breaking and controversial research since Bandura and Freud.

When doctor after doctor failed to get through to Michael Myers the medical review board at Danver's decided calling in the impressive, if young, Psychotherapist couldn't hurt. They had nothing to lose at any rate. She came into the building with a bright, excited smile. Only moments after setting her things down in her new office she asked to see her newest patient. When she entered the small room she saw the man, thirty three years in age, secured tightly to the arms of his chair. A table was placed directly in front of him and he was staring at it blankly.

"If you could leave us alone, please," Charlotte said as three other doctors followed her in.

"Dr. Hurst, this is a very dangerous man," Dr. Hirsch told her and she smiled softly.

"I understand that, but he is secured, you may watch through that window there, and he has no weapon. Please. I know what I am doing," she said and the three older men looked at each other but soon nodded and slowly left the room. Charlotte turned with a satisfied smile and placed her things on the table. "Hello, Michael."

The man in question said nothing but continued to stare down at the table with a vacant expression. Charlotte sat down and looked across form him. In her hand was a pen and she scribbled down initial observations as they sat in silence.

Non-responsive. Cold. Vacant expression. Little/no activity in eyes. Shoulders set firmly. Head hung low.

"Do you think you will talk to me Michael?" she asked and he did nothing. Charlotte tapped her pen on her notebook. "Do you need anything Michael?"

The slightest movement of his eyes caught her attention and she bit the inside of her cheek. Eye movement at offer for aid/sustenance/help.

"I can get you something. More blankets? Better food perhaps?" she asked again. He remained still. Breathing quickens. "Michael?"

The man in front of her jerked in his restraints and the entire chair, which had been bolted down onto the floor, shook. Charlotte raised her hand toward the two way mirror to her left. She didn't want the doctors running inside and shutting everything down. He jerked a few for more times before he sat still and Charlotte scribbled down in her notebook.

Violent reaction.

"Michael, I'm here to help you," she said gently. His head jerked to the side and he looked down at the floor in front of him. Charlotte watched him a few moments before standing and collecting her things. "My name is Doctor Charlotte Hurst. You can call me Charlotte if you like. Or Lottie, my friends call me Lottie and I would like to be friends with you Michael."

She smiled at him but he continued to stare blankly at the floor. When she exited the interview room a few of the doctors approached her with angry or troubled expressions. She waited patiently for them to speak.

"You shouldn't speak to him like that," Dr. Hirsch said.

"Like what?" She asked and placed her hand in her white coat jackets.

"Like he's…" Dr. Hirsch paused a moment and Dr. Larson finished for him.

"Human," the doctor said and Charlotte laughed.

"He is a human being, gentlemen," she said and looked at her notes. "You'll never reach him if you treat him like a psychopath. Psychopaths, they don't think of themselves in those terms. If I am to get anywhere I need to reach into what is inside of him."

"There's nothing there, Miss Hurst," the arrogant Dr. Hanson said and Charlotte smiled coolly.

"It's Doctor Hurst thanks, and there is something, otherwise he would not be alive," she said. "As evil as it may be, there's something inside of that man. Good day Gentlemen. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Charlotte walked past the three doctors and into her office. Her office was a modest size, but not uncomfortable. She was used to being the new doctor on sites and was always given the worst accommodations. It was ok with her, as long as she could work she was happy. She wrote out her first report on prisoner W31-3691-78, also known as Michael Myers. He had been different than she had imagined him. The horror stories she had heard gave birth to a vision of a large, brutal, savage looking man with the look of pure evil about him. Michael Myers though, the man she had seen, was tall and well built, but nothing monstrous, and he didn't look evil. He looked vacant.

There was nothing all that remarkable about him. His hair was a dull walnut color, and his face was that of a normal, almost plain man. We he not her patient, she might even say he was handsome. His eyes though, they did give her something to think about. They were a dark, deep brown that some could mistake for almost black. She would not, however, say they were absolutely void. There was little there, no surface emotion could be seen within them, but there was thought going on behind his eyes.

What he was thinking, that was the frightening part. She had written an article on Michael Myers, based on police reports and other books written by his previous doctors and was viciously attacked by Dr. Loomis on her findings. The Dr. had his mind sent on the man being a void of emotion, evil incarnate. Charlotte didn't believe that. There was always something more going on beneath the surface. That is why she got into psychology in the first place. To understand what made people tick. And Michael Myers, he had to be the most interesting case she had ever, and ever hoped to, come across. And she certainly wouldn't let these others doctors interfere with her work. Their methods had obviously not worked. She would be damned if they made her bend to their view of psychological medicine.

Charlotte sighed as she finished writing her report. Couple more hundred of those and she might be able to write something substantial. She just needed to be patient. She'd get through that surface eventually.

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Charlotte walked into the interview room to see Michael seated in his chair with his head down. When Charlotte sat down at the table Michael's eyes moved upward slightly so he would watched her in his peripheral.

"Hello Michael," she said as she sat down and placed her things on the table. "Think you are going to talk to me today?"

He said nothing and Charlotte opened a folder on the table. She took out a few photographs and placed them face down a few feet away from him. His eyes scanned over the pictures slowly but he made no other move.

"Did you sleep well Michael?" Again she was met with silence. She scribbled down some notes and flipped over one of the photos. It was placed directly in front of Michael and she saw his eyes move back and first across the photograph. It was subtle. If you were not looking for a reaction it would not be seen but it was there.

Reaction to photo of mother

"Do you remember her Michael?" she asked and he looked down from the photo. His body stayed so still the doctors watching from the other side of the glass thought she was getting no response. "I bet it hurt that she never came to visit you. Did it?"

His hands curled into slight fists on the chair. Again, so subtle that those who thought he was a monster void of emotion would miss it. His short hair fell forward to cover his forehead.

"Were you sad or angry Michael?" she asked. "Please speak to me? I'm not like these others doctors you know. I know you're a person too."

His eyes shifter to the left and she was quiet a moment. When she flipped over the other photo he looked away again. He refused to even look at the one of his only living sister. She was with him forty minutes when she decided to leave. Before she closed the door behind her she turned her head to get one last glance at her new patient. To her utter excitement and budding fear he was looking right at her.

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September 29th, 1990

"I'd like to observe him in his room," Charlotte said as she left their seventh session together. She had been at Danver's a week and had not yet seen his holding cell.

"That can't be done," Dr. Larson said and Charlotte raised an eyebrow.

"And why not?" she asked crossing her arms. "He is my patient. I should have full access to him."

"You would, if he were not so dangerous. He's escaped two mental facilities before-"

"Yes, a minimum security and while he was being transferred. He will not escape simply because I am watching him in his rooms. I also," she said before he could respond. "want to have my sessions in his room. He will be more comfortable in there. More likely to open up to me."

"Dr. I hate to say this but he will not open up. There is nothing in that man. He's empty." Charlotte smiled shrugged.

"I'll be there to observe him twelve to one tomorrow. I will then speak to him in his room from one to two thirty," she said and turned to walk away.

"Dr. Hurst please. Speaking to him, at him for so long, it could trigger something."

"Isn't that what I want?" she asked as she walked away. "Any reaction is better than none."

"You're playing with fire girl!" Larson called and Charlotte stopped walking. Her jaw clenched and she stalked back to the older man angrily.

"I don't care if you dislike my methods, Doctor, but I do care when you disrespect me so blatantly. I'm as much a doctor as you are. Now you back off and let me deal with my patient as I see fit. I'll be at his room for observation noon tomorrow. If you still feel the need to supervise me, then be there."

She walked away from the silent, simmering doctor angrily and slammed the door to her office when she arrived. They thought she wouldn't be able to reach Michael Myers. She'd show them.

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September

Michael sat unmoving in his room the entire hour Charlotte watched him. He sat in his chair, his flimsy robe wrapped tightly around him, staring at the wall in front of him, just as Dr. Loomis had described in his books. Charlotte couldn't stand Dr. Loomis. He did nothing to try to help the sick man and instead only attempted to make money off of him. She shook he head to herself as she watched Michael. He looked, to her, so normal. She would read the police reports at night to remind herself what he was capable of. She wouldn't allow herself to become delusional, to think that the man was good. No. Her argument was that there was something there, that something wasn't necessarily good.

"I'm ready to go in," she told the guard and he nodded. Dr. Larson had decided not to come supervise. The guard opened the door first and drew a baton that was at his side. She realized a taser was fastened to the end of the baton.

"Alright Myers, stand up and get onto the restraint chair," he said and the man stayed seated. "Myers, get up. Now!"

"Michael," Charlotte said and his head turned to the side slightly, as if to hear better. "Please do as the man says."

Michael stayed seated for a few moments. When the guard was about to yell again he stood from the small wooden chair and walked over slowly to the one that had multiple, padded restraints on it. Charlotte would guess he was around six two, a tall man but nothing extraordinary. Even without superhuman height, he towered over her smaller frame and Charlotte took a small step back. When he was seated he placed his arms on the arms of the chairs and placed his palms down at the edge as he was supposed to. Charlotte stared at his hands as the guard strapped down his legs, arms, chest and abdomen to the chair.

"You can wait outside," Charlotte said when the guard was done and he frowned.

"I don't think I should. He's-"

"tied up…please," she said and he nodded reluctantly, heading out of the room. "Can I sit in your chair Michael?" she asked and took the chair he had been sitting in. She moved it so it was placed in front of him. He said nothing but moved his eyes up toward her. She had come to believe that meant he was ok with something. He still had yet to speak, and she doubted he ever would at this point; it had been over two decades since he had after all. But he had started making eye contact with her, but only when she asked him questions. When he glanced up at her she smiled and took her seat. Once she had he looked back down at the floor. He tugged gently on the restraints, as if tested them, and Charlotte looked at him nervously. When he settled back down she let out a breath and smiled.

"It's cold in here, isn't it?" she asked and he looked at her a moment. "I'll get you more blankets. Your gown is too thin for this temperature."

She stood from her chair, unaware that his eyes were following her. She walked over to his bed and looked up at the vent in the ceiling. A frown covered her lips and she tilted her head.

"Well that's not right," she said and reached up toward the vent. Her finger tips just managed to push the slide over and the heat began pumping into the room. "Your vent was turned off." She told him as she took her seat again. She crossed her legs and looked at Michael who was looking at the ground. "I wish you would talk to me Michael."

She looked around the small white room and smiled sadly. She couldn't imagine such an abominable existence. She almost pitied him. Almost.

"Would you like to watch some TV Michael? I could get you some TV time if you wanted?" she asked but Michael kept his eyes on the floor. She's worked with children before and when they looked at the floor it was usually in an act of submission, but when Michael did it, it was as if he were just waiting. Waiting for what she didn't know. She watched him, attempted to coax sometime of reaction from him but nothing happened. He stared at the floor the full hour and a half she spoke with him. When she looked at her watch and saw it was two thirty she sighed and got up. "I'll see you tomorrow Michael. I'll see what I can do about that TV." She said and left the room.

Michael's eyes raised form the floor as she turned her back to him and watched her leave. Only one thing was circulating around his mind for the rest of the night. He barely registered the guard fastening him down to the bed for the night. His mind was stuck on one thing only.

Lottie

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October 5th 1990

"What's this I heard about you sending a TV into Myers' room for a few hours?" Dr. Larson asked as he entered Charlotte's office. Her hair was in a messy bun and she had put on no makeup. She had fallen asleep at her office trying to finish her latest report on Michael and woke up stiff and sore.

"He needs stimulation," Charlotte said and rubbed her eyes.

"Stimulation is the last thing he needs," Larson snapped.

"I was called in here with the understanding that I could study him as I saw fit. As long as no one was put in danger I could do what I wanted with him. Well, if I am to figure out how he works I need to get him interacting with people. Watching TV may help things," she told him and rubbed her forehead.

"Well, I have sent in a formal complaint to the head of Danver's Medical review team. I've requested your immediate job termination."

"Why would you do such a thing?" she asked him horrified and he scowled at her.

"You don't understand that thing. Your just a little girl way above her head. You should be hearing from the board within the week. Good day," he said and shut the door. Charlotte was left alone and she looked down at the reports in front of her. She had gotten so far and done so much work in such a short amount of time. The knowledge that that could soon be all over sent a wave of desperation and depression to wash over her and she laid her head down on her reports and cried.

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October 7th, 1990

Charlotte packed a small stack of her most important things to move out. Everything else would be shipped to her soon after she vacated the premises. Because it was such a high security hospital she was required to leave immediately. As Charlotte walked out of her office she passed a smug Dr. Larson who leaned against a wall with his arms crossed arrogantly across his chest. Charlotte said nothing, but scowled at him as she passed him. As she left the hospital she felt a sense of loss at no longer being able to speak to the notorious Michael Myers.

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October 10th, 1990

Lottie hadn't come to see him in three days. The first day he felt the budding sense of annoyance at being left in his room all day alone. They had taken the TV from his room in the middle of his promised hour and he was told Dr. Hurst, Lottie, would not be coming to speak to him today. He at first assumed them to be liars. The doctors, nurses, guards, they always lied to him. Not Lottie though and she promised him TV time. She also told him the day before she would see him tomorrow.

He waited the next day for her to come back and talk to him. Despite having no windows and no clocks he could tell the time of day quite easily. He knew breakfast meant morning, lunch meant afternoon, dinner meant evening. Lottie came to him between lunch and dinner. When Dinner came, and Lottie had not come see him he had grown angry and thrown his dinner at the guard as he retreated from the room. The guard hit him a few times with his baton before leaving him alone with no food for the night.

Today he finished his lunch and set it by the door as he was expected to before going back down to his chair. He waited until his dinner came before he once again felt the urge to kill pump through him. Whenever someone opened the door to his cell, and it was not his Lottie, he felt his anger jump a level.

Where's Lottie

He kept repeating it over and over in his head waiting for an answer but none came. He tightened his hands around the arms of his chair until his knuckles were tight and white.

Where was Lottie?

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October 13th, 1990

11 P.M

An alarm ran rang through the halls of Danvers at 11 P.M Friday night. Three Guards had been found dead, they skulls crushed against the concrete walls of the basement cell walls. When the lead Doctors discovered the bodies they immediately sent guards to Myers' room but he was nowhere to be found. The door was left ajar and his outer hospital robe was on the floor soaked with blood.

11:21

Michael found the small room that still had the name Dr. Charlotte Hurst written on the window. He nearly ripped the handle from the door in order to open the door and he flicked the lights on. He looked around the empty room before approaching the desk. Her things were still scattered about but he could tell she had not been there for a while. Everything was in perfect order and her little day calendar had not been flipped since the tenth. He glanced over the desk once more and spotted a small picture on the desk.

Lottie was in the picture along with another woman he didn't know nor care about. He picked the picture up and titled his head. With one fluid motion he ripped the picture in half so only Lottie remained. Satisfied he kept the photo in his hand and headed for the door.

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11:35

Larson got the call just as he finished his report on prisoner H11-4691-79 when his door burst open. He nearly fell from his chair when he looked over to see the blank face of Michael Myers in the door way. He reached for the phone but before he could react Myers ripped the cord form the wall rendering it useless.

The killer approached him and Larson shrunk back into his chair raising his hands in self-defense. He was momentarily dumb struck when a photo was shoved in his face and he looked up at the killer. Determination covered his face.

"What-wha-"

The Killer shook his hand and brought the photo closer to the doctor before pointing at it with the other. The doctor nodded. His breathing had become heavy and he was sweaty profusely.

"Dr. Hurst? Yes, she, she was fired," he said and Michael looked at the picture.

Fired?

"She isn't here anymore," he said and Michael crumpled the picture onto a ball in frustration. "What-"

Before the doctor could speak Myer's picked up the phone from the table and began to beat the arrogant doctor over the head brutally. Blood splattered across the room and onto the Killer's gown. Once the life had gone from the doctor Myers looked at him a moment. He could hear the ringing of the siren but he was not concerned. Instead of hurrying he calmly peeled away the doctors close and placed them on. They were slightly too big for him but once he placed the white lab coat over his shoulders he looked like any other doctor walking the halls. Luckily for him the doctors kept him secluded. No other patient or doctor outside of three, one of which he just killed, had seen him at any closeness to be able to identify him.

Satisfied with himself Myers turned away from the bleeding body slumped back in the chair and turned his back to leave.

He had a doctor to find.

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