Author's note: I have decided to develop this into a story - perhaps 6-8 chapter story. I have more or less the premise all sorted out. The ending well, I'm still working on it. But I have a good idea! :) Hope you enjoy!

PS - Don't worry I won't be neglecting I Won't Tell. I will start to write chapter 9 in the next day or so!

Chapter 2: Confliction

One week after the events at the end of Freddy's Dead.

Maggie Burroughs opened the door of her small apartment with a deep sigh, trudging her small black suitcase behind her. She closed the door with a small slam, before sitting on the her small cream sofa. She was so glad to get home. It was good to get away from Central City with her adoptive mother Sarah Burroughs. The time they spent together at her mother's lake house down at Apple Valley Lake was worth it though.

Some good relaxation. She loved it down at the Apple Valley Lake. Maggie had many fond memories down there, when she was growing up as a teenager. The house was just at the edge of the lake, the views from the porch were amazing, so serene and breathtaking. Especially when the sun began to set. The water would shimmer in the sunshine. It was beautiful at times. Just what she needed after the events of the previous week.

She had contacted her boss Kelly, the next morning after the 'battle' saying she needed some time off. Maggie knew that he wouldn't say no, seeing as she was owed several days off over the last few months. Her mother had often admonished her, saying she was 'working herself into the ground' and well she was right. She hadn't a break in about four months. She deserved to get away.

At the same time she wanted to distant herself from Doc and Tracey, especially after the night at the Shelter. They were so cheerful, so energized and pleased at what had happened. She knew Doc would ask her how she was coping and well she didn't know how she felt. She knew that Tracey would praise her, commend her for saving the Shelter, for saving Central from going through the same destruction, the same nightmare that had occurred in Springwood.

For saving them from Freddy.

That was the last thing Maggie wanted to be reminded of. Her biological father. Freddy Krueger. No matter how hard she tried the last week down at the lake house to forget him, she couldn't shake the though of him out of her mind. He was constantly in her thoughts. And it was starting to scare her.

To her surprise though, she didn't dream the whole week. Not even that recurring memory that plagued her since her early teenaged years. But still, the memory would surface in day dreams. It would happen about four to five times each day, for every day she was away. The reason for her dreamless nights was her sudden development of insomnia.

Whenever her mother would head off to bed, Maggie would leisurely sit on the porch with a glass of wine and stare vacantly over the lake. Consumed by her thoughts. Consumed by the battle in the shelter. She found herself actually crying the odd night about his death. It was true she did love him once, a long time ago when she was a little girl. With those red ribbons in her hair. But did he really love her? Did he actually care for her? Was he telling the truth when he said that he loved her mother too?

Perhaps he didn't love her mother as he told her. One night when she was outside on the porch, she vaguely remembered a heated argument that he and her mother had. She remembered sitting in her bedroom, hearing them screaming at each other from downstairs. There was a smash, then it went silent. The next morning she would see her mother's face, the corner of her lip was cut and the beginnings of a small bruise. She clearly remembered her mother saying that she had fell down the stairs. Her mother was actually covering for her father, lying for him.

Or maybe she was trying to protect her. Protect her from the truth. But now Maggie knew the truth now and her love for him as a child had gone, anger replacing it. Anger for what he did to her mother, for how he killed her patients. For trying to kill her, Doc and Tracey. But was this anger strong enough to make her hate him? Despise him?

Perhaps it was, she did kill him. However, she had no choice. He wasn't going to stop killing, he would have continued his murdering spree in the dream world if she hadn't of intervened. God knew how many teenagers he would have killed by now in the Shelter? Would he have actually persuaded her to help him? That thought had crossed her mind a few times during the week and it troubled her greatly.

Pushing herself to her feet, Maggie discarded her long grey trench coat on the sofa and pulled her suitcase into her bedroom down the small hallway to her left. She would unpack her clothes later. First, she needed coffee and lots of it! Before entering the kitchen she stopped at the small answering machine beside her phone at the living room window. A small red light blinked on and off every five seconds. She sighed and pressed a small button, seeing that there were three messages left for her.

She pressed another button and listened intently as the messages began to play. Each of them were from Doc. Each message the same 'to call him whenever she got back from her trip'.

Maggie rolled her eyes and pressed the delete button three times, in turn removing the messages from her machine. She knew he meant well, that he was a good friend. But she didn't need to talk to anyone about it. It was her own persona life, her own past and she would deal with it on her own.

An hour later Maggie had finished unpacking her belongings, stuck on a wash and was now sitting at her dining table nursing a small mug of coffee, dressed in her pink silk pyjamas and matching coloured nightgown. Before here was her adoption certificate. After much begging she had managed to persuade her mother to give it to her to keep. For some strange reason her mother had even offered to help her find her birth parents, as if to apologise for keeping this secret from her for all these years. Maggie however declined this gesture.

Two nights before they came home, they were eating dinner. Her adoptive had asked if there was any contact from her birth parents. The words Maggie had mentioned that night after finding out her adoption certificate were clearly stuck in her mind. Maggie yet again dismissed this, saying that her head was all over the place and that she was just stressed out a little. The last question that Sarah had asked was how did she know she was adopted. To which Maggie replied - it was a gut instinct. A hunch. That was the last conversation they had about her adoption and Maggie hoped they wouldn't speak of it again.

Maggie ran her right hand over the top of the adoptive certificate, her fingers tracing the outline of the word Springwood slowly and read it quietly. The actual date of her adoption was faded out, but the year was 1967.

There was a sudden short rap at her door, making her yelp as she nearly knocked over her mug of coffee. She gave a nervous laugh and rose to her feet, walking briskly to her door. Easing it opened she stared at Doc, "Hi, Maggie" he smiled.

She smiled back. However, this was the last person she wanted to see this evening. Pulling the door fully opened she gestured him inside, "Hi, come in. What are you doing here?"

"Your mother rang me an hour ago" he closed the door behind him, then followed her into the kitchen, "She said she was a bit worried about you. She asked if I could call over and you know…talk to you"

Maggie sat facing him and poured him out some coffee, "I'm fine Doc. I just needed to get away for a few days. Clear my head a bit, you know?"

He took off his black leather jacket and placed it on the back of his chair, "I understand. How was your trip?"

She took a gulp of her coffee, hissing at the searing heat as it slid down her throat. "It was good, really relaxing. Quiet. If you want I can ask my mother to lend the lake house to you sometime. It's a very secluded area. Just what I needed, especially after…"

"What happened last week?" he finished for her.

She nodded once.

He glanced down briefly at the adoptive certificate and then back up to her, "Did your mother give this to you?"

"Yeah, I asked her for it. I want to keep it"

Doc nodded thoughtfully, "Maggie, do you want to talk about it? You haven't said a word since we removed the remains. I mean, you just stormed out of the basement without saying a word to either me or Tracey. We went to your office to check if you were okay and you weren't there. I rang you to your apartment you barely said two words!" he paused seeing the vacant stare she was giving him, "You haven't been in touch all week. You just took off and left Central city with your mother for a week. I only found that out from Kelly! You need to talk about it. You can't bottle it all up inside, like you did with your dream!"

Her blank expression faded away as she snapped out of her gaze and slowly she shook her head defiantly, "There's nothing wrong. I'm fine, honestly!"

He rolled his eyes, "Maggie, you can't lie to me. I know you better than that. What is troubling you? Don't shut me out!"

Maggie sighed loudly. Why the fuck did he have be so damn persistent? "Last week after it happened, after I blew my father…" her mouth froze as she saw the confused look on his face. She then narrowed her eyes in annoyance. "What?"

"You said your father. Do you not mean Freddy?"

"Freddy was my father" she snapped back brusquely, "I knew that you wouldn't understand!"

Doc sprang to his feet at the same time as Maggie and grabbed her left arm, "Maggie, I'm sorry. But I find it strange you calling him that. He hasn't been your father since you were a little girl. Since you were living in Springwood. Your name is Maggie Burroughs. You're not a Krueger anymore"

Maggie shrugged his hand of her hand and glowered at him, "That is my name now. But I was born Katherine Krueger. Freddy is my birth father. He may not have raised me, but I'm going to start to remember the times with him when I was a little girl. They're all in" she pointed at her temple, "here. They're all going to come back and haunt me!"

Doc sighed watching as his friend and co-worker began to wipe at her weary eyes, wiping the odd stray tear from her face. "Maggie…"

She cut him off sharply, "You should have heard him when I was down in the basement that night. He said that he loved me" her breath caught in her throat as she let out a small sob, "I'm so confused. I don't know if he was being genuine with me. If he really meant it!"

"Maggie, he was tricking you" Doc reasoned with her, "Don't you see? He wanted you to believe him so you would let down your guard. So, that you would willingly come to him. He was going to kill you!"

Maggie shook her head in discord, although a little hesitantly, "N-no…I don't believe that's true…"

Again he reached out to her, gently clasping a hand on her shoulder. He frowned, feeling her body tremble under his hand. "Maggie, I really think you need to see me tomorrow morning when you come into the Shelter"

She blinked and groaned softly. Doc led her to the chair, "What is it Maggie?"

Her vision went blurry as an image flashed before her, playing out in a matter of seconds. An image she knew so well, her memory of the water tower, the garden, her mother being strangled by her father. A single tear rolled down her flushed face, she then looked up to Doc, "I keep thinking about my memory"

"Memory?"

"My recurring dream. It was a memory. It just comes and goes…I thought it would only happen when I'm sleeping. But I haven't slept in a week. I've been having day dreams. I keep seeing my memory in my day dreams"

He crouched before her and stared sternly at her, "Listen, if you want I could help you with that memory. I can repress it with my dream therapy. I'll even help you repress any other memories that may start to come back to you…"

Maggie quickly shook her head, "No! It's part of my past! I want to remember it!"

"But I heard him say to you that he murdered your mother" he gulped, "Is that what happened in the rest of the dream? In your memory?"

She let out a deep breath, "I forgot to tell you. Yes, he killed my mother. Strangled her in front of me. I was just five years old! She had found out about his…'special work'"

Doc rose an eyebrow in puzzlement, "Special work?"

"He was killing the children. That's what he called it. His special work" she lowered her gaze and stared at her shaking hands, lost in her thoughts. She actually didn't know much about her father, what exactly happened to him after she was taken away. Oh, she saw him being burnt alive in the power plant. But deep down inside there was a part of her that wanted to know more about him.

Doc squeezed her shoulders lightly and rose to his feet, "Look, meet up with me first thing in the morning. I'll be in the Shelter at 7am" he gathered his coat and pulled it on, "We need to talk more about this. You need to come to terms to what he did to your mother. You can tell me everything"

Lifting her head towards him, Maggie smiled in appreciation. "I know you mean well Doc and I am grateful. But I don't want to talk about it. I just want to deal with this in my own way. Okay?"

He began to reply, but she interjected.

"No! Just trust me on this, okay?"

He gave a quiet nod.

"Thanks" she muttered.

She walked with him towards the apartment door and smiled at him as he turned to her, staring solemnly at her. He hated how stubborn she was, how defensive and abrasive she could be. If only she could let her guard down, let herself be more open. If only she would connect with her emotions more, then she wouldn't have to feel this way. So torn and confused. Conflicted. If she didn't get in touch with her feelings, then they would consume her, eat her up. Tear her apart. "Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow morning"

Maggie smiled weakly, "I will. Night"

After he left Maggie quickly slid the latch across, locking the door. She clamped her eyes shut and gently slammed her closed fist against the door. "Fuck! Get yourself together girl!"

Maggie spun on her heel back into the kitchen and lifted the two mugs, downing her own mug first and then the rest of Doc's beverage. She set them in the kitchen sink and then wandered across the hallway to her own room, picking up her adoptive certificate on the way. Once inside she left her certificate on her bed and then turned her sombre gaze towards her built-in wardrobe. As if in a trance she walked towards the two cream doors and slid them open.

Tucked in the far corner of the wardrobe was a small red box. Kneeling down she grabbed it firmly with her two shaky hands she placed it on the side dresser and sat on the chair. Gingerly, she let her right hand dance along the top of the lid. Her index finger tapping it a few times. Then with a small sigh she popped open the lid and peered over the rim of the box.

Inside was Freddy's glove. Her father's glove.

She had hid it when she arrived home from the Shelter the week before. It was in the exact same condition as it was the week before. Her eyes glided over the four blades. She hadn't notice it before, but she could actually see the blood. Her father's blood staining the long metal knives...

Maggie shrieked and clasped her eyes shut as she remembered driving the glove into her father's gut, his screams echoing on her ears. Her hands flew up to the side of her head and her fingers dug into her scalp. A small growl came from her, "Stop thinking about it! Stop it"

Slowly, the memory faded away, along with her father's screams. Much to her relief. She took a few long deep breaths and allowed her hands to drop from the side of her temple. Her right hand then reached into the box, grasping the glove carefully and then placed then box on the floor with her left hand.

Maggie gently placed the glove on the dresser and carefully began to inspect it, running her fingers along the metal plating at the back of the glove. It was so smooth, albeit a little rusty. Her index finger then trailed over the back of the blades, up to the very tip and then she gradually lifted it with her left hand. As if her hand had a mind of it's own, her left hand pulled it down onto her right hand. Just like the first two times, it fitted on her perfectly.

She slowly let her finger blades wriggle one by one, the metal clicking softly. Prudently she leaned her face towards the tips, keeping a safe enough distance as eh continued to allow her fingers to flick, starting up a steady rhythm.

There was no doubt, she was fascinated by it.

It captivated her.

Her brown eyes turned towards the oval mirror facing her and as she stared at her reflection, she began to see 'his' face staring back at her, as he smiled at her with a wicked grin. He was in the exact same pose as her, clicking the finger blades, one by one.

Maggie gasped and closed her eyes, letting the bladed claw fall onto her lap and with a deep breath she pried opened her eyes and looked towards the mirror. It was her reflection staring back. Not her father's.

She gave a nervous laugh. Maybe she was going crazy. Imaging things, seeing visions. Or then again maybe she needed a good night's sleep. What did Doc say? The lack of sleep makes the mind play tricks on you, make you have hallucinations. Yeah, that was it. That was the most rational reason.

Stifling a yawn, Maggie looked down at the glove once more. Again her thoughts taking over. It was disturbing how this glove could cause so much destruction, so much pain and death? Just how many children and teenagers actually fell by this blades? Her eyes flickered shut as she thought back to the High school in Springwood, to the class room her and the John Doe had entered. There were numerous pieces of paper pinned to the wall, hundreds, perhaps thousands of children and teenagers names written on them. Above them were about twenty to thirty plates with other children's names. All of them were dead. All of them were murdered by her father. Their blood was spilled onto this bladed claw that she was wearing. Sneering in fury, she let out an anguish sob. As she grieved for them, for his victims. With a snarl she withdrew the glove from her hand and threw it at the dresser. The glove connected with the mirror, shattering it into several large fragments.

Maggie groaned and stood from her seat, "Ah, for fuck's sake! That's all I need, seven years bad luck!"

Reaching down she picked up each shard of mirror, then stopped as she stared at a piece. Her reflection making her swallow in dread. She could see part of him in her, the shape of their nose was very familiar. They both held that intense, penetrating look that could look into your very soul. Even part of her jaw line was the same. The rest of her features were from her mother, her brown hair, cheek bones, brown eyes. But still, she knew from her reflection that she was his child.

Shaking her head she gathered the glove and placed it back in the box, sealing it closed with the lid. There had to be a way to stop these thoughts and deliberations. Maybe she should consider Doc's offer to help repress her memories. But what if they couldn't be repressed? Maybe in the long run it would be beneficial for her to have these memories. Maybe it would help her get some closure in her life.

She had nearly forgot the other memory that came to her through her day dreams, again it was one that was recurring more and more over the last week. Again it was the night she was taken away. For some distressing reason, it pained her to see her father's face as she was taken away. The desperation, the anger and sadness he evoked as he struggled against the police men. For the first time, she felt her own emotions as a child. How sorry she was for telling on him, that all she wanted was his forgiveness, to tell her that he forgave her. She was so frantic to get away from them, to try and reach her father that she had tried to bite one of the policemen.

Maggie smirked musingly at this. Maybe she did really love him when she was a little girl. But now, well that was a different story…

….or was it?

FK-KK-FK-KK

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