With the token of his soulmate's love for him securely pinned between his index and middle finger, the Shape extracted his arm out of her limp body. He then temporarily uncovered his mouth and dropped the piece of muscle he had taken straight down his throat.

As soon as Karen's heart touched the killer's stomach, it dissolved, spreading a unique warmth throughout his entire body. He instinctively closed his eyes, giving the new bond a chance to strengthen. While it did, he was able to feel the very essence of Karen's being seep into his soul. It felt phenomenal.

"Michael…?" Karen weakly voiced.

His eyes snapped open, and they instantly landed on her. Now that she was simi-consciousness, the time had come for him to reciprocate her generous gift.

The Shape unzipped his coveralls and slipped his erection into Karen's core, which had already returned to its normal state after his abrasive invasion. She moaned quietly as he forcefully rocked against her, but he knew it wasn't from pain. She was simply yearning for the seed he was about to ejaculate into her body. The Boogeyman's seed. Then, nothing would be able to separate them. They would be bonded for life.

Karen's inner walls suddenly clamped tightly around the killer's shaft. "Michael!" she gasped, her hands desperately urging his head down. He yielded to her request and firmly pressed his masked mouth against hers.

As they kissed, the Boogeyman gave his lover what was needed to fuse their souls together. Moments later, a soft cry escaped her lips. He wrapped his arms around her in a protective embrace while his bodily fluids filled the hole in her heart, making it whole once more.


AN HOUR LATER

Waukegan, Illinois

October 17, 1997

Karen shuddered hard and gradually opened her eyes to find herself being cradled by Michael on his lap, She gazed up at his unmasked face, her hand fluttering to her chest. She could still feel his presence inside of her - inside her heart. "What did you do with it?" she quietly asked. "The piece that you took?"

"I ate it," the killer simply replied. "You're a part of me now, just as I am a part of you."

"Is that why your eyes are no longer pitch black?"

"Quite possibly," he said. "Why? What color are they?"

Karen examined them in the moonlight for a few moments before finally saying, "I think they're turning brown - a very, very dark brown - even darker than mine, but they're definitely not black anymore."

"Interesting, but not surprising, considering what we've just shared." Michael then lightly touched Karen's cool cheek, appearing concerned. "Speaking of which, you look very pale, sweetness. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes. No. I don't know." She leaned into her soulmate's chest and sighed. "I really thought I was ready for this, Michael."

"You were, Karen," he sternly stated, "but you've also been through a lot tonight."

"So have you," she argued, "yet you seem to be doing fine."

"I didn't just have a piece of my heart removed from my body," Michael countered. "Give yourself some time, sweetness. Promise?"

"Yes," she reluctantly agreed.

"Good." The killer set Karen on the ground and rose to his full height. When she moved to join him, he shook his head. "Don't. I'll carry you." He put his mask back on and then lifted her up into arms.

Within seconds, the couple arrived at the Buick. As the Boogeyman helped Karen into it, her eyes drifted back to the forest. What had happened in there had been life-altering for her. It was a place she knew she would never forget.

A hand on her shoulder forced the teenager out of her reverie. She turned her eyes onto her soulmate, who was now sitting in the driver's seat. Although she felt sad about leaving the forest, it was time to move forward. "Let's go," she simply said.

The killer offered her a sharp nod and turned the key.

The ride back to the mansion was silent and uneventful. However, by the time they arrived, Karen's strength had returned. She got out of the car and gazed at the Boogeyman from across its roof. "I love you." It seemed redundant to say that after what they had shared together, but the amount of love she felt towards him could not go unspoken.

He walked around the hood of his car and took Karen's left hand. She envisioned the Boogeyman sliding her engagement ring back onto her finger to signify his promise of marriage. However, the ring remained safely tucked away in his breast pocket as they traveled to their quarters.

Frustrated, Karen sauntered into the bathroom and prepared for bed. She thought for sure she had done enough to become Michael Myers' wife. Apparently not.

The brunette stared at her reflection while brushing her teeth and sighed. What more did Fate expect of her? What more did she have to prove?

Karen put her toothbrush away and left the bathroom. To her surprise, Michael was already in bed. "Tired?" she quietly asked.

"Getting there," he honestly answered. "I take it you're not."

She shook her head. "No, I'm actually feeling kind of restless. Would you mind if I took a walk outside?"

Just as Karen spoke those words, thunder rumbled lowly in the distance.

"On second thought," she said, "I think I'll go downstairs and bake something."

The killer suddenly looked intrigued. "You bake?"

"Yeah, I used to bake with my mom all the time. After I met Dawn, Joanna took over. Not to brag or anything, but I make a mean apple pie."

Michael instantly sat up. "In that case, I'll come with you, sweetness."

Karen arched an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were tired."

"No, I said I was getting there, but I'm not anymore...unless you don't want the company."

"Don't be ridiculous, Michael," Karen lightly reprimanded. "You can help peel and core the apples."

"Deal," he agreed.

The couple went downstairs to the kitchen. Once Karen found everything she needed to make the pie, she set the oven to the appropriate temperature. Then, she began preparing the sauce using Holly Miller's secret recipe. Keeping her mind and body busy felt good. It's exactly what she needed after her unworldly experience with Michael.

"Tell me what you are feeling, Karen," he gently urged while she began mixing the ingredients for the crust. "I want to know."

The teenager considered his question for a minute before saying, "Strange - different. Energized. It's difficult to put into words."

Michael slowly nodded. "I understand."

Karen glanced at him, her eyes meeting his. "I know you do." She then turned her attention back to the dough. The killer stood next to her in silence, simply watching her work.

When she finished making the pie crust, Karen reached for a bag of apples and handed him a clean knife. Together, they began prepping the apples for the pie.

"You've certainly got a knack for peeling apples, sweetness," Michael noted as he studied Karen's springy peels.

She surveyed his work and said, "You're not doing too shabby yourself, Mr. Myers, though I'm hardly surprised. Your knife skills are impeccable."

His sepia eyes gleamed at her. "That comes from years of experience, Karen, as are well aware."

"True, but you don't always use a knife when killing people, do you?"

"No," he confirmed. "I like having a bit of fun at my victim's expense. It keeps things interesting and unpredictable. You will discover that I have a very wicked sense of humor, sweetness. I enjoy playing with people's minds."

"Do you have a favorite kill?" Karen asked, purely out of curiosity.

"Annie Bracket," Michael answered without any hesitation. "I had the opportunity to stalk her for quite some time before I killed her. She wasn't bad to look at either."

"Oh!" smirked Karen. "So you did have a crush on someone before me. I knew it!

"Some crush it turned out to be," he retorted. "I strangled her and then slit her throat just for the Hell of it."

Karen finished peeling and coring her apples, so she reached for the cutting board and began slicing the skinless fruit. "Strangulation is a very personal way of killing somebody, Michael," she stated matter of factly.

"Annie was my sister's best friend," he responded, matching Karen's tone. "It doesn't get much more personal than that."

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

As the teenager continued slicing apples, she felt her lover's eyes boring into her.

"You're not jealous, are you?" he softly asked.

"No, of course not," she said. "Me being jealous of Annie would be like you being jealous of my father." When Michael shifted slightly, Karen knew she had struck a nerve.

"That isn't exactly a fair comparison," he disputed. "My attraction to Annie was simply based on looks, and I never once considered acting upon it. Your father, on the other hand, had developed deep feelings for you, and he was unafraid to show it."

"All right, so maybe my comparison was a bit off," admitted Karen, "but are you jealous of him?"

"Yes - only because he got to make love to you first. I wish I could have experienced that for myself."

Holding back tears, the teenager scooped up the apples slices, dropped them into a glass bowl, and sprinkled some cinnamon on them. "I know my father loves me, Michael," she quietly said at last, "but I never loved him. Not ever. I loved my mom, though, very much. She was my whole world. Losing her was so…hard." Karen stopped speaking as she poured the apples on top of the pie's bottom crust and added the warm sauce.

"The dynamics in the house changed after that," she eventually continued while pressing the edges of the top and bottom crust together. "My father's patience with me shortened, as did his temper. He started controlling everything I did - and I just let it happen."

Michael laid a hand on the teenager's back and leaned in close to her. "Karen, I know this is hard for you to accept, but you did what you had to do at the time. If you had started rebelling against him, who knows how he would have reacted."

Grabbing the glass pie plate, Karen pushed past her soulmate and walked to the oven. "Maybe I should have taken a page out of your book and killed him." She shoved the apple pie into the oven and slammed the door shut.

"And then what?" Michael calmly asked, clearly undaunted by her anger. "Your father is a cop, and there wouldn't have been any evidence to prove self-defense. The authorities would have locked you up for life."

The teenager subconsciously pursed her lips together. For a moment, all that occupied her mind was the memory of Jerry taking secret snapshots of her.

The killer cocked his head. "Karen, is there such evidence?" he earnestly inquired.

"Possibly," she muttered, "but I'd have to find it."

"If you did, then you could have him arrested. I'm sure Derek would be more than willing to help you."

"No," Karen adamantly replied. "I don't want my father arrested, Michael. I want him dead."

The killer regarded her for a long moment in contemplative silence.

Karen raised an eyebrow at him. "What, you don't want me to kill him?"

Michael merely shrugged. "When the time comes, I trust you'll know what to do."

"Hey! Is that apple pie I smell?"

Dawn's sudden outburst broke the mounting tension in the room. She dashed into the kitchen, skidding to halt at the breakfast bar. "Is it ready yet?" she eagerly asked.

Karen shook her head. "No, it's still baking."

Dawn pale eyes turned to Michael. "Karen makes the best apple pie - even better than my mom's - but don't tell her I said that."

"I promise," he chortled.

Dawn sat down on a stool, her mood visibly darkening. "So, what did you two end up doing last night?"

Karen instinctively looked to Michael for direction. When he didn't offer a response, she knew he was letting her choose whether or not to tell Dawn about the night's events. It was a kind gesture on his part.

"Honestly, I'd really rather not talk about it right now," Karen finally said.

Dawn scrutinized the couple, obviously recognizing that there was a lot more going on than what met the eye. "All right," she conceded. "Just tell me one thing, Karen. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay," she truthfully answered.

The oven timer beeped. Karen went to check on her apple pie, thankful for the distraction. Using a pair of pot holders, she pulled the pie out of the oven and carried it to the breakfast bar to cool.

The brunette made her way over to the silverware drawer next. She picked out all the utensils they would need as her soulmate grabbed the plates. In the meantime, Dawn headed to the refrigerator. She opened the freezer and pulled out a gallon of vanilla ice cream.

"Michael, you look exhausted," Karen whispered when she and the killer met at the breakfast bar.

"I am," he lowly confessed. "I think I'm going to eat in our room, if you don't mind."

"Of course not." Karen cut him a slice of pie and placed it on his plate. "Do you want it à la mode?"

He shook his head. "No, this is just fine, sweetness."

"All right. I'll be up in a bit."

Michael's eyes darted to Dawn, who was nearing them with the ice cream. "She's a good friend, Karen," he quietly said. "Don't be afraid to talk to her."

The brunette diverted her gaze to the blonde teenager as well. Dawn met it and asked, "Where did Michael go?"

"Upstairs," the brunette answered. "He's tired after being up all night."

Dawn gave her friend a long look. "That's odd. The only time he gets really tired is after he's been intimate with you when you've taken something from him. Is that what happened?"

Karen mutely served Dawn a piece of pie.

"Come on, Karen; I'm not stupid," the latter snapped. "There is fresh blood on both yours and Michael's clothes. You either went hunting and then had sex, or -" Karen's facial expression must have shown something, because Dawn abruptly gasped, "No! Please tell me you didn't…"

"What, Dawn? Kill somebody?" Karen calmly added a scoop of ice cream to each of their plates, completely at peace with her involvement regarding the two murders.

"Did you?" Dawn urged.

"What do you think?" Karen countered as she began eating her breakfast.

The blonde girl shrugged and said, "You've killed before."

"Well, I didn't this time," Karen assured her friend. "I was just there."

Dawn gradually nodded, appearing relieved. "And afterwards…?" she pressed.

"And afterwards the Boogeyman and I bonded," the brunette plainly stated.

Confusion instantly filled Dawn's eyes. "I don't understand. I thought you had done that already."

Karen gave her head a short shake. "Not to this extent, Dawn. Michael and I are true soulmates now. We are bonded for life."

"Is that why Michael's eyes have changed color?"

The brunette smirked. "So you noticed that, too, huh?"

"Honestly, it's kind of hard to miss," Dawn said. "It has to be an effect of the new bond, right?"

Karen nodded. "Yes, it has affected both Michael and me in different ways." She licked her fork clean and took her dishes to the dishwasher. "Speaking of which, I should probably see how he is doing."

"Yeah, okay," Dawn agreed. "I need to finish getting ready for school, anyway. Oh, and Mark is coming over this evening, just to let you know."

"I figured, seeing as though it's Friday," said Karen, reaching for another plate. When she returned to the bar, she slid a piece of pie onto the round dish.

"Who's that for?" Dawn asked.

"Eleanor. I thought she might like a piece."

"And some company."

"Yes, that, too," Karen admitted. She walked to the doorway as Dawn put the carton of ice cream away. At the threshold, she turned around to face the blonde girl once more. "Hey, Dawn?"

"Yeah?

"Thanks for being so supportive about all of this," Karen sincerely said. "Michael's right. You are a really good friend."

Dawn offered her a coy smile. "I try."

Karen returned the grin and then left the kitchen. Not wanting anyone else seeing her until she changed into fresh clothes, she scurried upstairs to Eleanor's quarters. She rapped lightly on the door.

"Come in, dear," commanded the voice within.

As Karen entered the bedroom, she held out the plate for the older woman to see. "I brought you breakfast," she said.

Eleanor ignored the offering. Instead, she kept her gray eyes trained on Karen's face. "You have accepted your fate," she knowingly stated.

The teenager nodded. "Yes."

"And you made an apple pie to celebrate," the woman jested.

Karen shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

"That doesn't surprise me." Eleanor pointed to a chair. "Come, sit, but first bring me that piece of delicious smelling pie."

The brunette did as directed. She quietly sat while Eleanor ate and toyed with the ends of her makeshift scarf.

"You're fidgety," Eleanor voiced at last.

"Yeah, sorry," Karen replied. "I just can't sit still. I've got all this energy inside of me that I don't know what to do with. At first, I assumed it was from sealing my bond with Michael, but now I think it's more than that. It's almost like I'm anticipating something - something important. I just can't figure out what it is."

Eleanor gestured to a calendar hanging on her wall. "Tomorrow is your eighteenth birthday, dear. Surely that milestone is very important to you."

"Huh," Karen muttered, staring at the number eighteen, "that's so strange. I had totally lost track of the dates this week…"

"At midnight you'll be an adult," said Eleanor, "a true woman. Between that and your new bond with Michael, it's only natural for you to feel the way you do."

The teenager released a heavy sigh. "I suppose."

Eleanor suddenly looked concerned. "Karen, is there something else troubling you?"

The brunette gazed down at her left ring finger and said, "Michael still has my engagement ring, Eleanor. I thought I had done enough to earn it back, but maybe since we've officially bonded, he feels a wedding is no longer necessary."

The older woman sternly shook her head. "No, I am sure that is not true, Karen. Michael understands how much being married means to you. However, keep in mind, he also works in his own time. You just have to be patient."

Karen rose from the chair, trusting her mentor's words. "Thank you, Eleanor. I needed to hear that. I'm going to freshen up now."

"Wait, just indulge me for a moment," said Eleanor. "Was last night everything you thought it would be?"

Karen nodded. "Yes, and then some. Michael Myers is a magnificent being."

"Yes, but so is his soulmate," Eleanor declared. "Never discredit yourself, Karen. Although you are different than him, you are still his equal."

Nodding, the teenager placed a hand over her heart. "I truly believe that now, Eleanor."

"Good. Now go, dear, and get cleaned up. I will see you later."

Karen gently closed Eleanor's bedroom door. Finally feeling content, she strolled into her own chambers. She was expecting to find Michael sound asleep on the bed; however, he was nowhere to be seen.

Karen was wondering where he went when a light breeze blew the French doors open a jar. She walked to the balcony and peered through the small opening. She instantly saw her soulmate's dark form standing at the railing. "Would you mind some company?" she quietly voiced.

"If I did, I would have latched the door properly," he bluntly replied.

Karen walked to the killer's side and gazed upon his pale face. His sepia eyes, though, remained fixated on the turbulent waters of Lake Michigan.

"May I ask what are you thinking about?"

Michael let a moment of silence pass between them before saying, "You, me, our future together - things that even before last night I had been making certain provisions for. Then, last night happened."

He abruptly turned to the teenager, his expression full of earnest. "You are my true soulmate, Karen, and from here on out, it will be my responsibility to take care of you - provide for you - give you the opportunity to fulfill all your dreams. However, I am unable to do any of that as Michael Myers."

The killer pulled a white envelope out of his pocket and offered it to Karen. Her brows knitted in confusion as she accepted the strange gift. "What's this?"

"A surprise, but you may want to open it inside," he insisted, gesturing to the darkening sky.

Karen reentered the bedroom and sat down at the writing desk. Michael stood behind her while she opened the envelope. She shook its contents out onto the desktop and gasped. Spread out in front of her were a driver's license, a social security card, and a small manilla envelope, which she quickly discovered housed a birth certificate for someone named Mitchell Andrew Martin. The license and social security card belonged to the same person. However, there was no mistaking Michael's picture or the Helms' address on the license. "This is you," she breathed, holding up the thin piece of plastic.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I am now Mitchell Martin."

Bewildered, Karen stared at her soulmate and asked, "But how?"

"Dawn's father has a very trusted friend who works in the Department of Justice. That is all you need to know."

Karen's gaze returned to the documents, her mind racing. "So these are all legal?"

"Yes."

Karen read the birth certificate more closely. Mitchell's mother and father were named Paula Lynn Anderson and Richard Herman Martin, and he had been delivered at home on March thirteen, nineteen fifty-four.

"Michael -"

"Mitchell," the killer firmly interrupted. "It's imperative for everyone to call me that from now on. Understand?"

The teenager rose to her feet and began pacing the floor.

Her lover's expression immediately softened. "Karen, it's only a name," he gently stated.

"No, it's not," she snapped, coming to stop in front of him, "and I'm not at all comfortable with you doing this for me."

"For us, sweetness," the man formerly known as Michael Myers fervently corrected. "For our future, and our family's future. I don't want our offspring hating their family name like you do yours."

Karen diverted her attention to the killer's white mask. "But the Boogeyman will always exist."

"Of course he will," the killer affirmed, "and he forever be Michael Myers, but he cannot give you the life you desire or deserve, whereas Mitchell Martin can. Does that make this easier for you to accept, Karen?"

She tore her eyes away from the mask and looked at her soulmate - the man whom she deeply loved. "Yes," she conceded.

"Good. Now, practice calling me by my new name."

Karen inhaled a deep breath and said, "Mitchell Martin. Mitchell Martin. Mitchell Martin. Mitchell Martin." The longer she repeated the name, the more she began to believe it was really him.

The killer nodded in approval. "And once we are wed, you will be…"

"Mrs. Karen Martin," she promptly replied.

Mitchell caressed her cheek and stared deeply into her dark eyes. "Which is my birthday present to you."

Before the teenager could even muster a response, he retrieved her engagement ring from his breast pocket and took her left hand in his.

"The flight to Las Vegas departs at nine-fifteen tomorrow morning - assuming you still want to marry me."

"Yes," Karen gasped, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "A thousand times, yes."

The killer cracked a smile as he slid the engagement ring down the length of her finger. "I love you, Karen."

"I love you, too, Mitchell - so much."

The couple shared a warm embrace. When they separated, Mitchell said, "We should probably get ready to go into town."

Karen glimpsed at the clock. "Already?"

He cocked his head at her. "We're getting married tomorrow, sweetness. Time is of the essence."

"Time?" she asked. "Time for what?"

Mitchell's black eyes glinted mischievously. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Always the man of mystery," Karen muttered as she and the killer walked to the dresser together.

"Yes, but you wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

"You're right," she agreed. "I wouldn't."

Both Mitchell and Karen exchanged their bloodied clothes for clean ones. She now sported a burnt orange blouse with indigo jeans, and he was dressed in a sapphire blue dress shirt and his favorite black jeans.

"You look very sharp there, Mr. Martin."

He smirked at Karen's compliment while he went to answer a soft knock at the bedroom door.

"I wonder who that could be," she said.

"It's Dawn," he simply replied.

"Dawn?" Karen repeated, stunned. When her best friend stepped through the threshold, she frowned. "I thought you were going to school."

"Yeah...well, funny thing is after you left to see Eleanor, I suddenly started feeling sick," the blonde girl said, forcing out a fake cough.

Karen shook her head in disapproval. "You're skipping school?"

"It was Michael's idea. He thought you and I might like to spend the day getting ready for your wedding like getting our hair and nails done. I think a day of pampering is just what you need."

"I couldn't agree more," the killer stated. "But, Dawn, you cannot call me Michael anymore. My name has been legally changed to Mitchell Martin."

The blonde teenager blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

He gestured to the desk and said, "My whole identity has been changed. When I am not masked, I expect everyone to address me as Mitchell."

Dawn eyed all the various documents. Then, her gaze shifted to the killer's infamous white mask. "So you have two identities now?"

"Yes, and one must not be mistaken for the other. I am Mitchell Martin. That is Michael Myers. Is that clear?"

Dawn nodded. "Yes."

"Good," he said as he grabbed his new driver's license. "Now, we can leave."