"By the way," Loomis said with a grin as he and Stark left the interrogation suite. "It was the wicked step mother, not a witch."

Stark stared at him. "What?"

"In snow white. There isn't a witch in that story, it was the wicked step mother and the poisoned apple."

Stark finally cottoned on and gave her boss a playful slap to the arm. "Whatever."

Chuckling, they headed towards the lifts back above ground.

Dr Samuel Loomis sighed sadly as they emerged back in the reception area of the hospital. The interrogation suite was two floors below ground and freezing. Especially when only wearing a suit and tie as he was now. The atmosphere was designed to be intimidating, hostile to force answers out of reluctant patients. It appeared it had worked but…

He'd always prided himself on being able to treat most people. Even the most dangerous people in the country, never mind the State. Once he'd even had a killer from Europe as he was too dangerous to be treated over there. He'd been flown over in a secure plane. He'd managed to treat him. From what he read from the reports every couple of months, the guy was well on his way towards being released back in to society. This pleased Loomis. He loved a positive result. Well, he'd actually had two European killers but as for the second… No. He couldn't think about that now…

But there was something about Derek Chancer which Loomis didn't like. He was starting to think on this particular occasion, he was going to fail. Not that this was necessarily a bad thing. Chancer would end up in old sparky and this was just fine with Loomis.

Chancer was only the most cold, dangerous and violent misogynist in the country. He made Adam Dawson look like a gentleman. His M.O was calculating and to be honest downright scary. Loomis didn't shiver easily, but he had when he'd read Chancer's file.

Sometimes, Chancer would go as far as to buy a woman very cheap flowers which looked expensive, or ones with sharp petals which he'd filed down to lethal points, claiming he didn't know much about flowers. Or he'd buy them wine and drug it with poison or a sleeping sedative. Then once they were unconscious, he'd rape them. He'd wait for them to come around again and then repeat the rape while they were conscious. Then kill them in bloody, violent ways. One pour woman had had her own bunch of flowers stabbed straight in to her chest, the petals modified with tiny knives. Another had been beaten to death with a hammer.

Loomis had seen enough pictures of Chancer's "operating table" to get the general idea. He owned more chains, handcuffs, leg irons and other shackles than a high security prison. He'd chain them to it, rape and then kill them with a variety of tools.

He was certain Some of the pictures would never leave his nightmares for the rest of his life. One was especially gruesome, a woman with a screwdriver imbedded in her stomach.

He couldn't help wondering where Chancer had got his money from. His parents? No one had been able to find any details of Chancer's father. He'd left them when Chancer was twelve. His mother loved him, but it seemed she was just as disturbed as her son. Wanting to start a vendetta of fury and revenge against her ex-husband. She was now in prison for his attempt murder. His new girlfriend was under police protection. New identity, the works.

Loomis privately didn't condone affairs, cheating. His view was to tell someone if you weren't happy. Just look at the carnage and blood shed this one had caused. Chancer's mother had either really adored his father, or had been abusive and controlling in her own way. The only thing he felt a tug of sympathy towards Chancer for, was his wish to see his mother before he was executed. Loomis had decided that he would try and make that happen before Chancer went to the chair. He might hate him for his crimes, but he was still human. Or at least… Almost.

But Chancer would never stop his campaign of terror, torture and murder against women if he was ever released. Loomis knew that. No woman would make him fall in love with her. She'd probably be dead before she could even tell him her name.

So what'd been so different about Michael? Ok he didn't have a type of victim, he just killed whoever he came across, but how had Danielle changed him so completely? The Michael Myers Loomis had known wouldn't have saved Rick's life, apologised to Ryan for attacking him or any of the rest of the things he had done. Was it possible that it was actually a man like Chancer who was untreatable, as opposed to a killer like Michael?

Loomis could feel the beginnings of a headache as he and Stark entered the block. Stark made to walk towards Danielle's cell then stopped. "Sam, are you ok?"

Loomis gave her a small smile. "Yeah, just thinking. You know, it's funny. I don't think Michael's the evil incarnate, I think instead that's Mr. Chancer."

Stark gave a grim nod. "Agreed. You going to be alright?"

Loomis smiled at her, a little more genuinely this time. "Of course. You know me. Cup of coffee and I'll be right as rain. Go on, go and see Danielle. I'll be fine. She's had to wait for long enough and she's the one really going through hell. It's our job to stop it."

Stark hesitated for a second and Loomis felt a rush of affection for his colleague. "Go on," he repeated, giving her a gentle shove. She sighed but nodded, heading down the corridor.

Loomis reached his office and saw George, one of the tech guys waiting for him. The iPod examination had taken them about two hours, God knew how long this would take.

"Alright boss?" George asked as Loomis entered. "Roy's still out by the van getting the stuff."

"Good." Loomis said. "Please remember, we're asking for total sound proofing of Danielle Hayward's cell, up to the maximum you can possibly make it. This is vital."

George frowned. Loomis knew he was dying to ask why, but of course wasn't allowed to. "Ok boss," he said eventually after a second's pause. "That'll take around three hours then if you want the absolute max."

"That's fine," Loomis said. "You'll be paid generously for it. But it needs to be done as soon as possible."

There was a quiet knock and Roy the other tech entered. "Got all the stuff ready," he said. "But we're going to need a hand to bring the sheets of sound proof foam in if that's ok? Can we borrow a couple of your guys? This shit's heavier than it looks."

"No problem," Loomis said. "Do you also have a doorbell with you? The cell also needs one of those fitted."

"Um, why?" George said before he could stop himself. "That foam stops someone outside hearing you. It doesn't stop you seeing if someone's outside your cell."

"Uh, George," Roy said, glaring at his colleague. "Danielle Hayward's blind, you idiot."

"Oh." George blushed. "Shit! Sorry! You did mention that."

"Think before you speak, twat!" Roy punched George to the arm.

"Sorry boss," George looked mortified as he met Loomis's just as disapproving gaze. "Yes we have a doorbell in the van. No problems there."

"Just make a start as soon as you can please," Loomis said. "We'll bring drinks to you whenever you ask for them, don't worry about that, but this needs doing as a matter of urgency."

The two techs nodded immediately and followed Loomis out of his office.

Loomis was just leading them towards the block doors, when he heard a soft "tap tap" on the cell door to his right. Michael. Loomis looked over at his patient and then stepped closer. "Michael?" He asked quietly, trying to smile.

Samuel Loomis thought he'd seen pretty much everything in this line of work. But when Michael reached out a hand and laid it on his arm, he realised he was wrong. His other was holding up a piece of card. Loomis found himself stepping closer so he could read it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jack, Kevin and Scott look over, watching carefully, but they didn't step in. Loomis smiled gratefully and reassuringly at the guards. Turning back to Michael, he read the card and was so shocked, he couldn't speak.

Are you ok?

It took Loomis one, two, three times to read it before he finally accepted what his eyes were showing him. He took another step forward. Michael still hadn't released his arm. His grip gentle, not threatening at all. On the spur of the moment, Loomis knew what he was going to do.

"Jack, you couldn't grab Michael and I a black coffee could you please?"

"Sure thing boss, on it."

Loomis glanced over his shoulder and saw Stark letting Danielle out of her cell and taking her arm. Loomis smiled at them. Stark smiled back, mouthing "wow."

Loomis agreed. "Wow" was probably the only word he'd have used too.

He opened Michael's cell door and immediately William and Jamie, two of the guards on that morning's early shift were running over with chains. Loomis shook his head at them.

"Um, boss," Jamie began. "It's H…"

"Yes I know it's Halloween," Loomis snapped before he could stop himself. "I've got a calendar on my wall thank you. Those chains are not needed."

The two guards looked at each other as if Samuel Loomis was the one now going insane, before following Loomis and the techs, who had waited patiently behind them. They were getting paid a shit load after all. What did they care? Plus, this was a high security ward, things happened. Loomis saw William and Jamie both lay reassuring hands on their guns as they took their places either side of Michael. He couldn't stop a little stab of sympathy for them. They were still on their probation periods and if something went wrong it'd go against them.

"Look," he said quietly to the two guards as they headed out of the block, the techs following behind towards their van parked in the yard. "I'm sorry for snapping. It's ok. This won't go against you. I've made the decision. It's on my head. But it'll be fine."

The two men simply nodded, looking relieved by his words.

They reached the van and George and Roy started lifting out the huge sheets of incredibly thick, re-enforced foam which would cover the cell floor, walls and door. Then their tool boxes. William and Jamie made as if to step forward to help, but before they could, Michael was in front of them and had lifted up two of the foam sheets as if they were simply pieces of paper. The techs mouths fell open, as did the guards. Loomis also stared in shock.

The two techs stepped up to Michael and took the other ends, even though it looked as if Michael could carry them for miles without breaking a sweat. Loomis thought of Judith's tomb stone in seventy-eight and shivered a little.

The three men carried them in to the block and this time it was Loomis and the guards who followed behind. Michael set them down just inside Danielle's cell. Had he guessed? Loomis wouldn't put anything past this man.

"Cheers mate," George panted, grinning at Michael as he wiped a hand across his forehead. Roy nodded. "Yeah, thanks." Loomis could tell by Roy's face he'd recognised the killer and was as shocked as he was by what Michael Myers had just done. But chose to say nothing. George clearly hadn't and Roy didn't want to tell him who it was. Instead, Roy opened one of the tool boxes and brought out a lethal looking motorised saw for cutting the thick foam. George pulled out a measuring tool.

"We might need more of this stuff," Roy said.

"That's fine, just call if you need help," Loomis answered. He glanced at the killer, wondering if he was looking at the saw and whether he Loomis needed to get Michael out of there sharpish. But the killer was looking right back at him and had made no move towards the weapon or the men. Silently, the killer followed his doctor back out in to the yard. William and Jamie behind them, still looking shocked. They attached one chain around Michael's waist, so he was chained to his concrete block, but his hands and legs weren't chained. They then stepped back behind Michael's yellow warning line without a word.

Are you ok?

Loomis only then realised the killer had again raised his card. He nodded and smiled at him, before handing the killer his coffee, having set them on the top of the concrete slab. Loomis then moved to the bench which had been attached to the side of it, so Michael would have a seat. His mouth fell open in shock in spite of himself, when the killer sat beside him. Loomis picked up his own coffee.

"Was it that obvious?" he asked quietly, looking Michael straight in the eyes. He'd heard of the moment's between the killer and some of the guards, the nicest ones if he was completely honest, but had never thought he'd have one of his own. Yet again, it seemed he'd been wrong. He'd been proved wrong a lot lately. Michael nodded very slightly.

"Shit," Loomis ran his hands through his hair. "I'm fine thanks Michael, just tired. It's been a long morning and it's only one in the afternoon. That interrogation suite is freezing, not to mention Mr. Chancer didn't want to give us answers willingly."

Chancer was locked in a solitary cell for a little while. Loomis would let him back in to his soon, but right now he just wanted shot of him. He deserved it for being so sarcastic, rude and quite frankly evil.

"Are you ok Michael?"

The killer nodded again, not breaking eye contact with his doctor. Another first. He then raised a piece of paper, this time handing it to Loomis. This had never happened before.

I've suspected it's Chancer behind the problems for Danielle with Adam. But I had no proof. If I had, I would've told you immediately. I kept my eyes on him both in mine and Danielle's cell trying to catch him out, but I couldn't.

This was the longest message Michael Myers had ever written to him and unable to stop himself, Loomis slipped it in to his briefcase. He then realised Michael was gesturing towards his pad and pen. Loomis pulled it out and handed it to him. The killer wrote, then raised it. Loomis could only stare at him. Had he read his mind?

Chancer reminds me of Chadwick.

Loomis couldn't stop a small shiver. "You read my mind," he said quietly. "Just the guy I was trying not to think about.

Graham Chadwick. Possibly the most dangerous killer to ever enter the facility apart from Chancer and Michael. He was the second European who'd been sent there to be treated. An utter disaster. Michael had been eighteen at the time Chadwick had entered the hospital. Loomis was sure his ghost would never leave. Not that he believed in ghosts, but if he ever was to, he'd see the ghosts of Chadwick's many victims, screaming for help and mercy.

Graham Chadwick had been Irish, born in Dublin. He was similar to Michael in one way. He didn't care who he killed. But there, the similarities ended. "The charming killer" he'd been dubbed by the press. His soft, lilting Irish accent charmed women far and wide. Chadwick would wine and dine them, make them think they were his one and only, sparing no cost on them. Then he'd take them to bed and have sex with them. They'd be dead before sunrise.

One journalist had been sacked from their paper, fined and even faced a short prison sentence when they'd written "charm to die for." Loomis thought that was in very pour taste indeed and had been glad the journalist had been punished. That was too far. The public outcry from it had been huge, calling for punishment which had been immediately given.

Chadwick's methods of killing were varied. A knife through the neck, hammer to the head, strangled and so on. His attacks on men started when he'd claim to a man his car had broken down and could they help? They'd come close enough to take a look and bang! Or he'd use he needed help getting something out of his car, garage, house or anywhere else. Calculating, charming and dangerous. Not a good combination at all.

Loomis had tried to establish what made Chadwick "tick" why he did what he did, but to no avail. In the end, he'd had to conclude he just enjoyed it. What was worst as far as Loomis was concerned however, was that Chadwick also killed children. He'd offer them sweets, lifts to places and the rest. Luckily most parents had warned their kids re "stranger danger," so most refused. The unlucky ones who didn't…

Loomis wasn't often brought to tears, but he'd heard of two small children no older than five Chadwick had killed. Anger and hatred had taken him over and he'd wept in his office. It'd taken every ounce of professionalism he had to continue treating him. But that was when he'd decided. Execution. It didn't take him long to put his report together. As far as he was concerned, anyone who could kill 5 year old children in cold blood was untreatable and deserved to die. Chadwick had gone to the chair only a month after entering Smith's Grove. Loomis wouldn't have been surprised if cheers had gone round world wide at the news of his death. Even he himself hadn't been able to resist a small smile.

But now, irony didn't even come close to being the correct word to describe what was happening. He'd called for Michael Myers to be executed too in nineteen seventy-eight and it hadn't happened. But in his case, maybe that'd been a good thing? Or Danielle Hayward would never have met him, and…

"Chadwick was worse than Chancer," he said now, realising he hadn't spoken for at least a minute. "At least Chancer didn't kill kids!"

Michael just looked at him. Loomis knew Michael Myers had never killed a child. He wasn't condoning killing of any kind of course, but children… Not to mention Michael was… Changing? The Michael Myers before Danielle would never have asked if Loomis was ok, or sat by him in the yard. Hell, Loomis would've been over the other side of that damn line. That said, he knew Michael would never kill children either.

Chadwick and Myers had never come face to face during that month, Loomis had made sure of that. But was it because he'd been afraid Chadwick would kill Michael, rather than the other way round? Michael killing Chadwick would've been just fine with him.

As if reading his mind once more, Myers raised another message.

I would've killed him if given the opportunity.

"Chadwick?"

Correct.

"You know Michael," Loomis spoke very softly. "I think I would've too."

Loomis could've sworn Michael gave him a very small smile. Another first.

"Not that I condone pointless killing of course," Loomis continued. "How many times have I told you that very thing over the years?" He smiled at his patient. "But him? Not to mention when it comes to yourself, I think a certain woman named Danielle Hayward is having an effect on you which you certainly didn't anticipate."

There was silence, doctor and patient simply looking at each other, then another ever so slight nod from the killer. Loomis smiled back at him.