AN: Alrighty...I can imagine there's alot of confusion. And I promise these next chapters are going to start spelling things out very quickly— I'm kinda excited! Hopefully, because things are going to become a lot more fast paced, the quality of writing won't be sacrificed, but let me know if you hate it or love it in a review. If I'm putting too much suspense, if the plot's too confusing, etc. Seriously, call me out on my shit if I'm slacking.

ALSO, I feel obliged to address my thanks to the following reviewers (I'm gonna make this a habit now): Chanty Prime, Luniebin, Antalla, Noonerz45, Radioactive-Pingu, barrrbs, MadameAmethyst, Dancing-Ink-Demon , KyloRen'sgirl213 , starksspangledbanner, M, and all guest reviewers! Love yalls support. AND, I gotta give a shoutout to reviewer e. LIKE HOLY SHITE, I LOVE YOUR ANALYSIS. You are right; we are hitting the meat. More light will be shed on the conflict in these next chapters. With all these layers, I am mostly worried that I'll make the plot too convoluted for readers to follow. Thank you so much for your in depth reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Father

From the hall near the front desk, it was the phone — shrill — jangling Dr. Loomis's nerves, demanding in its tinny and grating ring. Discreetly, the psychiatrist nudged the door closed with his cane.

Beside him, Sheriff Bracket fixed the patient in bedrest with a hard stare and cleared his throat officially, in every manner that would appear professional.

"Mr. Doe, I'm —"

"I know." The man interrupted, "...I know who you are, Sheriff. My sincerest condolences for your daughter. How is your ex-wife by the way?"

Dr. Loomis detected a seething uneasiness beneath the sheriff's cultivated silence.

Beyond his beleaguered features, Mr. Doe gave a regretful look. During the drive, Sheriff Brackett had mentioned that his injuries could have been inflicted by a blunt weapon. Like a bat. "I see. Then, you should be relieved." Mr. Doe nodded. "She's met someone new and she seems happier."

With a sharpened gaze and growing displeasure, Sheriff Brackett grimaced. "Good. But, that's not what we're here for."

In a small town small talk spreads fast.

Deciding now was as good a time as any to put this conversation out of its misery before it spoiled, Dr. Loomis shuffled forward, hacking out a decorous little cough.

"We regret to visit you on such short notice. I'm Dr. Loomis and the matter we've come to address certainly involves your son. His life could be at risk... and we have very little time."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The attention of chilling gray eyes shifted to him. "I haven't seen him for years."

As Dr. Loomis was readying a suitable reply, Sheriff Bracket snorted irritably. "A witness claimed they saw your son's vehicle in front of your house last night. Where is he now?"

"I... can't recall." Mr. Doe lightly touched his cheek — a wrinkle of confusion on a bruised brow. "I can't remember. What trouble has he gotten into now? Has Adam hurt someone?"

Dr. Loomis cocked a brow.

Not the most typical question a parent who would be concerned for their child's well-being would ask.

"Then, what about your daughter?" Dr. Loomis queried. "Perhaps, we can direct our questions to her instead. She was the one who found you, after all."

It was subtle, the hardening lines of Mr. Doe's frown, but Dr. Loomis was never one to miss subtleties. He'd become a master of it, really— especially when it was those very tells he would always try to find in Michael.

"I haven't seen her—maybe she's still at school...Yet...she's still just a teenager. Probably with friends. Or...she might be on the way..."

Dr. Loomis pressed forward, stepping closer to the foot of the hospital bed as the rubber tip of the cane hit the floor a little harsher than necessary.

"It's seven... in the evening, Mr. Doe. She's not here now. Do you think we can find her at hom—"

"What is it that you want?" Mr. Doe asked impatiently. "Can't you see I'm not in any condition to be interrogated by you? Nurse!"

Upon being called a young woman pushed open the door and peered inside.

"Yes, Mr. Doe?"

"I want these two—"

It seemed patience was in short stock for him as well for Dr. Loomis questioned the broken man with less tact than he expected himself to have:

"What does the name 'Michael Myers' mean to your son?"

There it was: the tell.

His less swollen eye twitched then watered.

Dr. Loomis is so often amazed by how emotion could be mankind's greatest enemy.

They waited for an answer.

The lingering nurse pursed her lips. "Are these gentlemen bothering you, sir?"

Reluctantly, Mr. Doe shooed her away. "No. Nevermind, it was a mistake…"

With that, the door closed and there were three men in the room again, all in some manner of discomfort and discontent. Mr. Doe tried to compose himself before making a reply.

"He... loved him since he was a child..." Even when giving voice to the words, he could not dare look at the men. As though, in shame.

Dr. Loomis and Sheriff Brackett exchanged a confused glance. There was something so wrong with the statement.

"That's a crock of shit. Stop playing with us, Doe—"

"Leigh," Dr. Loomis said sharply.

The sound of his name snapped him back into an observant silence, and the sheriff lessened the severity of his scowl and stewed.

Then, to the man who was bedridden, Dr. Loomis said, "Michael Myers is not capable of returning...affection." He said the word as though it was vinegar on his tongue. "Just...rage."

"What would you know? You didn't know the child before..."

"Whoever Michael was before, is not who he is now." I would know. I watched him turn into what he has become...

Mr. Doe gave his head the smallest of shakes. "They could've been brothers. I always found them playing together..."

"But, that changed, Mr. Doe," Dr. Loomis intoned. "On that night, when Michael was taken away."

"When Michael was taken away…" He raised his wounded gaze.. "...it changed everything."

"What do you mean?"

Without answering, the man's sights aimed towards the window. It was cracked ajar, allowing the crisp air of a dying season to enter. Dr. Loomis was hard-pressed, but he didn't relent. There was too much at stake to give in. Both the boy he had once cared for, and the murderer he had once killed were in liberation. They lived and breathed in one vessel, whose hands reap from this world people too naive to oppose him. How could one defeat evil without first knowing it? Where had it come from? Who had it tainted?

"Is your son helping Michael now?" Dr. Loomis asked softly.

Suddenly, Mr. Doe turned his face to them both and showed his own dose of panic.

"I remember..."

"What?" Dr. Loomis whispered.

"I tried to stop him." The father's voice cracked from the hashings of grief. "I-I should've but, it's...it's all my fault."

"What is your fault?"

"Where...where is Carmen? Have you heard from her? Is she— is she…? She must stay away—"

"Goddamnit," Sheriff Bracket barked. "Answer the question!"

Mr. Doe's hands gripped the edge of the blanket. "Adam was taking him back…back to—"

Dr. Loomis toiled over the name of the place which fell from the man's lips and a dense hollow feeling spread in his chest.