Somewhat longer chapter today. Please excuse the time it took me to get this out to you, I'm juggling college, work, and my writing. The first two must take precedence.

Enjoy!

Amanda.

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Emory only needed a dab of concealer to mask the now-fading shadows beneath her eyes, and this time, she wore her hair down, falling in loose black curls. She even dabbed on some lip-gloss. This way, Loomis would connect Michael's actions to Emory's appearance, not her words. It would be easier for both Michael and Emory. If Michael cooperated.

Loomis met her at the door of the Conference Room, eyeing her with a frown.

"After you left he showed no changes from his original state. I would appreciate it if you would allow me to sit in on your interview." Ah, so he had learned.

"I would be delighted to have you with me."

"Thank you." He paused, hand on the door knob, and smiled. "I hope you will be able to accomplish as much today."

You have no idea. Emory sent him a dazzling smile and followed him into the room.

Michael was sitting with his head down, a crude red mask on his face. Emory was not prepared for the jolt of excitement that hit her at the sight of him. He was very male, though, wasn't he? He was wearing a white t-shirt, so she could see the muscles that corded his arms. She tilted her head at him as she sat down.

"Good morning, Michael," she said, adopting that sickly-sweet doctor voice that so many psychologists love to use. His eyes shot open at the sound of her voice. Loomis leaned forward to make sure he'd seen that correctly. Emory suppressed a smile at Michael's response. She felt almost… giddy. Michael had decided to play.

"Michael, do you remember Dr. Brighton?" Loomis asked. "I asked her to come back and talk to you." He sounded as if he'd just accomplished the most fantastic thing in the world by bringing Emory back. She gritted her teeth, glanced sidelong at Loomis, and then back to Michael.

He was looking at her now, focused entirely on her.

"The last time we spoke, I mentioned your mother. Do you remember her, Michael?" She tilted her head in mock sympathy. Beside her, Loomis cleared his throat. Michael narrowed his eyes, just enough for Emory to notice and for Loomis not to. Emory inclined her head in acknowledgment. Not Deborah. Not yet. "And your sister, Judith. She wasn't very kind to you, was she, Michael?"

Michael tensed. She saw it only because she was looking directly at him, and had found herself so very aware of his physical presence, and so she caught the movement of muscles in his neck as he clenched his jaw.

Yes. Judith would work fine.

"Did she hurt you? People can hurt other people in many different ways. It could be that she said bad things to you, or laughed at you, or maybe she hit you. Is that why you killed her, Michael? Because she hurt you?" She spoke as if she did not expect him to answer, the same way that Loomis had probably been speaking to him for years now. And she could see Loomis, switching his gaze back and forth between Emory and Michael, gauging the reactions of one to the other.

It dawned on Emory just how intricate a game she was playing with these two men. One knew exactly what she was about, and the other hadn't the vaguest idea. Loomis saw what he expected to see. Emory saw exactly what was there. And Michael, well, she still wasn't quite sure about Michael. She would feel a lot better once she knew.

What did he see? A challenge, perhaps, or a threat.

Or a woman. Maybe Loomis actually had that right.

Maybe what Michael needed was a woman.

Emory gritted her teeth and obliterated that thought from her mind instantly. She was not here to get emotionally involved with a psychopathic killer, no matter how smart or virile he may seem. The very idea was laughable, and Emory might have even laughed if it weren't for the fact that thinking things like that was not at all funny. Her mind had weaknesses, more so than any normal person. And her body… Well her body just couldn't be trusted, could it? It had noticed that Michael was there, and that he was a strong man in the prime of his life, and her body could not tell the difference between a regular man and a serial killer, so she let it think what it wanted to.

Her mind would not fall into that trap so easily.

The interview dragged on for another thirty minutes or so, until Emory got tired of her façade. Michael, for his part, did wonderfully. He even tilted his head, just slightly, just once. And as Loomis escorted Emory out of the room, Michael watched her go.

In the hallway, they walked for a while in silence. Then Loomis turned to Emory and sighed.

"It has been fifteen years since I last heard that boy speak," he said, and for the first time Emory caught a glimpse of the psychiatrist in Samuel Loomis, the one who might have actually tried to help Michael a very long time ago. She heard regret in his voice.

"I read that his silence coincided with the death of his mother," Emory noted. "Was he close to her?"

"Not unusually so. She came and visited him once a week for almost a year before she killed herself."

"Because of the nurse?"

Loomis shrugged. "Probably a combination of things; the publicity from his trial was quite unpleasant for her."

Emory hugged her clipboard closer to her chest, wishing she could be in the security room to watch Michael walk back to his cell. She wanted to know how he walked, to see how well he mimicked the characteristic half-shuffle of Fugue Catatonia.

"And she was a positive influence on him?" She wondered.

"She was the best we had. He only seemed normal when she visited."

Perhaps because he could not quite bring himself to deceive her. Perhaps he still had some shred of conscience within him. For some reason, that notion comforted her.

They reached the front entrance of the building, and Loomis turned to her.

"It has come to my attention that you are currently unemployed."

Emory raised her eyebrows. "Has it?" She had told herself she would not let Loomis know how excited she was about working with Michael; she was one of the best, and she'd gotten that way through years of hard work. She had a special interest in this case, but that did not mean she would answer to Loomis. Apart from everything, she did not like the man. He was the kind of person – the kind of doctor – who would have had her locked up in an instant if he knew everything about her.

Loomis gave her a sheepish smile, which made Emory think that maybe he wasn't completely ignorant of her feelings towards him.

"The truth is, I'm retiring in three months," he said in a low voice. "I'm old. I've done my best with Michael and… well, to be completely honest, I'd give anything to see him talk once more before I leave this place forever."

Emory fixed him with a glare. "I will not be used as a way to – "

Loomis interrupted her hastily, "No, no, that's not what I meant at all. I'm offering you a permanent job here."

For a few moments, she was quiet. If she made a wrong move now, it would all be for naught. She would lose the post and any contact with Michael, possibly forever.

"I am flattered by your offer," she said. And she meant it. But still… "What are the terms?"

Irritation flashed in his eyes. "I will gradually let you take over my sessions with Michael, but I will be observing them until I leave."

For a moment, Emory wanted to slap him. She was angry at him, yes, but angry at herself too. She didn't know if she could withstand three more months of acting like a brainless drone in front of Michael. And if she cracked, and Loomis found out what she was really up to, it could very well ruin her career.

She should have acted grateful to avoid arousing any suspicion, but her pride just would not allow it.

Besides, she had her own chips to barter with.

"You know how I feel about Observation," she said with a shrug. "If I take this position, I will have every right to interview Michael without your presence." Oh, she was coming dangerously close to the edge with that one. She could see the indignant anger sparking in Loomis's expression. He was a relatively smart man. He should have known when he was outmatched.

After a tense moment, his expression cooled somewhat.

"Very well. One session a month," he said.

"That's ridiculous and you know it," Emory shot back. She tried to stifle her anger, but it was too late; she had already lost her temper. "I don't want to walk out on this, Dr. Loomis, but I certainly will if you continue to act like you don't need me here."

He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again in sheer shock. It had probably been a very long time since someone had spoken to him like that. Emory regretted her words instantly, and hated herself for feeling so desperate to get this job, to see Michael again.

Loomis nodded, and suddenly his expression was calm. "I see you can hold your own, Dr. Brighton." There was a trace of admiration in his voice, but it was a begrudging trace. "I have sessions with Michael twice a week, on Monday and Thursday. From this point on, you shall have Mondays, but I'll expect you at both."

Pure joy shot through her, threatening to break her stern façade. She managed to nod. Today was Thursday. She had three days until she could see Michael again.

It was going to be a long weekend.