See, guys? Sometimes I work really fast... I just need an idea solidly in my head for it to happen. Now, you'll see in this part that I incorporated (loosely) a thing they used in that crappy 2009 remake of Ft13th. Sure it might not be exactly like what they had shown in the movie, but I don't really care, lol. My way of doing it makes more sense anyway. ^^; But yeah, I hope you guys like this section. I had a lot of fun writing Jason's thoughts and POV since he's kinda an enigma in other stories and in the movies. It's like how that producer for the Twilight Saga (I don't liek the movies OR the boosk, but it's a good analogy anyway) decided he'd mess with absolutely everything for the movie. :P That's my writing for you; the scary producer gets her claws in something good-yet-vague and twists it till it cries in joy. *ahem* Now that my almost-innuendo-ish analogy is over, on with the show! :D Btw, thanks to all you lovely readers who reviewed, favourited, and alerted; you guys totally deserve your favourite food for supper tonight! Enjoy! :)

He didn't understand it. Why the hell had he smiled at his potential murderer? The man was obviously dangerous if his mannerisms had been anything to judge by, but when he had nodded to him to just leave like that… well, Laurent hadn't felt as threatened anymore. It was as if the weight of their first meeting at the dock was gone. Almost but not totally forgotten.

But he knew he was still being threatened. The way that eye had glared at him when he had grabbed his keys from above him. The way that same dark eyes had intensified his glared when he grabbed his wrist and made him take his own keys. Laurent watched his son blankly from a spot on the ground near the water as he thought about that eye. About that man, too. It was hard to focus on those two things at once now.

What was he supposed to do?

That eye had been so beautiful, alluring, and full of molten emotion. Sure, it was all anger and deep thoughts Laurent doubted he would ever understand, but it was intense. Something told him that the man wasn't going to hurt him yet. Something also told him that he still needed to watch how he acted any time he was within an 'I'm-being-watched-for-sure' area. Which probably meant he should watch his back all the time unless he was inside his house with the shades closed; he hated the very thought of it immediately.

Again, he thought about the strange masked man. Why was he wearing a hockey mask (of all things) while stalking around a lake with a machete? Why the hell had he still smelled like a rotting thing? And how the hell had he grown to be so big? Laurent thought back to how frightened he had been when the giant of a man had invaded his personal space against the tree. Damn close to pissing his pants was what had happened, he thought bitterly, both from being so helpless and from the stench. But he had managed to keep a hold on his bodily functions and not do anything rash… like check him out. The young father did have to admit to himself that he still felt that physical attraction, no matter how silly and childish it was, to the frighteningly dominant other man on Crystal Lake's shores.

"This is just like being in a constant interview," he muttered to himself, running a single hand through his hair, "where I have to act disinterested in the boss and overly interested in my job." Laurent watched his son splash around in the shallows for a moment or two longer before deciding that maybe he should make the best of the 'interview'. He would make a show of it! And in turn that would make the boss watch him less carefully, Laurent hoped.

Stripping off his shirt, Laurent walked quickly to the water's edge. When little Kiran finally noticed him, he let out a squeal of delight and ran to his daddy. He grabbed Laurent's left hand with both of his and dragged the man into the water with him where he promptly began showing him what he had found in the mud. Inside his little plastic bucket, Kiran had gather a few snail shells about the size of quarters and nickels, a multitude of rocks that looked nondescript (but Laurent ooh-ed and ahh-ed anyway, much to the delight of his little boy) and oddly enough, a little golden locket.

Laurent reached into the bucket slowly, picking out the locket and its chain. They were muddy, mossy, tarnished, and very obviously old. If he was any good judge of time, he would have guessed that it had been made over sixty years ago. He turned it over in his hand, noticing that one of the pins for its two hinges had gone missing, and that its ornately simple design had been tarnished by a word scratched into it by a child's hand.

Jason.

There was no way of knowing who that Jason person had been, but whoever he was, he had owned a good piece of jewelry before losing it. As Laurent thought more about it, he remembered what one of the store clerks had told him on his way to find Crystal Lake the day before. The woman had mentioned something about an old children's camp that had been closed down years ago because a child had drowned, but he doubted that just because the necklace was old meant it had something to do with that drowning. Children lost plenty of things in the water.

"Open it up, daddy," Kiran begged, pulling his father down to sit in the shallow water next to him. Laurent smiled at the little boy, patting his hair with a gentle, wet hand before working at the locket. When Kiran saw how hard it was to work with he eventually lost some of his interest and began digging in the mud near him to look for more shells.

It was stuck for a bit longer, almost to the point that Kiran was about to get up and look for more interesting things. But Laurent was finally able to pop it open, pouring out a little bit more water and leaving a film on muck inside. He swiped his thumb across it, grinning as his little boy stood up and leaned it to get a better look, totally blocking Laurent's own view of the inside of the jewelry. He flet Kiran's little fingers touch the locket and his own hand as he looked at the contents.

Looking up at his father, Kiran looked confused. "Who's the lady, daddy?"

…\/…\/…

It was unnerving to see just how motionless the young father had become after their meeting. There had been that frighteningly bright smile in which Jason had suspected some foul play about to start, but the man had merely continued toward his car and son just after. He had then proceeded to sit and stare out at his little boy splashing around in the shallows, collecting items from beneath the waters. He hadn't checked to make sure all his keys were present. Hadn't checked to see if they even worked anymore. Hadn't even turned to look at the trees anymore like Jason had expected.

What was he doing?

Jason studied the man's back before moving a distance to view his profile from about the same distance as he had the back. He noticed that the man wasn't even fully watching his son, but seemed to be favoring a blankness aimed in the child's direction. That angered Jason something fierce. Why was he watching his on more closely? His little boy could drown and he probably wouldn't notice a thing until he…

Suddenly, the young man was standing—no, he was walking toward the little boy with an intently happy expression on his face—and stripping off his tee shirt. Jason had been ready to rush out of his camouflaged hiding place to protect the boy if his father decided it was time to finally be a 'normal' human and attempt to kill the boy, but had been stopped by the most unlikely thing. He was uncomfortable with the thought being near the man with so little clothing on him. Yes, he was still wearing swim shorts and sandals. But that was it.

The large, undead man felt shame at his pang of humanity. This man wasn't supposed to be any different than the other vagabonds that entered his domain, so why should he be affected by this one? His eyes were fascinating; so what? Jason had seen much more unique eyes in all his kills, but they had never stopped him before. His face was actually handsome for a human, almost pretty. Again, so what? Jason had also seen plenty of nymph-like humans who tried to be alluring; he slayed every single one of them with anger.

He had a child that was so similar to him. That had to be the reason why Jason didn'twant to expose himself, to attack the man. He was near his child. And Jason didn't want to scare the child, and he didn't want to make the child turn out like he had.

But that wasn't it.

No matter how many times Jason would tell himself it was because of the little boy, he knew deep inside that he was lying to himself. It was something, or a combination of somethings, that had kept him hidden away, staring even more intently. But if there was one thing Jason thought he knew, it was that his feelings of flushed embarrassment and overt fascination when viewing the man's bare torso had absolutely NOTHING to do with it. He wasn't nervous just by looking at that lithe, breakable frame etched with just enough muscle to destroy the illusion that he was simply a small, slender man. And he was definitely not interested in using the hiding place as a sort of front-row-seat for being a voyeur.

Not. At. All.

Jason's anger boiled up again at his own jumbled thoughts (the past twenty-four hours had been quite the experience in the realm of intellectual usage for the poor guy), and he shook off every single one of them. He had a responsibility to watch over his lake and keep it clean of disgusting sinners and to avenge his mother's death. To be on alert for any misstep the young man made was his job now, and he couldn't take the time to think about such trivial things. He had to vigilant!

The father and his son sat in the water after a minute or two of happy interaction, and Jason saw something glimmer in the man's hand. He wanted to get closer to see what it was, but he knew he couldn't do that while they were still so unabsorbed with the item. He waited a few moments longer, until the father was totally into doing something with the little golden thing, before moving closer to them, out of his cover. Neither of them noticed him.

It took a bit of time, but Jason was finally able to figure out what the young man was doing to the thing. He was trying to open it. From where he was, Jason was able to see that it was oval, quite old, and had probably been buried in the mud of Crystal Lake for years. When a chain fell between a couple of the man's fingers, sparkling dimly, Jason jerked forward with a start of recognition. He now knew exactly what item the man was holding, what he was trying to do, and what was inside of it.

It was the locket Jason's mother had given him to keep as a memento of her when he was at summer camp. She had wanted him to attempt a bit of a normal life when he had turned eleven, and she had given him that as a token of her love. He remembered carving his name into the back of it with a knife from the kitchen, too, for just in case it got lost. When those children had… done what they did and left him to rot at the bottom of the lake, he had lost it. And his fear of the water had kept him from looking for it in the depths.

But now they had it, and he wanted it back. He wanted that silly little locket with its picture of his mother when she had been a teenager and the only picture of his dad he ever owned. Jason not only wanted it back, he needed it back.

And he would stop at nothing to get it now that it was within reach.

…\/…\/…

"I don't know, little man, I can't see the picture?" Laurent replied with a laugh. Kiran grinned at him and moved aside just enough to let his father see the picture.

It was warped, stained and had taken on an overall greenish hue, but it was a picture of a young woman. Laurent looked at it fleetingly before glancing at the picture his son hadn't noticed yet. He was a handsome man with dark hair and light eyes (though it was in just as bad of a condition as the woman's picture was). He wasn't smiling. She, on the other hand, was pretty with medium-length curly hair and a warm smile much like…

"She looks like mommy," Kiran purred touching the picture again.

Laurent blinked and brought the locket closer to his face. The strange woman did hold a bit of a resemblance to Ginger, especially in her smile. The teeth were similar, and the way her cheeks dimpled ever so slightly was also very similar to Laurent's ex. Did they have any sort of relation? It wasn't entirely impossible seeing as the picture had to be old, but they weren't so very similar that he would think it was a definite thing. And anyway, Ginger had never mentioned a family member, obviously the mother of the child who had scratched his name in the back of the locket, having children that went to an old camp from years ago.

"She does… but all pretty ladies remind you of mommy," he teased his son, splashing him with a bit of water to distract the boy from the locket. Kiran giggled and splashed his father back, forgetting all about the piece of jewelry. Laurent took that moment to slip the item and its chain into a pocket in his shorts and simply enjoy the rest of his day with his son.

After a couple more hours of playing with Kiran, Laurent heard a little rumbling sound coming from the little guy. He grinned as his son glanced at his tummy, mumbled at it to be quiet because he was having fun, then continued walking around in the water, gather shells and rocks again. The young father picked up his son, causing him to laugh as he always did when hoisted into the air, and brought him up to the Camaro to sit on its hood. It groaned only slightly in protest.

"See, buddy? She's hungry, too! Want some lunch?"

"Yeah! Can I have a peanut butter sandwich, daddy?"

Laurent paused, acting as if he was thinking very hard about the decision. "I don't know, son; I was thinking more along the lines of pizza, but if you want a sandwich, I'm sure the car and I can enjoy it on our own." The look on Kiran's face was priceless. Laurent hugged his little boy, laughing at the look he had received before pulling away once more. "If you want to come with me, I think I might be able to find that pizza place. Remember the one you wanted to stop at on the way here last night? It's bound to be open now. And now that I actually know I have the money to get it…"

Kiran practically strangled his father before running at full speed toward their house, squealing something about pizza, transformers, and a masked man. The young father decided he might as well ignore what the little boy was babbling about; it wasn't as if that bit about a man with a mask was the same thing as his own experience with a man in a mask. The little guy hadn't even met Laurent's own potential killer yet, or he would've have told his daddy about it directly afterward.

He stuck his key in the ignition, started his baby up, and left the car to go find his little boy (and to get on something else to wear for lunchtime). For once, Laurent didn't feel that uncomfortable sensation of being watched… at least not by hateful eyes. He still felt as if someone watching him, but the young man supposed that was just something he'd have to get used to. Laurent snatched up his shirt from the ground and whipped it over his shoulder like he would a towel, smiling for every reason and no reason at the same time.

Feeling a sort of carefree-ness was liberatingly delicious. He only wished that he could possibly share the feeling with the angry man as well. Everyone deserved some happiness after all, even if they were violent and had no reason to attack him.

You should go find that man again.

What? Had he really thought that? Laurent stopped just beneath the shelter of some trees, the cabin just in sight. There was no way he would go hunting down that man just to make him bloody happy. He had gotten a machete thrown at his damn head the first time, and had been so close to getting his wrist mangled in the man's grip the second time. No way. He wouldn't go looking for that giant. If the man wanted a taste of happiness he and Kiran had right now, he could come looking for them.

That's like saying a hurt puppy should come find you for help instead of you getting him out of the road.

"Cute little puppies don't want to turn me into human jelly," he quietly growled to the annoying little voice in his head. Laurent wasn't about to listen to some humanitarian voice in his head now. It was just bound to get him into some shit or another. And there was no reason to go looking for the man anyw—

Lying to yourself won't help. If you want him to be happy, you have to make him happy, dumbass.

"Oh, and how am I supposed to do that? Bring him flowers? Like that'll make a crazy man happy. If anything it'll just make the whole thing worse. You know what? You're no help right now! He's bound to be watching me, listening even, and I look like I'm talking to myself."

Maybe because you are? But as I had been about to say before you rudely interrupted me: you don't know that he really wants to kill you anymore. He hasn't done it yet, and that very thorough look over you've given him twice now has proved that he's more than capable of killing your sorry ass with his bare hands. Just try to talk to him. Share some food or something. He must want something from you; doesn't mean that he wants to kill you right now.

"Fine! I'll go outside tonight and explore for a while. Maybe he'll find me in the meantime and I can get a name or something. Happy?"

That little voice simply replied that he was being an idiot talking to himself, arguing more like, and that he should just get on with the pizza buying because he was hungry. Laurent agreed of course, making a mental note to buy a flashlight while he and his son were out. He also made a mental note not to have conversations with his conscience again. It was an annoying little bastard with a thing for arguing and making Laurent do things he wasn't too keen on.

Even if his conscience really was only another part of himself, it could still be a bastard.

…\/…\/…

Jason didn't get a chance to see where the man had put his locket. It had been there one moment, then he had begun to play with his son, and it was magically gone. He hadn't been able to tell if the man's swim shorts had pockets (then again, he hadn't exactly been too interested in the man's choice of clothing during the times he was watching him), so he ruled that idea out immediately. He just didn't know. Maybe it had gotten dropped back into the bucket and then transferred to the house when the little boy had run home? Or maybe the man had thought it to be a piece of junk and had simply dropped it back into the water…

He wanted so desperately to abandon his fear of the lake itself, but he simply couldn't. It held too many bad memories, shadows of his past he would rather not relive every second he rooted in the mud for the necklace. The man simply wanted his property back, and he did not want to kill or feel like he was being killed in the process of doing so. Maybe he had to talk to the man. Well, not really talk, since he didn't exactly having working vocal chords anymore. Or functioning lungs for that matter. (Jason breathed heavily not because he needed the air but for the pure fear it inspired in the people he killed.)

Walking aimlessly through the densest parts of the forest- near to the cabin and the man but not near enough to be found if the man went wandering for some reason—Jason suddenly slammed a single fist against an old oak. The poor tree shuddered, shaking multiple restring animals from its branches and causing quite the uproar for a few seconds. A single eye spoke of his apology to the animals as he began to walk once more, slower this time.

There was no plausible way of getting that necklace back into his possession. He couldn't kill the man, he couldn't talk to the man, and he couldn't just walk into their house and…

A car engine sounded over the soft, occasional twitters of birds and squirrels, and Jason whipped around in that direction. Were they actually leaving at the exact moment that Jason thought to break into the house and search for what was rightfully his? It was like a message from God! A message that came just at the right time; right when he was dreading having to actually communicate with the man. The whirring of the car driving away eventually faded, and Jason walked determinedly in the direction of the cabin.

Once there, he began to have a good amount of second thoughts. The first one was a pretty big one: what if they got home before he found it? He didn't exactly know why they had left in the first place, and if it was seriously just a quick trip for food or some trivial need, he would be caught. And that would totally kill the whole idea of not killing the man. The second idea wasn't as big, but was still something to think about. What if he got in there, got to search the whole place top to bottom, and it wasn't there? It was always a possibility that the father had brought it with him, possibly to ask questions around town. But Jason knew he needed to at least look around inside without ripping the place apart. He needed to look around, to give searching a try.

Taking a deep-yet-unneeded breath, Jason emerged from the trees just behind the little cabin. It looked small and frightened sitting in the clearing, almost waiting to cry out for when Jason finally pried open a window or a door. It was a huddled little thing with green laced roof tiles, peeling paint in some areas and simply raw wood in others, and many large, freshly polished windows. It was very different from when Jason had been just a youngster, enjoying a sheltered life. It was old now, slightly decrepit while still looking loved.

He wanted to talk to it. To comfort it like some small child found alone in the forest, and he was the hunter who had discovered it while on a weekly trip to look for deer. More than anything else, he wanted to be that little boy again, carefree to a degree and happy in his solitude. Jason wanted to have his innocence back, to not hate people for what they did (even when they deserved his hatred and anger), and to be happy again.

In a small way, he hoped that the man and his son might bring a bit of that happiness and innocent love back to him. Indirectly, of course, but it would be there for him nonetheless. Of course, he wouldn't use them for that person; no, he would keep his distance and absorb the radiated happiness from the couple.

Jason eventually walked around the little house and stepped onto the porch. It creaked and sagged ever so slightly under his weight— he was a big man after all— but held for him. He allowed himself a rare smile beneath his mask when the building seemed to release a sigh of happiness at his presence, and he ran a hand along the splintered railing. He stepped forward and twisted the front door's knob gently. It gave easily and the door swung inward to give him entrance. As he stepped forward, Jason inhaled deeply, absorbing the smells.

Soap. Tomato sauce. Lake Water. Dust. Something more stinging and masculine flirted with Jason's senses as well, though it made him cringe. It was the same smell that had been on the man when he had backed him against a tree. It wasn't a natural human smell, and the large man began to wonder if it was the male equivalent of the perfumes women wore. Underneath it he smelled two very human scents. One was that of a child, a smell Jason had learned to correlate with innocence and a lack of threat. The other was oddly pleasant in comparison to most men he smelled; it was biting yet smooth. Sweet and sour. Bitter and intoxicating. A delicious sort of smell that Jason decided he liked instantly, though he told himself it couldn't possibly be simply from the man.

He took it all in and pushed every sensation to back of his head for later use as he walked into the little house.

Every room was checked thoroughly, every item he picked up put back into its place. Eventually, he had to enter the bedroom though, and was hit by a wall of both the boy's scent and a mixture of the man's scent. The masculine perfume and whatever mixture of artificiality the man used to create such an addicting fragrance was intense, causing Jason to pause at the doorway for a moment. But he shook the sensation off quickly and strode in, ready to look through suitcases if he had to.

Suitcases, the bed, the small closet, even the bureau was searched all the way through. Every item, save those on the top of the miniscule bureau. He eyed them apprehensively, wondering if he should learn a bit about them while they were gone. It wouldn't hurt to at least know the names of the people Jason would try to absorb some happiness from, right? He strode slowly to the little collection of items, picking up only the bigger ones that could easily be placed back where they were.

The first item to be picked up was the picture of the dog. It was a happy looking old mutt with small orange ears and pink nose. It was lying on its side, its head cradled in somebody's lap, looking quite content with its life. Jason slipped the picture from its frame and looked at the back. It wasn't dated, but the name Grizzly was written in a feminine script. Jason glanced at the picture of the man and woman, suspecting it was her handwriting. He put the picture back into its frame, then the frame back onto the bureau gently before moving onto the little music box.

It was kind of heavy for such a delicate looking thing. By the feel of it, Jason guessed it was some sort of heavy-duty ceramic. He turned it over delicately in his hands, looking for a name or something equally as unique to the child or the father. A tinkling melody began to come from the box, but Jason paid it no mind. Nothing was scripted on the outside, so he lifted the lid to it and peered inside. A single picture of the little boy as a very small baby was inside, corners bent and edges worn. He pulled the picture out gingerly and studied it. The boy had been just like him as a baby; large dark eyes, sweet expression, a half smile, and a disfigured face. He turned it over. Kiran Michael Spencer, 1 Month. So that was the little one's name. Kiran.

Suddenly, Jason wanted to know the father's name even more. It was enough to know the boy's name, but not enough if he didn't get the other half of the couple.

Jason didn't bother placing the music box back where it belonged, knowing he would work with it in a moment. He lifted the picture of the man and the woman. He's married, Jason thought fleetingly, studying the woman. She was pretty, her smile and her hair reminding him of his mother, but Jason felt a slight resentment toward her. Why wasn't she here with her husband and child? That little boy needed her! Jason clenched his fist ever so slightly, cracking the glass in the frame about an inch at one corner. She was just like all the others who came to Crystal Lake… sinners who cared for nobody but themselves. He practically ripped the picture from the frame, wanting to see what her name was. Laurent and Me! He paused, still angry, wondering if maybe her name was on something else. But then it hit him.

That man's name was Laurent. Laurent Spencer if the little boy's last name was the same as his. Jason's stomach fluttered, quite the unusual thing for the killer. He knew their names now. They wouldn't, couldn't, be killed now. It was personal. He knew them.

The sound of an engine and tires on dirt and rocks alerted Jason to the returning people. No, the returning Kiran and Laurent. The very thought of using their names when thinking about where they were or what they were doing was amazing. Jason decided that he liked knowing people by their names. And not killing them afterward.

He brought himself back to his surroundings with a jolt. How long he been walking around their house? At least half an hour… which meant he was potentially going to be found within if he didn't work fast. They moved quickly, so unlike the others who had come to Crystal Lake in the years before, so they would be at the house soon. Jason glanced at the sunlight coming through the window into the room. It was around two o'clock now. They had eaten lunch and were going to be a little slower than before. He had the time if he worked quickly.

But the items weren't cooperating. The picture of Kiran as a baby was having a problem sliding back into its place in the still playing music box. Once it finally sat about as well as it had before Jason had taken it out, the killer was having a temporary memory lapse (which didn't happen often) on where to place the box. He decided on a place that seemed good enough, and began to work quickly on the picture of the man and the woman. An idea hit him like slamming of the car door in the distance.

Take the picture.

Will he actually walk out of the cabin with the picture? Can he leave in time not to be found? Did Kiran get the pizza he really REALLY wanted? Tune in next time on... LIKE A DRUG! *flashy lights and dramatic sound effects*

Anways, lol! Like the incorporation of the locket from the remake? I thought that'd be a good way of bringing the three together for some sort of communication before Jason totally jumps Laurent (for the express purpose of ascertaining where the lovely smell comes from and NOTHING ELSE, of course). I liked them getting to know each other names, even if Laurent and Kiran don't know that the man in the hockey mask is the same Jason who etched his name on the locket a good 50-60 years before. Which brings me to another issue for this. How should I go about the whole he's-been-drowned-a-bazillion-times-and-is-rotting-right-now-but-Laurent-still-thinks-he's-hot thing without making it seem like overt, homosexual necrophilia (which it technically is)? I'm not sure about how I'll do that delicately, especially when it gets to the part where- oh, wait, this is a T rated fic. Maybe I'll just have to worry about that for a possible one-shot involving Jason, a VERY drunk Laurent (because we all know he wouldn't make a blatant move on Jason without some form of liquid courage), and assorted sugary foods. Okay, difficulty solved! Should I write an M rated one shot after I'm done with this story?There's the REAL question. :3 Let me know if your review, please, or it won't happen.

Hopefully I can update again within the next month. No guarantees this time, though. *huggles you all* Thank you so much for pampering me with your awesome words! You guys are epicness incarnate! :D