Chapter 4

Michael was furious – he had never before felt anything so powerfully in his life.

He just wasn't sure if it was more to do with her or himself. Stalking through the maze of underground passages he found himself stopping just two bends away from where he'd left her. He was not running away. How the hell had it come to this? Damn it! Michael worked to calm his harsh breathing. He did not run. He was in control. She was nothing. She didn't matter.

Michael had made it full circle through the tunnels surrounding the small maintenance room he called home before he realized where he was going. Now he stood there, two easily navigated corners away from the source of his newfound agitation. Michael had no ready explanation for his behavior, he just knew it was bizarre, leaving him unsettled because he didn't understand what was happening, and that seemed to fuel his mounting animosity.

Anger - Michael understood, though rarely felt, coldness - he was familiar with, and emptiness was an old and welcome friend. Unbidden, the image of gray eyes entered his mind, making him remember the defeated and shocked look on her face just before he'd left. His fists clenched in fury. Why was this happening? What did it mean? Hell. He didn't understand it or her or anything right now.

He remembered her touch, the feeling of liquid heat under his fingers. She was soft and supple and more responsive then he knew what to do with. Her whispered words meant nothing to him, but the way she'd whispered them… the breathless sounds she'd made… it made the blood under his skin burn in some strange way. In a way he'd never experienced before. Michael heard a rasping sound echo and was shocked to realize it came from him. It made no sense! He wasn't even sure he'd liked it, but it had felt…indescribable.

Then, the word "lust" had slipped through her lips, and everything had gone to hell in a hand basket. Michael knew what it was and what it meant. He'd realized what he had to do, what he'd seen countless people do in their homes when they thought no one was looking. It seemed to be what she wanted from him. However, as soon as he had entered her, Michael could not stop himself, she had felt so good. At least, until he saw himself in her eyes – it stopped him cold. The sheer terror and pain, and for one moment, he could have sworn - loathing. The fear and pain were commonplace… But hatred? That was unacceptable coming from her.

He had never thought that something like that, something he had always viewed as a necessary evil, could feel the way it had…Usually if the need to relieve his tension arose, Michael successfully ignored it, and it would usually resolve itself by simply going away. On the other hand, when his physical needs couldn't be ignored and wouldn't "disappear"… In those times, he would just take care of them – as clinical and as simple as that. It never even occurred to him to do what others did. To release his tension with sex. He had never done it for pleasure, to him it never seemed anything important – really, it was just a chore.

But…with her... being inside her, surrounded by her, her scent, her touch… Even now, he could still feel her warm skin, the way she'd moved. A shudder wracked his frame, he could feel himself stir at the memory. His whole body felt odd, aware. A strange realization left him reeling and feeling a great amount of resentment towards her. He couldn't remember the last time he needed anyone or anything. So why her? Why now?

I need you. I want you. Those words had never before made sense as he'd overheard them whispered between a man and a woman. Now…it seemed he knew why he couldn't kill her, why he'd been so reluctant, so torn. Now he understood that he wanted her, that his body needed her. He craved her. To say an admission like that was surprising would have been a gross understatement. However, logically, it did make a certain amount of sense. In a way, it brought back a semblance of balance and control he always seemed to lose when he was near her.

Having sorted things out in his mind, Michael decided to return to the maintenance room and resolved to try to be more patient with her. If she had been skittish and afraid before, he reasoned that she would be even more so now. Tilting his head in thought, he also realized that he would have to wait for her to come to him, at least until she got used to him, until most - if not all, of the fear dissipated. He wasn't sure exactly how everything would work, what he needed to do…but he could be patient. For a while.

He also needed to consider that this fascination with her was becoming more then a little dangerous. Twice he'd been almost discovered while roaming Haddonfield's shadows. Twice too early, to make his presence known – Halloween was two months away. His thoughts turned to her far too easily and his concentration suffered because of it. He was getting sloppy and Michael knew he would have to do something to get her out of his mind. Short of killing her, that is. For some unfathomable reason, he couldn't bring himself to do that. God knew, he'd tried.

Rounding the last corner, Michael's eyes fell upon the partly open gate. Moving quickly and silently to the opening, he knew even before looking in, that she was gone. Michael's eyes narrowed and the fingers on his right hand clenched tightly around the hilt of the knife he was holding by his side. Standing there in the partial darkness of the tunnel, his previous fury turned into red-hot rage and before he knew what he was doing, his left fist slammed into the nearest brick wall. Damn her! He knew she couldn't be trusted!

Glaring into the darkness, he shook his head as calm emptiness slowly returned. It the end, it didn't matter if she ran. It wouldn't matter how far she went or how fast. Ever. He would always find her, always bring her back. As he moved silently down the familiar winding underworld of Haddonfield's darkest corners, Michael not once, stopped to ask himself; what about her?

Christine was lost.

Good grief, this place was a maze! Was she stumbling around in circles? Christine could have sworn she'd tripped over that same pipe, not five minutes ago. She could barely see anything, the further she'd made it from her prison, the darker it got.

A shriek tore from her throat as something flitted over her toes. Breathing heavily, Christine tried not to think of what it was, muttering frantically "Oh god, oh god, oh god…W-was that, was it a rat? What if it was a s-snake or a…" Snapping her mouth shut, and putting a halt to her runaway thoughts, she fervently hoped it was a teeny-tiny defenseless little mouse, and not a giant plague infested fawning at the mouth rat. As ludicrous as it was, Christine was silently considering she'd be a lot safer with a certain masked murderer.

Moving around yet another damp corner, Christine kept a shaking hand on the musty walls, slowly pressing forward through the darkness, hoping she'd touch something resembling a ladder sooner or later. Hopefully before her fingers and toes fell off. Shivering, she tried not to think of the cold as it seeped into her body. Lord, but she was tired. This whole day had been a disaster from start to finish. Hell, the whole week! She frowned, trying to remember. Was it really a week? It couldn't be two. Could it? It was hard to keep track of time down here.

Panic gripped her heart with an ice-cold fist. Oh My God! How long had she been missing? Had her mother called while she was gone, and when she hadn't been able to reach her, called the police? Forcing herself to breathe in some much needed air. Christine tried to think more calmly. Her mother wouldn't do that. She'd probably think she was off somewhere indulging in a torrid affair with some foreign hot-and-loaded-as-sin-bachelor.

For reasons she refused to examine, Christine's fearful thoughts were of Michael's safety. It made absolutely no sense, but she didn't want him to get caught or hurt because of her. A fierce longing to be in his warm arms assailed her, making her stumble and frown bitterly into the dark.

She scolded herself for the umpteenth time "Stop it! What is with you? He kidnapped you, for Christ sake! Held you against your will! Practically assaulted you!" A decidedly warped little voice whispered back in her head. He cared for you, when you were injured, when you were sick. He was even gentle at times. You felt it. For a moment you saw it in his eyes. He needs you, just as you need him.

Christine clutched her hands over her ears, frantically shaking her head. NO! nononono. It wasn't real! It didn't mean anything! She needed to stop thinking about him! He is a cold-blooded murderer! This whole situation was utterly demented! Dropping her hands tiredly, she blinked the blurriness of tears from her vision. That was it. It had to be. She was going insane, there was nothing more to it.

Away from him, she could think clearly, know that this was wrong, be reasonable…well, as reasonable as a kidnapped person in lust with her kidnapper could be. But as soon as he so much as stepped close to her, all her reasons, her logic, her resolve that being with him in any capacity was a VERY bad idea. Especially if he touched her. All her noble intentions and safety standards went out the proverbial window.

Maybe her mother was right, though it pained her to admit it, maybe she had been too long without someone…Was that why she was so attracted to Michael, because he was convenient?

Christine almost growled as her thoughts were tainted by the voice of reason; if convenience were the case, she'd be attracted to James before Michael. She knew James better, knew him to be a good man, a man who would never even dream of hurting her, or anyone else for that matter. Now, if only her hormones understood that.

Her fingers brushed the edges of protruding metal. Following the contoursmore firmly with her fingertips, she could have wept with relief as the shape became familiar. It was a ladder! Tucking the ragged blanket more securely against herself, Christine climbed up and knocked her head against something hard when she reached the top. Pushing at it with her hand, she felt it lift slightly for a moment. For that second, the brush of cool fresh air was like ambrosia to her starved senses.

Determined, Christine moved up as far as she could, maneuvered her shoulder against the cover and pushed up with every cell in her body. She could hear it scrape against something and then finally lift. Grasping the edge of the round cover, she pushed it aside as far as she could. It wasn't much, but enough to get out.

Gulping deep breaths of fresh air, Christine clutched the ladder with numb fingers and willed her legs to stop shaking. She climbed out of the manhole, feeling the familiar texture of asphalt under her hands and knees. She was free! She was safe! She'd never been so happy in her life! A twinge of guilt for Michael flared up, she promptly sqashed it.

As she got to her feet, Christine was suddenly blinded by a bright light, and then something blared powerfully in front of her. She froze in shock. A second later, something hard slammed into her, throwing her savagely into the pavement. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Pain exploded and radiated through every nerve ending of her being. She dazedly thought that she felt herself roll onto something soft, something green.

Then she couldn't think at all. Christine passed out.