Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life with Michael Myers was, to put it mildly, strange. Little Jamie had learned this a few weeks ago when she began living with her uncle on Dr. Loomis's “recommendation.” Jamie didn't understand the old man's reasoning, but she trusted his judgment because, after all, he had treated her uncle for years and hadn't been killed. Of course, at first, she was very worried, and her adoptive family, Rachel more than anyone, refused to let Jamie stay with her psychotic biological uncle. The guy had no qualms about killing. What would stop him from killing a little girl who couldn't even defend herself against him?

Dr. Loomis, with his impeccable professionalism, explained that Jamie's presence could be a deterrent to Michael's instincts, and told them about the brief moment of connection they had when she called him Uncle for the first time.

“Michael needs someone to keep him centered, grounded, and who better to do that than his biological niece?”, Loomis had said.

“Are you suggesting using my sister as some kind of weapon against that psychopath?!”, Rachel roared, while her mother cried at the mere thought of it and her father clenched his fists, ready to punch someone and take his family away from there.

Loomis, however, remained calm.

“Jamie will not be used as a weapon, much less left alone at Michael's house. There will be round-the-clock surveillance, seven days a week, and I will go every week to talk to Michael. At the slightest sign of anything suspicious, we will get her out of there and I will take care of Michael.”

“The school will be suspicious if Jamie stops attending,” Richard snapped vehemently.

“The plan,” Loomis explained, “is for her to continue her normal life. She will continue to go to school as usual and will be able to contact you, only her place of residence will be with her uncle.”

Jamie wasn't sure she fully understood what Loomis had told her parents and sister, but now she was under the same roof as her uncle Michael. Loomis took care of bringing all her things and assured Jamie that there would be people watching the residence if she needed help.

The first week was the most difficult (or terrifying). Jamie hardly left the room she had been given for fear of running into her uncle. The man was extremely stealthy and always appeared and disappeared like a ghost. Jamie wondered a couple of times if he had some special power that allowed him to go from one place to another without being detected.

So far, Michael hadn't done anything strange. He almost always left, locking the doors and windows first to make sure Jamie didn't escape, and was gone for an hour or two, more or less. There was no clock in the house, so the girl calculated the time by looking at the sky when she had nothing else to do. After that time, her uncle usually returned with bags in his hands. At first, Jamie was afraid to find human remains that Michael was bringing home as trophies, and her fear increased when Michael approached her to leave the bags next to her.

He would just look at the bags and then at her, in a silent signal that he wanted her to open them. Nervously, the girl would do so and never find any remains of any kind, but rather... food, soft drinks, and some sweets, such as candies and chocolates. The good part? None of those items had traces of blood on them. The bad part? Jamie doubted that her uncle had paid for them.

Even so, she knew she shouldn't question him and accepted his “gifts” with a shy thank you.

She knew that this would be her life from that moment on.

__________________________________________

One night, the girl was dying of thirst. She quietly left her new room, hoping that the creaking of the old wooden floor would not be enough to alert her uncle that she was awake. Before going downstairs, Jamie looked over her shoulder. There was little light, as her uncle had extinguished the candles he lit during the day so that his niece could walk around the house without difficulty, but the few rays of light that filtered through the windows helped her find her way.

There was no one there.

Letting out a sigh she didn't know how long she had been holding back, Jamie went downstairs, stopping abruptly every time a step creaked under her feet. The silence itself was eerie, so the abrupt sounds tended to frighten her.

When she finally reached the ground floor, Jamie walked quietly to the kitchen. She knew her uncle kept some intact glasses in the cupboard. The problem was that the cupboard was high up. Jamie was not even five feet tall, so how could she reach something high up if she needed it?

Exhaling with annoyance, the girl decided to drag a chair as quietly as possible and place it next to the countertop to use as a makeshift ladder. She climbed onto it and then onto the countertop. Knowing that the doors squeaked (everything creaked in that house, and she wondered how the building hadn't collapsed yet), Jamie opened them very slowly and waited for her eyes to adjust to the extra darkness inside the cabinet. Not quite sure which glass was closest, she reached out and grabbed one at random.

The sound of the chosen glass hitting another in front of it made her shudder, and her fear grew when she saw the struck glass fall.

But the sound of glass shattering on the floor never reached her ears. Jamie risked a glance and came face to face with the large shadow of the man who should also be nicknamed “The Silent One.”

The girl let out a little scream of fright and was about to fall backward off the counter. She heard the sound of the chair being pulled away and then felt Michael's hands steadying her. He turned her around and sat her on the edge of the counter.

Jamie couldn't see her uncle's expressionless mask clearly, but just by looking at his figure in the darkness, she could tell he was upset. Hearing him put the glass on the table and close the door somewhat abruptly confirmed it.

“Hmm... I just wanted... some water,” Jamie murmured, hoping that this simple action would not unleash Michael's fury.

In the darkness, Michael tilted his head slightly and looked at his niece, who kept her head down, unable to look into the black eyes of the mask. Without saying anything (Jamie didn't expect him to), the man took the glass from her and went to the refrigerator, which was used only to store certain things and make space in the abandoned house. He opened the door, and Jamie was almost surprised not to see any remains of... any kind. She preferred not to think about it too much, or she was sure she would vomit.

The girl heard him take something out, and a few seconds later, the sound of liquid being poured. Michael opened a drawer, rummaged through the few utensils he had, and returned to Jamie when he found what he was looking for.

Jamie only looked up when Michael handed her the filled glass with a straw to drink.

“Thank you...”, she murmured shyly. She drank the water through the straw, which, fortunately, didn't taste like stagnant water or rotten remains.

Michael watched her the whole time, perhaps thinking about what her next move would be. Jamie finished the water and Michael took the glass to put it in the sink.

“I'm going to sleep,” Jamie said. As she tried to climb down from the counter, she remembered that her uncle had removed the chair so he could catch her before she fell. Normally, she wasn't afraid to jump, but in the darkness, she was worried she would step on something and hurt herself.

Sensing her fear, Michael approached her, took her under the arms, and lifted her down from the counter. As soon as her feet touched the floor, Jamie hurried back to her room. She ran up the stairs as fast as her short legs would carry her and, at the top, turned to look down once. She had to stifle a gasp of fright when she saw her uncle standing on the first step, watching her intently. Jamie still didn't understand how he managed to be so stealthy, but right now, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

The little girl continued on her way to her room and closed the door behind her.

Michael did not follow her.

From that night on, every time Jamie got up to get water, she found a glass, a bottle of water, and a straw on the counter, as well as a small stool next to it that she could stand on to reach the items without having to struggle to balance herself. At the same time, her uncle stopped surprising her during the nights she got up.

Perhaps even he could show some consideration for his niece.

Chapter Text

School days were the only ones that remained the same for Jamie. She still had no close friends, as most of them continued to tease her about the “Uncle Boogeyman” incident. Most of them were influenced by their parents, who couldn't accept that a family would want to adopt the girl who shared blood ties with Michael Myers himself. That, and knowing that their children were at the same school as her, didn't do Jamie any favors.

She was used to being alone at recess, watching the groups play and wondering what her school years would have been like if things had been different.

On that particular day, the children went so far as to push her off a swing and knock her to the ground, causing her to scrape her left forearm. It didn't go any further than that. They didn't hit her or anything, they just kept making hurtful comments about her family. Jamie held back the urge to cry as they teased her and wondered when the day would come when they would stop picking on her for something that wasn't her fault.

At times, Jamie wished she hadn't gone back to school.

It hadn't been easy to convince Michael to let Jamie attend school. Once again, Dr. Loomis' intervention was necessary. He told Michael that if Jamie stopped attending classes and simply disappeared, people would become suspicious, and if the Carruthers family couldn't provide a reasonable explanation, he would most likely never see Jamie again.

Loomis knew he had taken a huge risk in saying those words (it was no coincidence that he had kept a safe distance between himself and Michael while he spoke), so he thanked God when his patient nodded and walked away, implying that he agreed. The only condition was that the Carruthers could only drive her to school and then drop her off a few blocks from her house when she got out, so that Michael could pick her up himself.

The agreement was hotly debated by Richard, Darlene, and Rachel, but again, they had no choice but to accept it. Rachel offered to pick Jamie up from school when she got out and drive her to Lampkin Lane.

That day, the older sister drove a few blocks before parking a few blocks away. It was better not to attract too much attention with an unfamiliar car. It was best to pretend they were two normal sisters out for a drive. Not that there were many people who could see them, but it was best to be cautious.

“How was your day today, girl?”, Rachel asked as they walked to where Michael would pick up Jamie.

“Same as always...”, Jamie replied, a little self-conscious. She hid the wound on her arm as best she could, not wanting to worry Rachel unnecessarily.

Rachel sighed. Those words could only mean that her sister had been teased again. The bullying never went beyond silly songs and hurtful words, but Rachel was concerned that one day the children would go too far, ending up physically hurting her little sister. Part of her believed that the children would not go that far, but her reasonable side told her that they were capable of it if no one stopped them soon.

“So how are your days with... you know?”, Rachel insisted, trying to change the subject. It was obvious that Jamie didn't want to talk about school.

“Oh... Well, I think they've been... good,” Jamie replied, with some hesitation, though not enough to alert his sister that something was wrong. “I mean... she didn't threaten me in any way and she lets me go out to play in the backyard, but she doesn't like me going to the front by myself.”

“Why's that?”, Rachel asked.

“He didn't tell me,” Jamie joked, making her sister snort softly.

“Touché. Anyway, Jamie, please promise me one thing,” Rachel asked, stopping on a deserted street where Jamie would soon meet her uncle, “if anything happens, you'll tell me or Dr. Loomis.”

“I will, don't worry.”

The sisters hugged. Above Jamie's head, Rachel saw the unmistakable figure of Michael watching them from behind a tree. Even from a distance, Rachel could sense that Myers was staring at her unabashedly, apparently unhappy with her closeness to Jamie.

“Take care,” she whispered to Jamie.

The little girl trotted over to her uncle, who let her take his hand, and they walked away, but not before Michael took one last look at Rachel.

Rachel was sure she would soon have gray hair.

At Michael's house, Jamie left her Hello Kitty backpack on one of the old dining room chairs and set about doing her homework before anything else, as she preferred to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

She left her notebook on the table and rummaged through her backpack for the pink pencil case her mother had bought her when she started school.

Without her knowing where he had come from, Michael appeared beside her as she opened her notebook, grabbed her left wrist, and pulled down her coat sleeve with his free hand, exposing the wound with traces of blood and dirt on her forearm.

Jamie couldn't help but tremble when she realized she had been discovered. She was sure she had hidden her wound well, to the point that even Rachel hadn't noticed it.

“It's nothing, it was an accident,” she whispered. “I was playing and I fell.”

She couldn't see her uncle's expression behind his mask, but that didn't stop her from feeling the anger emanating from him. His heavy, steady breathing warned the girl that it was not appropriate to lie to him. At the same time, she didn't want a group of children to pay the price for their parents' influences. It would pass, Jamie told herself.

“It stings a little,” she admitted, hoping to distract her uncle.

Michael let go of her arm and walked away. Jamie heard him go upstairs and wondered if it would be wise to go to another room or wait. She opted for the latter.

She had barely finished writing a couple of lines of her homework when Michael reappeared at her side, this time holding a damp towel. Jamie never ceased to be amazed by the clean and healthy things her uncle managed to find.

Michael pulled up a chair to sit near her, exposed the wound on her arm again, and began to clean it as gently as he could. Jamie gasped when the wound began to sting a little more, but it was only for a moment. 

Thinking he had been too rough, Michael began to clean the wound more gently, despite how upset he was by what he knew. There were a few things he knew about abusers, and a couple of them were that, first, they didn't stop until a new victim came along, and second, words could quickly turn into physical aggression. Likewise, adults rarely paid attention to such acts, and if they did, they never did anything to stop the harassment.

It was another reason to hate the outside world.

As his wound was being tended to, Jamie looked at his uncle's hands. Ever since he noticed the marks, he wondered how he had gotten them. He knew that he had had brutal encounters with those who tried to stop him, but he never received precise details. His uncle didn't seem to feel any pain, but Jamie wondered if it had always been that way or if, at the time, the wounds had caused him some discomfort.

“Your hands... Do they hurt?” she asked quietly.

Michael stopped what he was doing, and Jamie felt his eyes rest on her. He just shook his head.

“Did they hurt when you got hurt?”.

Michael barely shrugged, which Jamie interpreted as ‘Does it matter?’.

Then the girl asked the last thing she wanted to know about her uncle.

“Did someone hurt you?”.

Michael's body stiffened at his niece's innocent question. He never forgot anything, and the memories of his injuries were still fresh. He didn't just think about the ones on his hands, but also the ones on his face, hidden beneath an expressionless mask that allowed him to forget at times that he had them.

He refocused on his niece's injury and, for a brief moment, looked at his hand next to hers and realized that, in a way, they weren't so different. Jamie's wasn't serious; in a few days it would be gone without leaving any permanent marks, but the memory of why she had it made Michael think that his niece might understand him better than anyone else.

Abruptly, he let go of her arm and got up to leave. They were connecting too much for his liking. It was still too soon for him.
Jamie watched him walk away and heard him go upstairs. She sighed. Her uncle must want her around because she was his niece, the only biological family he had left, but there was a difference between that and wanting to get attached.

Resigned, the girl decided to focus on her homework, looking at the exposed, freshly cleaned wound. It didn't burn as much anymore.

Chapter Text

The following days were not very different for Jamie, except for the fact that, strangely and disturbingly for her adoptive family, she seemed to be getting closer and closer to Michael. Rachel always talked to her when she picked her up from school, and on none of those occasions did her little sister tell her anything that might alarm her, such as Myers trying to hurt her or doing bad things in front of her. So far, almost a month since Jamie had started living with him, nothing had happened that could alert Dr. Loomis, the family, or the police who were constantly watching the house.

On occasional days, Jamie would wander around the house to pass the time if she didn't want to go out or just to snoop around, and when she returned to her room, she would find small gift boxes, clumsily wrapped in shiny paper with ribbons stuck on them. Knowing that only her uncle could have left them there, the girl found it amusing that the man was making an effort to make a good impression. Then the amusement turned to fear as she imagined the contents of those boxes; after all, she should never assume she knew what her uncle was up to. And finally, the fear turned to genuine surprise when she saw the contents of the boxes: new clothes, some stuffed animals, new notebooks and pencils, and some candy, which was her favorite.

Other times, when she came home from school, Jamie would see a plate of hot food on the table, in the same place where she always sat. Her uncle must have realized (or maybe it was Loomis) that she needed more than candy and drinks to live, so he started looking for food that could help her stay on her feet.

During the afternoons she spent in the backyard, he didn't seem so scary either. He watched her at all times, perhaps making sure she didn't run away, but beyond that, Jamie didn't feel uncomfortable with him or feel that anything serious could happen.

And Michael was also showing concern for her. One afternoon, Jamie had thrown a blanket on the lawn to read a little outdoors and clear her mind. School was still the same, except that the bullies no longer bothered her as they had before. In fact, they seemed to want to avoid her at all costs. Jamie wasn't sure why they were scared, but she was too relieved by the peace and quiet to care. After a while, exhaustion must have overcome her without her realizing it, and she ended up falling asleep on the blanket with the book beside her. Her sleep was quite light, so she found herself semi-conscious when she felt herself being lifted off the ground. She felt two strong arms holding her, one under her knees and the other on her back. She was too exhausted to open her eyes. She simply held on to one of the opposite shoulders and leaned against that strong chest before falling asleep again.

She woke up again and found herself in her bed, with one of her teddy bears beside her and a lit candle on the nightstand. An unexpected feeling of calmness came over her, instead of that lingering fear that had kept her awake at night during the first few days, when she was still unsure of what might happen to her uncle.

Later, she would figure out how to tell Rachel and her parents.

_________________________________________

Jamie hated storms with a passion. Rain bothered her because it meant she couldn't go outside to play. But storms, those nights when thunder rumbled against the walls and lightning lit up the inside of houses, were one of the things that scared her the most.

Sometimes she couldn't sleep well because of the noise, so she ended up in Rachel's room, asking if she could sleep with her.

Now, she was with someone who seemed oblivious to what real fear was. Her uncle wasn't fazed by the raindrops hitting the windows or startled when the sound of thunder pierced his ears.

Jamie envied him a little.

That night was no different.

When the first drops fell, Jamie was lying on the floor, drawing, near the old fireplace in the living room. Her uncle had managed to get it working without any major problems; the girl wondered if the mechanic's suit was more than just an outfit to go unnoticed. In one of the armchairs, Michael was reading one of the few books he kept on the shelves. Jamie knew her uncle was intelligent, but she never thought he would spend his time reading when he wasn't looking for potential victims.

Jamie was a little tired, but she didn't want to go to sleep yet. Tomorrow would be Saturday, and in her old house she was allowed to stay up a few hours later on Fridays. She didn't know if her uncle would follow the same rules, but so far, he hadn't made any move to indicate that she should go to bed. Not that the strange man was very attached to basic rules and norms anyway.

Silence became part of her daily life, not only because of her uncle's verbal silence, but also because of his constant and unexpected appearances anywhere and anytime, so as soon as the rain began to fall more heavily, Jamie became nervous. She hoped it wasn't a thunderstorm.

Unfortunately, the weather did not listen to her wishes.

While she was distracted coloring one of her characters, a particularly bright light illuminated the entire house, and then the sound of thunder seemed to shake the walls. The noise was so loud that even Michael turned to look out the window. That brief second of distraction was enough for Jamie to disappear from in front of the fireplace. Michael looked around, quite impressed, it must be admitted, in search of his niece.

It didn't take him long to hear the sound of whimpering behind one of the armchairs. He put the book aside, got up, and walked over there with his usual calm. He saw the small figure of Jamie kneeling on the floor, covering her ears tightly and holding back the tears caused by the normal fear of a girl her age.

Jamie never mentioned that storms scared her. Michael didn't know if it was out of embarrassment or because she had forgotten. All he knew was that she was like her mother. As a child, Laurie had been terrified of storms, especially after Judith told her a horror story one night and left her alone in her room, with the lights off and the curtains open, so that the lightning lit up the room every time it struck. His younger sister hadn't slept that night, and Michael noticed the dark circles under her eyes and her constant nodding the next morning. Another reason he didn't regret killing Judith.

Jamie didn't notice him, absorbed in protecting herself from the noise.

Michael sighed, which would not have been heard because of the mask, and knelt on one knee to be at Jamie's height. Slowly, he brought his scarred hands to the little girl's small hands and pulled them away from her ears. Jamie looked up, and Michael could see the latent fear in her innocent eyes.

Before Jamie could speak, a second clap of thunder, louder than the first, made her scream and lunge forward, straight into her uncle's arms. Her little arms wrapped around the killer's neck and her body collided with his.

Michael had never been approached like this before. The times people had lunged at him were always to restrain him and prevent him from attacking others or escaping psychiatric control, so his first impulsive thought was to push Jamie away as he would have done with anyone else.

Fortunately (very fortunately), he realized that the girl was not attacking him, but seeking protection. If it had been someone else (and if he could have done so), he would have laughed. It sounded absurd, and perhaps it was, but he would not think about that for the moment.Reluctant to trust his own movements, Michael wrapped one arm around Jamie's back and slipped the other under her knees to lift her princess-style. Jamie clung to his neck the whole time, too frightened by the storm to think that her uncle was carrying her. When she shuddered again at a third clap of thunder, Michael gently patted her back and headed for the armchair where he had been sitting before. He sat down and adjusted Jamie so he could sit her on his lap.

“I don't like storms,” Jamie whispered, frightened, clutching her uncle's suit.

Michael pulled her close, letting her head rest on his chest, and began stroking her hair in an unusually soothing gesture.

Having calmed down enough, Jamie realized what she had done: she had lunged at the Boogeyman to hug him out of fear, and he hadn't pushed her away or hurt her to show that he hated contact. Instead, he ended up picking her up and then sitting her on his lap so she wouldn't be afraid. And now, he was stroking her hair and still holding her. With her head resting on his chest, Jamie was surprised to realize two things: 1) her uncle had a heart that beat, just like hers; 2) it was a soothing sound, and feeling his arms around her made her slowly forget her fear of the storm.

The girl looked at the drawings on the floor and thought about picking them up, but the light from another flash of lightning coming through the window stopped her. She preferred to stay where she was.

The candles around them had burned down to half their length when Michael noticed that Jamie's breathing was relaxed and her chest was rising and falling slowly. She had fallen asleep in his arms, without fear.

Michael looked at her innocent face and a strange, almost forgotten feeling settled in his black heart. It was as if the image of the little girl in his arms had appeased some of his most lethal instincts.

Slowly, he got up from the armchair with the girl in his arms and went upstairs to put her to bed. Luckily, tomorrow was Saturday; unfortunately, that meant the next day would be visiting day. The Carruthers family would come to see her with Loomis, much to Michael's displeasure. He hated the idea of having them in his house, especially Jamie's adoptive sister. What right did they have to visit his niece? Yes, they had taken her into their home, but in Michael's eyes, that wasn't enough.

In Jamie's room, Michael carefully laid her on the bed, tucked the blankets around her so she wouldn't be cold, and left a candle burning on the nightstand. Jamie hadn't told him, but he knew his niece hated complete darkness. Before walking away, he ran a hand through her hair and felt the corners of his mouth twitch slightly as he saw her lean into his touch.

Michael stepped back and leaned against the doorframe, watching Jamie sleep. He was very... striking, as Loomis would say. Usually, he would take advantage of the vulnerability of any person or animal to commit cold-blooded murder. He wouldn't even hesitate to raise his favorite knife and carry out a massacre.

This time, watching Jamie sleep so peacefully in that bed after being put to bed by her psychotic uncle, Michael could only think that he would never allow anyone to separate her from his side again.

Not even himself.

Chapter Text

The Carruthers family, accompanied by Dr. Loomis, parked their car in front of Michael Myers' house, a short distance from the patrol car that guarded the house daily, and they all got out apprehensively. Rachel looked at the car next to her parents' and wondered what people would think when they saw the police watching that “abandoned” house day and night. Her first thought was that everyone would assume it was just a precaution, to prevent any curious people from trying to break in and do something foolish. If that was what Loomis had thought when he decided to send the officers to guard the house, it made sense. After all, who would want to go in there for any other reason?

From the outside, it was clear that the house had been uninhabited for years. The walls had damp stains and the paint that was once white was now grayish. Rachel wondered how long a new coat of paint would last on the patches that exposed the wood. The windows, covered in dust visible from the outside, looked as if they would break just by touching them with a hand. And the front door, which was still strangely in place, was held up by hinges that were clearly in need of oil.

Definitely, only an idiot would want to go in there.

Her mother put her arm around her shoulders, and Rachel could feel the tension in the woman. She wasn't the only one. Her father, usually joking and talkative, remained silent the whole way. He hadn't even asked Loomis any questions, who, despite his seriousness, never once suggested that Myers could have done something terrible to Jamie.

“I hope Jamie is okay,” Darlene whispered hoarsely.

“Honey...” Richard said, disturbed.

“You shouldn't worry,” Loomis assured them, too calm for the family's liking. “Neither Michael nor Jamie showed any signs that anything was wrong.”

“As far as you know,” Rachel muttered resentfully.

“Doctor, Michael Myers is completely unpredictable. You know that!” Darlene exclaimed, unconsciously squeezing her daughter's shoulders.

“Lower your voice,” Loomis asked. “I know what he is, I've treated him for years,” he reminded them.

“Exactly,” Rachel said. “If you treated him for so long, you know what could happen.”

“Or what might not,” Loomis added.

The family and the doctor made their way to the entrance after formally announcing themselves to the officers on guard. Sam Loomis took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. Everyone shuddered at the sound of the hinges. Before allowing them to enter, he warned them:

"I know you're desperate to see Jamie. I'll make sure Michael lets her be with you while I talk to him. Now, when you go in, no yelling or talking to him, especially not in a bad way,“ he said, looking at Rachel. ”The last thing you want to do is make him angry. Like it or not, this is his house."

The Carruthers looked at each other and, reluctantly, nodded. They weren't happy to set foot in the Myers residence, but if it meant spending a few hours with little Jamie, they would endure it as best they could.

They didn't know what to expect to find or hear inside. Rachel had imagined all the way there that her little sister was locked in a room, without light and isolated from everything so that she couldn't leave, except to go to school under the silent threat of not revealing what was happening behind the doors. She imagined her curled up in a corner, trembling and unwilling to approach anyone. If she saw a single wound caused by that psychopath, Rachel would find a way to eliminate him from the face of the Earth forever; she swore to God.

Deep down, Rachel knew that her parents' ideas weren't so different from her own, and that scared her even more. They couldn't all be wrong, could they?

Loomis led them to the living room, where Michael was waiting for his sessions, and the family prepared to see any of the scenes their terrified minds had created since Jamie began living with his deranged uncle.

Except that none of those horrifying images that kept them awake at night were happening.

What they saw made them raise their eyebrows, and Dr. Loomis had to suppress an inappropriate smile that would cost him dearly if it were seen.

Michael Myers, the ruthless and relentless killer, devoid of any real emotion and with a latent rejection of other human beings, was standing with his back to the entrance of the room, near one of the windows, swaying slightly from side to side. In his arms, a much smaller figure rested comfortably against his shoulder, her arms around his neck and her face hidden on one side of his.

The new arrivals' eyes widened even more when they saw Myers rest his head against Jamie's for a moment and her embrace him in her sleep.

Rachel opened and closed her mouth so many times that her jaw almost locked. She remembered Jamie talking fondly about living with his uncle and never revealing anything that would make Rachel want to murder Loomis any more than she already did, but to sleep so peacefully in the arms of the killer? The world really wanted to give her gray hair at a young age.

Michael, sensing the four new presences, turned toward them and his grip on Jamie seemed to tighten, but not enough to wake her. He stopped moving and patted the girl's back a couple of times, looking at the rest of them in a way that clearly said, “Wake her up and you'll all die.”

“How's it going, Michael?” Loomis greeted him, smiling affably. However, Michael's gaze was fixed on his niece's adoptive family, perhaps wishing he could kill them just by looking at them.

“We came to see Jamie,” Rachel said, hoping not to show that she wanted to pee herself inside.

Michael let out something like a growl and turned to show them the sleeping girl in his arms, giving the others a look that clearly said, “Here she is, she's fine, now get out.”

“Michael,” Loomis insisted, with a certain severity in his tone. "I know you want to be with Jamie, but right now, we have to have our session. Come on, we'll be done soon and you can go back to her."

Michael rested a hand on Jamie's back, his grip almost possessive. He wasn't happy to hear Loomis' insufferable condescending tone, but he recognized (to himself, of course) that if he finished his session with the old man sooner, the Carruthers would leave his house sooner and be away from Jamie.

Keeping at bay the instincts that were screaming at him what to do, Michael settled Jamie down, approached the sofa, and laid her down on it. Richard, Darlene, and Rachel were surprised to see the tenderness with which Myers treated the girl when she complained, still asleep, annoyed at losing contact. Michael ran a hand through her hair, and Rachel was sure that if he had spoken, he would have cooed at her. She must be losing her mind.

Once Jamie was settled, Michael went to his session with Loomis. He passed by the family, giving them a warning look, and Loomis said they would be upstairs.

Alone now, Rachel ran ahead of her parents and rushed to wake Jamie.

The girl opened her eyes heavily, realizing that her uncle was no longer holding her and that she was not in her bed. The times she fell asleep in the living room after school or in the yard when she relaxed enough despite the cold, she always woke up in her bed, tucked in and with one of her stuffed animals nearby. This time, she was surprised to see that she was on the sofa, with the fireplace lit, and also to find her older sister nearby.

“Rachel!” she exclaimed, excitedly. The two hugged as soon as Jamie sat up, and when they separated, the girl was approached by her adoptive parents.

“Honey, you don't know how happy we are to see you!” said Darlene, on the verge of tears with emotion.

“Me too,” Jamie smiled and sat down next to her mother. Richard sat on the other side, leaving the girl between them, and Rachel sat down in the leather armchair, still looking around the room.

“How have you been, girl?” Rachel asked, hoping to sound as calm as someone who knows that her little sister is under the same roof as a murderer could sound.

“Very well,” Jamie's genuine answer and smile, which had always seemed so sweet to them, gave them chills. “Last night we went for a walk with Uncle Michael.”

“Walking... around the neighborhood?” Richard asked.

“Yes. It was late and there were no people around. He showed me the area, but he never let go of my hand.”

Darlene immediately glanced at her youngest daughter's hand, wanting to make sure she wasn't hurt. In her mind, if Jamie had tried to escape and her uncle wanted to prevent it at all costs, her little hand must be injured from the struggle. But her surprise was evident when she noticed that neither of Jamie's hands was injured or showed any sign that she had tried to escape from Michael.

Over the girl's head, Darlene and Richard exchanged glances, and Rachel could only think that she had never seen her parents look so old as when they saw Jamie looking so happy with her uncle.

“Have you been sleeping well?” Richard asked, wanting to change the subject before he lost his composure.

“Yes. I slept well here and I've taken a few naps after school,” Jamie admitted.

“You hardly ever slept in the afternoon,” Rachel commented, and one of her legs began to bounce.

“I know, but these days I've been able to do it without nightmares.”

The Carruthers avoided exchanging worried glances in front of the girl.

In one of the upstairs rooms, the one that used to belong to Judith Myers, Loomis looked at the drawings on the wall and realized that Michael must have recently converted that room into a playroom for Jamie. In addition to the drawn and painted walls, there was a rocking chair in the center of the room, which could be easily turned to keep an eye on the girl who currently lived there. Loomis looked at the drawings and saw figures of animals, dogs, cats, and birds, houses of all sizes, the sun hidden behind clouds—in short, everything that could pass through the mind of a child. But what caught the old man's attention most was that, among those that could easily pass for drawings made in moments of boredom, there were a couple that showed an adult and a girl walking hand in hand. Unlike the rest, the human characters were crudely painted with crayon and the shapes were sloppy. Loomis had no trouble figuring out who had made each stroke.

Without even looking at his therapist, Michael sat cross-legged in front of some uncolored drawings, picked up one of the pencils scattered nearby, and began to scribble around, without following a specific pattern. He chose to focus on a two-story house with four windows and a door in the center.

“They're nice,” Loomis commented. “Did you and Jamie do them together?”

Without turning to look at him, Michael nodded.

“Does she know who this room belonged to?” Loomis asked.

Michael stopped drawing for a second, looked at the drawing, and shook his head before continuing.

Loomis walked over to the rocking chair and sat down quietly, making as little noise as possible.

“Jamie seems to be doing well in school. It's a shame she doesn't have any friends yet,” Loomis said calmly.

The old man saw that Michael was still painting on the walls, as if that were not a concern.

In his view, he must be the only company Jamie needs, the psychiatrist concluded, fascinated. Who would have thought that Michael Myers could feel that he was suitable company for another human being?

“I also heard that she's sleeping better,” Loomis continued. “It seems that nightmares no longer torment her as they did before.”

Michael's scribbling became calmer, as if his mind had begun to process the information. Perhaps knowing that his niece was mentally well helped him too.

Loomis couldn't predict Michael's movements, much less claim to know what he was thinking. At that moment, however, he could theorize that Michael must feel some relief that he was no longer the cause of Jamie's nightmares and insomnia. His drawing style became slightly sloppy and his strokes became flat, as if he had forgotten that he had to press the tip of the pencil against the wall to make the color more noticeable. Even his breathing no longer sounded like the panting of a wild animal.

“Did she come up with the idea of the drawings on the walls?”

Once again, Michael nodded, without looking at his therapist.

It was a little frustrating, but Loomis could temporarily settle for getting answers.

“And you allowed it from the beginning?”

That question stopped Michael's movements. The killer moved his head slightly, almost as if to see Loomis over his shoulder, and shook his head.

“Was it later?”

Michael nodded.

“All right,” Loomis sighed. “Michael, there's a very important matter we need to discuss. I wanted to wait a little, but I understand that it's not something that can be put off for too long.”

As if he hadn't heard him, Michael went back to scribbling the drawing of the house, this time faster than before.

“It's about Jamie,” Loomis added, knowing that this would get his patient's attention.

Sure enough, Michael looked over his shoulder. Loomis knew he had to tread carefully or everyone in that house would be leaving in body bags.

“No one is thinking of taking her away from you, Michael,” what a lie, “we're just considering some possibilities.”

To Loomis's distress, Michael's breathing warned him that he was going too far with too few words. If he entered that territory, he would only have one chance to get out unscathed.

“The Carruthers miss her,” Loomis continued, trying to let calm prevail over fear. “I know you don't like other people visiting your house or being around Jamie unless they have to be. But, Michael, you can't forever prevent the people who cared for her from wanting to see her too.”

Michael refocused on the drawings on the walls, and his strokes became violent, practically stabbing them as he painted each one. Loomis deduced that Michael was imagining stabbing him and the Carruthers.

“Michael, I need to talk to Jamie first, but whatever she wants, we'll respect. It would only be for a weekend. She would leave on Friday with her foster family, and I would bring her back here on Sunday night,” Loomis explained, slowly standing up when he saw Michael pause and drop his pencil.

As if remembering who was downstairs, Michael stood up and stormed out of the room. Loomis cursed under his breath and followed him.

A few minutes earlier, the Carruthers had decided to broach the subject with their little girl once and for all, knowing that Loomis would take care of the hardest part. Time was running out; they had to talk and stop beating around the bush.

“Jamie, we were talking to Dr. Loomis, and we all think we could do something,” Richard began, hoping his feigned courage would be believable.

“What thing?” Jamie asked, tilting her head.

“Well, you see, sweetheart. We love taking you to school and picking you up. We also love visiting you, but...” Darlene looked to her husband for help. She seemed afraid that saying the words would summon the devil.

“We wanted to know if you'd like to stay at our house for a weekend,” Richard's words practically came out in a rush, but Jamie had no trouble hearing every one of them.

“Oh... Well... Yes, I'd like that, but I should ask Uncle Michael first,” Jamie replied, looking down.

“He shouldn't be the one to decide,” Rachel muttered, rolling her eyes.

Jamie kept his eyes down and barely opened his mouth to answer his sister when heavy footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

The family knew that Loomis had just spoken to Michael. For a moment, they feared he would enter the room with bloodstained clothes and a knife in his hand, ready to use it against them for daring to even think of taking Jamie away from that house.

They breathed a sigh of relief when they heard Loomis calling Michael. He was alive.

Myers entered the room with steady steps, completely ignoring the Carruthers and approaching his niece to take her in his arms and carry her away from them.

Loomis sighed from the doorway. He knew that, for Michael, that wouldn't even be a negotiable option.

“Michael,” Loomis said calmly. “No one said it would be permanent,” he glanced at Rachel to silence her, assuming she would have something to say.

“We just want to spend a little more time with my sister,” Rachel emphasized before she could stop herself.

Michael shot her an angry look from behind his mask and placed one hand on Jamie's back in a possessive gesture.

Loomis alternated his gaze between the Carruthers and Michael. If things continued like this, Michael's killer instincts would resurface, and no one there, not even the officers outside, would be able to stop him. It had been a bad idea to rush into the proposal that Jamie return to her adoptive family for a couple of days, but they were worried about the girl, and Sam Loomis wasn't going to let them rest easy by assuring them that Michael wasn't hurting her. They needed confirmation.

Confirmation that could crumble like a house of cards in the middle of a hurricane.

Feeling the tension in everyone, Jamie wrapped her arms around her uncle's neck and whispered something in his ear. Everyone was alert for any misstep, ready to snatch Jamie away from the killer and escape however they could. However, Michael's grip on the girl seemed to weaken, and then he settled her on his hip and headed upstairs.

“We'll be right back,” Jamie said over Michael's shoulder.

The Carruthers wanted to go after them, but Loomis stopped them.

“Really?!” Rachel bellowed. “You're going to let them go?!”

“I think Jamie can handle this better than we can,” Loomis replied.

Rachel clenched her lips and fists. She wanted to yell so many things at that crazy old man.

Chapter Text

The week with Michael had been tense. Jamie didn't feel that her uncle's tension and unease were directed at her. However, she hoped that the emotions her uncle was struggling to control so as not to let his most lethal instincts escape would not be unleashed and cause him to hunt down the Carruthers and Dr. Loomis.

A week earlier, on the day her parents, sister, and Dr. Loomis came to see them and suggested that Jamie stay with them for a weekend, the girl knew that if she didn't intervene, something bad could happen. Very bad, worse than bad. So she didn't hesitate to hug her uncle to remind him that she was still with him and whispered that they should talk alone. Michael had calmed down enough to leave the room and take Jamie to her bedroom. There, he closed the door and left the girl on the bed. He turned his back on her and approached the door again, perhaps wanting to hear if anyone from downstairs was following them.

Jamie had gathered all her childish courage to say to her uncle:

“You know it won't be forever. I... I'll come back here,” she had said.

Her words made Michael's shoulders tense and his breathing heavy. The girl was nervous, but she didn't want to back down.

“It would be so that... my adoptive parents and Rachel can rest easy and know that I'm okay here,” Jamie insisted, hoping that the tremor in her voice wasn't enough to betray how she was feeling at that moment. She could be calm enough with him to fall asleep in his arms, but Jamie didn't forget that her uncle possessed a wrath that was not appropriate to provoke.

Michael turned toward her, and Jamie had to fight not to look down. It wasn't any easier when he came over and sat down next to her, still watching the door. Jamie wondered if he was thinking of going downstairs and doing what she thought he was thinking.

“Uncle,” she said, knowing the effect she had on the man. Michael turned to her immediately. “I don't plan on leaving you. I just... want to reassure them that I'm fine and will continue to be fine.”

Slowly, Jamie placed her hand on Michael's, causing him to flinch. But he didn't pull away. Michael looked at his niece's hand on his and was almost shocked by the contrast in size. It was as if a kitten were resting its paw on a tiger's. Michael tilted his head and refocused on his niece, who was smiling.

A little while later, Michael came back downstairs with Jamie in his arms, and the girl told her adoptive family that she would be with them at home on Friday after school. The parents could barely contain a sigh of relief, but Rachel couldn't help but give Michael a look of rejection, a feeling that intensified when she tried to approach Jamie to say goodbye and Michael put his hand on her back and stepped back, looking at her in a way that said, “Don't even think about it.”

He might have agreed to let Jamie spend a weekend with the Carruthers, but that didn't mean he wanted them to get close to her in his presence.

On Thursday night, before Jamie went to bed, she was sitting in a chair that Michael had brought to her room so he could comb her hair comfortably. Jamie held a teddy bear that Michael had brought as a gift after her first week at his house, while her uncle brushed her long hair. He used to do this every night before she went to bed, as Jamie had told him it made it easier to deal with the knots the next morning.

Jamie's backpack rested at the foot of her bed with the things she would need to leave on Friday. It was a little heavy, containing more than just her books and notebook, but at least she wouldn't have to walk anywhere. Besides, it wasn't that much stuff, since she would be back on Sunday night.

“On Sunday, I'll be back with Dr. Loomis,” she reminded him, unable to remain silent. Even without seeing him, she knew Michael had nodded. “It won't be long.”

Michael continued combing her hair, and Jamie didn't wait for a response.

On Friday, Rachel picked her up to go to school. She couldn't honk the horn, as that would alert other people. Jamie saw the car through the window and told her uncle. Michael accompanied her to the door, but, of course, he didn't come out. He knelt down to hug his niece, and Jamie was sure that if he had given in to what he wanted to do, he would never have let her go.

As soon as she got into the car, she and Rachel hugged, and Rachel looked out the car window toward the house. She didn't see him, but she was sure Myers must be glaring at her from one of the uncovered windows of that house.

In the afternoon, once they arrived at the residence, her adoptive parents greeted her with desperate hugs, and the first thing they asked her was if she was okay. Jamie smiled politely and told them she was fine and that she had prepared everything she needed to stay with them. Darlene let out a sigh that she must have been holding back since Jamie started living with Michael, and Richard nodded, pleased. Behind her, Rachel put a hand on her shoulder and said:

“We're happy you're here again, Jamie. Come on, leave your backpack in your room and then we'll do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Jamie agreed, silently thanking Rachel for her intervention.

In her old room, everything was the same. The bed was impeccably made, with its pink blankets printed with colorful hearts. The bookshelves, as clean as the day they must have been bought, held her coloring books and some of her childhood collectible figures; for them to shine as they did, her mother must have cleaned them day after day. Her nightstand still had her night lamp and digital clock, both of which worked perfectly. Jamie smiled when she saw the stuffed animals still arranged on her bed; they weren't much different from the ones Michael used to get for her. She was a little surprised that he hadn't sneaked in through the window to take them.

Jamie left her backpack at the foot of the bed and walked over to the window. She had almost forgotten what it looked like without the boarded-up windows. She looked outside and, without realizing it, let out a sigh when she didn't see a strange figure standing below, watching her. She had come to believe that her uncle would appear out of nowhere after following Rachel's car.

Jamie decided to go back downstairs and join her adoptive family. She didn't want to keep them waiting.

Her parents didn't mention anything about her uncle. The two times Jamie brought him up, they found a way to steer the conversation toward other topics, such as school and whether she had made any friends yet. It was easier for them to ask about friends the girl didn't have than to hear about Michael Myers. Rachel waited until she had some alone time with her little sister so she could talk to her about Myers.

“Jamie, be honest,” her older sister began, taking advantage of the fact that their parents had gone out shopping to prepare a special dinner. “In that house... Can you swear that everything is okay?”.

“Yes, it's true, Rachel,” Jamie nodded, her shoulders slumped. "If anything happened, I know I could tell you or Dr. Loomis. If I don't, it's because I have nothing to say."

“I understand that it must be annoying to hear the same thing over and over again, but understand... It's not easy.”

Jamie looked down for a moment and asked timidly:

“What do Mom and Dad say?”.

Rachel sighed.

"They don't talk about it much, but they always pray for you. Mom cried when Dr. Loomis got your uncle to let us go."

“Uncle Michael wasn't happy,” Jamie said. “He's very possessive of his house.”

Not just his house, Rachel thought, biting her tongue to keep from blurting that out and telling Jamie that he shouldn't refer to that psychopath as “uncle.”

Jamie knew Rachel didn't like to talk about her uncle, unless it was to find out how she was doing living under the same roof as her only biological relative. Except for specific events, it was obvious that her older sister preferred to ignore Michael Myers' existence in some way.

“How are you?” Rachel asked, crossing her legs to keep her feet from bouncing on the floor.

Jamie shrugged.

“The change was weird, but I think we're doing okay.”

Rachel nodded and decided not to press the issue. Instead, she offered to watch a movie with her sister.

Jamie could only admit it to herself: she was a little worried. Ever since she had persuaded her uncle to let her go see the Carruthers and stay with them for the weekend, the little girl hadn't stopped thinking about Michael. She didn't think so much about what he would do, whether he would be up to his old tricks again or whether he would find a way to get there again to take her away without leaving a trace.

Jamie was worried about how her uncle would be without her.

___________________________________________

As expected, Jamie noticed that Richard and Darlene continued to be very kind to her and seemed concerned about her condition, just like Rachel. Although she was happy to see them again, Jamie couldn't suppress the feeling of invasion caused by her parents' questions. Fortunately, Rachel noticed and told them before dinner to give her some space.

Her parents continued to talk to her as if nothing had happened and commented on one or two things about Michael, which Jamie tried not to pay attention to.

She was aware that Michael had done terrible things, but even so, she didn't like them talking about him.

During Friday's dinner, Jamie noticed the way her parents looked at each other. They seemed to be taking turns to speak first.

Finally, Darlene took her turn.

“Jamie, honey,” she began, placing her fork on her plate quietly, as if that simple sound could completely disturb everyone, “you know you'll always be welcome here, right?”.

Jamie gave her a strange look, and the feeling grew when she saw her father nod, his eyes fixed on his plate.

“Yes, I know, and I appreciate it... Mom,” Jamie replied quietly.

“That's why we were thinking...” Darlene took a breath and squeezed her fork. “We were wondering if you'd like to stay here longer.”

“How long?” Jamie asked.

“Well, as long as you want, sweetheart,” the woman continued. Jamie noticed her body shaking.

Richard put a hand on his wife's shoulder and turned to Jamie.

“Jamie, we want you to be comfortable, and of course we're worried about... what might happen.”

Jamie put her cutlery down on her plate and looked at her parents and sister. So that was what it was about.

“You don't need to worry,” the girl assured them, with a calmness that made them shudder. “Uncle Michael takes good care of me,” Jamie smiled, and Rachel thought she saw her mother about to burst into tears.

“We can see that, Jamie,” Richard replied. “You look fine and healthy, but...”

Tired of the ramblings, Rachel rolled her eyes and said bluntly:

“Jamie, what they're trying to tell you is that we'd like you to stay here a few more days for safety's sake.”

“Rachel,” Richard scolded her, looking at her as if she had made a vulgar comment at the table.

Jamie alternated her gaze between her parents and sister. She was sure that sooner or later the more direct questions or ideas about staying with them longer would come up. She knew they missed her, she missed them a lot too, but at that moment, she also missed her Uncle Michael (not that she was thinking of telling them that, no way), just as she missed her biological parents.

Jamie wanted to tell them that she was fine with the idea of living with her uncle and visiting them on weekends. She wanted to express that the fear she had once felt for the man nicknamed the Boogeyman no longer existed in her. And she wanted to ask them not to pressure her to talk, because she didn't want to be responsible for making them feel bad or distressed.

Instead of saying anything she was thinking, the girl simply replied:

“I'll keep visiting you, but I have to go back to Uncle Michael.”

“Do you have to or do you want to?” Rachel insisted.

Jamie looked down at her plate, finding the food more interesting.

“Why don't we just forget about this and get on with dinner?” said Richard, realizing that the conversation that night was going nowhere.

Deep down, everyone knew, painfully, where Jamie wanted to be. And with whom.

At bedtime, Darlene tucked Jamie in, said goodnight, and made sure to turn on a small light so she wouldn't be completely in the dark. That night, another storm would hit the town, and Jamie would sleep peacefully if she wasn't surrounded by total darkness.

Soon, all the lights in the house were turned off, and the rest of the family went to bed. Jamie got up and went to the window. The sky warned that the storm was approaching. The girl hoped it wouldn't be as violent as the rain that night when she fell asleep in her uncle Michael's arms, feeling protected in an unexpected way.

She looked around, hoping to see Michael somewhere, looking at her window, waiting for the right moment to come in.

He wasn't there.

Disappointed, Jamie left the window unlocked, holding on to some hope. If her uncle missed her enough, he would surely leave the window open to indicate that he had gone to see her.

Jamie lay down, looking toward her nightlight, and fell asleep right away.

Around two in the morning, her mind began to dance between the world of dreams and the real world. In her dreams, without strange beings or crazy clowns running through the streets laughing like madmen, she found herself in a meadow filled with golden light, and a feeling of peace made her want to stay there; that light caused a feeling of comfort in her head. On the other hand, the feeling of reality was not far from that of her dreams, for on that side she recognized the unmistakable pleasure caused by the caresses on her long hair. She could feel a heavy, calloused hand combing her hair, from her scalp to the strands that crossed the pillow.

She was not afraid.

As she emerged completely from her dream, she yawned and rubbed one of her eyes. The caresses on her hair stopped, and Jamie took it as an invitation to turn around.

Her brown eyes met her uncle's expressionless white mask, and, as had happened so many times before, Jamie was not frightened, but rather... happy. With a tired smile, she sat up and reached out her arms to Michael. Seeing that his niece was giving him permission, he took her under the arms, settled her on his lap as he sat on the bed, and hugged her protectively.

“I thought you weren't coming,” Jamie murmured. She never thought she would be so relieved to see her Boogeyman uncle.

Michael leaned against the headboard, trying to hold his niece more securely. He was lucky to have arrived, because the storm was about to begin. Literally.

In a nearby room, Rachel woke up with a start. It used to happen to her when loud thunder broke into her dreams and forced her out of that fantasy world. With Jamie at home, she could relax a little and sleep better, but that didn't stop her from being stressed out about not knowing Myers' next move with Jamie in her house, just as she was stressed out about not knowing what that madman would do to the girl when they were alone.

Knowing he existed was a source of stress and anxiety.

Rachel lay on her back, rubbed her eyes, and exhaled wearily. Jamie wouldn't be with her and her parents forever, but this weekend, the girl would be safe.

The young woman turned toward her nightstand and reached out to turn on her lamp. She pressed the button three times before realizing there was no electricity. Annoyed, she let her head fall back onto the pillow. Great, the storm had knocked out the power, and Rachel doubted it would be back before dawn. What bad timing.

Abruptly, she thought of Jamie again. Her little sister hated storms and the dark. If there was no electricity, her nightlight was also off.

Rachel threw off the covers, slipped on some slippers, and draped a thin blanket over her shoulders, but it was just as warm as the others. She stepped out into the hallway without bothering to walk quietly. The rain was so loud that she couldn't hear her own footsteps in the hallway. In a way, she was grateful that it was raining, because the silence in that big house always made her uneasy, and without Jamie there, plus Michael Myers having snuck in earlier, the silent space disturbed Rachel even more.

About to reach Jamie's door, Rachel stopped when she heard a sound different from the rain. She strained her ears as much as she could and concluded, without fear of being wrong, that it was her sister's laughter. It was soft and low, as if she were doing something childish. If it was what she thought, Rachel would ask her if she had overcome her fear of storms; if it was something else... Rachel would have green hair instead of white.

Intrigued and nervous, she finished approaching Jamie's door just as lightning lit up the house. Rachel shuddered and put her hand to her chest, reminding herself that it was just the weather, there were no monsters or ghosts there.

Or so she hoped.

She opened the door to the room and found her sister asleep. The girl had her back to the door, the blankets covering her up to her shoulders, and despite the darkness, Rachel could see that she was breathing regularly, in a deep sleep.

I'm not crazy, I know that..., Rachel thought, dazed.

It must have been exhaustion. Jamie was fine and would be fine while she slept. No one would break into the family home to take her away by force.

Rachel glanced around the room, making sure everything was still in order, and gathered enough composure to return to her room. She closed the door and waited a few minutes. She heard nothing again.

She's fine, she's fine, Rachel repeated to herself as she crossed the hallway.

In Jamie's room, the girl kept her eyes closed and her left arm hanging off the edge of the mattress, under the covers. Under her bed, Michael remained hidden and only reached out his arm to take his niece's hand and signal when it was safe for her to get up.

Michael sensed Rachel approaching the room and had to act quickly when he saw her shadow under the door. Normally, he didn't care if anyone saw him anywhere, and in fact, he enjoyed scaring people that way before killing them, but right now, he had to be careful, because if they found out he had gone to see Jamie when it wasn't his turn, he would end up in trouble with the police and Loomis. Although they hadn't told him what would happen, Michael was willing to bet that they would end up taking his niece away from him for the second time.

He wouldn't allow it, but he also wouldn't stop visiting her whenever he wanted to. After weeks of having her in his home, he couldn't bear the thought of being away from her.

He waited another minute before gently squeezing Jamie's hand to indicate that she could get up. The girl let go of his hand and knelt on the bed, while her uncle crawled out and sat up.

Jamie covered her mouth with one hand, unable to contain her laughter at her mischief.

“That was close,” Jamie whispered, looking at her uncle, who was still sitting on the floor. He nodded.

Jamie sat down against the headboard and Michael sat down next to her again, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him. Jamie sighed, calmer now, and closed her eyes. Had she been alone, the power outage would have made her run from her room to Rachel's.

Suddenly, Jamie felt the arm around her shoulders push her back into her uncle's lap. If there had been light, Jamie would have noticed that Michael was looking at the horizon, as if thinking, “Now... where were we?”

The girl only realized it when Michael's hands rested on her ribs.

“Uncle, w-wait,” she pleaded softly. But it was too late.

Michael tightened his fingers around his niece's ribs to start teasing her. Jamie immediately covered her mouth with her hands and tried to wriggle free from her uncle's attack, but it was impossible. A jolt made Jamie burst out laughing into her hands, and she laughed even harder when Michael began poking her ribs as if he were counting them.

Michael moved his hands up to Jamie's armpits, and her laughter mixed with squeals. He barely had to touch them for Jamie to press her elbows against her sides and lean back, pressing herself against his chest. It was an unbearable session of torture. One that even Rachel had never subjected her to.

Michael stopped when Jamie began to pant between her laughter. He rested his hands on her shoulders and waited for her to calm down.

Jamie continued to giggle as she caught her breath. She still felt as if her uncle was tickling her and remembered when Rachel used to do the same thing, whether it was to get her out of bed, if Jamie was in a bad mood, or if she just wanted to make her laugh for no apparent reason.

Honestly, Jamie wouldn't have believed her uncle even knew what tickling was.

Jamie heard the sound of rain and then realized she hadn't paid enough attention to it to be scared. Her uncle made sure she wasn't afraid.

She didn't understand how she went from fearing the man next to her to the point of having nightmares to feeling protected by him.

The world certainly had a twisted sense of humor, Darlene would say.

Jamie yawned and rubbed her eye, overcome by tiredness.

Michael noticed and didn't hesitate to settle her on his lap so that her head could rest against his chest. Jamie would have protested that she wasn't a baby who needed to be rocked, but she found herself so relaxed that she decided not to say anything and let herself drift off to sleep.

The ruthless killer got out of bed, laid the girl back down, and covered her with the blankets. He didn't think about leaving right away. Instead, he sat back down on the mattress and began combing Jamie's hair, brushing strands away from her face and tucking them behind her exposed ear.

He didn't know how or why, but that little girl had achieved with her mere presence what neither Loomis nor anyone else had managed to do in so many years. His most violent instincts were overshadowed by the innocent gaze of her brown eyes, and the rage that had embedded itself in his heart like thousands of knives began to evaporate like smoke. Michael would never fully regain the humanity that still inhabited his twisted being, but, for better or worse, he was certain that there was someone in the world who saw him as more than the embodiment of evil.

Michael lost track of time as he continued to comb his niece's hair with his fingers. The rain had partially stopped, and the house had electricity again. He knew this when Jamie's night light came on and its glow reached his face.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay any longer. He took his hand away from Jamie's head, got up quietly, and went to the window. He looked at Jamie one last time, and the corners of his lips, hidden under his mask, twitched into a smile that Michael never thought he was capable of.

Chapter Text

On Saturday morning, Jamie was warmly welcomed by her parents and sister, who were finishing setting the table for breakfast. Jamie smiled and asked them what they were going to eat. Her mother, smiling as Jamie had rarely seen her since they adopted her, said she had made her favorite cookies: vanilla with chocolate chips. Jamie sat down and had to bite her tongue to keep from mentioning that her uncle Michael had gotten some a couple of times before she got home from school. They weren't as good as the ones Darlene made, but Jamie appreciated her uncle's gesture of getting her something she really liked.

Richard said they had planned an outing around town to browse shops, get some new clothes, and take a walk if Jamie was in the mood to go out. The girl smiled and nodded, saying it would be good for her. Since she had been living with Michael, she hadn't been out much, except to go to school or in the evenings when he showed her around their neighborhood, so walking around town again would be a welcome change.

Jamie wondered if her uncle would be around, waiting to see her and find out how she was getting on with the Carruthers.

As she sipped her chamomile tea, Rachel looked at her little sister suspiciously, as if she knew she was hiding something. Her parents might have overlooked it because they had so many other things on their minds, but Rachel, who was good with children and knew how to read every little gesture, could see that Jamie's gaze reflected a hint of amusement, similar to that of any child who manages to get away with the biggest mischief they can get away with.

“Jamie, were you able to sleep last night?”, Rachel asked.

Her parents looked at each other and then at Jamie. Apparently, it was only then that they remembered that the girl was afraid of storms.

Jamie looked at them with slightly arched eyebrows and nodded.

“Yes, I slept well. I didn't even wake up during the storm,” she replied and took another bite of one of the cookies, without looking at anyone in particular now.

“Not even when the power went out?” Rachel insisted.

“I didn't notice,” Jamie said, a little uncertainly. She must have assumed that her sister would realize something was wrong if she didn't run to her room as soon as her nightlight went out due to a power outage.

“Rach, why are you so upset?”, Richard asked, setting his cup of strong coffee down with a soft thud, perhaps seeking to get his eldest daughter's attention.

Rachel looked at her father and then at Jamie, who, despite having her head down, gave her a look that begged for something. Deep down, the young woman had her suspicions about what was going on, but her sister didn't need any more stress.

“Just... curiosity. I'm glad you're more comfortable with storms now, sweetie,” Rachel replied, giving her a teasing smile.

After breakfast, the adults cleared the table and told their daughters to go get changed. The girls went upstairs, and Jamie was certain that Rachel wanted to tell her something, but when their eyes met, her older sister sighed and went to her room. Jamie knew she wouldn't be able to avoid a talk with Rachel forever, but in the meantime, she would continue to act as if nothing had happened. It would be easier than worrying her and her parents.

She went into her room, closed the door, and stopped abruptly when she saw her box of memories on the bed. She was sure she had it stored away with all her things. She went over to the bed, took off the lid, and checked to see if all the photos were still there. The ones of her biological parents were intact and had no crosses over their eyes, and the ones of her adoptive family were also there, with no sign that someone with a latent hatred for them had taken them. Everything seemed normal, except for the one different photo, of the only person she hadn't known until recently. The photo of a boy dressed as a clown was among the others. Since Jamie rarely looked at it, it was almost always at the bottom of the box, not because she didn't care about it, but because looking at it made her wonder what that person would have been like if evil hadn't taken hold of him when he was her age. Her mother had never told her about him, and when Jamie found that photo, she made sure the woman didn't find out she had it.

She smiled at the thought of her uncle looking through the photos she kept and realizing that she had one of him. If he came back that night, she would ask him if he had seen them all.

Jamie put the box back in the closet and took the opportunity to get her clothes for going out. She chose light blue jeans, sneakers for comfort, and a pink sweater. Her style didn't vary as much as her classmates', so it didn't take her long to get changed and ready.

She finished putting on her shoes and, as she approached the door, she was certain that her parents were talking to someone. She put her ear to the door and recognized Dr. Loomis' voice. Without making a sound, she opened the door and moved close enough to the stairs to listen without being seen. She wasn't sure how the conversation had started, but judging by her parents' reaction, it wasn't something that made them happy.

“...The murders in town stopped abruptly. It's as if ‘it’ disappeared out of thin air,” said Dr. Loomis, speaking as if they had made the greatest discovery for humanity.

“And that's supposed to reassure us?” Richard snapped sharply.

“Our little girl is going back to that psychopath tomorrow, and we're supposed to be happy because the demon in Myers is asleep for now?” Darlene questioned.

“Michael hasn't hurt her,” Loomis pointed out, impassively. “In all the years I've been treating him, I've never seen anyone capable of achieving what Jamie has achieved.”

“Are you saying Myers could become normal?” Richard asked. His tone made it clear that he thought this was nonsense.

“No, Michael lost much of his humanity long ago, but if Jamie stays with him, a tiny remnant could prevent his violent impulses from terrorizing the town again.”

Jamie shuddered when Rachel's door opened. The two sisters exchanged glances, and Jamie knew that Rachel had heard too.

They both came downstairs, drawing the adults' attention. The three of them stopped talking, even though they suspected that the girls had heard.

“Rachel, Jamie,” Loomis greeted them cordially, nodding his head.

Rachel greeted him curtly, and Jamie followed suit from behind her sister.

“We didn't know you were coming, Doctor,” Rachel said, crossing her arms. The passing weeks had not lessened her resentment toward Loomis.

“It wasn't scheduled,” Loomis replied, resisting the urge to sigh at the obvious resentment Rachel still felt toward him. “I thought it would be appropriate to have a word with Jamie, if she agrees.”

The Carruthers looked at each other and then at the girl, who didn't know where to look or where to hide.

“Jamie,” Darlene said gently, “is that okay with you?”.

“...I guess so,” Jamie replied, shrugging slightly.

“We'll be in the dining room,” Richard said. Rachel squeezed her sister's shoulder and followed her parents, but not before glancing back at Loomis.

Jamie and Loomis went into the living room and sat down on the sofa by the window, the same window where Jamie used to pray for her family members, all of them, some nights.

“How have you been, Jamie? Since you've been staying with Michael, it's not very easy to talk in private.”

“I know, Uncle Michael doesn't like me spending too much time with other people,” the girl acknowledged, although her tone did not reveal anything that Loomis could define as fear.

“Besides that,” Loomis nodded, “how have your days with him been? And I want you to be completely honest, okay?”.

Jamie nodded, secretly annoyed that they were insisting on the same thing. Darlene herself said she noticed she was healthy. She didn't see the need to keep insisting on the same thing at this point.

"Well... I guess I could say they've been... normal. I'm fine at school and at his house. We go out some nights when I can't sleep. Uncle Michael navigates very well at night."

“Aren't you afraid to go out in the dark?” Loomis asked her.

“Not really. If he's with me, I know nothing can happen to me,” Jamie replied, smiling slightly.

Despite what he had said to the family earlier, Loomis felt a punch in the stomach when Jamie said those words. He had witnessed Michael's pursuits and the lives he had taken to get to the girl. So hearing her say that living with her uncle made her feel safe rather than frightened caused the experienced psychiatrist to almost lose his composure for a moment.

However, Loomis remained calm and continued.

"And what happened before you came here? Did he try anything?"

Jamie shook her head.

“He didn't do anything. He didn't try to stop me from leaving the house, and he didn't show up there.”

“He didn't show up here either?”.

Jamie felt the courage she had mustered to talk to Loomis abruptly leave her. It was as if the doctor had seen through her to what she so desperately wanted to hide. It was almost the same as with Rachel, except that Jamie believed her sister only needed confirmation. Loomis, on the other hand, was doing his job, which was to investigate.

“No, not that I know of,” Jamie replied quietly, now avoiding the man's gaze.

Loomis watched her for a moment, convinced he was missing something.

“Jamie, you didn't see anything, did you?” Loomis insisted.

“…No,” she replied after a moment's hesitation.

The girl hoped that Loomis' suspicions would not cause him to question her uncle at their next session.

If that happened, they might never see each other again.

For one reason or another.

__________________________________________

The conversation with Loomis ended thanks to the Carruthers' intervention, who told the doctor that they had planned an outing and didn't want to be late. The doctor nodded sympathetically and said goodbye to everyone.

After he left, the family waited a while before heading into town. During the car ride, the family continued to talk about the things they had planned for the day, and Jamie tried to sound excited about being with them again. However, much of her thoughts were preoccupied with Darlene's words about the new offers they were sure to find, Richard's jokes about the crowds waiting for Saturday to leave their homes, and Rachel's comments about enjoying an outing with her parents as much as one with her friends. Jamie's restless mind could only think about whether her uncle would show up to see her before disappearing without giving anyone time to react.

Objectively, it wasn't easy to ignore. The deaths were recent, and the sudden pause in them must have attracted attention in the town, especially if everyone knew who it was.

Even so, her family tried to keep Jamie from thinking about it and carried on as usual when they got out of the car. Jamie walked holding Richard's hand and, for a moment, smiled as she remembered that her uncle also held her hand at night when they went out for walks so that the confinement wouldn't drive the little girl crazy.

Her parents must have assumed she was happy about the outing and continued talking, but Rachel glanced at her and sensed that her little sister wasn't really there.

When they passed a clothing store, Rachel excused herself, saying it was a good time for Jamie to start looking for new clothes, and told her parents that she would accompany her. 

As soon as they were out of sight and Jamie began looking at clothes, Rachel decided to talk to her.

“What are you thinking about, Jamie?”, she asked.

The girl jumped, perhaps remembering that she wasn't alone in the store, and that only set off Rachel's alarm bells even more. Jamie was definitely not paying attention to the present.  

“Nothing,” Jamie replied. “I'm just... glad to be here with you people".
  
“Well, you sure seem to be thinking a lot. Is something bothering you?”.

“No.”

“Nothing has worried you?”.

“Not at all.”

Despite Jamie's words, Rachel realized that her gaze seemed distant, thoughtful.

“Jamie, are you thinking about him?”.

Jamie continued to pretend to look at the clothes and avoided the question as much as she could, until her sister asked:

“You want to go back to him, don't you?”.

Jamie's shoulders tensed visibly and she turned to her sister.

“Why do you ask?”.

Her refusal to confirm or deny it made Rachel want to cry.

“Jamie...” Rachel began calmly, “you know the things he did. He's... not normal... he's not like everyone else.”

Jamie lowered her head, and when she looked up again, Rachel thought she saw her eyes slightly glazed over.

“He's still my uncle,” she said, with some vehemence. “He tries hard with me and... he's been good.”

Rachel thought she would hear the words “Michael Myers” and “good” in the same sentence when the sun disappeared forever, not at that very moment and not from Jamie’s mouth.

“Jamie...”.

“Girls!” Darlene shouted excitedly as she approached them. “We were thinking of going to the movies! We don't know what's on, but we can check it out. What do you say?”.

The sisters composed themselves. Jamie nodded and said it sounded good, and Rachel said she would go ahead and pick up a few things before they left.

If Darlene noticed that her daughters seemed shocked or suddenly distressed, she didn't mention it.

The movie they saw was very boring, and Jamie barely understood half of what was going on (she was sure she had dozed off during the first half of the feature), but her parents were happy to spend that time together.

 “Why don't we go visit a gallery?” Richard suggested.

Jamie wondered if he thought that staying out for a while without any activities could cause something bad to happen.

“Do you think it's still appropriate to be out, Dad?” Rachel asked, unconvinced.

“Why wouldn't it be?” Richard questioned.

Rachel glanced sideways at Jamie, and the girl avoided her gaze. Jamie seemed more eager to return to the Carruthers' house than to stay out. Rachel wouldn't bet that she wanted the day to end, but part of her believed that Jamie wanted to see if her uncle had left “something” to let her know he was still watching over her.

“Nothing,” Rachel sighed. “What do you suggest?”.

In the end, they went to a nearby gallery.

If Richard noticed that Rachel seemed reluctant to let go of Jamie's hand or that the little girl was looking around expectantly, as if hoping to see someone else, he, like his wife, never mentioned it.

The walk was shorter than the family would have liked. By six in the evening, Jamie looked tired, constantly rubbing her eyes and walking more slowly, almost letting go of her mother's hand on a few occasions.

Once again, her parents must have thought the walk had exhausted her and that she simply needed to rest for the day. Rachel, however, saw beyond that, and her heart leaped at the thought of Jamie looking excited to be returning home to see what she wanted to see.

She didn't know how or if she should tell her parents. She didn't want to break their hearts, or her own, at the thought of losing her little sister.

__________________________________________

That night, Jamie went to bed relatively early, earlier than her family would have expected her to. She excused herself by saying she was tired from the outing, said goodbye to everyone, and ran to her room without giving her mother time to ask if she wanted her to accompany her. Once she was alone, she checked her things, her box of souvenirs, and so on, and found no signs that Michael had been there while they were away. Her photos were still the same, her stuffed animals were in the same position she had left them in the morning, and her clothes were still folded and stacked on a chair, waiting to be put away in the closet.

A little disappointed, Jamie sighed and put on her pajamas. She turned on her nightlight and lay down on the bed. She was tired, but not tired enough to fall asleep so soon.

It was nine o'clock when her family began to turn off the lights and get ready to go to sleep as well. Jamie pretended to be asleep when she heard footsteps approaching the door. She remained as still as possible when she heard it open slowly and kept her breathing steady when she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. She didn't know who it was, because when they saw that she was “asleep,” they closed the door just as quietly, and Jamie sighed silently, opening her eyes.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that her parents and sister were worried about her and her attachment to her uncle. She didn't like to distress them, but that bond that had once terrified her now seemed to her to be the closest thing she had to a family. Her blood family.

Her uncle might be what he was and have done the things he did, but he was still her uncle.

Speaking of the King of Rome...

Michael's visit on Saturday night was not much different, except that Jamie was expecting him this time. After her relatives turned off all the lights, Jamie stayed up for a while watching her nightlight, assuming Michael would wait until he saw all the lights go out.
Although she wanted to fall asleep after an hour of lying down, she also wanted to see her uncle arrive. She had a guess as to how he got in, but even so, she was always curious about how stealthy he was when he appeared.

The girl's eyes were still struggling to stay open when, between moments when her mind drifted off into shorter-than-usual dreams, she managed to hear the sound of her window being opened. She expected to hear something crawling inside or her uncle's heavy footsteps approaching her bed, but none of those sounds reached her ears. She could feel his presence near her, but she couldn't hear anything. Was he floating or something?

Taking advantage of the fact that her hair covered part of her face, Jamie decided to wait until she felt her uncle's hand approach her head to begin combing her hair, surely to wake her up as he had done other times.

As soon as she felt the touch on her hair, Jamie turned to Michael, who pulled his hand away as if he had been about to burn himself. The girl laughed softly and sat up in bed.

“I knew you'd come,” she boasted softly, leaving the blankets on her legs.

Michael tilted his head, in a way that had begun to seem funny to the girl, and moved closer to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to his side.

Jamie was about to hug her uncle when she remembered something.

“Were you here this morning while I was having breakfast?” she asked curiously. “My memory box was on the bed, and I know I left it in the closet.”

Michael pulled away from her and nodded without hesitation.

“I knew it,” Jamie said, secretly proud. “Did you see all the photos?”.

Michael shook his head, “Just some of them?”.

He nodded.

“I understand,” Jamie replied. Her time with Michael helped make the lack of verbal communication less frustrating. “We went out with my adoptive parents and Rachel today. Did you see us on the street?”.

Michael tensed and shook his head, though his movement was quicker than the others.

Jamie looked at him, illuminated by her night light, and for a moment, she thought she saw a different glow behind those deep black holes where her uncle's eyes were. She was still curious to see his face clearly. There was something about him that, unlike other people, prevented her from being afraid of him.

“I have a photo of you from when you were a child,” Jamie reminded him, and Michael nodded as if to say, “I know.” “Can I see you without the mask now?”.

Michael leaned back a little, suspicious. It had been years since he had seen himself without the mask, and, truthfully, he had even forgotten what his face looked like. He saw no reason to let his niece see him uncovered, because why would she want to? He was a monster, a heartless being who had no qualms about murdering. What was the point of seeing the face underneath?

But one look into the girl's eyes cleared his doubts.

Michael moved to face her and raised his scarred hands to bring them close to the flaps of the mask. Hesitantly, he removed it and allowed Jamie's night light to illuminate his face. He held the mask tightly and looked at his niece seriously, as if to say, “There you go, you see me now, what do you think?”.

Jamie opened her mouth slightly when she was finally able to see her uncle's face. She remembered ignoring the injured side of his face as best she could, out of courtesy, focusing on the healthy side. This time, Michael left the injured side exposed, covered with scars similar to those on his hands and his blind eye. His expression was unreadable, just like that expressionless mask everyone hated, but Jamie thought she saw a hint of concern in his real eyes.

Yes, the right side was... striking, to put it mildly. The wounds hadn't healed well, and his eye was clearly beyond saving. However, the left side, the one Jamie had paid attention to in the attic the first time she asked to see his face, was even more striking to her. Michael had features similar to hers, and even he had long, dark hair. And his eyes... they weren't the same as the ones on the mask. Despite how expressionless they looked, Jamie saw a human sparkle in them. Even without speaking, Jamie managed to see emotions and feelings in them, the same ones that Loomis said were ‘dead’. She didn't believe that. There was more to those real eyes than people understood, she could see it.

“You do look like me,” the girl reaffirmed, without looking away from his face. She wasn't looking at one side or the other. She was just looking at him.

Slowly, so as not to alert him, she reached her small hand out to the uninjured side of Michael's face, and he, now no longer in a state of madness, allowed the girl to touch his skin. She saw no trace of disgust or rejection in his innocent brown eyes, nor did she see fear at seeing him unprotected. She only saw her little niece, fearlessly admiring who he really was.

Before Jamie could say anything, she found herself being lifted onto her uncle's lap and hugged tightly. She wrapped her arms around Michael's neck and pressed herself against his shoulder, just as she did when she fell asleep in his arms.

“I'll be back with you tomorrow,” Jamie reminded him, feeling that if she didn't say it, Michael would take her away and everyone would know that he had gone to the Carruthers' house.

Michael held her tighter, as if asking her to come back with him right then and there. Apparently, being away from her was becoming unbearable for the man.

“I can't,” Jamie said quietly, wanting to keep him calm. “The police and Dr. Loomis will find out, and we could get into trouble. Tomorrow night I'll be at your house, I promise.”

Michael got out of bed with her in his arms, and for a moment Jamie feared he was going to throw her out the window, not caring about the consequences. But he didn't. Michael put her back down, tucked the covers around her, and tapped her nose with his finger, making her laugh.

Jamie turned on her side, her back to him, and sighed with satisfaction as she felt Michael begin to stroke her hair.

Just one day, she repeated to herself, allowing herself to fall asleep at once.

Chapter Text

Sunday arrived with a strange feeling of distance in the family. Jamie, despite her young age, knew when adults were lying or trying to hide something at all costs, especially if it had to do with her.

Jamie didn't think Rachel had told her parents anything (whether it was because she didn't want to worry them or because she was worried about what might happen next, Jamie wasn't sure), but a little voice inside her warned her to be careful when she had breakfast and lunch with them, if she went out in the afternoon or if they spent the afternoon watching TV and talking, trying to pretend they were a normal family, even though she knew that that night, the girl would return to Michael Myers' house.

Dr. Loomis had not returned to see how the Carruthers were doing or to see Jamie. The girl suspected that the therapist must be with her uncle to remind him not to succumb to the evil within him, since his niece would be returning soon.

Perhaps it was out of fear of what might happen or to maintain the false illusion that they could get Jamie to stay in the house, but that Sunday, the family decided to spend the day indoors, forgetting the plans they had made to spend time together. Jamie couldn't say it was a problem for her, since the day before, she hadn't been as present as she should have been while they were out. With that in mind, it was no surprise to Rachel that her sister didn't protest when the outing was canceled. Richard and Darlene ignored the fact that their older daughter seemed to be hypervigilant about Jamie; they didn't ask why she followed the girl when she went upstairs or why she looked out the window when Jamie went out to the backyard to relax a little in the fresh air.

Her parents might have ignored it, but Rachel was sure that her little sister, sitting on a blanket on the lawn in the middle of the autumn cold, was waiting for “someone” to visit her. Rachel couldn't understand what was going on or how a psychopath like Michael Myers managed to gain a child's trust. Rachel didn't care that she was his niece; Michael Myers shouldn't even have the right to approach her as if he were a normal guy.

Loomis himself had said it: Myers had lost almost all of his humanity, and the only way to prevent more murders was for Jamie to be around to keep him grounded. Who wouldn't think that was crazy?

The young woman looked out the window again and saw her sister bow her head before standing up, brushing away the leaves that had blown toward her, and going back inside.

Rachel hurried over to the sofa.

“Jamie, do you want to watch TV?”, she offered the girl.

Jamie turned to her with a slight jolt, as if just remembering that she wasn't alone in the house.

“Hmm... maybe in a little while. I have to... do some schoolwork.”

Jamie hurried to the stairs, not noticing that her adoptive parents were also nearby, and ran to her room. There, she went to the window and looked outside, once again hoping to see if her uncle would show up at that time of day to see her.

He wasn't there, again.

Jamie knew she would be going back to her uncle that night, but the wait was dragging on.

At times, a strange feeling of regret came over her, although she did not feel melancholic or anything like that. It was as if her mind was taking her, against her will, to think too much about her uncle and how he would continue without her at home.

Thinking about it after two days with her adoptive family, Jamie concluded that living with Michael was similar (omitting the crimes and details after the previous capture) to living with the Carruthers; after all, Jamie had no friends to invite her to play and no other relatives who could tell her details about her family. Michael didn't talk and didn't like being asked about his family, but he was the last living person with whom the girl shared blood ties.

And a strange bond that allowed her to feel the same way.

Loomis said Michael wasn't capable of feeling real emotions for long, but Jamie, during those two days, had felt a strange sadness mixed with anger. At first, she didn't think much of it, believing it was just the change of environment. But that day, as she sat in the backyard, the feeling she felt was one of relief, before it vanished completely.

Her door opened with a soft creak. Jamie turned and saw Darlene coming in with Rachel. She smiled kindly at them, trying to hide her embarrassment as she remembered telling them she had to do some homework.

Luckily, neither of them mentioned it.

“Honey,” Darlene began, sitting down on the girl's bed. Jamie approached somewhat timidly and sat down beside her. “We know that today you'll be going back to... your uncle,” the woman continued, as if she didn't know how to talk to her.

“Yes,” Jamie nodded, looking down.

“But we want to know... Is this what you want to do?”, Darlene asked cautiously.

Jamie looked at her and then at her sister, not knowing how to answer without causing them distress. She knew that both they and her adoptive father were very concerned about what would happen when she returned to her uncle, and she wanted to offer them some reassurance; at the same time, however, she didn't want to lie to them.

“Don't say you have to, please,” Rachel asked, sighing. “Just tell us the truth.”

Jamie looked down again, knowing it wasn't wise to lie in front of Rachel, who could easily tell when she was doing so. She looked back at her mother and sister and decided to be partially honest.

“Uncle Michael hasn't treated me badly since I started living with him. It's true that I'd like him to take off his mask and go back to being normal, but... he doesn't scare me like he used to.”

Darlene breathed heavily, and Rachel couldn't help but roll her eyes.

“But I think I'll be able to keep visiting them on weekends,” Jamie added, hoping that would help.

“So, do you really want to go back to his house?”, Rachel insisted.

Jamie opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. She felt cornered.

She thought of her mother, sitting in front of her, and her father, probably waiting in the living room for his wife to give him “good news,” and told herself she couldn't keep causing them that much stress by not giving them answers. And she thought of Rachel and how much she had risked for her when her uncle reappeared. Jamie knew they loved her and would give anything for her, but she also knew that no matter how hard they tried, they could never be like her blood family.

“I don't want you to worry,” the little girl replied. “I'm fine with Uncle Michael.”

Darlene hugged her fiercely, and Rachel sniffed, resisting the urge to cry.

Everyone in the house loved Jamie, but it was clear that love would not be enough to keep her away from her relative.

All that remained, as Loomis said, was to bet on the best.

____________________________________________

That night, just as he had said he would, Loomis went to pick up Jamie and take her back to Michael's house. Even though Jamie had classes the next day, they couldn't risk leaving earlier and being seen by people hanging around the neighborhood.

Jamie said goodbye to her parents and sister with hugs, trying to ignore the tears in Darlene's eyes and the murderous looks Rachel and Richard were giving Loomis as soon as they saw him, and hurried to the doctor's car. Loomis spoke with them for a moment before returning to the car.
In the front seat, Jamie soon lost sight of the Carruthers. The return trip was beginning.

“How have you been, Jamie? How were the days with your parents and sister?”, Loomis asked.

“Very good,” Jamie replied politely. “We didn't go out today. I think my parents weren't comfortable going out on a day like today.”

“For any particular reason?”, Loomis inquired, without taking his eyes off the road.

“They didn't tell me, but I assume they were worried about seeing my uncle anywhere.”

At the mention of Michael, Jamie seemed to remember something.

“How has he been?”.

Loomis almost turned to her when she heard the urgency in the question. The girl seemed more anxious to hear about her uncle than about being taken back to live with him.

“Well... I only went to see him once. Today, before picking you up,” Loomis clarified. “I tried to talk to him, but he paid even less attention to me than he does in our sessions,” he muttered, and Jamie giggled. “He was absorbed in... the drawings you two made on the walls.”

“Really?”, Jamie asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes, he kept painting the ones that were missing and made some new ones. I tried to look at one up close, but when I put my hand out... he didn't take it very well.”

Jamie looked out her window.

“It must have been one of the ones you did. It was very well done,” the doctor said. “No wonder Michael reacted that way.”

“Did he try to hurt you?”, the girl asked.

“I wouldn't say that, but... I could feel him warning me with his eyes not to touch or erase any of the drawings.”

Honestly, Jamie didn't expect to hear that her uncle would care so much about the drawings she made on the wall of an abandoned room.

“My understanding is that he hasn't left. The officers guarding the house didn't see him leave, but... we know he can appear and disappear like a ghost,” said Loomis. “There have been no reports of new cases, either of people or animals.”

“Do you think Uncle Michael could stop doing bad things?”, Jamie asked.

“I'd love to say yes,” Loomis nodded, “but we also have to be realistic. He's fighting ‘something,’ and until we know what it is, it's not safe to say he can go back to being... normal.”

Jamie nodded distractedly. It was similar to what her parents used to talk about when they thought she wasn't around to hear. Perhaps secrecy was hereditary, because on more than one occasion, Jamie managed to get close to where her family was and overheard them talking about Michael. They didn't believe Michael Myers could ever come close to being a sane human being again, let alone anything else. Despite her ideas that her uncle could regain some humanity, Jamie knew she shouldn't get her hopes up. At the same time, it was difficult when the time she spent with him showed her a side of him she never thought she would see.

He was still intimidating in many ways, especially knowing that he possessed a rage that should never, under any circumstances, be provoked. Jamie was not a child who got into trouble or did things that might upset him, so her uncle's emotions were always “turned off” when he was with her. Still, Jamie didn't forget the times when many people got in her uncle's way or how they ended up.

Realizing what she was thinking, the girl realized that she felt sorry for those people and their families, but she couldn't find a way to be scared.

Loomis talked a little more, but Jamie lost track of the one-sided conversation as she continued to think about her uncle.

Her only wish was that he wasn't upset that she had left. Even though he had secretly visited her over the weekend, Jamie couldn't say with 100% certainty that nothing had changed until she saw for herself.

When they arrived at the Myers residence, Loomis parked near the patrol car, greeted the officers on duty, and opened the door for Jamie to get out. The girl thanked him and stood in front of the door, not knowing what to do. She couldn't even think of what to say to her uncle once they saw each other again.

“I'll be with you, Jamie. I'll stay a little behind, but I'll be close enough to intervene if anything happens,” Loomis assured her.

“I don't think anything will happen,” Jamie replied.

They both entered the house. Jamie smiled when he saw that the house was still lit by candles that his uncle had strategically placed so that they could illuminate even the darkest corners of the house. Loomis looked around and was surprised when he walked through the living room and saw the fireplace lit. As far as he could remember, Michael never used everyday appliances or anything that had been used by his family in the house; the therapist assumed he had made an exception for his niece's return.

The kitchen didn't look any different either, and even the stool Michael had left for the nights when Jamie got up to drink water was still in the same position.

“Do you think he's upstairs?”, Jamie asked.

“He must be in the drawing room,” Loomis replied, reaching into one of his pockets to hold his gun, just in case. “Let's go see.”

Jamie went ahead and ran up the stairs as fast as she could. She crossed the hallway to reach the room where she and her uncle used to draw on the walls and peeked through the half-open door.

Sure enough, her uncle was sitting cross-legged on the floor, painting one of the drawings Jamie had made days before. It was a small house with a garden and a lake. Although Michael rarely respected the typical lines or colors intended for such drawings, Jamie was struck by the fact that her uncle, instead of erasing or scratching them out, was painting them.

The girl smiled, entered the room before Loomis could tell her to wait a moment, and slowly approached Michael.

“Uncle,” she said, smiling.

Michael stopped drawing and turned slowly toward his niece, just as he did when he walked and searched for prey. Jamie put her backpack on the floor and approached him, under Loomis' watchful gaze. The doctor gripped the gun in his pocket tightly, knowing he must not let his guard down.

He wondered if Michael would still be so upset that he would push Jamie away, reject her, or hurt her. Michael was not good at managing emotions, so there was a strong possibility that Michael would feel rejected or abandoned—one that, for Loomis, could end in tragedy.

Michael waited until Jamie was two steps away from him and moved slowly to kneel in front of the girl. Jamie continued to smile calmly, waiting for her uncle to decide what to do. She didn't want to act as if she had seen him over the weekend when he decided to visit her.

Michael reached out his hands to Jamie, and Loomis couldn't help but tense up. His alertness was suffocating him, there was no doubt about it.

Before either man could react, Jamie lunged forward and wrapped her arms around her uncle's neck. Loomis almost screamed when he saw Michael's arms wrap around her too, not to hurt her, but to pull her close and hug her tightly.

Jamie laughed as Michael lifted her up, forgetting about the pencils scattered on the floor and the drawings she had been working on over the weekend.

Loomis never let go of the gun, but his alert posture changed completely at the sight before him. Yes, he had seen Jamie fall asleep in Michael's arms before, but seeing her approach him on her own to hug him and seeing him welcome her like that was something that had never crossed his mind. For a moment, he thought about all the years he had spent treating him and how he had never managed to achieve even a quarter of what Jamie had achieved with Michael.

Slowly, Loomis dropped the gun into his pocket and let his arm fall to his side, giving him the appearance of a calm person.

From her uncle's embrace, Jamie looked over his shoulder and saw the drawings he had been making that weekend. Most of them were of a little girl and an adult man walking hand in hand through the woods. The two of them never got that far, as Jamie was afraid of straying so far, but during their walks, their hands never parted. Her uncle wasn't a very good artist, but the details in the drawings were striking.

Jamie hugged Michael tighter, and without her seeing, he turned to Loomis and made a gesture that the doctor never thought he would see.
Michael shook his head as if to say, “Thank you for bringing her back.”

Loomis opened his eyes and parted his lips slightly. He couldn't believe it. Michael had thanked him. Instead of threatening him or taking Jamie away from him for agreeing to let her go to the Carruthers' house, he had just thanked him for bringing her back home.

“You're welcome,” Loomis found himself murmuring, still in shock.

Michael continued to hold Jamie, perhaps thinking that if he let her go, she would leave him again.

Jamie didn't speak to Loomis again either. It was as if the reunion with Michael had made her forget her surroundings.

In Loomis's eyes, they were one. Michael had found an anchor and Jamie a refuge formed by the last blood link to her mother.

“We'll see you soon for your session, Michael,” Loomis said quietly, not knowing if he would actually be heard or not.

Michael nodded again and turned sideways to Loomis so that neither he nor Jamie was looking at him. That was all the signal the doctor needed to leave.
Once in his car, he took one last look at the house and, unable to contain himself, burst out laughing. He couldn't believe it. So many years trying to figure out how to expel the evil in Michael Myers, so many killings that the guy carried on his shoulders, were overcome by the presence of an adorable little girl.

It wouldn't be easy, and people would never forget what had happened in the town. The Carruthers would never forgive him for handing Jamie over to her murderous uncle, and Michael would undoubtedly kill anyone who tried to take his niece away from him again, including Loomis if he agreed to it, or the Carruthers if they even tried to convince Jamie to leave him.

But in the meantime, the old doctor convinced himself that he had reason to believe that things would be reasonably okay.