Warnings: Extreme violence & gore

Michael Myers stood before Smith's Grove Sanitarium, his former prison. He studied each entrance and exit, taking note that there was no short supply of staff on that particular night. It had been months since his hands had taken a life, his knife had just about lost it's deathly gleam. It had been hungry for too long. It had weakened him significantly, made him question whether or not he would be able to even reach her. He knew the building well, he knew exactly where she would be and it wouldn't be easy to get to. He contemplated just how he would achieve such a feat and weighed the possible consequences. There was a chance neither of them would make it out, at least not alive. Loomis may have been willing to grant them freedom, but Michael was certain no one else shared that same opinion. No part of him wanted to be trapped within those walls again, he remembered well what he had been subjected to there. However, the thought of her experiencing Smith's Grove isolation or being their test subject was enough motivation to risk his own imprisonment. There was no more time to waste, he wouldn't let her suffer any longer than she already had. His gaze slowly moved to the front entrance. He watched the doors close behind another nurse who had just began her shift. Unfortunately for her it would be her last. His grip tightened on his knife as he began to move towards the building. He felt like he was buzzing with anticipation. The stakes had never been this high for him. If he failed, if one person escaped his wrath he would lose her and more permanently than he had before. He wouldn't. Failure was not an option. Death would have its way with each person who stood in his path tonight. 

As he neared the doors the receptionist noticed his haunting form. Panic flooded her eyes as she scrambled to lock the entrance. Michael didn't stop moving. She ran back behind her desk and hid underneath it as the glass shattered around him. The sound had alerted another staff member nearby. He was brave, he ran towards Michael and landed a firm punch to his jaw. It was nothing to the Shape, just a minor inconvenience. He grabbed hold of the man's neck with one hand and with the other plunged his blade into his stomach. The white cloth turned bright red around the wound as Michael ripped the knife out of him. The receptionist struggled to lift her chair but managed to raise it above her head and hurl it at him. His reflexes were quick and with one arm he hit it midair and it fell to the side. She let out a blood curdling scream before he dragged his blade along the exposed flesh of her neck. Her blood flowed freely down her chest as her eyes went dim. She fell at his feet. He swiftly turned towards the long hallway and made his way to the stairway at the end. A doctor rushed out of one of the rooms only to be met with sudden death in Michael's grip. One massive hand managed to crush his throat before he was thrown back into the room he had just left. Michael felt his strength returning in massive waves. It was euphoric. Each kill had a purpose like never before. He was almost hoping another unfortunate soul would cross his path. He made his way up the empty stairwell to the third floor. Just before he reached the second, a door flew open. Another doctor. The man put his hands up, hoping this shadow of death would pass over him, but to no avail. Michael's hand gripped his throat and held him in place as the knife plummeted into his eye socket. The man's arms fell to his side, limp. He was tossed over the side of the stairs and Michael watched as his lifeless body raced to meet the cold floor below. He fell with a thud that echoed up to the top of the stairwell where a security guard was watching in horror. Michael's head whipped up to meet his terrified gaze. His steps were calm and calculated now as he moved upwards. The guard was blocking the door, a mistake he would have no time to regret. A gun was held in his shaking hands, badly affecting his aim. He shot over and over, managing to clip Michael once or twice in his arms. It didn't stop him this time. The guard gave up shooting and opted for pleading instead. Michael stood face to face with him and tilted his head at this sudden display of weakness. He had been enjoying the fight, but now there was no game to play. He reached for the hand with the gun and forced it up just underneath the man's jaw. He placed his finger over the man's which rested on the trigger. His scream was cut short by the loud pop the gun released as its bullet found its way up and through the man's skull. Michael unclenched his fist and yet another body fell limp before him. Nothing blocked the door now. He pushed it open to reveal the long white hallway he had hoped to never see again. Bones crunched beneath him as his boots moved over the security guard's body. He moved slowly through the hall, each step was haunted by memories. It only made him wish for one last kill before he found her. Just as he thought that, several guards burst through the door behind him. He turned slowly and wished they could have seen the smile behind the mask.

She heard the screams from her room. She knew exactly who it was. She felt that familiar excitement he always incited within.

"You think he's coming to save you?" He whispered tauntingly.

Unfortunately, his image was something she had grown accustomed to. It was hard for her to remember he was just a figment of her imagination at this point, he had made himself so comfortable in the corner of her mind. She saw him so clearly, leaning up against the wall watching her with that smug smile. He pushed himself off the wall and moved closer to her. She shrunk away from him but it did no good, he was anywhere he wanted to be, she couldn't stop him.

"I'm gonna enjoy watching you die," he whispered menacingly in her ear.

One by one the screams began to die off, cut short by Michael's blade. He pulled it out of his last kill and took a moment to admire his work. Blood covered the white walls of the hallway. Through the reflection of a window he could see it painted his mask too. He felt stronger than he ever had. No one had escaped him. The sound of his boots hitting the ground filled the hall as he resumed his search. He pushed open door after door to see nothing but frightened faces. They weren't in his way, they would live. He came to a door and paused. He knew she was behind this one. He could feel her as he always had been able to. He wondered if she could feel him too, if that strange connection they once had survived. He was frightened something would be different, that perhaps the death of her former self and the suffering that ensued thereafter may have altered her in a way that was permanent. That her love for him had died when she pulled that trigger or his for her. He thought back to his own reflection in that window just moments before. The blood splatter on his mask, his clothes, his hands. Being what he was had never changed how she had felt about him. She had never asked him to change, she had never been afraid of him. Not once had she ever questioned his need to mask himself. She had loved him with or without it. He hadn't given her the same courtesy. He had tried relentlessly to prevent her from becoming as he was. How could he? He finally realized he would always love her no matter what she was or would become. It would never matter to him. As Loomis had said, who was to say who the monsters were? He would never see her as one. Even if her face had been painted in blood as his was now, he would never see her as anything less than perfection. With that, he pushed open the door.

She had been standing right in front of it, face to face with him the whole time. She had felt him there. Nothing stood between them anymore. He felt his heart quicken it's pace as his eyes met her own. It was something he had been so afraid he would never be able to do again. He could tell she was about to break their silence and as much as he wanted to hear her voice, he needed her to know he had forgiven her in every way.

"Michael," she started.

Before she could utter another word he reached behind his head and pulled his mask off before he engulfed her in his embrace. His lips crashed into hers, harder than they ever had before. This need was so much deeper than bloodlust could ever be. He lifted her up and held her as tight as he could, reveling in each move her lips made against his. Her fingers tangled in his hair and that fire that had consumed them in his vision began to blaze, only this time they would not turn to ash. This would never die. He would never allow it to again. He let her slide down to where her feet could touch the ground again. His hands found her face and pressed her lips harder against his. He had to have her now. He didn't care if more guards came, if they did they would pay dearly. Nothing was going to keep him from her. There was no more fear in him, only a need for her like never before. She seemed to understand and her fingers quickly found their way to the zipper of his coveralls. His hands only left her to free his arms from the sleeves, then they returned to her body, lifting her once more so her legs were around his waist. He rested her against the wall to give his hands more freedom. Her fingers tightened their grip in his hair as he became one with her again. He rested his forehead on her's while his eyes studied her expressions. Her mouth was agape and her brow furrowed, yet she looked as though she was in bliss as he was. The walls of the sanitarium melted around them, they no longer held the power to imprison them further. Nothing and no one could. She smiled as his movements began to slow and he rested his head in the crook of her neck. His breath on her skin added to the heat she felt between them. He gently lowered her before he slipped his arms back into his sleeves. His face was flushed and his hair a mess and for a moment she felt that childlike feeling she had felt after the first time. She had a feeling it would always be like that between them, always pure. He took his hand and lifted her chin so he could place one more kiss on her lips before he donned his mask again. He made his way to the door and turned back to hold his hand out for her's. She walked forward and grabbed onto it. She had no idea what lie ahead, but she knew she wouldn't be alone any longer for whatever was to come. The world had lost that battle and so had he. She turned to take one last look at the empty room, the last cage she would ever be in and smiled.

"You were wrong."

His hateful image couldn't follow her any longer. She closed the door to his cage and locked her past in it with him. It was time to begin a new story.