Work Text:
Michael sits in his cell, working on a mask. His thoughts echo, echo, echo. That's all they ever do these days. He doesn't understand why he's here. He just misses Angel. He misses his baby. He misses his boo. He knows she must be missing him too.
Its been so long since he's seen her. He wonders what she looks like. She probably looks like mom, he decides. Pretty. Soft. Yeah, that's his Angel. He wants to see her.
So when the guards come to transfer him, he kills them. He kills them and he escapes. He's going to see his baby boo finally.
It's Halloween night, and he's finally found her. He's right, she does look like mom.
She goes by a different name now, but there she is, there's his Angel, on the floor across from him, sobbing and begging for him to leave.
He pulls the picture of the two of them out of his pocket, offers it to her. It's the only thing they ever let him keep. She sobs more, saying she doesn't know who those people are.
That's okay, Michael thinks. It's been so long. He'll give her time to remember. He knows she knows him. She crawls towards him, saying she'll help him. Of course, she remembers him. Michael relaxes, happy that she's coming to him, happy to have her back.
But when the knife stabs into his neck, he changes his mind. This is not his baby. This is not his boo. This is not Angel Myers.
This is Laurie Strode, and he feels nothing but hatred in his gut.