Maybe Third Time's the Charm

Summary: Abby thinks about things in the shower. Her fears, desires and hopes…for someone else other than herself and Henry.

A/N: Okay, PLEASE check out "Martine Brooke." Her Harper's Island fics are AMAZING!

Abby stood underneath the hot shower as it washed away the ugliness and uncleanness of her life. For the first week or so that she and Henry were on the island, Henry would occasionally knock on the door, asking her if she was okay. She knew the answer to that because she knew the questions he was really asking: "Are you still in there? Are you done trying to leave me? Are you still going to pretend you enjoy being here?"

Her answer for all four came out her mouth every time. "Yes, Henry."

But now, he left her alone while she showered. For the first 4 or 5 weeks afterwards, she strained her ears constantly to try and hear any little noise outside the lockless door. There never was any.

Sighing, she turned the water off. She opened the curtain and dried herself off slowly with a towel. She looked at the distorted image of her face in the fogged-up mirror. She slowly raised her hand to wipe the steam off. She stared at her face. It scared her, but not because she didn't recognize her own face, but because image had never been clearer.

She opened the tall bathroom door, towel wrapped around her and shivered when the cool air hit her skin. She padded down the hall and in front of the bedroom door. She knocked.


"I'm in here, Abby." She opened the door and he smiled. "I told you, you don't have to knock. This is your house, too, sweetheart."

She smiled weakly and nodded. She turned her back to him so she could open one of the dresser drawers. She was no longer bothered by Henry's watching her put her clothes on. By now she was used to it. She knew better than to deny him anything. Henry would never force to do anything against her will, but it was best not to challenge him. The consequences could be disastrous. She paused and smiled down at a few of the drawings she had done that lay on the dresser. Drawing had always been a passion of hers and with all her free time, she was getting quite good at it.

Suddenly arms lovingly wrapped around her. Abby gasped reflexively but Henry's lips pressed against her ear. "Shh. It's okay."

Was he going to? No, she told herself. In the two months they had been on this island Henry had always gotten very close to her. Hell, they slept in the same bed every night and they only "made love" once. Other than that, he never touched her anywhere except her back, shoulders and hair.

She felt him sigh around her.

"W-what's wrong?" She asked carefully.

"Nothing, Abby." She heard the smile in his voice. "I love you."

"I know." She swallowed. She had never once said that she loved him – he was her half-brother, but she knew it bothered him. What he wasn't aware of was how much it bothered her. Since they were little kids, she always felt a kind of love towards Henry, though it was an affectionate, friendly love. As they got older and closer, she felt something…more. When she met Jimmy that never changed. She'd always loved Henry, but for some reason he was always in her mind. Every touch, every kiss, every romantic gesture with Jimmy brought her closer and closer to the thought of Henry. Part of the reason this whole "Brother" thing sickened her was because of that particular feeling.

Henry's hand moved to her stomach, but he just rested it there. Unmoving. Almost as if he thought something was in there.




"Shh, Abby." He kissed her hair gently.

She turned to face him and as she looked into those dark eyes that were oh-so similar to hers, she felt some part of her come back together. The part of her that she thought Henry permanently broke by killing her friends and family, though the truth was that she barely ever talked to any of her old friends, and family? What family? Her father whom she'd hated for sending her away for so long?

Abby closed her eyes and tilted her face up towards his, a silent grant of permission for him to kiss her. To take her. As she lay underneath him, she couldn't help but to think there may have been something growing inside her, and based on what Henry has told her, if he had inherited his father's bloodlust, then what would that mean for the baby that may or may not be inside her?

Oh well, the almost broken part of her mind thought suddenly. Maybe third time's the charm.