Quick little Author's Note: I don't own Harper's Island. If I did, this is what would have happened and (obviously) it didn't. So... yeah. Hope you enjoy. Please comment, I want your input, even if its "EW THAT'S NASTY! THEY'RE HALF-SIBLINGS". Because, trust me, by the end of the story you won't be saying that... mostly because them being half-siblings disgusts me as much as the next person.... Nastay. Hehe. Hope you like it!!!!!

Prologue:

He sat in the corner, his face turned toward the window, a window overlooking memories from our childhood, our development from early two's and three's to those awkward phases of the teen years, all leading up to now.

"Why?" I found my lips framing a question so simple, so easy, that the overbearing meaning behind it would have been almost unfathomable to a stranger had anyone else been here. But we were all alone. He had seen to that.

I had come to the island not even two weeks ago, picking up my suitcases and, from Los Angeles, shipping myself off to Harper's Island, where I grew up, where I had made memories with each passing day, some good and some bad.

My mother, for example, had been part of the bad, bad enough to drive me away from the island for a good seven years. She had been my idol, my role model, and the woman who I looked to for advice. She was my chief opinion, the voice that rang louder in my head than those of anyone else. She died here, killed by the knife of an ex-boyfriend, though infatuated murderer seems more the term to use, along with several others.

Henry had been my best friend through it all, comforting me when comforting was needed and shaking me awake when depression threatened to overcome me all together. He, in a way, had been my savior through those dark times. It was supposed to be his wedding now, the day of his marriage to the girl he loved, to complete his fairy tale ending. How could she be, though, if it was he who had killed her? He had killed Trish Wellington, his bride-to-be, the supposed love of his life.

In fact, it had not only been Trish, but the others as well. How many? I couldn't tell you, but he knew Wakefield, the man who had killed my mother, and had worked as a team with him up until Wakefield had told Henry to kill me. A command Henry recognized only by stabbing John Wakefield, his partner in crime, in the chest, thus killing him, an act that confused me to no end. Why kill Wakefield instead of me?

And now I was here, standing in my kitchen with no recollection of how much time had passed or what I had missed. Though, with everyone on the island gone but us two, it seemed impossible that I had missed much, or anything at all. Only things that had happened earlier, things that I intended to get the answers behind.

Henry took in a deep breath and turned towards me, messy tree-bark brown hair falling into his root beer colored eyes.

"I feel like I owe you an explanation," he said hoarsely, standing up from his perch on the windowsill.

"Yes, you do," I muttered, unsure of whether to run away from or to him, searching for that same comfort he had given me seven years ago. I did neither, choosing to stand stock still in the entryway to the kitchen, waiting for the story of what had really gone on while I was away. I was past fleeing; I needed to know it all. Everything.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head, shoulders slumped and face relaxed, "Do you remember what you said to me when we were little?"

"What?"

"You never wanted me to leave.... I never wanted to leave. You told me, that day by the boathouse; you said that you wanted it to stay just the two of us. That you wanted us to stay on this island together. Alone," He was smiling now, a sentimental gleam making its way into his eyes, "And now we can be, Abby, forever."

"But- but what about everyone else?"

"What about them?" He asked, but I could hear the crack in his voice, the regret that coated his tone, "I did what I had to do. Abby, I did everything for us. Can't you see that?"

"You killed them." I stated in monotone, the full weight of reality crashing down on me, "They're dead because of you."

"Abby..." He trailed off as if I wasn't understanding, as if he were talking to a child, "It's what had to be done."

"You killed my friends."

He sighed, "Yes, and I'm sorry for that but it was the only way we could be here, Abbs, just the two of us, like you said," He was pleading now, his eyes boring into mine before he pulled his head away sharply, his voice taking on a new note of concern, "Hey, are you thirsty? Hungry? Do you need anything?"

I shook my head, in awe of his nonchalance over killing people. My best friend, the man I had secretly loved all throughout my childhood up until high school, had actually murdered. And not just any random people, either. They were my friends, they were his friends.

"Y-you're not my friend," I hissed, "you're a monster," I growled, tears blurring my vision as I took off towards the front door, pulling on the doorknob as hard as I could, to no avail.

"C'mon, Abbs, don't be like that," he begged, coming closer with every step, arms wide as if ready to pull me into his warm embrace. The warm embrace of a killer...

I pushed him away, "Don't touch me."

Turning to the next-door, one in the dining room, I pulled so hard that the knob actually fell out of its socket, landing on my toes with a painful crunch. I winced, doing my best not to let pain show in my face.

It was no use, though, Henry had seen.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down next to me, "Do you need ice?"

I swore under my breath and tried every door in the house, Henry following me like a lost child, unsure what to do. His plain obviously wasn't working out quite as well as he had expected it to.

"Would you at least let me explain everything?" He yelled as I tromped upstairs to check the windows. I closed my eyes briefly, stopping once I reached the top step.

"I think you've explained enough," I shot back, mustering up as much of a cold tone as I could use towards Henry.

"Please, Abby, I owe you that much. Please," He was literally crawling now, pleading with everything he had as he tried to reason, to get me to see his side.

"Fine."

I continued walking, eyes never drifting back to Henry's face until I'd reached my room, and sat down on my bed. He came in directly after me, taking my glare as a sign to lean against the wall, arms dangling at his sides, instead of taking a seat next to me.

"I met Wakefield during the raid seven years ago," he started, "I don't know what it was but, when I saw him, it was just like something clicked, like the lies that had been told to me all my life didn't matter any more. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't have time to find out, but the thought of it never strayed far from my mind," he took a deep breath, his eyes never wavering from my face, as if he was dreading, almost fearing, my reaction, "He came up to me a few years later, telling me about how I was his son and how-"

"You're Wakefield's son?" I asked, unable to keep the overwhelming hint of astonishment from creeping into my voice.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You're my brother?" I stared at him, wide-eyed, voice wavering like a loose telephone wire in a hurricane.

"Half-brother, actually... And I never knew until recently. But Abby, it doesn't matter. We're the only two ones here. Nobody knows. Nobody has to

know." His eyes were wide and I felt myself becoming more and more confused with every revelation that left his lips.

I quieted up then, waiting to hear the rest.

I didn't wait in vain.

"He, of course, taught me how to kill. The murders in Seattle, the ones your dad had files on, were never Wakefield. It was all me. He had to teach me some how and that was the only way," He chuckled, "I mean, I'd always had these impulses, these urges, to do things, but I'd never understood them until I met my dad."

"But all these people," I almost cried, "and the wedding. Why?"

"Because I needed you here, Abby, and that was the only way I could think of to get you. Abbs, I love you. I would do anything for you. Anything."

"Henry," I said quietly, tears building up in my eyes "Are you just saying this because you're going to kill me? Is this fun for you? You're sick. You killed all of them. Everyone. Everyone I cared about. Does that mean anything to you at all? So, just do it. Take out the knife and get it over with. I don't need it anymore, Henry. Kill me." I was ranting now, tears falling more heavily down my face and gathering in a wet mess on the floor.

"No," he almost shouted, "No, no, no, Abby, how could you ever think that? I could never; never do anything like that to you. I love you. I won't kill anyone else, Abbs, I'm done. I promise."

I shook my head furiously, hair whipping around my head, neck moving so fast that the vertebrates clicked together, "You changed, Henry... I don't know you anymore."

Sobs were choking their way through my throat, ripping through my stomach, now. He bent down in front of me, wiping the tears away with his fingertips.

"Shh," he soothed, smoothing my hair back and pressing his forehead against mine, thumb still tracing some intricate pattern on my cheek, "I never changed. I'm still the same old Henry, Abby, I just... I did this for us. Please, Abby, you have to understand. Please. I love you."

Wet drops made their way down my forehead, and I realized now that I wasn't the only one crying.

"My father always said you had to kill the one you love to be complete," he whispered and I immediately tensed up. He pushed my hair back again and sat down next to me, pulling me onto his lap so that I was cradled against his chest. It wasn't that I felt safe there, although I can't deny that I felt a slight sense of ease take over me while I was in his arms… No, it wasn't that. It was that I was too terrified to do anything.

"That's the difference between him and I, though, Abbs. I could never hurt you. He chose death and I choose life with you. Abby, that's all I want. You and this island are my home," he pressed his lips to my hair and I was torn between two emotions, fear and love, fear of his love, maybe.

"What would happen if I stayed here, Henry, with you?" I buried my face in his shirt, soaking it through to his skin, truly overcome by frustration and overall confusion. I loved him, but I hated loving him. How could I ever forgive him for what he'd done to my friends? They were gone because of him. He killed them.

"Then I'd always be there for you Abby. I could never hurt you, I love you. You're the only thing I care about now. I want it to stay that way," He buried his face in my hair and I could feel his warm breath against my scalp. I wanted to turn around, I wanted to kiss him, to bring him close to me and tell him I loved him too because, in all honesty, I did and I always had and, as much as I hated it, always would. But how could I possibly love him? He had killed the only family I had left, my friends, he was my half-brother, and his father murdered my mom.

And yet, had he not always been there for me? He had supported me through every decision I made, helped me through every problem I faced, stayed with me during the nights I felt I'd never see the sun. He was my sun. And maybe, just maybe, I was just as messed up as he was.

Maybe I didn't care. And maybe that was because I didn't have to.

"I love you, too," I whispered, turning around so that I could bring my lips to his. He smiled through the kiss, unable to keep a hold on my lips through his elated laughter.

"Abby," he sighed, mouth still pressed against mine, "I love you. I love you and I'm sorry for everything I did. I'm so sorry. I went insane. I- I, Abby, just... I'm not asking you to forgive me. I don't want you to forgive me. Please just promise you won't leave me. That's all I need to know."

"I promise."

And you know what? It didn't matter anymore. Because in a world where everything was so wrong that nothing made sense, shouldn't I just do what makes me happy, even if that meant living out my life with the man who murdered my friends, or even if that man happened to be my half brother? None of it mattered any more and just because it was dangerous and sick and all around a miserable happy ending… it was still a happy ending.

Just not the kind you hear about in fairytale books.

Later on in the month, Henry and I got married. No, it wasn't traditional. We said our vows by the boathouse, laughing throughout the "ceremony" at our straw figure priest. The honeymoon took place in the abandoned hotel and we found countless things to do on the island, each living out our lives, as we wanted to, together.

My name Abby Mills, I'm married to Henry Dunn and live on Harper's Island. And if you thought the insanity was over, then think again because it's

Just

Getting

Started.

FIN.

Yeah, it's weird. I know. But I just love love love them and want to see them together and happy. I really wish they weren't siblings though. In my story, however, are they really?- Yeah, that's right, I'm putting them together how I like it. Ohhhhhh. Hehe. So, there'll be more chapters. I hope you like it. Please read.