Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the property of CBS and are only used for fan related purposes.

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Of Sleeping Beauty and Fairytale Endings

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Abby had been sleeping for three days already. Henry didn't blame her, either. After he lit the old Church up like it was the 4th of July, burning the evidence of his treachery, he'd been desperate for a good night's sleep himself.

But there was so much to do. He had had to carry Abby's unconscious body across the threshold bridal-style into their new home and settle her peacefully in a bed he had freshly prepared. The dirty, wet clothes that smelt like she'd been in them for a week—well, close enough—had been the first to go; ever ready, he had a spare set waiting for her when she woke up.

Jimmy, worse off on his fight with Wakefield but stubbornly still alive, had to be far, far away by the time Abby was conscious again. Henry didn't kill him yet—he could still be useful, he figured—and he methodically bound and gagged the interfering fisherman, chatting companionably about Abby to her unconscious ex. Jimmy didn't answer and he couldn't argue as Henry tied him securely to a post in the garage.

Only then, when the doors were locked behind and he could drink in his victory and the promise of the lifetime with Abby that lay before him, did Henry finally allow himself to drop his guard and drop his mask and finally fall asleep.

He was up and awake and antsy to be with Abby after only a couple of hours of toss-and-turn rest in his adopted bed. Hyped up on adrenaline and a desire to touch her, to hold her, to forget the secrets and just make her understand, Henry was refreshed and ready to go.

But Abby still wouldn't wake.

He spent that whole first day sitting outside of her designated room; wanting to take things slowly, he gave them each their own. After settling her on the bed, Henry refused to step foot back inside—he'd had to take so much from her already for their sacrifice that he didn't find it right to take her privacy, too. Contenting himself with waiting for her to wake, he sat with his back up against the closed door, listening to the sound of her jagged breath (and pointedly ignoring the muffled moans and soft cries he didn't understand).

That was two days and one night ago and Henry was beginning to think she would never wake up. He didn't want to deny her her rest—the dark circles under her eyes made her no less of his Sleeping Beauty but, he admitted, she did look less than her best—but he was desperate to hear her voice, to hear her laugh, to finally, after a lifetime of waiting, have her all to himself.

Henry wasn't a cruel man, even if he was admittedly single-minded. Once he was sure the coast was clear—neither the police nor the FBI even ventured to this side of the island—he visited Jimmy. He offered him food and a skewed and twisted explanation for his (whose?) actions but Jimmy refused and Henry didn't push it. It was only a courtesy, anyway.

His patience was very quickly wearing thin. He had to stop himself from actually spending the last night in her room, watching her as she slept. In the end, he did return to his stolen room, though he only slept for a handful of hours. There was no use in dreaming, he figured, when all of his dreams had already come true (and were down the hall, if just out of reach).

On that third day, Henry woke up with the sun. Taunting Jimmy had lost its appeal since he refused to do anything but stare hatefully back up at his captor. Henry tried to entice him to eat—some niceties had to be observed—but, when Jimmy just closed his eyes, he slipped back out of the garage with a victorious smile and an urge to watch him burn.

Sometimes it was hard for him to face the person he was going to kill. It had been with J.D., he remembered, and even Trish. Sully, he grinned, had had it coming and Jimmy… he was going to enjoy himself with that one.

Just like his father had wanted him to do, he had purposely saved the best for last; it was a pity they had never seen eye to eye on who Henry's last kill would be.

With a spring in his step that a beautiful day on Harper's Island could bring (and a beautiful woman in his house could give), Henry returned to his chosen headquarters for the beginning of the rest of their lives. Things would be different now, different once Abby was awake, and he could feel himself on the cusp of forever as he felt the knob turn under his hand. Careful as always, he locked it behind him.

He never would have gotten where he was today if it wasn't for his being so prepared.

The house was quiet and still and ever so cozy when he let himself back in. There was still a strange smell to the air, of emptiness, that Henry hoped to change in time. They would get used to it, it would be theirs and Henry Dunn would finally get his happily-ever-after. Happy endings, he mused thoughtfully, weren't just for fairytales.

He couldn't see how much longer his Sleeping Beauty could avoid him by keeping her eyes shuttered and closed. Growing used to waiting for her—as if he hadn't waited for her and the moment they would finally be together all his life—Henry chose to take a seat at the clear table.

And, as he'd done for three days, he sat down and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. Henry was halfway through putting the finishing touches on his plan regarding Jimmy Mance's usefulness when he could've sworn he heard the sound of hesitant, delicate footsteps on the floor above him.

Ah, he grinned, already trying to ignore the frantic flapping of nervous butterflies that sprang to life with the sounds of Abby stirring. His guest of honor was finally waking up, he realized with a dimpled smile and an eager desire to please her.

He jumped up from his seat, smoothing his hair down as he hurried into the middle of the near empty kitchen. She had to be hungry, and a good meal could go a long way with helping her swallow the truth.

Now, he wondered, what would Abby like for breakfast?

Author's Note: This short fic was written on a whim and I thought it would be nice to post it to celebrate the DVD release today. I can't wait to go after work and pick that up tonight ;) I actually wrote this piece based on a prompt at an LJ promptathon -- the prompt was breakfast -- and I had a ball with it. I always find it so amazing what people's minds will come up with after getting a simple prompt. I hope to do this again soon... and, of course, I hope you guys liked this :) As you see with Inside a Broken Mind, I have a ball with Henry. There's just something about his twisted side that appeals to my inspiration I guess, heh.