Author's Notes: I can't help it. It's creepy and weird, but I love Hardigan/Nancy.
All Sorts of Wrong
Because Hardigan-Nancy was wrong,
Even though it wasn't.
Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive. Me.
The lights. The sheets -- around my legs. The heat. The heat. My sweat on my pillow. Pooling behind my neck. He'sdeadhe'sdeadhe'sdead. If I had a heart it would be bleeding. Breaking. I would explode from the pain that pumps through my veins instead of blood.
But I don't. I had one once. But there was a stranger with an X on his forehead. And gun in his hand. He took it from me. And never gave it back.
Forgive me ... Nancy. I love you. I love. You forgive. Me ... Nancy.
But I can't. I can't forgive me. Because I don't see how he could have. I just left him there. In the snow. With the gun in his hands. In his hands. I can't forgive me. I love him even though it's all sorts of wrong.
That's what he told me. He told me that there was wrong and there was wrong and then there was us. And I was just a kid. But I'm not. Not even human. Because I don't have a heart. He stole it from me. I traded it gladly for my life. I thought it was a small price to pay for another day. And another. And another. And eight more years of one more day. Until he came back for me.
And then I led him right to his death.
You grew up strong. You grew up. Strong, you grew up.
I love him. It's always been Hardigan. I wonder. He's dead now. Can I have my heart back?