Work Text
It doesn’t feel wrong when Nick’s eyes are closed. In the dark, she is Maggie. The voice in his ear is throaty and low and all Maggie. The body sprawled in his lap feels real enough. He can touch it, taste it. Hold it close. Feel the mimicry of a heartbeat that does not depend on any fragile, faulty organ. The ever-reliable rhythm is just there to soothe. To comfort. Nick clutches her to him, feeling smaller and more helpless than little Max, asleep in his crib. He listens to the heartless heartbeat. He pretends. He’s blind, and it’s Maggie.