Why he does what he does.
It took a moment for him to realize he'd fallen again, and a moment longer to realize he was bleeding. For a short time, he didn't move at all, feeling pain trying to creep into fingers that weren't quite numb. There was a part of him that had been driven half-mad by the terror and fatigue, and it was screaming now, inviting the monsters hiding in the shadows to come close and force him to sleep. He had tried. He had /tried/, what more could she ask of him? He had done things he never thought possible, had killed for her, just for her, and it was time to stop, time to rest, time to lie down and die...
She's my only true love
She's all that I think of
Look here, in my wallet, that's her
As soon as he had pushed himself up, he was forced to crumple to the ground again, clutching his head as a rush of blood threatened to rob him of what senses he had left. Black spots blurred his vision, and the ringing in his ears reminded him of the sirens that served as fanfare for the entrance of this hellish world. Perhaps they would signal his exit, as well.
No, damn it, /no/! He'd come too far to be ended like this. He gritted his teeth and waited for what little color there was to seep back into the world.
The anemia passed, and he dug into his pocket.
She grew up on a farm, there's
A place on my arm where
I've written her name next to mine
He held the photo tenderly, unaware once again of the scraped flesh of his hands, the places where his skin had blistered and broken and blistered again. Rough fingers stroked soft features, aching for the feel of her hair, her arms, the small, soft kisses that had been laid on them in a time that seemed too far gone. Beautiful. No matter how you looked at it, she was beautiful, and he couldn't love her more.
You see, I just can't live without her
And I'm her only boy
She was waiting for him, he knew that. That single, traitorous piece of his mind shrieked its prophecies louder with every step that he took, telling him that all he could possibly find was a shell, the life gone from her eyes, too late to save, but he wouldn't listen. He couldn't. She was there, and he was going to find her, and things would be all right again.
And she grew up outside McHenry
In Johnsburg, Illinois
It took him a moment to get to his feet, and a moment longer to heft the heavy, bloodstained pipe from the ground. For a short time, he didn't move at all, staring into the distance, a faint smile drawn on dry, cracked lips.
Weapon held in aching arms, Harry kept walking.
Inspired by and dedicated to Zarla, without whom I wouldn't have cast Harry a second glance. Zarla, this one's for you.