To Hold Cold Hands Again
A.N.: I've been replaying Arkham City, and I just want to say that I really love how they painted the relationship between Nora and Victor Fries. The way he still, after all these years, calls her beautiful and sculpts her figure because he can't stand not to see her is just so sweet, to me. So, this little plot bunny came to mind. It'll also include cameos from two characters, which I'm going to be writing about in the near future.
Also, this is an A.U. of sorts. I've never played Arkham Knight, so I'm going off of Arkham City alone, and the facts which that game presents. So Nora is blonde and she wasn't conscious in the ice block. Enjoy!
An old man paced the length of the room, each footstep echoing metallically against the iced floor.
A girl, about 15, stood further off, listening to the man's footsteps and every time the servos in his suit ground as he wrung his hands in desperation. She fiddled with the knife in her cane, sliding it partway in and out of the sheath.
The cane's maker, a young man of 18, leant against the wall overlooking the two people. He swept his reddish hair out of his eyes, making sure to keep a watchful eye on the girl. His girl.
Finally, a buzzer resounded throughout the building, an old forensic lab, which drew all three people to attention.
They were certain they'd heard a groan from the other side of the makeshift sauna.
The old man's check of the room confirmed it. Where there had once been a block of ice, there now laid a woman, lean and blonde and gasping for breath. The man, not missing a beat, held his wife gently by the neck and injected an orange liquid into her jugular.
"Nora. Nora!" he pleaded. She had to be okay. She had to be okay. HAD to be.
At first, she just stared at him without recognition. Who was this who had stuck her into that oven? And then it all crashed onto her like a wave.
She'd been sick. Dying even. And her genius of a husband, who would lay down his life for her, had, through a cracking voice and teary eyes, proposed that he freeze her so he could find a cure for her condition.
She remembered him giving her a necklace, a snowflake made of diamonds, to remember him by on the day she turned to ice. She felt the weight of that necklace around her even now.
And she saw him. He'd grown old, that was for sure, and blue. But he'd kept that sharp jaw; wide, hawk-like nose; and thin lips that she'd kissed more times than she could count on that final day.
"V-V-…" The name refused to escape her trembling lips, but Victor didn't care. With a choked cry, he wrapped his frozen arms around her, stroking her drenched yellow hair. Her arms barely reached around his waist, but it hardly mattered. All that mattered was that they were together again. But wasn't there another one missing?
Her question was answered when the teenage girl tapped forward.
"Mom?" she whispered. She slid the cane gently in front of her, as if afraid that if she tapped her mother too hard she might break.
"Moira!" The word escaped her lips as she leaned forward to hug her daughter next. She noticed that Victor had moved out of the small space and into a larger, frozen plane. Another teenager had moved beside him, as if to make sure he was okay. She didn't know who he was.
The boy walked off and returned with a heavy-looking blanket. He wrapped it around the woman's shivering shoulders and helped her up, tapping Moira's arm in passing.
"Mom, this is Ethan. He's my friend," Moira explained. Ethan gave an awkward smile as he half-carried Nora into the lab. Moira gave her another fierce hug, but eventually bade her farewells, saying that she and Ethan "had to get home." She noticed that Ethan too had picked up a cane near the entrance, but didn't think on it.
Victor, her beloved Victor, faced her now. He looked…uncertain. Like he had been when they'd first met. He'd had no idea what to say to her, which had made him all the sweeter.
"How," she cleared her throat and tried for the words again. "How long?"
He took her hands in his. That was all he wanted – to hold cold hands again.
"Twelve years," he replied. "A lot has happened since then."
"You don't say," she quipped. Those thin lips smiled again, and she reveled in it. "What happened to you, though? You weren't blue before."
"It's…" He searched for the words. "A long story."
"A-and Moira?"
"I got into a fight and she was caught in the cross fire. She was blinded."
Nora's lips twisted into a mischievous smile. Victor clenched his jaw with closed eyes as he braced himself for what he knew was coming.
"You got into a fight?" He sighed, but confirmed that yes, he had indeed been in a fight with someone.
"With who?"
"The Batman." The sly grin dropped off of Moira's face at the name.
"Why Batman? What did you do that would make him want to fight you?"
"Again, it's a long-"
"No," she interrupted. "I need to know what you did."
"Nora." He clenched her hands as his voice cracked. "Nora, I promise I'll explain everything at a better time. But now, I just want to enjoy seeing you alive, again. Please, Nora. Let me have that."
She stared another moment into his eyes, before locking frigid lips with him. The kiss was surprisingly warm for something so cold. She guessed that was just love.
Love was warm.
A.N.: I'm a little proud of this one. It's not the worst I've ever done, at least. I'm not very good with romance, I think, but I'll continue to try.
Also, I'm thinking of writing another short scene where Victor and Riddler have a little chat about their kids, since Moira admits to having a huge crush on Ethan and Edward isn't so narcissistic that he doesn't notice how fond his son is of the little blind girl. They're both pretty protective of their bundles of joy.
I want to point out that this story occurs five years after the time where The Sane in the Asylum is set. Moira and Ethan will both be much younger than they were here. Thank you for your time, and GOD BLESS!