Chapter 6: Emergence

"Excited about going home?"

"Yeah."

"You've never told us about any of your friends, Bobby. Do you have any?"

"Duh, Peter, of course I have friends."

"Surely not a girlfriend, too?"

"Well, sort of. Here, check this out. That's her on the left."

"She's pretty."

"Yeah, we've kind of been on some sort of screwy romantic seesaw since eighth grade. Sometimes yes, sometimes no."

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks, man."

(One of the others cares that I have a life? Huh.)

Dark shadows fell over the memories, watching him.

"As in Charles Xavier?" Zelda asked.

"Yeah."

"As in the X-Men?"

"Yeah."

She drew back a little, noticed that he noticed, and said, "Go on…"

But he had seen the connection being made in her eyes, understanding turning to disbelief turning to horror. "Forget it."

"No, really. So if you're with the X-Men, then you must be…"

"Yeah. They call me Iceman."

"Iceman," Zelda repeated, as if trying out the sound of it. "Dear God."

She hadn't run back inside screaming. That was a good sign. "The name wasn't my idea," he said quickly.

"I kind of figured. Dear God. I mean, I haven't spoken to you in…"

"A year and seven months," he supplied.

"Oooo-kay. A year and seven months it is. And meanwhile, my country is being saved by someone who got sick on the roller coaster at the spring carnival."

(He had thrown up after the battle with Magneto in Washington, too, but didn't see why he had to tell her about that. Or about the nightmares he'd been having since that day.)

A fierce wrenching sensation in his mind.

"Are you going to stay in touch with her when you get back?"

"I hope I can. She's probably scared that I'll forget all about her."

"Will you?"

"Not a chance."

Names and faces. Cotton candy and shrieks of terror. John Cusack movies and the search for Their Song. Regrets and fights and the touch of her hand. Blurred together, faded into the fog and the darkness of things forgotten.

Voices he knew. Voices he recognized. Voices he trusted. Scott, Jean, Peter, Hank, Ororo. Xavier.

A light in the darkness, blinding him, hurting his eyes. Like that guy who crawled out of the cave and saw the sun, it forced him to see the truth that made him hide his eyes again. He understood what he had been missing. He understood what had been hidden from him, what was hidden in the darkness. He tried to speak, to confirm what part of him refused to believe. "He… 'rased… m'mind…"

The light resolved into a face that, for a horrible moment, he couldn't place at all.

"Did you say something?" the face asked, tears and hope in her voice.

"Uhhh…" He got no further. He was suspended in the light, unable to move. Was he dead? All he wanted was to sleep again.

"Bobby? Can you hear me, honey? Are you awake?"

She sat by his bed. She ordinarily looked years younger than her actual age, but today she looked decades older. Her red hair was unfashionably loose; her clothes looked like she'd picked them out in the dark. "Mom," he croaked, recognizing her at last.

She swallowed. "Thank God," she said in a monotone. She scooted her chair as close to the bed as the machines surrounding it would allow.

"Where…" he managed.

She misunderstood. "Do you see me? I'm right here."

Bobby took as deep a breath as he could. "Where… is… here?"

"The hospital," his mother said softly. "You were hurt while you were on one of your…" She grimaced. "Missions. With the others."

Memory came flooding back. Proteus. The battle in Berlin. Oh God oh God. "Are… they… okay?"

The grimace deepened. "Yes."

Were they here? was the question he'd been wanting to ask. Sometime during the time when he'd been under, he could have sworn he heard Jean's voice. He tried to clear his throat, with some marginal success. "Why… can't I move?"

"Some of the injuries were very bad. You're trussed up like a turkey." She smiled weakly. "Don't be scared, though. You're going to be fine." The smile faded again, and she looked straight ahead, like she wasn't seeing him at all. "Just fine. I'm going to find a doctor now, and tell him you're awake."

Were they here? The words bubbled up inside of him, trying to force their way out.

He was almost afraid of the answer, and didn't have the slightest clue why.

What seemed like hours later, he was staring out the window at the darkening sky. He'd been poked and prodded by countless doctors, fussed over by both his parents, and even approached by a sleazy journalist or two. All of them had come to the same conclusion: "The worst is over."

Somehow, Bobby doubted that very much.