Heart of Ice

ice crackles

beneath booted feet

walking home

--Frank A. Hayden

Water, being a liquid, is a disordered phase, while ice is an ordered phase - the molecules are arranged in close packed layers (a lattice) not unlike a box full of Ping-Pong balls

***

Human times are a spring thaw to me--when compassion brings me close to the man I once was. He is the man I want to be, for Nora's sake. When she wakes up, I want everything to be comfortable and familiar to her. I want everything as it was, not evil or cruel or hard. If I could just have a moment to myself at these times, I believe that I might be able to crack the thinned ice.

She got in three quick kicks before I managed to toss her off. Funny how it's never really occurred to me that the Batman might have trained her. There's something about her movements that's always seemed too different from his--a joy in motion that he lacks. She flew backwards, turning as she did so, landed on her feet. "Bravo," I wanted to say, because something in her tenacity always reminded me a bit of Nora, but the words froze in shards inside my mouth. Instead, I pointed my ice gun at her and fired. She dodged, but not easily.

Cold makes even the best of athletes sluggish. I tried to remember what that felt like--the air burning spreading channels in my lungs or the way I used to gasp to take in oxygen. Her breath steamed fast from her mouth.

"You were doing so well, Victor," she told me. "Your doctors said you were responding beautifully to their treatments. Why throw that away?"

I shook my head. "You couldn't understand." I fired again.

"What couldn't I understand?" That last shot had thrown off her rhythm. She was teetering at the edge of exhaustion, but I found that I wanted to keep her there a little longer. Stretches in Arkham didn't do any favors for my conversational skills.

"How I need Nora like breathing," I might have said once. The ice had thinned and I stretched out my hand to push against it. "Nora is my life. If she dies... If I can't save her..."

"You think I don't know how to care for anyone?"

"Look at you." My voice had an edge that she recoiled from. "Look at what you do every night. Who can understand that?" She did her best to look impassive, but I saw her hands clench. "You have a secret from everyone you'll ever meet."

"That's not true...I..."

My finger slipped easily onto the trigger and I fired again. She rolled; the beam glanced over her heel. She staggered to her feet. "Why don't I just put you out of your misery?" The words slid unbidden from my mouth. I wanted to apologize for their cruelty. I felt the apology welling up inside me-- deliciously warm. I pushed and the ice cracked a bit, but stayed intact. Her good foot came into contact with my stomach and the air went out of me. I fell hard on one knee, spikes of pain running up my thigh. She punched me in the neck and I saw white spots dancing.

I managed to raise a foot and get her bad leg. She cried out once, a sharp sound that wasn't quite a scream. I lurched upright, aimed and fired. Her right arm was trapped under a dome of ice.

That's when I was hit from behind. He'd come in fast and silent, faster and almost as silent as his mentor. Pain exploded in the small of my back. My gun flew out of my hand. The spots multiplied until they became a blizzard. Through the storm I saw him kneel and stroke her face with a tenderness that was almost too painful to watch. Perspiration beaded and froze on her forehead. He brushed it off with one gloved fingertip.