Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men. And I'm not sure I'll want what's left of them after Chuck Austen gets through with them.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long since this story was updated, but I couldn't decide how to approach it. But here it is, the long awaited and quite possibly last chapter:
From the Journal of Bobby Drake, aka the Iceman
Chapter 5
Y'know, I thought things couldn't get any worse. My body was changing to ice, and no one noticed. I gave them plenty of opportunities, all the warning signs you read about in the magazines; I was moody, behaving out of character, irritable - they wrote it off completely. When they did notice, no one cared beyond complaints that I hadn't reported it to my team leaders, no doubt so that someone could turn it into a log entry for posterity. I figured I'd hit bottom.
Things went downhill from there.
After Lorna tried to kill me, I started thinking about just ending it all – y'know, change to ice and just shatter myself. I was thinking about it a lot, to be honest. Go ahead and say it, "But Bobby, you've got everything to live for." I dare you. Just look me in the eyes and say it.
You couldn't, right? Not that it matters; I know now that it wouldn't work anyway.
You see, I'm not writing this entry in my journal. I'm thinking it, mostly because I don't have anything else to do, and watching things move up and down in time with Warren's steps is making me dizzy. Which is interesting, now that I think of it – vertigo must be centered in the brain after all, and all the upset stomachs from all those carnival rides must be just a side effect. Hank'd know, and I wish I could ask him, because it's going to bug me now. But one thing's for sure; I know firsthand that suicide, at least in my ice form, is no longer an option. Suicide not involving my ice form is definitely an option, almost an inevitability, but I don't think I could change back if I wanted to.
Maybe it was a subconscious suicide attempt – I dove right into the battle without thought, sure that I couldn't be seriously injured by some arrows, of all things. I mean, here was my big chance to be Mr. Big, Tough, Invulnerable mutant. I think I was even yelling something about how they couldn't kill the Iceman…
I was right. They blew me up instead.
Literally.
Warren's carrying my head around – I keep hoping he'll drop it, but he seems to have a pretty good grip on it. Too good – it kinda hurts, actually, kinda like someone pulling your hair. The rest of me – well, from what Warren said I know the rest of me isn't really an issue, right now. It just isn't there. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt like my head does – I've got a headache you wouldn't believe.
I keep trying to ask Warren just to drop me; I'm thinking if my head shatters that suicide attempt might succeed after all. But he can't hear me – I guess my voice box didn't make it. Doesn't anyone on this team read lips? Even if Hank WAS here, I wouldn't be able to ask him about the vertigo thing…
You know, I just realized I admitted it – I tried to kill myself. Are you happy now? But try it again – look me in the eye and tell me you can blame me.
You couldn't.
You know, I joked about becoming an ice sculpture. It sounds kind of attractive now; I could've stood around at parties, and if I froze in the right position people might have thought I was some work of art, which is a lot better than most people have ever thought of me anyway. I guess now I'm a bust, at best. I can't see so I'm not sure, but I don't think there's even that much left of me.
Warren, come on, just drop me, will you? Please?