*Chapter 18*
~Iceman Lost~
The wind growled through young damp late spring leaves and stirred the thick black clouds above. Lightning would flicker through the menacing cauldron of the stormy sky occasionally, adding an eerie effect to the forest below. Rain poured from above in thick wet sheets blinding the eyes and drowning the living. Plants wilted under the weight of water despairing for a glint of warm sunlight, which had not been seen in nearly a week. Through this endless tempest, a weary line of waterlogged horses and riders pressed on, weighed down by more than just the force of the rain.
Remy Lebeau the Gambit huddled miserably on top of his yet unnamed horse numbly followed Bobby 'the Iceman' and his steed Blizzard. Oh, how things had changed since he had joined this group on their little quest. When he first met them, they were close to one another, friendly and warm and focused on their goal. But now things were different. After that girl Kitty revealed her past, things weren't the same. No longer were they close and friendly with each other or focused, but lost in their own thoughts, distant and cold.
Logan seemed to be the least affected of them all. He already was somewhat distant from the group, always more focused on their surroundings seeking out sources of potential danger. That much remained the same. The only difference that Remy noticed was that Logan had taken to mutilating a tree every morning before they broke camp. Maybe he was practicing his strikes before loosing Hell on Kitty's absent husband if or when they ever came across him. Remy idly wondered if 'the Wolverine' cared about what had happened to the morale of his group at all. It could be that he was keeping his thoughts to himself or perhaps he had no thoughts on the matter at all. His calm, cool attitude was a far cry from the others.
Kitty had yet to truly open up again. She would answer simple questions like if she was ready to leave yet, but beyond that, she refused to speak a word. Any attempt he or anyone else made to engage her in any sort of conversation failed miserably. She behaved coolly towards the others but she was down right frigid towards Jean. Whenever the mind-witch would approach her, Kitty would give her a frosty glare and the fire-haired woman would visibly flinch, and then retreat. The way things were going between the two it might be months before Kitty would speak to Jean again, if ever. Their friendship was in shambles.
Remy turned his attention to the massive Russian. Piotr Nikoleyvitch Rasputin, once a proud warrior of the icy northern kingdom Russia, now slumped low in his saddle bowing under the relentless pounding rain. The once warm and cheerful man now was often lost in thought, always distant and distracted. Yesterday during a break, the former thief had attempted to uncover the source of what troubled the mighty Colossus.
"Eh mon ami, how goes things with you?" Remy had asked as he settled down on a log next to the displaced soldier.
"Not terribly well my friend." Piotr dully responded as he wiped down his soaked saddle straps.
"Mind telling Gambit about it?" Remy quietly asked fiddling with his gambling dice.
"No, not today." Piotr replied softly turning away to leave.
"When you change your mind Remy be waiting." The French thief quietly said slipping the wooden dice back into an old leather pouch at his side.
"Why did she never say anything?" The Russian mumbled to no one in particular as the Frenchman watched on in silence.
From what little had been said, Remy guessed that what the Russian had learned of his young friend's past disturbed him. Or that she had not felt comfortable enough to tell him, or anyone else for that matter, about her experiences. Or perhaps it was both. But whatever the exact reason for Piotr's melancholy was there was one among the band worse off than he was.
Robert 'Bobby' Drake the 'Iceman' was a pale shadow of the vibrant naive young man that Remy had befriended a few weeks earlier. Ever since that night, he had not spoken a word. He moved about in a complete daze and seemed to have lost some of his grip on reality. Remy felt sorry for the poor boy, he knew how it felt to love someone, give them your heart and soul, only to lose them. The image of a young beautiful girl with jade eyes and a distinctive white stripe of hair that contrasted starkly against the brown danced behind his eyes. He knew it all too well.
Remy looked away from the soaked and spiritless foreigners before he too lost what little hope for his own happiness remained. Instead, he focused on his new horse, she really needed a name. He didn't want her to be like Logan's horse who was named Horse, how very boring indeed. The sturdy white mare was liberally splotched with large, shapeless, tan spots. Seeing these spots gave him some inspiration. He scratched her neck soothingly and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
"Taches." The French word for spots. "That be your name now." He couldn't be quite sure but he thought she approved of it by the way she shook her soaked mane. "Oui, much better than just 'horse', non?"
***
Why? Why, why, why? Why must it rain so hard? Why doesn't it stop? Why must it be so cold? Why does the rain sting like ant bites? Why oh why must it all hurt so much?
The rain seemed to press him lower and lower into the seat of his saddle and the cold water slowly leeched away what little strength he had left. Blizzard shivered and groaned beneath him but it took a few minutes to fully register in his mind. Wearily Bobby surveyed their surroundings blinking slowly against the hard rain. The evergreen giants and ancient leafy trees bent and groaned as the heavy sheets of water fell from the sky. The thick gray mud sucked on the horses' hooves and thickly caked everything in sight. He could smell nothing but mud and damp vegetation as the rain had long since washed all other scents away. And he heard nothing but the rumble of the rain and intermittent growls of thunder.
Why must it hurt so? How can fate be so cold and cruel? I tried so hard for her. I gave her my heart, my soul, and by law, she was unable to accept them. And did she even wish to? Did she allow herself to feel freely or does she reject her feelings purely out of loyalty to a man who abandoned her? What does she feel for me? Is it merely friendship? Is it something more? Or is it something less? Will I ever know?
Another sound slowly seeped into Bobby's ears but he was nearly to its source before he fully noticed it. It was a dull roar, the sound of rushing water over stone, a river. Barely a moment after his mind caught up with his ears a mighty river came into view on the left. It was wide, deep, and fast flowing. It was silty brown and choked with branches, leaves, and stones. This week of constant rain had changed this river into a terrible, angry beast.
Will I ever know the answer? Can I even bear to hear it? Can words tear a soul? Crush a heart? Will I ever be able to look upon her beautiful face without hurting? Or will I always be in pain? Could I love again? Do I want to? Would anyone want to love me? If someone did, could I fully love them? Would I want to? Does it matter?
As they plodded along, the river nearer and nearer to their muddy path. The roar grew louder drowning out the sound of the thunder and muting the rain. Blizzard snorted nervously, shaking his head and spraying rainwater everywhere. Bobby patted Blizzard's shoulder silently before urging him on with his knees. The others were talking, shouting actually, about something but Bobby paid it no mind.
Does it all really matter in the end? What I do, what I think, what I feel, what I know, does it matter? Does it matter? To them? To me? Should it matter? If it doesn't, why does it hurt? Why won't it stop? Why won't this pain end?
Bobby sank lower. The ground rose higher. Blizzard bucked. Someone screamed. Shades of gray blurred and bled. Time sped up. Time slowed down. Sound faded to a distant muffled roar. Cold beyond cold dug icy talons into his flesh and pulled him down and away. For a brief eternity invisible fingers clung to him, tried to pull him back, but it was all in vain. The storm inflamed Mosel refused to let him go.
Why won't it just end already?