X: frostbite

The figure in the bulky space suit was impossible to miss, especially on such a hot day. As the Biographer wandered into the orchard, he wondered if perhaps his methodology was flawed. Villain after villain and he didn't seem to be getting any closer to solving the mystery of Batman's identity, or discovering what had befallen his family. It occurred to him that there were not many rogues left on his list. Even though its results had been disappointing, it had been a lifeline of sorts, a road back, and now he saw that the road did not stretch on forever. Still, he had no substantial leads, and without his regular job at the law firm, (he was on a rather permanent "sabbatical") his days were bereft of structure. In fact, he thought, his life had no structure, except this. This was his reality now: the low mist of frost emanating from this odd man before him, planting seeds.

There was no parole officer, no police, no Batman. Just the man in the suit, looking like an astronaut moonlighting as a farmhand.

"How do you do, Victor?" the Biographer asked, introducing himself as the potential investor who'd called on the phone. Apparently, the Give Back Gotham program was looking to expand its largesse.

The man stood up, rubbing dirt off his gloves.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," the man explained. "I only want to move forward. After devoting so much of my energy to freezing life — and destroying it, I now want to see it flourish."

It all sounded a little scripted, the Biographer thought, but it was true that the man was famously impersonal, even robotic. The change had not been gradual, Victor explained. When, miracle of miracles, his beloved Nora had been liberated from her chemical hibernation and cured of the disease that had long plagued her, thanks to a crew of kidnapped scientists working full-time underground and bankrolled with the spoils of dozens of robberies, at first it had been bliss. He'd whisked Nora away to a country retreat. Reunited after so much time, Nora was not a day older, still filled with love for him. Yes, the bell jar-like mask that kept him alive prevented intimacy, a wall between his dreams and the reality of his old life. But still, perhaps there could be a cure — now he could devote himself to it, and she would wait. After all, he'd waited so long for her. He'd saved her.

"It was the happiest week of my life."

Then Batman came and snatched Nora in the night, returning her to Gotham (against her will, Victor said), out of a fear for her safety.

"Is that not a kidnapping, too?" Victor asked. "She is still legally my wife. He had no right. I would never hurt my her. The whole project of my life has been to save my Nora."

Batman left her with family. He told her about the supposed madman who'd saved her, who he'd become in her absence, but she dismissed him. Though even among family, there were whispers. It was an education on all she'd missed. Eventually, she had access to a computer, and she could read for herself about all the things he'd done as a supervillain.

"Dr. Freeze?" she had asked, almost giggling, thinking it must all be a joke. A misunderstanding.

But soon it was clear that it wasn't. People had died. Lives had been ruined. So, Nora left him, and said she needed time. The Biographer found himself sympathetic to Freeze. Nora had abandoned her husband so quickly, after turning his life upside down, making every effort to bring her back. Turning into Mr. Freeze was the price he had paid for saving her in the initial lab "accident," all those years ago when mobsters had tried to seize the freezing equipment and tanks of subzero chemicals had spilled. Wasn't everything he'd done since, all the theft, all the crime, in service of accruing money to scientifically revive her? How could she not see that?

Thanks to all the years in the courtroom, the Biographer's internal devil's advocate was nearly automatic. After a while, a voice in the Biographer's head reminded him, weren't some of Freeze's crimes simply for his own benefit and ego, and the sheer awesomeness of his new power? It had sure seemed that way when he'd read the case files. The compensations of a life gone badly awry.

The Biographer felt himself sweat under the hot sun, felt himself wishing he had his own cooling suit, wondered if Kati would see him the same way if they ever reunited. If she heard about some things he'd had to do, would she just disregard all the work he'd put in? He grew bitter. Is it ever fair to judge another person when you don't know what they've been through? No one could ever really understand, that was the truth.

"How do you bear it?" the Biographer wanted to know.

"When I told her about all my rehabilitation efforts, she agreed to speak to me again," Victor explained, his voice amplified through his suit as if he had his own microphone.

Victor guided him into the farmhouse. He'd bought up large tracts of land in the suburbs around Gotham, investing in local food production, hiring Gotham's poor to harvest it and set up free pantries around the city, building his own good work's project. Reparations.

"How can you just let her go without a fight?" The Biographer asked, disoriented in the heat, distracted by the thought that he could inherit a similar misfortune. He thought of kissing Catwoman, shooting Tetch, helping Poison Ivy…

To the Biographer's shock, Freeze took off his mask.

"I am doing no such thing. I am even undergoing an experimental therapy to allow me to be exposed to the elements for portions of the day. Everything I can to shed my recent past and return to Victor Fries. The warmth feels good. If you stay out in the cold too long, you lose more and more of yourself," he said.

The Biographer knew what Freeze meant. He felt angrier, less charitable, quicker to blame. All that was left of his more dignified older self was this wraith haunting old con after old con, forcing them to dredge up the past. He shuddered.

"I know of you," Victor said slowly. "When I spent some time at Arkham, some inmates mentioned how much you'd helped them. Called you the best lawyer in the city. They even had a name for you, Mr. Technicality. Could get anyone off. Someone who could solve problems."

It felt to the Biographer that Freeze was describing someone else's life. All that seemed so long ago.

"Let us drop all pretense," Victor said. "I know why you're here, and I believe we can help each other. Thanks to my green works, Poison Ivy has become one of my associates, and she told me how helpful you've been…"

He explained the situation. Even with his recent charity work, Nora was reluctant to return to him. For now, it was just the occasional phone call that she allowed. But recently, he'd had an epiphany. Since his wife didn't remember much of her life before the years she was in a suspended state, he could take some artistic license with the past. During their last call, he "reminded" Nora that earlier in their marriage she had had an affair, and Victor had forgiven her. He had given her a fresh start. Would she not give him one too? Did she not see how hard he was trying?

"It is a lie meant to restore the truth of our past. We belong together."

He could sense that Nora was closer than ever to returning to him. But perhaps she was skeptical, unsure of himself. That's where the Biographer would come in. Show up at her door, having just now heard of her return, and look to rekindle their affair. The guilt, he believed, would remind her who fallible everyone is, including her. It would make the situation real. Not just a story.

The Biographer felt unspeakably sad. He found himself wondering, as he often did, where his wife was right at that moment. Even if she returned, and who knows how she'd be changed, there was no honest way back. There were things he wouldn't be able to tell her. Was this so different? He asked what was in it for him if he posed as the lover.

"I know of your…situation," Victor said. "Have you considered why Batman hasn't yet come to your aid?"

The Biographer just listened.

"He is not interested in true justice. He is corrupt in his guardianship. I'll tell you something I've heard. Your family is fine. And yet something is clearly wrong. You continue to suffer. You are kept from them. And Batman does nothing."

The Biographer wondered if, like the Penguin, Freeze was bending the narrative of the kidnapping to his own advantage. His family was dead, one said. Now another rogue says they're fine. What was the truth? It was accurate though, that Batman had never contacted him. To the contrary, he had attacked The Biographer and bloodied him.

"I have something that may be of value to you," Freeze said, opening up a hatch in the ground.

They climbed down into an old storm shelter.

Encased in ice up to his shoulders was a man in a green suit, covered with question marks.

"Why would I care about Edward Nygma?" the Biographer asked.

Freeze motioned to the man, who was laughing uproariously.

"Don't you want to know why?" The Riddler stammered through guffaws. "Why they picked you, Vincent Vertas?"

Gotham Herald: Ice Melts off an Old Love

Our spy at Give Back Gotham witnessed quite the spectacle in the suburban green sanctuary. Last week, farmhands helped prep a renewal of vows ceremony. The husband was none other than Victor Fries AKA Dr. Freeze and the bride his wife Nora Fries. Each pledged to leave their past behind and begin again. The brilliant scientist seems to be able to survive for stretches without his cold-suit, since it was over 80 degrees, and the ceremony was sealed with a kiss. According to our undercover man at the private event, the only ice at the scene was in the drinks of the guests.