#fictionalcharacters #fiction #batman #fanfic
Snow fell softly outside the window.
Winter was not back, it had just never left. He stood outside his little porthole in his igloo. And wondered if he would ever be able to stand under the sun again. Feel the warmth seep into his skin, almost like a tingling feeling that was more euphoric than any drug.
He sighed – his breath was so cold that the window didn’t mist over.
He turned and walked over to his bed. Sitting down, he reached over and picked up a framed photo. With surprising delicacy, one of his sausage-like fingers stroked the image of the blonde woman. He missed her so much. The way she laughed, the way she smiled. Most of all, he missed her soft, warm hands. She had the warmest hands ever, a blessing for someone like him.
For a second, he almost expected her soft presence beside him on the bed. Every Sunday, she used to sit right next to him and read the morning papers. She’d make tea and they’d pour at least two cups each, forgetting to sip, and then making faces while gulping their cold tea.
“Hey you. Freak.” The guard was back at the door.
The prisoner turned. He’d gotten used to the names, the abuses, the looks. There was no looking back anymore, no regrets, no “what ifs”.
“You gotta visitor.” The guard stomped away, his footsteps echoing on the cold floor. A figure stood at the barred window in the door. “How are you?”
The man inside the cell sighed. “Why do you keep coming back? Go away.”
The man outside said, “I believe there’s still something inside you that’s good. Something that can get you out of here.”
Mr Freeze stood up in anger. “Nothing can get me out of here, Batman. There is nothing I want to get out of here for.”
Quietly, Batman said, “We saved your wife, Victor. She’s alive. And we’ve found an antidote.”
Mr Freeze sat down again. Heavily. The bed creaked. The taste of cold tea filled his mouth.