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Frostbitten	By : fuzzybluelogic Category: X-men Comics > General Views: 2223 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men comics, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
Someplace safe.

He hoped someplace safe was near-by.

Kurt had forgotten how incredibly
uncomfortable – no – painful horseback riding
could be. Granted, being seated behind Bobby and not having access to
stirrups to lift his weight off the saddle made each mile seem five
times longer. And then his poor thighs.

Ach, at least
bemoaning his equine-impaired lot in life was a fine distraction from
the grim reality – and utter confusion – that being back
here was.

His memories from
this place were in bits and pieces. A scent...an image...the taste of
salt; be it tears, sweat, his own blood or something else, it was all
sensation out of context.

Pain.

He squeezed his
eyes shut as they rode in silence, the only sound the tattoo of the
horse's hoof beats and the wind, forcing his mind to fit together the
pieces, plucking at scraps of memory like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Was this how
Wolverine felt?

It bordered on a
kind of madness, as he tried to dredge what was true from imagined.

“I still love
you.”

Bobby's quiet
admission cut through the silence and his own internal struggle like
an ice shard, making him aware of the cold that bit as his cheeks,
the feel of Bobby's back against him, and the knot in his stomach
that wanted desperately to unravel.

And then, it
happened, the pieces fell into place.

He'd never really
known Bobby Drake, only second-hand accounts of a prankster who never
quite outgrew being the youngest of the X-Men, but he'd never really
given Iceman more than a glancing thought. He wasn't part of Kurt's
world. Bobby was a face in a scrapbook, a name that more often than
not was a punchline.

So, when he fell
into this dark world, he had no preconceived image of who he was, and
how he should act.

But, he did know
that something had changed him, something profound. The man he grew
to know – and love – bore scant resemblance to the
Bobby he'd heard about. Decades of exile and memory loss would do
that to a man, when all Bobby had was the stripped memories of a
dozen wizards, and none of them were anything resembling good.

But when Kurt had
shown up, drawn in by the magic that was burned into that morgue..and
that place in between this world and their own, Bobby's spell had
forge a bond.

And that bond grew.

While Kurt healed
from his journey, they had talked, getting to know each other over
the span of several weeks. Bobby retained a shadow of his old self,
quick with a joke, or a sudden burst of playfulness...and he made
Kurt laugh.

Despite the
insanity of the place they were locked in, he made him laugh.

At himself, at
Bobby, at their situation.

That friendship
became something more, something new...and then something darker.

Such a private
thing. Pain. Intimate and cleansing.

Kurt had always
craved the edge, and teleporting had dulled that once so addicting
thrill. Flying unbidden through the air, no net, would he slip this
time? Would someone catch him before he fell?

Bobby's isolation
and empty soul had given him a taste for cruelty, maybe it had always
been there, but it didn't vanish when his memories returned.

Twenty-two minutes?

Two years.

The mystery of his
injuries was revealed in a slow remembrance that twisted that bundle
of emotion in his gut in a sweet ache.

And finally, the
knot gave. Kurt sighed, exhaling hard into the cold, and wrapped his
arms tighter around Bobby, brushing his lips against his ear, “I
still love you, too.”

Bobby shuddered and
markedly relaxed, as if he'd been holding his breath for hours.

And on they rode.

The horse left the
cover of the wood to gallop on a hard-packed road. Kurt nestled
deeper into his cowl as they sped through a small hamlet, and then
again into the forest, turning onto a smaller, less traveled road.

“We're here.”

Kurt drew back the
enchanted wool so he could see. Bobby was walking the horse past the
ruin of an iron gate, through an overgrown courtyard. The moons
outlined a huge manor that was being rapidly reclaimed by the forest
around it.

“Someplace
safe?” Kurt slide down from the horse, surprised that his legs
bore his weight after all the abuse of the previous several hours.

“Trust me.”
Bobby smiled and dismounted, but instead of leading the horse toward
the stable – as Kurt expected – he muttered a string of
discordant sounding syllables. With a soft neigh, the horse vanished,
and Bobby stooped to pick up a tiny figurine of a horse mid-stride.
He winked at Kurt and tucked the little horse into his coat pocket
and reached for Kurt's hand, casting a wary look back at the woods
they'd just ridden through.

Kurt let Bobby lead
him up the broken and weed covered stairs, expression dubious as
Iceman pulled a large iron key from his pocket and turned what should
be a rusted beyond use lock. The door opened with a grinding clunk!

“Welcome
home.” Bobby said and pushed it open, pulling Kurt through and
shutting the heavy door behind them. He whispered something Kurt
didn't quite catch and the hall lit up.

“My...”

“Gott?”
Bobby finished as Kurt took in the perfectly beautiful furnishings,
everything clean and shining as if brand new.

“Jah...and a
few Saints and the Blessed Virgin, too.” Kurt turned around,
“How did you do this?”

“Magic.”
Bobby cocked his head and laughed, “I'm surprised at you, the
son of a sorceress even.”

Kurt smiled and
impulsively reached up to cup Bobby cheek, whose face softened with
an emotion that Kurt finally allowed himself to recognize. Bobby
covered Kurt's hand with his own, “You're exhausted, I can see
it in your face. I am, too.” He traced the line of Kurt's jaw,
leaning into to press a soft kiss against his lips. “And you're
freezing. The fires are all stoked, let's go to bed.”
- 13
- 14
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Frostbitten