Frostbitten

[dreadpiratekurt.livejournal.com]

Title: Frostbitten
Genre: Comic Verse AU
Rating: R
Pairing: Bobby/Kurt
Summary: Nightcrawler finds himself trapped in a dark world, seeking to rescue and bring home a much changed Iceman.

Frostbitten - on Fanfiction.net

Chapters: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - twelve - thirteen

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.”