Cold-Blooded: A DC Universe Fanfiction (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 8: Nora, Victor, Slade: Point and Counterpoint

"I'm sorry, Ms. Fries," the doctor said, "but while you'll never suffer from further damage from Huntington's, there is nothing that can be done to reverse the symptoms. You'll experience minor involuntary spasms and tremors for the rest of your life. At this time, there is no effective treatment in existence. However, there are therapists and groups which can offer you emotional support and practical advice. I'd be happy to—." He could only offer Nora a tissue as she began crying.

Once she recovered herself and blew her nose, she looked up to him—he was a very attractive man, she noted, too. "I'm sure you think this is petty, considering that I was dying not so long ago, from my point of view that is, and I'm glad to be alive, but I was a dancer. That was all I ever wanted to do—as a career, that is. I don't know what I am, if I can't dance."

"I'm very sorry," he said. "—you know, I can think of someone much closer to home you should definitely speak to about how to live with a condition such as yours. Your husband's assistant, ah, what was her name? I don't remember, but I noticed she has something similar. It doesn't seem as though she lets it stop her."

"Assistant?" she asked, racking her brain to recall if Victor had mentioned having an assistant.

"Yes, a very striking woman, if a bit chilly—."

Nora flinched at the word, thinking of Victor, and the doctor must have read it on her face.

"Oh. I'm sorry," he apologized, looking stricken. "It's just an expression, I didn't mean—."

"It's all right," Nora Fries cut in, but he went on.

"—even with everything that happened to him and everything he did, he's still the pioneer of modern cryogenics and Huntington's research as well, a genius—."

"Wait," Nora stopped him. "Wait a minute. What? What do you mean, everything he did? What did he do?"

"He—he—You don't know, then."

"No. I don't. What did he do?"

"I never meant—." With all this dithering, she noticed that for all that he smiled nicely, his chin was weak and his eyes too deep set.

"What. Did. He. Do?" she gritted out.

"It was several years ago. He hasn't done anything like it for at least five years—."

"Tell me!"

"He was a criminal." the doctor finally blurted out.

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Back at the facility by the bay, Victor Fries ascended from his frozen hell up to the warm bright heaven he had had built for Nora atop the existing structure. It was ready. He opened the doors as he walked around. The kitchen fit for a professional chef which extended out as living room and dining room combined. There was the practice room, with its mirrored wall and barré, the floor waiting for the first graceful step. There was the bathroom with an extra large soaking tub, the spacious closets… the bedroom he would never share. Well, at least they would be close together. If, once she recovered from her future shock, she still wanted to stay by him.

He couldn't live simply anywhere, given his condition, so when the cure was imminent, he gave Yukie the details about the sort of house they had dreamed of having someday, and turned the project over to her. She'd found an architect, dealt with the builders and aerospace engineers—when people with such different environmental requirements shared a building, making sure Nora would stay safe was a vital consideration. He frowned in thought. No wonder Yukie needed a long vacation so badly. He had placed a great deal on her without thinking twice about whether she would be able to handle the work load. She had never complained, though.