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She knows, once upon a time, Victor’s smile was enough to make her feel warm.
She knows she believed he would save her. She knows she had hope. She knows she wanted to live.
She knows she loved him.
She doesn’t remember what any of these things feel like.
She remember her name. She’s Nora. This is who she is. She knows who Victor is, even if she has a hard time realizing the only person who talks to her is the same person she once loved more than life itself.
Other than that, all she knows is cold. Cold, and a wish.
Please let me go.
She realized a long time ago he would not save her. All that’s left is pain and sorrow. No, that’s not true. Pain, sorrow, and cold.
She’s so cold.
He tells her he loves her, but that’s not true. Someone who loves her wouldn’t do that to her. Victor, her Victor, wouldn’t do that to her.
The man in front of her is not her husband. It’s easier that way. It’s easier to think Victor is gone, and the last memory she has of him is of her kind, loving husband, who respected her, and not of the man in front of her.
She knows, deep down, her torturer is the same person. She’s going to die. Despite his best effort, she’s going to get what she wants, in the end.
She’s going to die hating Victor. Once upon a time, she never thought it would be possible. He hurt her so much, she’s going to die hating Victor.
She’s so cold.
All she has left is begging. Begging for him to stop, stop, while she still knows she once loved him. She doesn’t remember what it felt like, anymore, just like she doesn’t remember what warmth feels like, but she still knows it.
She knows he once smiled, and it made her feel warm.
He doesn’t smile anymore. She doesn’t smile anymore. Now, there is just cold. Just cold, and hatred.
I hate you, she doesn’t say, because she can’t say anything, anymore. She’s reduced to a thing by the one man she thought would never do that to her. I hate you. Let me go.
She wonders, sometimes, if he still remembers what it felt like to love her. He says he does. He says he loves her, but that can’t be true. Someone who loves her wouldn’t do that to her.
This isn’t love. There was love, she knows it, for lack of remembering what it felt like. There was love, once, between each other. But what he’s doing to her, what they’re doing to each other, this isn’t love. This is hatred.
She was scared of death, once. People say death is cold, but she doesn’t think she can get any colder than she is. Now, she’s just waiting for it.
She can’t remember warmth. She can’t remember love. She will never feel them again.
She can’t remember Victor. She can’t remember the man she loved. Yet, she knows, deep down, he’s the same person she hates.
The lab crumbles down. Everything breaks, another collateral damage in another Gotham disaster she doesn’t care about enough to follow.
Everything breaks, and Nora falls. She falls and she falls and she’s so so cold.
“Nora!” Victor screams, and it’s her, it’s her name, but he doesn’t see her, he hadn’t seen her in a long time, and Nora wonders if he ever did. He tries to jump after her, to recover her like some sort of treasure.
She’s not a treasure. She’s a person. She’s a person. She knows she was. She knows she is.
It doesn’t matter, he will recover her, and she will go back to the only thing she remembers now: cold.
But black hands keep Victor from jumping. They keep him from going after her, and Nora falls.
Alone. She’s been alone for a long long time now. Since she stopped recognizing Victor.
“Let me go!” Victor screams. The black hands don’t let go.
“She’s gone, Freeze. It’s over. You have to let her go!” Batman sounds sad. Nora wants to tell him it’s not something to be sad about. It’s what she wanted. It’s what she wanted for a long time.
Maybe she will finally feel warm.
“She can’t be! I will-”
“You will die if you jump!”
There is something bright next to Nora. Fire? It’s supposed to be warm, she knows it. Is it what warmth feel like? She can’t remember.
“I don’t care! Let me go!”
“It’s over for her! It doesn’t have to be for you!”
Victor’s fighting reduces slightly. It’s not because he accepted, though, it’s because Batman is too strong, too stubborn. Or maybe it’s just because Nora can’t quite see him, anymore. Maybe he’s still fighting. She finds out she doesn’t care anymore. She doesn’t care about Victor. Once upon a time, she would have been appealed by the realization. Now, she just approach it with resignation.
“Yes it does! I can’t live without her. Let me go. This is what I want.”
Batman sounds sad again. “We’re going to get you help,” he says, and Nora wonders if the kind of help Batman is offering is similar to the one Victor gave her.
And, sure enough, as she fades away, the last thing she hears is the man she hate, the man she once loved, screaming, “Don’t take me back in Arkham, please, don’t take me back to Arkham!”