strangetrip | [GP] Réveillon & New Year's Eve & Check-In

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[GP] Réveillon & New Year's Eve & Check-In

Emma had said, during Winter's Crest, that she missed a tradition from home called réveillon. She seemed also to miss her cousin, as Lillith missed hers. Since she wished both to learn to cook and to be of comfort to her friend, it had been decided they would make a réveillon dinner for New Year's Eve.

Yet when Emma began to lay out the courses -- oyster soup and potato & leek soup, salad, a gumbo, venison roast, cheeses, and creme brulee, plus several hors d'ouevres not yet decided -- Lillith quailed at the size of the undertaking. Surely she would wish someone to assist who could contribute more than roasted rabbit, wheat or potato flour dumplings, and koláč.

Since Sunny likewise missed her family and would certainly wish a distraction, when she entered the cafe where they were planning, the other two seized upon her almost at once. Sunny could hardly resist their dual entreaty, even had she wished to, and Lillith thought she seemed even more ready for company than previously. Of course Sunny had offerings of her own: jolloff rice, peppered chicken, and fried plantain.

Between they three, the planning and the cooking were very nearly merry, and Lillith kept them liberally supplied with champagne (her personal favorite), too. By late afternoon of the eve of the new year, they had begun lining tables with dishes, and enlisted the help of other friends to make the evening event widely known.

Of course, in addition to the réveillon feast that took over the steakhouse, alcohol flowed freely, lights sparkled brightly, the nightclub had music for dancing. And at some point the Inn or Caroline or Regina hung mistletoe from several of the primary entrances and exits so that unless one wished to or was unaware of the tradition, no one (not even any new arrivals) need greet the new year unkissed.

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"Yeah," Peter looks down at the ground, embarrassed, and brings a hand to his neck. "Me too. And it's not like I have much experience there to draw from to begin with."

After a moment, though, he's able to force himself to meet her gaze again. "I'm Peter," he says, extending a hand. "Peter Parker. I, uh. I think I've seen you around, but I don't think we've ever formally met."

Emma shook his hand. "Marie-Ange Colbert, but most people call me Emma. I've only been here a month, and I... can be kind of a hermit sometimes." When not the Fool. "At home, I was still introducing myself to people going on a year after we came to stay there."

Peter files that name away into his mental filing cabinet, then withdraws his hand from Emma's own.

"And, uh," he begins, "Where exactly was home?"

That seemed to be the default question you asked people after you asked their name. People were from all over, though, even some places that Peter'd never heard of. And even if they were from Earth, in some cases, it wasn't quite his Earth, or they came from a time before he was even born.

"All over really." Home was people, not place, and Emma had traveled a lot. She knew she sounded American, although she wasn't. She'd spent almost half her life there, and being able to blend in had been important. "But most recently Scotland. A fishing village turned mutant sanctuary I wouldn't expect most people not from my reality to have heard of."

Normally, Peter might have said something about Scotland, and how he's wanted to go there and really, the only other country he's been to aside from the US was Germany and he really didn't get to do all that much sightseeing.

But this wasn't a normal situation.

"A mutant?" he asks, brows furrowed. "Like Ms. Pr-- like Kitty?"

"Like Kitty. Same x-gene, different powers. I see the future." Better to just say it, since it was probably the next, most obvious question. "I knew a Kitty there, but she was younger than the one here. About your age maybe." Her intonation rose at the end, making it almost a question, but not entirely. "Alternate realities can get confusing pretty quickly."

Of all the powers Peter can imagine wanting to have, precognition is one of the ones he'd want the least. Not because it wasn't cool (because it definitely was), but because it just seemed depressing. Especially if you knew what was going to happen but were in no position to actually do anything about it.

And maybe that's why he doesn't immediately inundate her with a series of questions about said powers the way he normally does.

"I got bit by a mutant spider," Peter volunteers, his intonation rising slightly at the end, just as Emma's did a minute before. "I mean, I don't think it's exactly the same, but I think that spider changed my DNA later in life instead of at birth, like you guys."

Peter presses his lips together pensively, waiting for Emma's assessment.

For a moment, Emma almost asked if Peter had been experimented on, but when she thought about how he'd said it, it sounded more like an accident.

"Genetics isn't really my expertise," she admitted. "Dr. MacTaggart would probably understand. I do know there are others who have powers, but aren't mutants. Like Steve."

Okay, so maybe it's a long shot, but weirder things have happened. And if Kitty and Piotr both know him, and Emma knows Kitty, and both of them had mutant powers, then...

"Like... like Steve Rogers?" Peter asks tentatively.

She had assumed Peter met Kitty here. Between being a bartender and being Kitty, she got to know a lot of people fairly quickly. But if he immediately made the (entirely correct) jump to Steve Rogers, then maybe she was wrong.

"You know Steve Rogers? The Steve Rogers? Formerly known as Captain America?"

"Formerly?" As far as he knew in their universe, Steve Rogers was still Captain America, even if he was kinda wanted by the government. But if Emma was from some other universe too, maybe there was a reality where he wasn't actually Captain America anymore.

"Well, kinda. We met once. I stole his shield. Long story, but a bunch of the Avengers were fighting a bunch of other Avengers and I was kinda helping out Mr. Stark."

He still didn't have all the details on that one.

If he knew a Kitty before here, it wasn't in a world like Emma's from the sound of things.

"The Avengers?" Who were they, and why were they fighting?

"But yeah, formerly. He wasn't going to go around calling himself Captain America after the US passed the Registration Act and started throwing mutants in internment camps, or worse. His whole mission was fighting against people like that." Okay, so informally a lot of people still thought of him as Captain America. It was hard not to. But officially, he didn't want anything to do with the America he'd woken up to.

"Yeah, The Avengers," Peter confirms. "Iron Man, Captain America, Black Widow, Thor, Hulk, Falcon, Hawkeye, Ant-Man, and um... Scarlet Witch, I think." It's hard to keep track of all of them. "I don't really know what they were doing fighting one another. Mr. Stark brought me to Germany to help with the fight because Captain America had lost it, or something."

Peter hadn't pressed for more answers, though he probably should have.

But it's Emma's next explanation that puts Peter on-edge. "Wait, what? Internment camps? Like they used for the Japanese during World War II?"

Peter's confusion is palpable.

"Why?"

She'd called them internment camps because that was one of the words the US used for them, same as they had with the Japanese in World War II. But it had been a euphemism then, and it was one now. On the other hand, call them what they were concentration camps was tied so completely to Nazi camps now it could muddy understanding.

"Like the US with Japanese-Americans. Like the Nazis with several different groups. And because," she paused, not sure if the phrasing that came to mind would be too glib for something that hurt people she cared about or identified with. "Because fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate. Hate leads to imprisoning and experimenting on citizens, or hunting them down, killing them, just because they're different. To starting a war with countries that provide sanctuary."

It's hard to believe that something like this would happen again. Sure, North Korea had prison camps that essentially functioned like concentration camps, but they seemed more like the exception to the rule rather than the standard. But if America was doing this...

Peter really wishes he could sit down.

"I don't blame him," he says of Captain America. "Are these things -- are they still going on where you're from?"

And then a half-second later, he asks, his voice etched with concern:

"You weren't in one of these camps, were you?"

"I was lucky. NAM– The Underground Railroad got me and my cousin out before anyone came looking for us – I'm not even a US citizen, not that that would have stopped them – but I lived with people who'd been in camps."

Her world wasn't the best place, probably, for mutants, but she still needed to be back there, rather that stuck in this kitchsy resort bubble. "And yeah, we're still at war. There are the people, and countries, who hate mutants, the mutants who hate baseline humans, and mutants and baselines who believe we can all live together." She smiled, trying for encouraging. "I'm in that last group. Not that my mutation has helped all that much in the fight. Helping out when I can usually means cooking extra when Excalibur get home after a mission"

"I mean, are you really sure that it hasn't been helpful?" Peter's question is genuine; he knows plenty of people who are humble, who don't give themselves full credit for their achievements. And right now, he's having a really hard time imagining that her ability wouldn't be helpful in some way.

"I really hope--" Peter feels something catch in his throat. "--that something like that doesn't happen on my Earth. I mean--" He pauses. "--setting aside everything, there's so many bad things out there that keep stopping by and attacking Earth that it doesn't make sense for us to fight one another."

And that's exactly why he couldn't understand why Cap was doing what he was back when they were in Germany. Maybe there was a reason for it, but Peter couldn't comprehend why he'd ever want to fight his own allies when he'd spent his entire life doing so much good alongside them.

"Me too. I wouldn't wish what we've gone through on any world." There were realities that had it worse, she knew. Some of the stories TJ and Mariko told were... awful.

"It started small. With the Registration Act. It was supposed to keep people safer and accountable. In theory, if it wasn't personal, it didn't sound so bad. But in practice, it made everything worse."

Peter had to admit that in concept, registration didn't sound bad. People had to register to drive. In some places, you had to register your gun. But registering meant that people would know who he was. And while that didn't sound so bad here, he didn't exactly want everyone on the planet knowing he was Spider-Man, either.

Or, apparently, that escalating to the point where they felt the need to keep those registrants in internment camps.

"I guess by people... they don't mean people with abilities."

Peter scratches his elbow uneasily. He feels bad for Emma and her entire situation, but like most things, he's not really exactly sure how to express it without it coming all weird.

"Depended on who they were talking to. A friend of mine, when she manifested and couldn't hide that she was a mutant, her parents called the government on her. If she hadn't gotten in touch with the underground, she'd be in a camp, instead of getting to Scotland where she was safer. Mostly." Cessily was about Peter's age, Emma thought.

"Her parents loved her. They thought they were doing the right thing, protecting her. The government let them think that. But they also let people who hated mutants hear the mostly unspoken message that mutants weren't people."

She shrugged. "Every world has its -isms and bigots. 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,' or however the quote goes."

"Yeah," Peter agrees. Because when it came down to it, that last phrase was exactly why he did the whole Spider-Man thing. He might have had a more normal life if he'd just kept his spider powers to himself, but that wasn't who he was. If he could help, he had to.

But that just leads to another question. An awkward question, but one Peter's had on his mind; in comparison to his life in Queens, a lot of the people here had it a lot harder than he did.

"Are you okay with being stuck here?" he asks, solemnly.

Maybe she should have expected the question, logically, not precognitively. But it still hit like one of Nina's strikes slipping past Emma's block. The pain showed in her eyes as she looked down and away, and the way she had to swallow around the lump in her throat before she could answer.

"No. I... I need to get home."

Peter picks up on it immediately. "H-hey," he manages to stammer out, holding his hands in front of him. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

He presses his lips together pensively.

"Why don't we go grab some punch together?" he suggests quickly.

"You didn't do anything wrong," was more honest than saying it was okay.

"I should go check on things in the kitchen anyway." She was sure there were things that needed doing, and if not, at least some she could do, which had kind of been the point in cooking a feast in the first place.

"It was nice talking with you, though. Happy New Year, Peter."

"You too," Peter manages to get out.

And after that conversation, Peter finds himself really grateful for the life he's been able to live up until now. It might not be perfect, but it wasn't nearly as bad as that.

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[GP] Réveillon & New Year's Eve & Check-In

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