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st_ackeddeckThe Hermit, in the guise of a once and future (?) flatmate gave Emma a glimpse of three Christmases that might have been, or rather, were for Jag and her other self. Things she wouldn't have gone looking for in the cards, but when the opportunity arose, she had to know.
There had been new faces around the inn the past few days, not the usual new arrivals, and the timing had been wrong for that anyway, but not like the resident ghosts or the staff either. But they all seemed to be people others knew.
Emma was stuck between fearing she'd be visited by one of these Christmas spirits and hoping to see one of the people she'd been missing for over a year now.
She'd always hated Dickens.
Sitting and waiting and not knowing wasn't going to help, though. So she'd settled in by the fireplace with her cards to see if there was anything she could find out that would. She didn't expect the Three of Wands to open on a vision of London, or the Hermit to follow, a tall, lean man, dark where she was fair, and who, unlike the city, she didn't recognize. She continued to lay out cards, searching for context for what she Saw, and slowly got the feeling she wasn't alone in the room.
She looked up, expecting it to be Jag, or maybe Zoe, but there was no hint of spectral chill that usually came with their ghostly roommate. Instead she found the man from her vision. Her eyes widened and eyed him warily, and she rubbed her fingers over the next card in the deck, ready to draw if it looked like she needed the help.
The strange man looked to be on the late end of his twenties, and his tall, lanky form was dressed in paint-splattered jeans that had seen better days and a long-sleeved dark blue t-shirt, and a little plaster dust clung to him here and there. His brown hair was cropped short, his features sharp and clearly Middle Eastern, and his brown eyes spoke of both intelligence and gentleness. He was leaning back against the door, and when Emma looked his way, he raised his hands, slowly.
"Sorry," he told her, his accent placing him as English. The more he talked, the more obvious it became that he was London born and bred. "I don't mean to frighten you." He stepped away from the door, but didn't come any closer. Both the way he moved and the way he talked were soft, sedate, as if quietness were the core of who he was. "My name's Ollie. Jag's mentioned me?"
Oh. She hadn't expected that. Although who else would visit a precog in a Dickensian nightmare, but a Ghost of Christmas Future? And Jag had mentioned Ollie... and Jake. "Yeah. He has." She could tell how Ollie was being careful, trying not to overwhelm her, but without the same feel to it she got from Jag. Or maybe that was just how Ollie was. "You and Jake, you're their roommates, in London, right?"
"We are," Ollie confirmed, head dipping slightly in confirmation. "I'm glad I was sent, and not him. He can be a bit... much." But the way he said it made his fondness for Jake clear all the same.
"Were you looking for Jag? He's..." she considered the time, and decided, "usually in the stables about now. Although he could be with Coby?"
"I wouldn't mind checking in on him later," Ollie admitted, with a small smile. His voice remained quiet as he spoke, but not out of hesitation or uncertainty. No, his words were also steady, and the combination of quiet and steady only made you want to pay more attention to his words, for fear of missing what he was saying. "He could always use a hug. But... no. No, I came to see you. He already knows what I'm meant to show you. If you'd like to see."
Jag could always use more hugs, and without the tangle of emotions tied to Emma not being his Emma. That Ollie recognized that helped, and so did his easy, mild way of talking. "If you know me," at least a version of her who was, according to Sunny and Jag both, so very close to herself, "you know I can't turn down an invitation like that. Needing to see is...," she trailed off, waving a hand at the cards spread in front of her.
"Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm meant to see it, from what the cards were saying when you showed up." She lay out a few more cards to finish the spread, her gaze distant and unfocused a moment. Then she gathered the cards together, slipped them into the bag lying by her feet, and stood. "I'm ready if you are, no. Wait."
A pen and pad of Post-Its pulled from her bag as easily as the deck had slid in, and she jotted a quick I'm okay. Back soon. ~ Emma and stuck the note to the mantle. "I don't want him to worry. Told him I'd be back soon, so... don't make me a liar, okay?"
"You'll be back soon," Ollie confirmed, and stepped forward to hold his hand out to her, his expression open, rather than expecting.
She trusted him. it was easy to do. Besides, the tarot had shown her he was supposed to be a guide, and Jag trusted him. What more did she need? Emma gave a little nod, encouragement for herself mostly, and took Ollie's hand.
There was a blinding white light, and when it receded Emma and Ollie, still holding hands, were standing on a London square, in winter. People were bundled up against the cold, but it didn't bother either one of them, despite their lack of warm clothing. Passers-by were hurrying along, but a small crowd had formed to watch a fire performer. Beside where they appeared, a slightly younger version of Emma drew closer, drawn in by the fire.
Ollie didn't say anything, his hand warm and loose around Emma's, should she want to pull away, move closer, and get a better look at herself, or the performance. And the performer.
At first, Emma, this Emma, the one here to see, watched Jag's show, almost as entranced by the play of fire as her counterpart. It warmed something inside her, although it seemed more restrained than what she was used to seeing from Jag's tricks. It took a moment for her to realize that was because it was restrained, limited to things that might be possible with fuel and spark by any baseline fire performer. She'd known, intellectually, that he'd had to hide, but seeing it now, it hurt just thinking about.
So her attention turned to the other Emma, only that didn't hurt any less. The way she rubbed warmth into her arms didn't have anything to do with the cold she and Ollie didn't feel. "She looks... lonely." Emma didn't mind so much being alone, but lonely was different. "Is this..." she broke off as Jag asked her other self if she'd enjoyed the show, getting her answer. "This is when they met, isn't it?"
Ollie smiled at her conclusion, a smile as quiet as his tone of voice. "It's Christmas Eve," he told her, "2014. She showed up in this London, instead of her own, about a month ago." That Emma was as lonely right then as she was going to be. "She is lonely. But things are looking up."
Jag's show wrapped up, and the crowd burst into applause. It wasn't long before he and that Emma were chatting, and Ollie looked at them as he went on. "They're going to be speaking Romani within two minutes of meeting. He'll ask her if it's Fate, their meeting like that, today. And it isn't a line." Ollie turned back to Emma. "Want to listen in?" It didn't sound like a suggestion, but an actual question. The choice was entirely hers.
She was here to see what Ollie was meant to show her, right? And like she'd told him, that sort of needing to know, constant curiosity was a core part of her. One that sometimes got her into trouble, or at least made her wish after the fact that she hadn't been so eager to know, but one she would change if she could. She nodded and moved closer, expecting her Hermit would come with her and continue to illuminate the way, metaphorically speaking.
She listened as their conversation went just the way he'd described, and maybe she should have been watching her other self, but she was drawn to Jag and all the little differences between the man he was here meeting his Emma for the first time, and how he had always been with her at the inn. It hurt, realizing how much he had to be holding back even now, when they felt like they'd gotten to be friends. And then there had been the anniversary of their being stuck at the inn, and she felt a fresh wave of guilt over how selfish she'd been.
"What do you think? Was it Fate? Or just a happy coincidence?"
Ollie was quiet for a moment, watching as they settled in a nearby café, Emma's body language naturally reserved, Jag's... not. Then he looked back at the Emma beside him, and asked, watching her profile now, "Does it matter?"
"Maybe not," Emma conceded. "But... you know them now, or close enough to this point." Jag had said it wasn't all that long after they met that Emma moved in, right? She thought she remembered that. "And you know them three years later, just before Jag got dumped in the inn and found me waiting in our suite. I don't."
She shook her head. "I don't know what it is I want to know, really. That just looks so... so easy." Like you could see the connections forming already, could watch Em letting a complete stranger in enough so by the time they finished their coffees, he didn't feel like a stranger.
It was so easy, but Ollie didn't voice the thought. She could see it for herself already, and he let her look her fill, then only offered, "Come on. Let's fast forward a little, to the next Christmas."
The next Christmas, he said. One year later, and Emma wasn't going to think about the night one year after she first met Jag at the inn. Whatever Ollie was about to show her, it wouldn't be the same. She nodded. "Yeah. Whatever you want to show me. I think I've seen enough of now."
Another blinding white light, and as it faded, the scenery around them had changed again. It was night, with trailers everywhere, a circus tent standing not far off. A small fire was burning, and beside it, with their backs to a trailer, Jag and Emma were huddled together.
"Boxing Day, a year later," Ollie said, quietly. "He brought her to celebrate with his family. Because she is, too."
Ollie was explaining where and when they were, and she could see Jag and his Emma right there together, but Emma was hit first by how it felt being here. It wasn't Fuqua Brothers, or the encampment in Rome, but it was so familiar, the wave of nostalgia and homesickness threw her completely for a moment.
Ollie touched a hand to her arm, but otherwise let her take in the moment, and the conversation happening just feet from them.
The Emma in London had probably gotten on well with Ollie, Emma realized, the way he could be quietly there without intruding at all, and not needing to say anything in the moment. She flashed him a small, sort of sad smile, then turned back to watch the two as they talked. Home was people, family, and it was easy to see how they fit that way. It was easy being family with Jag, she knew for herself, and it would've been even easier without the difficulty of reminding him of the woman he loved.
"Just family? Or more than?" she asked after a moment. Because watching them together, she couldn't tell, and she'd never asked how long it had been before Jag's Emma had become his Emma.
"Family," Ollie replied, and then added what she already knew, "For now. You're both seeing other people right now. They're both... not for you." He seemed to have taken that pause to find a diplomatic way to phrase it.
If she'd listened a bit longer, she wouldn't have had to ask. It was strange, trying to imagine herself dating someone else. Less strange that it was apparently a woman, but Ollie's 'not for you' kept her from asking any of the questions she might have had about the mysterious Dutch. Watching her other self and Jag exchange gifts was easier, and she smiled again when she saw what he gave her, but still sadly.
"One more way the inn is cruel. We got... gifts, for Easter. Or April Fools. Both, maybe. And Jag got her scarf." Emma had gotten her tarot cards, including a deck her future-other-London self had designed, but it wouldn't have been as bittersweet as the scarf for Jag.
"It's a cruel situation you're in," Ollie allowed, after a few seconds. "But that gesture wasn't as unkind as you think. She would be on his mind, in his heart, regardless. At least he's got the scarf." He turned his head to look away from the two of them, cuddled up by the fire, and watch her. "At least he's got you."
"Bittersweet, then." Fire helped her, and watching Jag shape it and control it helped even more. But it hurt too. Like poking a bruise. She kind of felt like the scarf would be the same. "And he does have me. But... I'm not her." Her mind, always so helpful at making connections, whether she wanted it to or not, offered up memories of their anniversary at the inn, and with it, the guilt she couldn't shake. "And he, he can't be who he should be either. Not like he is here. Where he's free."
"It's a cruel situation you're in," Ollie repeated quietly, and he held his hand out to her.
"More to see?" Emma asked, putting her hand in his. Knowing was better, and even if it was hard to see sometimes, she was used to that, and it was good, getting to see Jag the way he was here, and how he was with her other self. So whatever else Ollie had to show her, she was as ready as she could be.
Ollie nodded, then added, a warning, "More than family."
Emma had avoided doing readings about Jag's time in London or her other self, mostly to avoid seeing things about their relationship she maybe wasn't ready to see, and to respect his privacy. But with what Ollie had already shown her today and how he understood and obviously cared about both of them, she was going to trust that whatever he was here to show her, she should know. And she wanted to know, to understand a little better. Just a feeling, but she was sure he wouldn't show anything too – be honest, Em, what you really mean is he's not going to pop in on them having sex, and she could almost hear the voice in her head smirking, even though she couldn't tell whose voice it sounded like.
This time, they appeared in a deserted, small street on the outskirts of London, at night. It was not apparent immediately, what they were here for, and when Emma looked at him questioningly, Ollie nodded up at the sky. There, on the backdrop of the dark, cloudy night, a winged horse came into view, descending to land just a few feet from them. Perched on top of it, Emma turned around to kiss Jag, who had been riding pillion.
"A year later," Ollie informed Emma. "They're just back from a Christmas party."
The pegasus was so natural to her, Emma had to remind herself it was a big deal seeing it here, in a world where mutants had to hide what they could do. But thinking about that, and how stifling it must have been, was a good distraction from watching the two kiss. Or remembering the way Jag had kissed her. Fortunately, while Ollie and Emma couldn't feel the cold of London in winter, Jag and his Emma could, and the kiss broke off so they could go inside, Ollie and Emma following along. Once inside it was easy to tell the squat was unused office space, but that they had been there long enough for it to really feel lived in. Not permanent – it was a squat – but less temporary feeling than it could've been. Again, she was focusing on their surroundings, rather than the obvious affection and desire of their kisses, when Emma could feel her cheeks starting to warm and color.
As Jag and Em moved to the kitchen for coffee, Ollie sat up on a spot of the counter, clearly at home in the surroundings. He watched them with Emma, the way they interacted, their body language saying more than their idle conversation, telling a tale of friendship grown into love. Ollie remained quiet, letting Emma absorb the moment for herself. When they exchanged presents, and Jag's was the silver firebird pendant he still wore to this day, albeit on a different chain, Ollie did look over at her.
She watched in silence as her other self opened the fortune teller's poster, the same smile shaping her mouth and softening her eyes as her alt's. And then, as Jag opened his gift to reveal a silver pendant Emma recognized, having seen him wearing it still. And then...
And then...
I love you.
How long had it been since she'd said those words? Since someone had said them to her? It wouldn't be that hard to figure out: a day and a year and the rest of December through to today. But she didn't do the math, didn't want to reduce it to a number, when it was so much bigger than that. So she watched, seeing the love in their eyes, in how they held each other and how they kissed, hearing it not so much in the words but the soft warmth of their voices. The words were almost an afterthought.
"First time they said it?" she asked Ollie, almost a whisper, even though the couple couldn't hear her and were wrapped in each other and their love anyway. It wasn't exactly a guess, but she didn't have any reason to back up the instinctive assurance.
"First time," Ollie confirmed, just as quietly. This wasn't their moment; it was Jag and Emma's.
It wasn't until Ollie confirmed what she'd been thinking that Emma realized she couldn't remember ever saying those words to Pyro. Not in words, out loud. And he hadn't said them to her. She'd known, as hard as it was to believe anyone, especially Pyro, could feel that way about her, but she only had to look in his eyes to see the truth of it. Before Bobby was gone anyway. After that, there wasn't room for much of anything except Pyro's grief.
Feeling too much of too many things, she wrapped her arms tight around her waist, holding the emotions back or inside or holding herself together. And she could feel the sting of tears wanting to form, but there was a hint of smile in the curve of her lips. After a long, quiet moment, she turned to Ollie again. "Anything else I need to see? Or is it time to go back?"
"That was it for me," Ollie confirmed simply. "But if there's anything you want to see before I take you back?"
With how they thought the inn worked, she probably wouldn't get this opportunity again, but she did have other ways of seeing if she needed them. She kind of regretted she wouldn't get to know Ollie better, but she didn't need him to tell her that wasn't the point of his visit. And who knew? Maybe, whenever she 'checked out' she would find herself in Ollie and Jag's London instead of her own. Not that she wanted... "Not that I know of." She had a lot to think about, context she hadn't had, sometimes had even avoided, before.
She took his hand once more, and in the next moment, they were back where they had begun, in Emma and Jag's rooms at the inn. "Thank you. For showing me."
"Of course," Ollie told her with a small smile, still holding her hand. He hesitated, then told her, "You really are awfully like her." The smile that punctuated that statement was a little sad now, a little understanding.
Emma nodded, just a small movement, like Ollie, a little sad. "It would be easier if I wasn't." Probably for Jag and her both. "But I'm glad I got to see her... them. It makes understanding more real."
Ollie was quiet for another beat, before he offered, "Would you like a hug?"
After everything Ollie had shown her, and all the feelings it dragged up, Emma knew she really could use a hug. But still, she hesitated. Not because of anything against Ollie. As strange as it was to realize, she was comfortable around him. So what was the problem? But she was overthinking what should be an easy question, and she knew it. Emma nodded, giving him a small smile and hoping he didn't take her hesitation the wrong way. "I'd like that."
Ollie waited patiently for her answer, but met her smile when she gave it, reassurance. He let go of her hand to open his arms to her, stepping closer, but letting her take that final step to bring them together.
Ollie's careful restraint felt more natural and comfortable than Jag's did, and having seen Jag with his Emma, it was easy to understand why. She stepped into the circle of his open arms and wrapped hers around him, tucking her head against his shoulder to let herself just breathe into the touch and comfort for a moment.
Ollie hugged her warmly, putting all of himself into the embrace. For all that he was a quiet person, and his hug was certainly not enthusiastic, it was still entirely without hesitation, steady and sure. "You're not just her shadow," he murmured.
The hug ended with the same sort of quiet ease it had from the beginning, Emma's embrace tightening a fraction more before they parted. She wasn't sure how to answer him, although it was a good thing to hear. She might not be just her alt's shadow, but she was a living reminder, and it made everything mroe complicated than it should be. So she gave a small nod, part of her feeling she didn't need words with Ollie just then.
"You said something about maybe checking in on Jag before you go." A small smile and spark in her eyes. "You know, if you're going to be giving out hugs anyway."
"That's absolutely the plan," Ollie confirmed with another smile. "Take care, Emma."
"I'll do my best." It wasn't like there was much trouble to get into around here, and Emma was better at taking care of herself than a lot of people realized. Ollie probably knew, though. "And to take care of him too. Thanks, Ollie."
There had been new faces around the inn the past few days, not the usual new arrivals, and the timing had been wrong for that anyway, but not like the resident ghosts or the staff either. But they all seemed to be people others knew.
Emma was stuck between fearing she'd be visited by one of these Christmas spirits and hoping to see one of the people she'd been missing for over a year now.
She'd always hated Dickens.
Sitting and waiting and not knowing wasn't going to help, though. So she'd settled in by the fireplace with her cards to see if there was anything she could find out that would. She didn't expect the Three of Wands to open on a vision of London, or the Hermit to follow, a tall, lean man, dark where she was fair, and who, unlike the city, she didn't recognize. She continued to lay out cards, searching for context for what she Saw, and slowly got the feeling she wasn't alone in the room.
She looked up, expecting it to be Jag, or maybe Zoe, but there was no hint of spectral chill that usually came with their ghostly roommate. Instead she found the man from her vision. Her eyes widened and eyed him warily, and she rubbed her fingers over the next card in the deck, ready to draw if it looked like she needed the help.
The strange man looked to be on the late end of his twenties, and his tall, lanky form was dressed in paint-splattered jeans that had seen better days and a long-sleeved dark blue t-shirt, and a little plaster dust clung to him here and there. His brown hair was cropped short, his features sharp and clearly Middle Eastern, and his brown eyes spoke of both intelligence and gentleness. He was leaning back against the door, and when Emma looked his way, he raised his hands, slowly.
"Sorry," he told her, his accent placing him as English. The more he talked, the more obvious it became that he was London born and bred. "I don't mean to frighten you." He stepped away from the door, but didn't come any closer. Both the way he moved and the way he talked were soft, sedate, as if quietness were the core of who he was. "My name's Ollie. Jag's mentioned me?"
Oh. She hadn't expected that. Although who else would visit a precog in a Dickensian nightmare, but a Ghost of Christmas Future? And Jag had mentioned Ollie... and Jake. "Yeah. He has." She could tell how Ollie was being careful, trying not to overwhelm her, but without the same feel to it she got from Jag. Or maybe that was just how Ollie was. "You and Jake, you're their roommates, in London, right?"
"We are," Ollie confirmed, head dipping slightly in confirmation. "I'm glad I was sent, and not him. He can be a bit... much." But the way he said it made his fondness for Jake clear all the same.
"Were you looking for Jag? He's..." she considered the time, and decided, "usually in the stables about now. Although he could be with Coby?"
"I wouldn't mind checking in on him later," Ollie admitted, with a small smile. His voice remained quiet as he spoke, but not out of hesitation or uncertainty. No, his words were also steady, and the combination of quiet and steady only made you want to pay more attention to his words, for fear of missing what he was saying. "He could always use a hug. But... no. No, I came to see you. He already knows what I'm meant to show you. If you'd like to see."
Jag could always use more hugs, and without the tangle of emotions tied to Emma not being his Emma. That Ollie recognized that helped, and so did his easy, mild way of talking. "If you know me," at least a version of her who was, according to Sunny and Jag both, so very close to herself, "you know I can't turn down an invitation like that. Needing to see is...," she trailed off, waving a hand at the cards spread in front of her.
"Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm meant to see it, from what the cards were saying when you showed up." She lay out a few more cards to finish the spread, her gaze distant and unfocused a moment. Then she gathered the cards together, slipped them into the bag lying by her feet, and stood. "I'm ready if you are, no. Wait."
A pen and pad of Post-Its pulled from her bag as easily as the deck had slid in, and she jotted a quick I'm okay. Back soon. ~ Emma and stuck the note to the mantle. "I don't want him to worry. Told him I'd be back soon, so... don't make me a liar, okay?"
"You'll be back soon," Ollie confirmed, and stepped forward to hold his hand out to her, his expression open, rather than expecting.
She trusted him. it was easy to do. Besides, the tarot had shown her he was supposed to be a guide, and Jag trusted him. What more did she need? Emma gave a little nod, encouragement for herself mostly, and took Ollie's hand.
There was a blinding white light, and when it receded Emma and Ollie, still holding hands, were standing on a London square, in winter. People were bundled up against the cold, but it didn't bother either one of them, despite their lack of warm clothing. Passers-by were hurrying along, but a small crowd had formed to watch a fire performer. Beside where they appeared, a slightly younger version of Emma drew closer, drawn in by the fire.
Ollie didn't say anything, his hand warm and loose around Emma's, should she want to pull away, move closer, and get a better look at herself, or the performance. And the performer.
At first, Emma, this Emma, the one here to see, watched Jag's show, almost as entranced by the play of fire as her counterpart. It warmed something inside her, although it seemed more restrained than what she was used to seeing from Jag's tricks. It took a moment for her to realize that was because it was restrained, limited to things that might be possible with fuel and spark by any baseline fire performer. She'd known, intellectually, that he'd had to hide, but seeing it now, it hurt just thinking about.
So her attention turned to the other Emma, only that didn't hurt any less. The way she rubbed warmth into her arms didn't have anything to do with the cold she and Ollie didn't feel. "She looks... lonely." Emma didn't mind so much being alone, but lonely was different. "Is this..." she broke off as Jag asked her other self if she'd enjoyed the show, getting her answer. "This is when they met, isn't it?"
Ollie smiled at her conclusion, a smile as quiet as his tone of voice. "It's Christmas Eve," he told her, "2014. She showed up in this London, instead of her own, about a month ago." That Emma was as lonely right then as she was going to be. "She is lonely. But things are looking up."
Jag's show wrapped up, and the crowd burst into applause. It wasn't long before he and that Emma were chatting, and Ollie looked at them as he went on. "They're going to be speaking Romani within two minutes of meeting. He'll ask her if it's Fate, their meeting like that, today. And it isn't a line." Ollie turned back to Emma. "Want to listen in?" It didn't sound like a suggestion, but an actual question. The choice was entirely hers.
She was here to see what Ollie was meant to show her, right? And like she'd told him, that sort of needing to know, constant curiosity was a core part of her. One that sometimes got her into trouble, or at least made her wish after the fact that she hadn't been so eager to know, but one she would change if she could. She nodded and moved closer, expecting her Hermit would come with her and continue to illuminate the way, metaphorically speaking.
She listened as their conversation went just the way he'd described, and maybe she should have been watching her other self, but she was drawn to Jag and all the little differences between the man he was here meeting his Emma for the first time, and how he had always been with her at the inn. It hurt, realizing how much he had to be holding back even now, when they felt like they'd gotten to be friends. And then there had been the anniversary of their being stuck at the inn, and she felt a fresh wave of guilt over how selfish she'd been.
"What do you think? Was it Fate? Or just a happy coincidence?"
Ollie was quiet for a moment, watching as they settled in a nearby café, Emma's body language naturally reserved, Jag's... not. Then he looked back at the Emma beside him, and asked, watching her profile now, "Does it matter?"
"Maybe not," Emma conceded. "But... you know them now, or close enough to this point." Jag had said it wasn't all that long after they met that Emma moved in, right? She thought she remembered that. "And you know them three years later, just before Jag got dumped in the inn and found me waiting in our suite. I don't."
She shook her head. "I don't know what it is I want to know, really. That just looks so... so easy." Like you could see the connections forming already, could watch Em letting a complete stranger in enough so by the time they finished their coffees, he didn't feel like a stranger.
It was so easy, but Ollie didn't voice the thought. She could see it for herself already, and he let her look her fill, then only offered, "Come on. Let's fast forward a little, to the next Christmas."
The next Christmas, he said. One year later, and Emma wasn't going to think about the night one year after she first met Jag at the inn. Whatever Ollie was about to show her, it wouldn't be the same. She nodded. "Yeah. Whatever you want to show me. I think I've seen enough of now."
Another blinding white light, and as it faded, the scenery around them had changed again. It was night, with trailers everywhere, a circus tent standing not far off. A small fire was burning, and beside it, with their backs to a trailer, Jag and Emma were huddled together.
"Boxing Day, a year later," Ollie said, quietly. "He brought her to celebrate with his family. Because she is, too."
Ollie was explaining where and when they were, and she could see Jag and his Emma right there together, but Emma was hit first by how it felt being here. It wasn't Fuqua Brothers, or the encampment in Rome, but it was so familiar, the wave of nostalgia and homesickness threw her completely for a moment.
Ollie touched a hand to her arm, but otherwise let her take in the moment, and the conversation happening just feet from them.
The Emma in London had probably gotten on well with Ollie, Emma realized, the way he could be quietly there without intruding at all, and not needing to say anything in the moment. She flashed him a small, sort of sad smile, then turned back to watch the two as they talked. Home was people, family, and it was easy to see how they fit that way. It was easy being family with Jag, she knew for herself, and it would've been even easier without the difficulty of reminding him of the woman he loved.
"Just family? Or more than?" she asked after a moment. Because watching them together, she couldn't tell, and she'd never asked how long it had been before Jag's Emma had become his Emma.
"Family," Ollie replied, and then added what she already knew, "For now. You're both seeing other people right now. They're both... not for you." He seemed to have taken that pause to find a diplomatic way to phrase it.
If she'd listened a bit longer, she wouldn't have had to ask. It was strange, trying to imagine herself dating someone else. Less strange that it was apparently a woman, but Ollie's 'not for you' kept her from asking any of the questions she might have had about the mysterious Dutch. Watching her other self and Jag exchange gifts was easier, and she smiled again when she saw what he gave her, but still sadly.
"One more way the inn is cruel. We got... gifts, for Easter. Or April Fools. Both, maybe. And Jag got her scarf." Emma had gotten her tarot cards, including a deck her future-other-London self had designed, but it wouldn't have been as bittersweet as the scarf for Jag.
"It's a cruel situation you're in," Ollie allowed, after a few seconds. "But that gesture wasn't as unkind as you think. She would be on his mind, in his heart, regardless. At least he's got the scarf." He turned his head to look away from the two of them, cuddled up by the fire, and watch her. "At least he's got you."
"Bittersweet, then." Fire helped her, and watching Jag shape it and control it helped even more. But it hurt too. Like poking a bruise. She kind of felt like the scarf would be the same. "And he does have me. But... I'm not her." Her mind, always so helpful at making connections, whether she wanted it to or not, offered up memories of their anniversary at the inn, and with it, the guilt she couldn't shake. "And he, he can't be who he should be either. Not like he is here. Where he's free."
"It's a cruel situation you're in," Ollie repeated quietly, and he held his hand out to her.
"More to see?" Emma asked, putting her hand in his. Knowing was better, and even if it was hard to see sometimes, she was used to that, and it was good, getting to see Jag the way he was here, and how he was with her other self. So whatever else Ollie had to show her, she was as ready as she could be.
Ollie nodded, then added, a warning, "More than family."
Emma had avoided doing readings about Jag's time in London or her other self, mostly to avoid seeing things about their relationship she maybe wasn't ready to see, and to respect his privacy. But with what Ollie had already shown her today and how he understood and obviously cared about both of them, she was going to trust that whatever he was here to show her, she should know. And she wanted to know, to understand a little better. Just a feeling, but she was sure he wouldn't show anything too – be honest, Em, what you really mean is he's not going to pop in on them having sex, and she could almost hear the voice in her head smirking, even though she couldn't tell whose voice it sounded like.
This time, they appeared in a deserted, small street on the outskirts of London, at night. It was not apparent immediately, what they were here for, and when Emma looked at him questioningly, Ollie nodded up at the sky. There, on the backdrop of the dark, cloudy night, a winged horse came into view, descending to land just a few feet from them. Perched on top of it, Emma turned around to kiss Jag, who had been riding pillion.
"A year later," Ollie informed Emma. "They're just back from a Christmas party."
The pegasus was so natural to her, Emma had to remind herself it was a big deal seeing it here, in a world where mutants had to hide what they could do. But thinking about that, and how stifling it must have been, was a good distraction from watching the two kiss. Or remembering the way Jag had kissed her. Fortunately, while Ollie and Emma couldn't feel the cold of London in winter, Jag and his Emma could, and the kiss broke off so they could go inside, Ollie and Emma following along. Once inside it was easy to tell the squat was unused office space, but that they had been there long enough for it to really feel lived in. Not permanent – it was a squat – but less temporary feeling than it could've been. Again, she was focusing on their surroundings, rather than the obvious affection and desire of their kisses, when Emma could feel her cheeks starting to warm and color.
As Jag and Em moved to the kitchen for coffee, Ollie sat up on a spot of the counter, clearly at home in the surroundings. He watched them with Emma, the way they interacted, their body language saying more than their idle conversation, telling a tale of friendship grown into love. Ollie remained quiet, letting Emma absorb the moment for herself. When they exchanged presents, and Jag's was the silver firebird pendant he still wore to this day, albeit on a different chain, Ollie did look over at her.
She watched in silence as her other self opened the fortune teller's poster, the same smile shaping her mouth and softening her eyes as her alt's. And then, as Jag opened his gift to reveal a silver pendant Emma recognized, having seen him wearing it still. And then...
And then...
I love you.
How long had it been since she'd said those words? Since someone had said them to her? It wouldn't be that hard to figure out: a day and a year and the rest of December through to today. But she didn't do the math, didn't want to reduce it to a number, when it was so much bigger than that. So she watched, seeing the love in their eyes, in how they held each other and how they kissed, hearing it not so much in the words but the soft warmth of their voices. The words were almost an afterthought.
"First time they said it?" she asked Ollie, almost a whisper, even though the couple couldn't hear her and were wrapped in each other and their love anyway. It wasn't exactly a guess, but she didn't have any reason to back up the instinctive assurance.
"First time," Ollie confirmed, just as quietly. This wasn't their moment; it was Jag and Emma's.
It wasn't until Ollie confirmed what she'd been thinking that Emma realized she couldn't remember ever saying those words to Pyro. Not in words, out loud. And he hadn't said them to her. She'd known, as hard as it was to believe anyone, especially Pyro, could feel that way about her, but she only had to look in his eyes to see the truth of it. Before Bobby was gone anyway. After that, there wasn't room for much of anything except Pyro's grief.
Feeling too much of too many things, she wrapped her arms tight around her waist, holding the emotions back or inside or holding herself together. And she could feel the sting of tears wanting to form, but there was a hint of smile in the curve of her lips. After a long, quiet moment, she turned to Ollie again. "Anything else I need to see? Or is it time to go back?"
"That was it for me," Ollie confirmed simply. "But if there's anything you want to see before I take you back?"
With how they thought the inn worked, she probably wouldn't get this opportunity again, but she did have other ways of seeing if she needed them. She kind of regretted she wouldn't get to know Ollie better, but she didn't need him to tell her that wasn't the point of his visit. And who knew? Maybe, whenever she 'checked out' she would find herself in Ollie and Jag's London instead of her own. Not that she wanted... "Not that I know of." She had a lot to think about, context she hadn't had, sometimes had even avoided, before.
She took his hand once more, and in the next moment, they were back where they had begun, in Emma and Jag's rooms at the inn. "Thank you. For showing me."
"Of course," Ollie told her with a small smile, still holding her hand. He hesitated, then told her, "You really are awfully like her." The smile that punctuated that statement was a little sad now, a little understanding.
Emma nodded, just a small movement, like Ollie, a little sad. "It would be easier if I wasn't." Probably for Jag and her both. "But I'm glad I got to see her... them. It makes understanding more real."
Ollie was quiet for another beat, before he offered, "Would you like a hug?"
After everything Ollie had shown her, and all the feelings it dragged up, Emma knew she really could use a hug. But still, she hesitated. Not because of anything against Ollie. As strange as it was to realize, she was comfortable around him. So what was the problem? But she was overthinking what should be an easy question, and she knew it. Emma nodded, giving him a small smile and hoping he didn't take her hesitation the wrong way. "I'd like that."
Ollie waited patiently for her answer, but met her smile when she gave it, reassurance. He let go of her hand to open his arms to her, stepping closer, but letting her take that final step to bring them together.
Ollie's careful restraint felt more natural and comfortable than Jag's did, and having seen Jag with his Emma, it was easy to understand why. She stepped into the circle of his open arms and wrapped hers around him, tucking her head against his shoulder to let herself just breathe into the touch and comfort for a moment.
Ollie hugged her warmly, putting all of himself into the embrace. For all that he was a quiet person, and his hug was certainly not enthusiastic, it was still entirely without hesitation, steady and sure. "You're not just her shadow," he murmured.
The hug ended with the same sort of quiet ease it had from the beginning, Emma's embrace tightening a fraction more before they parted. She wasn't sure how to answer him, although it was a good thing to hear. She might not be just her alt's shadow, but she was a living reminder, and it made everything mroe complicated than it should be. So she gave a small nod, part of her feeling she didn't need words with Ollie just then.
"You said something about maybe checking in on Jag before you go." A small smile and spark in her eyes. "You know, if you're going to be giving out hugs anyway."
"That's absolutely the plan," Ollie confirmed with another smile. "Take care, Emma."
"I'll do my best." It wasn't like there was much trouble to get into around here, and Emma was better at taking care of herself than a lot of people realized. Ollie probably knew, though. "And to take care of him too. Thanks, Ollie."
