st_hotflashes | Time to Leave

Before long, Peter does return with two cups of gelato.

"They didn't have vanilla," he says, apologetically. "They said it's not popular here. But I did get you fior di latte. It's supposed to taste similar."

Peter offers the cup to her, digs into his cioccolato all’arancia.

Liz took the gelato with a smile. Had the place not been so small and so busy, Liz would have been in line with him. She could listen to him speak Italian all day.

She took a bite. "It's really good." And paused, looking out at the Piazza before them.

"I'm going to miss this, I think."

"Yeah," Peter says. "I probably wouldn't ever really be able to go to Europe if I were back at home."

At least one of the perks of being trapped at a mysterious inn with no way to return home.

"I really hope we're able to do something like this again."

"Me too." She leaned against him for a moment smiling. "It's been nice to go on real dates." And eat different sorts of food and seeing different people.

Her expression turned a little more amused. "And you haven't carried a bomb all week."

Peter laughs at that.

"Yeah," he says fondly. "I guess there's that."

He takes another bite of his gelato. "That and I don't know how to make gelato," he says. "I know we have all the time in the world to learn this kinda stuff, but I'm not sure I could pull it off."

"Is there a lot of gelato in New York?" She took another bite, thoughtful. "Roswell doesn't have any. The first time I had some was on this trip... My dad would be all over it because you can flip it upside down"

"Yeah," Peter says. "There's a lot of everything in New York."

Queens might not be the New York City people thought about when they imagined the city, but it was just as diverse as the city proper.

"Your dad'd be excited about that?"

Liz looked a bit sheepish. "Because it'd be like some alien food he'd find some name to call it... like gravitational pull, or... something." She was never good at coming up with the names. She didn't understand why the cheeseburger couldn't just be a cheeseburger.

Edited 2018-07-03 19:20 (UTC)

Peter smiles at that.

"Our last gelato before we go ho -- before we go back," he says, taking another bite. He really wants to savor it, but it's starting to get melty, so he should probably finish it up. "When's our train arrive?"

Liz had called the Inn home a few times now, not even thinking about it. She took one last bite, sucking on the little plastic spoon it came with, and then looked at Peter again. "In forty-five an hour... we should probably head over there now... The next train heading to Amsterdam is tomorrow." They were already looking at a 16 hour train ride, at the very least, and they were at the two week mark already. No one knew what happened if you got stuck in an Otherworld, but Liz wasn't sure they wanted to be the ones to test it.

"Sixteen hours," Peter says with a sigh, recalling exactly how much time it'll take them to get back to Amsterdam. He could barely withstand 37 minutes in a warehouse. This long in a train basically felt like forever. Sure, the flight to Germany hadn't been quick, either, but at least on Mr. Stark's private plane, the amenities were more than basic and he could go virtually anywhere without anyone complaining.

Except sometimes Happy, who didn't really count because Happy was always complaining. And besides that, Mr. Stark's plane was faster than your average plain, too.

The train ride here hadn't been nearly as long because they stopped at places along the way. Not possible when they were running so tight on time.

"We'll just have to find some way for us to entertain ourselves," he says. He's picked up enough books and printouts along the way that he should hopefully be able to keep himself preoccupied a good chunk of the way there.

Peter finishes off his gelato, deposits it into a trash can, then reaches for Liz's hand and leads the way to the train station.

Liz knew that Peter might find this train ride a little stifling. She hoped if he got too restless, he could distract him. If worse came to worse she could always show him the five VHS tapes she got at a consignt shop.

When they got to the station, live dropped the backpack to one side and opened the side pouch she had kept the tickets in. She paused, then checked the other side. She paused again, then put the backpack down and started rummaging through the whole thing.

Peter watches Liz as she rummages, backpack on, hand gripping the secondhand rolling suitcase he'd acquired while on the trip.

"Everything okay?"

Her brow furrowed and frown deepened. "They aren't here. The tickets." She paused and took another look. "Neither is my passport. Or.. my wallet."

Somewhere on the platform, in Italian, the train departing dor Amsterdam was leaving in ten minutes.

Peter presses his lips together as he crouches down next to Liz.

"When did you last see them?" He's not sure that they have enough time to backtrack and find them, but if it was nearby, maybe.

She ran her fingers through her hair. "Yesterday. They were in this side pouch. Right here." She gestured to the right compartment which was now entirely empty. She looked at Peter. "I don't think it fell out." And suddenly Liz remembered all the stories her father used to say about pickpockets in Europe when he had been young and travelled.

Edited 2018-07-04 00:09 (UTC)

Yesterday. That wasn't good. There was no way they could backtrack everywhere to find them. And if Liz was right and someone had taken them...

"Okay," he says, trying to think. "We need to figure out what we're going to do."

Would it be stealing if they snuck onto the train? They had technically already paid for the tickets. But Liz's passport...

She looked down at her backpack as if there would be answers there inside the pack. "Maybe... Maybe I could go to the embassy here.... except I don't think I'm actually an American citizen in this world." She paused and looked at Peter. "Maybe you can go back to the travel center and ask them for a new passport..." But who knew if they had essentially 3 days to do that with.

"I don't want to leave you here for three days," Peter says. He starts rummaging through his own backpack and pulls out his wallet.

"I'm not sure we have enough money," he says. "You didn't have any holed away anywhere else, did you?"

She pressed her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, inwardly kicking herself. "I should have been more careful." Hitchhiking was dangerous and would take much longer. If they walked it would take days.

The announcer said there was five minutes left until departure.

Liz shot Peter a look that was worried and hinted at desperate. "We... I think we need to get on the train."

Peter takes a breath. "I can provide a distraction, I just need you to find a way inside."

He begins to dig through his bag and finds his mask. "Do you think you can handle getting my luggage on?"

She looked at him with a worried expression. "I can.... just, please be careful." In fact, the whole idea of him creating a distraction really bothered her more than she thought it would. Maybe it was because this was her fault and if something went

She stood and took a grip of the big rolling luggage. "...I love you." Just in case things went sideways, this felt important to state.

"Love you too."

Peter pulls out the mask, zips up the backpack, throws it on his back, and races through the crowd of people to find someplace that isn't so crowded.

Everywhere, it seems, is crowded. He doesn't exactly have much time to pull this off, so he ducks behind a trash can, quickly looks around, then crouches down and pulls on his mask.

It's time to get this started.

Peter somersaults out from behind the trashcan, landing cleanly next to an old woman who nearly falls over from surprise. "Hey, guys!" Peter says with a wave.

A few people turn to look at him.

"Hope no one here's afraid of spiders!"

Peter flicks out his his hand, sending a string of webfluid racing towards the rail station roof. It catches, and Peter is just barely able to generate enough momentum for his feet to hit the ceiling. He immediately crouches down and starts crawling along the ceiling, glancing down only briefly to gauge the interest of the crowd.

Sure enough, everyone's eyes are on him -- as are their cell phones and cameras. He can't quite make Liz out in the crowd, so he's just going to buy as much time as he can manage for her to get on -- just in case she needs it.

This was the first time Liz felt nervous about Peter doing his thing. This time it was entirely her fault and if he got caught or something bad happened - that would be on her.

But when he seemed to have gotten everyone's attention, Liz didn't waste it. While the extra luggage was cumbersome, Liz managed to pass through the open lane meant for people in wheelchairs and down the platform. She wanted desperately to look up, but knew she needed to get on the train first.

She walked as casually as she could manage under the circumstances and the first chance she got, jumped on the train and pulled the luggage awkwardly on board after her. This particular section of the train was meant for first class passengers and had small, private cabins. Some could fit up to four, most were for two. She knocked on a few, awkwardly apologizing each time with a lame excuse before she came to one that was vacant.

The moment Liz could, she texted Peter her location.

Peter's phone vibrates in his pocket. He can't look at it right now, but he does notice one thing:

The train's starting to move.

That means he has to move too.

"Whoa, don't mean to derail your entertainment, but I've lost track of time!"

Peter sends another shot of webfluid at the ceiling, then swings towards the departing train; cell phone cameras follow the smooth arc of his movement.

Peter lands solidly on the roof.

"See you!"

And with that, Peter performs a backwards somersault and latches onto the side of the train.

--

Peter crawls along the side of the train. "Hey, Karen?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can you track Liz's cell phone for me? I don't know where she -- whoa!" Peter flattens himself against the side of the train as they enter the tunnel. "-- where she is," he finishes, once they emerge.

"One moment." And true to Karen's word, it does only take one moment. "It appears she is three cars down."

"Thanks, Karen. I really owe you one."

"You're welcome, Peter."

Peter crawls along the cars, then finally stops at the first window of the third car. He cautiously peers in. And there's Liz. Peter raps against the window.

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