#idealsfic

Wincing, he clenches his teeth. Two fingers gently press to the pain source expecting to find blood. Ingo blinks once or twice, pulling his hand away to find it was drenched in mud & rainwater. Seeping into the fabric of both his clothes, & the chair it seemed. A hand raises to his head, pushing back his hair & hat. Oh good, he still had that. It was hard to tell if the weight on his head was from the headache brewing in both of his temples, or the rainwater drenching his sideburns, but as it turns out, he had still managed to cling to his precious cap. Ingo pushes his hair from his face, noting the rain & mud had made the silver strands a dull shade of brown. His tattered hat sagged against the fabric of the chair he was seated in as he leaned into it, exhausted. It was like a chill crept into his bones, & rattled them to their core. He shivers as he pulls the collar of his jacket to his chin. It didn't do much to cure the wet or cold of his attire, but the comfort of the familiarity was enough to settle his jostled nerves.

Where was he? Eyes drag themselves from their unfocused gaze on the floor to take sight of his surroundings. The warmth of a fire was a sensation he had not realized he was accompanied by, shivering from his drenched clothes. He must not have been here long, if his clothing had not dried despite the warmth that felt rather encompassing now that he was awake. A pokemon dozed lazily by the flames, silver & red, with a large steel skull & claws. Oh. Hello there. He recognizes this one, though he's not sure from where.

“I know you.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low so as to not stir the creature. He had learned over the years to keep his tone down, as to not disrupt the local fauna, even if it strained him to do so. It felt odd, to say he recognized such an unfamiliar creature. Their little head peeked up from their claws, churring quietly. He gives them a tiny wave.

A voice from the other room reverted him back into silence. A man’s voice. His words were met in response to a woman's. Ingo sits up, only slightly, as his curious gaze draws his attention to where the voice came from. He recognizes both voices, though to hear the man’s in a whisper felt odd.

A large man was leaning against a countertop, his wrist raised to an odd device. Ingo eyes couldn't decide where to focus at first. The small machine reminded him of Rei’s own odd contraption. It glowed faintly, the other room not as well illuminated by the fire. But what really caught his attention was the familiar hat, perched atop the man's head. It almost hid the worried furrow of his brow, the man's mouth pulled into a long scowl as he spoke.

Oh.

He remembers now. Ingo squeezes his eyes shut as his frame slumped back against the armchair, defeatedly.

Ingo had always known that Lian's cap was familiar. That he must have seen it, somewhere in his past.

No matter far in the future that might have laid before him.

That thought always dwindled into a hope that the young boy must have gone on to become a fine gentleman. That he would grow to come to pass it onto someone he would come to know, or that Lian himself had crossed his paths again, one day. Grown, but still Lian.

This man was not Lian, he knew that much at least.

He had told him his name, before Ingo had rather unceremoniously collapsed into the mud. His features were similar to Lian’s, but he did not recognize him as the Warden himself.

The thought of the young boy, who he had seen come out of his shell from a timid child, becoming a father was a bit of a dizzying concept.

Just a few hours ago, Lian was eleven. Now? Ingo had no clue.

He had played a part in raising him, the young boy had taken to him as an older brother. A guardian for the playful, curious adventurer without a family. Aiding Lian complete his training to become a Warden at just seven years old. He was even present when Lian bestowed the heir with his black augerite, naming him the Lord of the Woods, guardian of the Pearl Clan.

The boy seemed to cling to his side from that point on, under the guise that they were alike in more ways than many would want to agree on.

Neither made eye contact, neither were very keen on touch. Certain textures upset them, & many times thoughts did not come as easily as they might have liked. Both unabashedly loud without recognizing it.

Between Ingo's cry of "All aboard", then his smaller, echo behind him, the two Wardens were a terror on the Pearl Settlement, when they were home. Away from their duties alongside their respective Noble.

Everybody & nobody felt it in them to tell the duo to can it. They weren't around often, perhaps regarded as a little scary, & notably the Clan's most controversial Wardens.

But Wardens they were, no one could take that from them.

They both could go on for hours about their favourite things, such as rocks & gems for Lian. He always seemed to have his hands on some mineral, clutching it like it was the most precious cargo that man could make. And to him, it was. Ingo would treasure the stones just as dearly, knowing how important the topic was to the boy. Always ready to tell you with his whole chest what he had unearthed, to spill every crumb of knowledge he held, as if he would burst out of his seat otherwise. The young boys his factual ramblings did not stop nor end at minerals. Chatter about the axe wielding Noble who loved to gnaw on branches like a teething Lillipup, who was fearsome, yet was as inexperienced as the Warden himself, was ceaseless. Ingo couldn't begin on all of the little facts he knew about the creatures now, from the hours of working alongside the young boy.

His hands never sat still, always talking with them as he went on about his favourite topics. 'Fluttering', as the two came to call the motions they made when they had gotten excited, though Ingo was far more reserved to do so himself. He felt embarrassed when others saw, even if it was something that came so naturally to his excitement.

Ingo would much rather people find him to be agreeable, than to be himself, unfortunately. Never would he encourage Lian not to be true to himself, it was important. But Ingo found it easier, slotting himself into an idealised version of himself. Someone who was less intimidating. Fitting in when, or if, he could.

Never would he understand how his expressions needed to convey his emotions, his voice & motions did that well enough, didn't it? He wasn't a stiff man, he knew he expressed himself in many other ways. Even if his expressions were a little stilted, or he knew words that only Laventon had translations for.

Absent-mindedly, Ingo twists his Warden's brace around his wrist. Where was she, now? Was she still scouring for him, wondering where he had gone off to? What was he doing last, before he woke up here? That much seemed blurry, like a muddled haze of smog over what he did remember. It wasn't like his other memories.

This one felt accessible, but out of reach, if only for now.

The man in the other room, undoubtedly Lian’s kin, was still preoccupied. Ingo was fine with that.

He had found him lost & unaware of his surroundings in an unfamiliar field. Tired, & unsure where he had even come from. Wondering how far he had gone from his post, & how he had become uncoupled from his Noble. Collapsing prior to arriving to his current situation, unable to withstand his own weight, he thought with a twinge of embarrassment.

I must have been carried, he thought, knowing he certainly hadn’t walked here himself. Even now his body ached, not knowing if he was even able to stand if he needed to. It was a little embarrassing to think that this was now a common occurrence. Finding himself in sticky situations, & needing others to bail him out.

Two times is a coincidence, three times is a pattern, part of his mind rang out. Those were not his words. Ingo blinks a few times, wondering where he had heard that before.

It wasn’t a common occurrence if it happened four years ago, anyhow. He was fully capable of tending to himself & fending for him, & that he did.

Ingo could hear the man, & the woman speaking, saying something about a concussion. That wasn’t a thought that came to mind, though maybe that would explain his lack of recollection to his departure from Lady Sneasler.

Ingo knew he remembered this man, especially as they had begun to talk prior to arriving at their current station.

Perhaps not as fondly as those who evaded his mind, or his dreams within sleep but something was anything.

Someone who Ingo had met a chance amount of times, but left enough of an impact for his mind to cling to the memories, even faint. Something about his accent & composure clicked something in the back of his mind, though he assumes that came with being able to see & speak to him, physically.

Names are less tangible than sights, or sounds. Calaba always advised that his senses were more reliable to his memory, than trying to dredge them up unwillingly.

An accent is certainly a sound, he muses. It was one that seemed to be hammering away at his mind like an icepick. He places a hand to his head. What did he remember about him?

Ingo remembers the man’s face from when he was small.

When his name & voice felt wrong. Flames twirling softly at his side. A gentle chime & whistle, that danced alongside the lavender glow.

Someone at his side, lamenting about a battle lost, crying into their hands. The man had been kneeling beside the other person, placing something to his knee with a worried expression.

The fireplace crackles & pops.

Ingo remembers the man's face, when he was much older. Much taller, where he no longer towered over him. Ingo was the taller one then, alongside figures who were a blur, fuzzy figments that did not make coherent sense. Muddled faces, like paintings that hadn't been finished. He could make out eyes, lips, a nose. But none of them felt real. They just felt generic, like his mind tried to supply some kind of features onto faces he could not begin to comprehend.

Some were pokemon. Some human.

Standing in places he does not recall, that seemed to meld together in an amalgamation of places with no distinct beginning nor end. Walls that did not belong to their floors, with stairways & tunnels that attached themselves to places they did not go.

All memories that came together for a moment, as if he had come to some grand conclusion that managed to skirt around the forefront of his mind before plateauing into nothing.

He bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut, reminding himself to breathe. Just breathe.

Taking a long, shaking breath — Ingo exhales. It's something.

The voices caught his attention again, upon hearing his name. “Ingo’s asleep. I don’t wunna wake him till he’s up on his own accord.”

That was kind of him. Though he was plenty awake, he really didn’t know if he was prepared to speak anytime soon. Ingo withdrew the hand at his skull, ignoring the dull throbbing that stemmed from between his temples. His entire right side ached, but his head was his most valuable asset, despite itself. And it seemed it ached the most. He would rather it not be out of commission. More than it is, at least.

“Okay. Okay, fine. You’re going to tell Emmet, right?”

That was the name Clay had mistakenly called him when he had first encountered him. He feels like that wasn’t the first time that mistake has happened. Ingo recognized the woman’s voice, too.

Was she family? A sister? He’d always wanted to know if he had siblings, though Lian certainly counted as one if you asked them both. Rei had specifically appointed him as their Uncle Ingo, so an uncle to them he would stay. It would make sense that the man - who had been nothing but kind thus far him - would reach out to his family. It was a lot of faith to put into someone he had just met, but he had entrusted the Pearl Clan to his safety - he was no stranger to other’s hospitality. Even if he often worried about running it thin.

It was all so familiar, yet out of reach. It hurt his head more than any physical force did. He had no reason not to trust this man.

He was a friend.

He is a friend.

Ingo doesn't know him.

You know him. You didn't know the Pearl Clan, but they took you in. He clearly knows you. Ingo took another deep breath, letting it shudder through his chest. He pulls his jacket closer to him, ignoring the new hole his cracked knuckles found in the fabric.

The man's name slips his mind, despite being told, but his voice - his face, it was all very painfully familiar. That word kept throwing itself around. Familiar, familiar. He just wanted to know.

Ingo gnaws on the inside of his cheek. He could always just ask. No, he had assumed Ingo was still unconscious. Ingo was in fact very, very exhausted. He felt as though he could fall back asleep at any moment, collapsing into a heap of his own limbs. They would do well to rest off the drumming within them, & to clear his head. But Ingo did not want to fall asleep on his host , again, despite how much his body urged him to do so. It would be rude of him, even if he was pushing down every instinct that told him it was time to rest. To just let sleep wash over him like a wave. It was not the first time he had been offered hospitality in a place that was foreign to him, though then he had far less control of how or when he fell in or out of consciousness. He hadn’t woken for three days, after his initial encounter with Lord Ursaluna & the two Wardens who had found him.

Ingo pulls a hand to his face, using his clean sleeve to wipe away any excess mud that still clung to his cheeks. Ingo seethes – biting his lip as the rough cloth dragged across his eye. Hesitantly, he pressed two fingers to it, feeling the puffy, swollen skin. Ingo grimaced, realizing it had not been mud in his eyes, but rather an injury. That would explain the ringing between his ears. He closed his eyes a moment, feeling dread dredge itself up in his stomach.

Something very, very wrong has happened for him to be here. But he was so tired. He felt as though his whole body would fall apart at the slightest breeze. He didn't want to think about the bad things, right now.

Silver eyes lazily drew themselves to the fireplace & mantle in front of him, needing to focus on something. Eyes were drawn to the sight of some carefully placed photos across the top. He noted a man, a woman, miscellaneous people who did not look like family, though most were likely family. Children, unfamiliar pokemon. Familiar pokemon. That was a Scyther, & that was a Rhydon.

Ingo's hands restlessly focus on twisting themselves in his hair.

Lian's hat, a very prominent feature in the back of his mind, had been in most of the photos. The hat was passed from parent to child, within Lian's family. The discrepancy in ages made his eyes crinkle at the sight, delighted to see the tradition carried onto Lian's child. He noted trophies, inscribed with a language he had all but forgotten the written form of. Stones that were placed within displays of various types. Ingo smiled softly. Yes, he was certainly Lian's child.

The sound of voices subdued with a quiet goodbye from the man, & a far more agitated dismissal from the woman. His eyes drifted to the kitchen, the man's head hung low as the conversation ended. His cap hung in his face, shrouding his eyes.

Ingo didn't know what to expect.

There was a cold silence, like a car had come screeching to a halt.

They would both speak in their own time, he supposed. Water still dripped from the thin strands of his hair. Ingo ignored that in favour of twisting his fingers through it in a comforting motion, finding it easier to focus when he had something to busy his hands. His hair was never this long before he had arrived in Hisui. At least, he thought so.

Zisu had been the one to braid it for him, after a scolding on how easy it was to catch a hold of in a conflict. "At least now it wouldn't fall in your eyes", was said with a tut-tut.

She had even advised him to disembark the comfort of his jacket, though that was met with a firm “No.” from Ingo.

He had gotten the same warning from Gaeric in the past, both were quick to show him how easily one could grab all of the stray ends, the pieces that flared out. Even when buttoned shut, all the jutting pieces were so easy to grasp. Maybe he should have listened, back then. At least then it wouldn't be shredded. Then his last scrap of both of his homes would have lasted longer.

One day he was going to lose the article, & that was the day Ingo would never forgive himself.

Until then he held it close, ignoring the mud that caked on it, having stained the sun bleached reds a darker tone.

Clay - his name was Clay - turned to him, pushing up off the counter he'd been standing at. Ingo inhales a shaky breath, fingers stilling in his hair.

"Yer awake." He says. Ingo nods. "That's good."

Clay steps into the room, seating himself in a wooden chair beside the fire across from him. He sits, hunched, with his elbows to his knees, silent. There was contemplation on his face, but Ingo did not meet his eye.

It was easier to let his own gaze drift away, than to look him in the eye. To watch the dancing flames of the fireplace, or the pokemon who did not stir at their trainer's presence. Only nestling their steelhead further into their claws. It was very endearing. He knew this pokemon. He had seen its likes before, but not in Hisui. From before, he realizes.

Was it a ground type? He remembers flying dirt – thumping, drumming, stomping. The sound was like a loud press. Sounds were easier. Ingo hated so, so many sounds. They stayed in his mind longer than faces, or places. Was it digging? Is that what he remembered? They looked to be a ground-steel type, at the very least.

"Ingo." The sudden sound of his name causes Ingo to jump. The other man's tone was warm, if a little tired. There was a small chuckle from him, noticing Ingo's small jolt. His accent sounded off with the words he spoke.

Ingo looks up, curiously. His eyes settled on Clay’s mouth.

"There ya are." He says, tipping his hat back & out of his brow. Ingo hummed in response. He did the same with his own cap, pushing himself up into a seated position. It was only polite, despite his body's protests. His feet settled firmly on the floor now, not dangling half dead as he awaited the other to address him. Ingo winced at the sharp pain in his right side, gritting his teeth, half wondering if this would be enough to put him out of commission for days.

Clay's hands stretch out in a calming gesture, "Take it easy now, we don't wanna strain nothin' more."

"I will be okay." Ingo said, putting his hands on either of his legs. Clay didn't look like he believed that.

Ingo's mouth twitched, twinging as he forced a smile, trying to be reassuring.

It was in an instant Clay's entire expression dropped. Did he do something wrong? Usually that made others feel better – even if it was a deceitful look. He slowly dropped the smile, letting his mouth rest comfortably.

Clay leans back now, nodding his head. "How y'feelin?"

"I have been better." Ingo replies, honestly. "I believe I have suffered no substantial damage, however."

A hum resounded from his companion as he leaned back, crossing his arms. "How's yer head?"

"That has not worked in nearly four years." It was a joke, but truthful. Clay just snorts. Ingo falters a moment, before adding, "I have a considerable headache, but I do not believe there is cause for alarm."

"One second." Clay says, standing up as he steps back into his kitchen. Ingo watches him, curiously as he opens a large, metal box. It reminded him of the odd cabinet that Rei had bought from the Gingko Guild. It was odd when their Rotom flashed into the machine, but he vaguely remembers seeing something like it before. They had become an ice-type – Oh!

A low rumble came from the machine as Clay held a rag underneath a compartment, dispercing ice into it. That made sense. Yes. Calaba had done as such for his migraines in the past. Gaeric had jokingly told him to nap on top of an Avalugg if it got too bad, once.

"So." Said Clay, back still turned as he pulled the rag shut with a band, twisting it around the fabric. "Y’know how long you’ve been gone, that’s a start.”

“Yes, four years, give or take a few months.” Clay returns, offering the pack to Ingo. He takes it gratefully, pressing it to his eye, gently. Ingo sighed into it, ignoring the chill that ran into his wet hands. Clay settles himself into a crouch in front of the fire, running his hands together to get rid of the condensation before lifting a log from beside it.

“That better?” He asks, looking over his shoulder.

Ingo nodded his head, feeling the drumming in his skull melt into a dull hum behind his eye. “Much, thank you.”

Clay grumbles something as he stokes the fire, gently prodding the pokemon beside it with the back of his hand. The steel type looked up at him with sleepy eyes, before grumbling back as they pushed themself to their feet, waddling over to Ingo. They place their head into Ingo’s lap, staring up at him with big eyes. A crackly chuckle escaped him as he pet the side of his cheek, “Hello there.” He says, the mole leaning into his lap with a sleepy chitter. “I see you are very tired. Have you chosen me as your sleeper car?”

A long, tired yawn meets him in response.

“He’s not used to me gettin’ home so late. I was caught up at the gym cause of some troublemaker’s Zweilous not returnin’ after usin’ outrage.”

Ingo understood maybe half of those words. “I see.” He says, feigning understanding. Fingers gently course through the pokemon’s soft, downy fur. “Clay,” He begins.

“Yea?” He stands up, dusting wood dust off his pant-legs, though it seemed to cling to his wet clothing like juvenile Joltik. Clay doesn’t yet settle himself into his seat, opting to lean into the side of the fireplace with crossed arms.

“Did I have a partner, like this one, once?” He asks, gently scritching underneath the mole’s chin.

There’s a moment of silence from Clay, before he slowly nods his head. “Yea, you had an Excadrill. Told me that y’wanted to train one after facin’ off against big guy there. You were uh," there's a chuff of a laugh from Clay, "You were a feisty little fireball as a young man. Literally, too! That Lampent of yours it uh… It sure packed a bunch for such a little guy. You & yer brother always seemed like champion material." His face softened as he spoke, perhaps realizing the gravity of this whole situation. “You… Do remember yer brother, at least, right?”

Ingo’s hand froze. He blinks a few times, feeling the grip on the pack in his hand tremble. “No, I don’t, I’m afraid.”

Clay was silent.

Brother. Ingo had a brother.

Ingo blinks a few more times, his chin twitching as he swallows hard.

When he first remembered someone who mirrored himself, he had thought it was some sheer illusion of chance - like seeing one's reflection & feeling disoriented from the thought. That perhaps Ingo had been someone entirely different in his past, someone who had been forgotten alongside his memories. Someone who was livelier, who smiled & found nothing but delight in his victories. Competitive to no end, but spoke in quieter tones, & clipped phrases. Always the type to congratulate & excite at his opponents victories & his own. That bore his face, his attire.

He always thought the other man had been himself. A him that he had never known & had lost. That wasn't him.

It was someone he knew. It was someone he had forgotten.

Was he part of a pair, uncoupled & left behind? It was an option that had only crossed his mind once, when laying his eyes upon a pair of Growlithe. Identical in height, voice, & fur patterns, the only two of their litter. All Growlithe worked in pairs, if one was without the other - they found themself out of service. Always howling to find each other, & barking in excitement when they reunited. Tackling the other when they were brought together again.

They fought together. Lived together. Ate together.

They did not function one, without the other.

He had spent days with the duo, alongside Palina, when she had first lost Lord Arcanine. When Ingo had left his own station to help ease the burden, alongside Lady Sneasler who had lost her fellow Noble. The pair were not the Lord's own, they were wild. But wild as they were, the two settled themselves on Ingo's lap, finding themselves drifting off under the warmth of his jacket. Palina told him he had a knack for earning the endearment of otherwise rowdy rock types. She had told him the brothers had not allowed her to stroke their heads, let alone see them asleep. The brothers. That word had sat in his stomach like a rock, & sent him into silence.

He wasn’t sure why that had struck such a cord with him that day. Now? Now he knew. He wished he could tell his past self why it caused such a deep sadness in his chest. It had kept him up that night.

Ingo needed to stay calm. He really did.

“Ingo?” There was a quiet, sad hum in response. “We’re gonna fix this, y’hear?”

Slowly, his head nods on instinct. Excadrill nuzzles into his leg comfortingly. “Thank you. That is comforting.” He shifts the ice pack against his eye, pressing it to the right side of his head. The stars that danced at the edges of his vision had slowly begun to fizzle out as the ice sapped the pain right out of his skull. “I have been lost without a proper track for some time. Happy as I was, something has been missing. I am glad to find my place again, as sad as I am to depart those who have shown me nothing but their kindness.”

Letting his voice betray him right now was not an option, even if he wanted to sulk into silence.

"You…" Clay starts quietly, slowly. His voice is a drawl. He pauses, shaking his head. "I know yer tired, I know. But can y’tell me what you remember?” There's a long hesitation from Ingo.

He could see Clay's dismay with the long face he drew, his arms folded now. Ingo drew in a breath, his free hand clutching at the tattered edges of his jacket. Holding the scraps of fabric tight, gnarling them between his knuckles. "I do not remember… Much of before I arrived at my prior station." He starts, ignoring his throbbing eye, now that the ice was to his temple. He wasn't going to make a fuss if he didn’t have to. "I recall you, vaguely. Your partner, certainly. I recall …”

Clay leans back, nodding. “That's good t'hear, keep goin."

"I do not know what to say…" Ingo felt restless. He was very, very tired, but restless. That seemed to be a common issue. The gears inside his head chugged far faster than his body could react, & it left him without being able to form a proper thought.

"Tell me where y’uh -" he gestures to the garment he was wearing, & Ingo looks down reflexively. His tunic was horribly stained brown, splattered with mud that set in from the rain. "Tell me about that."

"Where do I even begin?”

"Tell me how you got yerself acquainted, how 'bout somethin' like that?" Clay smiled, watching Ingo's expression. Ingo thinks long, & hard. The strain must have been obvious, he could hear Clay telling him not to push himself if he couldn't.

"I had… Stumbled, I had been exploring, for what reason I do not know. It had been dark - This much I remember. I had… Something alongside me. It glowed with a light that has become a fond staple of my dreams. Its flames were not what lured me to another light, however. This light was golden. Brilliant." The more he spoke, the more he pieced it together. Slowly. One by one. It was spilling out of his mouth, piece by piece even if he hung on some of his words. He didn't even know what he was saying.

"Its glow was lavender. Warm, & comforting." His throat felt tight. "The cave face had split open, though it was I who decided to wander within, separating me from the other. We became uncoupled." He murmurs, not realizing he had been wringing his hands. "I had found myself somewhere odd. It was not like the cave I had departed from. It was... Brighter. Naturally so. Snowing heavily. In such a way, I could not see far before myself. Not even my own hands. It was very cold, and I was very alone. I had fallen into a snowbank. I do not think I had realized I had been put out of commission, however as I pressed on, my arm did not conduct itself the way one's should."

"You haven't told me about the folks who kept y'safe."

Ingo was quiet, brows furrowed. He could feel himself swallow on reflex, making sure to keep his mind on track. No detours. Tell him what you remember. It feels good to speak about it, after so long of pushing down the memories in favour of making new ones in their path. Set on making a new home, if he was never to return to his own.

It also took so much out of him to even remember, he was exhausted. Fingers clutch the ice pack closer to his head. "I had been found, though my arm had snapped in the incident. I hadn't been capable of seeing myself through to manage repairs, & I was lost within a blizzard." The next thought still made the hair on his neck stand on end. "Help had come to me. Had I not been found, I would have ultimately perished in the snow. For this I am grateful."

Lord Ursaluna, he recalls. The Noble had the eldest, his own Warden & youngest of the Pearl Clan’s Wardens atop his back.

When blizzards hit the Icelands it was in the Clan’s best interest to send Lord Ursaluna, & Lady Sneasler, with their respective Wardens, to scour the snow as search parties. Sneasler had no Warden when Ingo had arrived to the Clan. Her own Warden had died in the same manner Ingo had been found, a year prior. Sneasler did not choose another until his arrival, taking to him like a fish to water.

Calaba had found him, with Lian clinging to her side for dear life. The little Warden had to become acquainted with the Lord, as he would need to be capable to find black augerite for his Lord's heirs one day. He remembers the image fondly, though at the time it had been nothing but a blur of hazy memories.

"A woman, Warden Calaba & a child, young Warden Lian, had been my rescuers." Lord Ursaluna had caught the scent of Ingo from his own blood. That arm did not heal for nearly a year. Even now he suffers pain on occasion when placing too much stress on the limb.

"I was taken from the storm, though those memories are foggy at best. I was given care for my injuries. The rest is… history." He waves his free hand dismissively.

Day by day life was a sea of thoughts that disinterested him as nothing seemed to change. It was monotonous, his mind blurred them together as time passed. Clay watched him move his scarred hand with an emotion Ingo could not put his finger on. Was he inspecting him for an injury that had since healed?

Clay had gone to stand at this point, pressing his palms into his thighs as he did. "You said, uh. Lian, yea?"

"Yes, that was his name. He is the Warden to Lord Kleavor, of the Woods. The youngest of us."

"Us." Came a whisper, & he felt a gaze cast on the band he bore across his wrist from over Clay's shoulder. Ingo drew his wrist back, pulling his torn sleeve down, but there was not enough fabric to hide it.

"Right. Right." Clay took something from his mantle, a frame, he thinks though he couldn’t be certain. The man gazes at it fondly for a moment, before he turns to offer it to Ingo from an outstretched hand. "See, I - typically this story'd sound a little outta my league. But what with the stories I've heard in all my years, I can't help but think yer tellin' the truth."

Ingo leans forward, taking the frame, gently, as though not to drop it. He looked at Clay a moment, before the other nodded his head to the small square now sitting between his hands. Ingo looked down, casting a glance between the three people pictured in it. An older gentleman, with greying hair & a smile that seemed to reach both ears. A younger woman, with the same dark hair as Clay himself, with the hat he recalled Lian regarding as his family's heirloom. Then a young man, wedged between the two of them - teeth showing, one missing, a giddy grin on his face with both arms perched in the air victoriously. An odd pokeball in his grasp.

Lian? He certainly reminded him of Lian.

Although it would have had to have been prior to his father's death. No, no he recalls Lian did not have a mother, nor a grandfather. It had only been the two of them, & Lian's uncle. Ingo looked up at Clay blankly, hoping he would help show him what he had been trying to convey. A quiet sigh of resignation escaped him, & he gently nudged Excadrill elsewhere. Clay stands beside him, & places a finger on the boy's face,

"That's me. I'd just gone & caught my first pokémon, he's a real dear friend to me to this day." He nods his head to Excadrill, plopping himself back down before the fire. His finger moves, placing it on the woman. "That there's my mama, she's since passed. I'm not gettin' much younger these days."

Clay then landed his finger atop the man, "That there is my grandpap, his name was Lian.” Ingo was silent. Allowing Clay the room to speak. “He moved to Unova sometime ago, 1928 I believe, after the loss of a loved one."

Lian was a grandfather?

"See, he moved from Sinnoh, though that name's a recent change accordin' to him, in the grand scheme - I'd always known my family never always lived here, but things happen in life." Clay knelt down on one knee, feeling the trembling of Ingo's hands on the frame. He places his hands on top of his. "I'm real sorry I didn't get to the point, but I had to know ya weren't just jabberin' some nonsense. I'm gonna make sure you get home, but I gotta know the deal before I can go findin' you help, y'hear? It's a lot to digest, this isn't my first rodeo with tragedy. I'm just sorry it had t'be you. I've got connections to some people who'd be real keen to help y'though."

“What… What year is it?” Ingo asks hoarsely.

Clay was silent, staring at Ingo for a long, hard second before blinking a few times & looking down. “It’s uh. It’s 2018.”

What?

Everyone he knew is dead.

Everyone he'd never known was in reach of him, again.

If it's been long enough for Lian, an eleven year old, to be long past. To have a daughter, then a grandson as old as Clay, then what of the others? What came of them? Ingo blinks several times, tears welling in his eyes. His chest felt tight, as it rose & fell in harsh repetitions. He hadn't gotten to say goodbye - he had been… Where was he, when they never saw him again?

Had they thought he had been lost within the Highlands, unable to call out to his Noble? Some snack for some hungry Luxray mother's kits?

Lost within a blizzard, cold & alone? Unable to be found within the white powder, that never thawed. Not all the way. Did Ursaluna scour for him? Finding a trail that lead to nowhere? Did Sneasler know where he went? Or did she, too, suffer the loss of another Warden.

Did they think he disregarded his post, & wandered off into the night like a traitor?

Ingo let the photo drop into his lap, wrenching his hands away from Clay's touch. Don't touch me. His forearm pressed against his weeping eyes. His mouth twinged, gripping the fabric of his tunic. Tears stained his tattered jacket as a shuddered weep escaped him. I didn't say goodbye. All of their kindness, just to never get a goodbye.

How could he?

“That can’t be right.” He bit down a sob. “That can’t be right.” Ingo felt sick to his stomach

What about the Nobles? Of Lady Sneasler, & having now no Warden? What burden did he leave on the Pearl Clan? His other Wardens?

Palina who had found comfort in the man's otherwise eccentric self – she was never the type to uphold the status quo. She already had to mourn her late Lord, & had her hands full with the new. Iscan, who taught him to fish along the coast. Who Ingo tried time & time again showed him the inherent kindness of the ghosts of Deadwood Haunt, who were lost in an odd world just as him. Were Palina & Iscan happy, eventually? Did they, too, go on to have a family? Family he could meet, & shake hands with? That would never know the place he took in their lives?

Were they ever happy?

Gaeric who had taught him all that he knew about defending himself - although, perhaps, was a little too content to toss the smaller man around until he learned how to fight back. Who had shown him the gentleness of even the fiercest of the Iceland's creatures. Who kept Ingo's secrets, & who told him his in return. They were close, despite what anyone might suggest.

Calaba… he could grieve, another day. For he knew, & she, too, her time amongst them had been growing short. That was a life he had already come to terms with, & knew she would not want him to mourn. She was at peace with it. She had been the least keen to Ingo's arrival, yet was the one who had ensured his survival. He had nothing but lasting respect for her, as he had earned hers.

Did Rei ever find their way home?

And what of Lady Irida? Who had shown him nothing but her kindness & gratitude, who had welcomed him where others did not, & helped fill the empty hole that once sat within his chest. Who gave him a place amongst the Clan that gave him the space he desired. Who aided him when he, too, was under scrutiny of those of the Galaxy Team by sheer existence. Who saw the good in him, when others couldn't understand. His heart hurt. It was so, so much. He didn't even want to list off every little thing that the young leader had done for him. She had done so much for him, & he repaid her by disappearing?

Ingo had been torn away from his home not once, but twice.

He wanted to return, one day. That was his end goal. His terminus. But he wanted it to be along his own terms. He was certain he would see them all again. That he could not have been so lost within time, that wherever he did end up - there was always going to be a choice. An option. He did not like parting ways. He did not want to live with a foot in two worlds.

To forget one in favour of the other.

Ingo couldn't help the strangled sob that shuddered his shoulders, escaping him as he doubled over himself. He felt small. He felt very small. Warm tears streamed down his face, drenching his chin, & wracking his shoulders. He could hardly hear Clay as he spoke, trying to comfort him. His ears rang. What did he know?

A hand patted Ingo's shoulder gently, with a thick hum of recognition. Ingo inhaled sharply, feeling every part of his face twinge. Please do not touch the conductor!

He pulled his shoulder away. "I – Please don't. Sorry." The words hardly escaped his throat, weak & strained. His skin was crawling. Burning. His throat twinged, holding back the broken gasps that threatened to escape it. "I'm sorry."

"I won't, I apologize.” Clay says, seating himself beside him atop a stool beside him. He can hear him sigh softly, as he doesn't make eye contact with Ingo. He appreciated that. "It's gunna be, ok, y'hear? You're gunna be okay." He sounded so certain. How does he know?

Clay hums again as Ingo thumbed away his tears, staring up at the older gentleman situated beside him. He knew something he didn't. Ingo hiccups quietly, rattling his chest & shoulders. Clay offers a small cloth from his pocket in response. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

Ingo took it gently, closing his eyes as he wiped them dry. "How are you so sure?" His right eye twinged uncomfortably.

"Runs in the family." Clay murmurs, perching his feet up on the lower bar of the stool, resting his hands together.

Ingo frowns, but nods. “I understand.” It was a quiet statement as he met Clay’s eyes. “I do.”

Clay offers an arm. Ingo stares, deciding his own tolerance to touch in the moment. He remembers being held when he was upset before. But only when it was welcome. Ingo, against his better judgement, leaned into the other man.

His eyes blinked shut, ignoring the tears that agitated his eye. Clay pulled him in, letting Ingo rest himself against his chest. There was silence from both men. Clay rubs the shoulder he held him by in a soft circle. It reminded him of when someone else in his life held him, when he was small. He felt very small. “You remind me of my Uncle.” He whispers, despite himself. Clay chuckles.

“That so?” Ingo hums quietly, not quite remembering enough to say one way or another. “The similarities stop & end there, son.” Ingo couldn't help but swallow his own emotions, if only for now. Even if something in the back of his head nagged, wondering many more times was this going to happen.

He was going to be okay. He had to be.

“Thank you.” He says, forehead pressed against Clay’s shoulder. “For everything.”

[ ♡ ]

Ingo had nothing left in his tank it seemed. Exhaustion had taken it's toll on him.

Despite years of being missing, he still couldn't help but interject his favourite thing into his life.

Trains, always trains. That was a good thing. A good sign he could recover. It was a pity. Amnesia was no joke. It looked like it was draining on him hard. All of his memories. Good & bad. Gone. Even the ones of a person he spent just about every moment of his time with. He'd be keeping this quiet, as much as he could. Clay had told Elesa to hold off on telling Emmet, to give it a day for Ingo to recoup. He was going to contact Drayden first, then see where he wanted to go from there. Though if Ingo was still holding himself the way he was when he woke up he'd be finding himself in a hospital.

The man had outright collapsed when he first found him, scuffed up to high Heavens.

It was scary to see him like that. Haunted, almost. His coat in rags, drenched from the downpour. Eyes all glassy. His hair was so long, even braided it met his waist. He'd even gone & grown some facial hair besides his sideburns, which was an odd look on him.

And he looked tired. Heavens did he look tired. A kind of tiredness many people should be fortunate they never see in their lives.

Clay had to wonder if he'd seen a ghost at first, but the way Ingo’s eyes lit up at the sight of another person. It was enough to tell him that he was well with the living.

Asking him where he might find himself, stating that he'd been ‘placed off track & needed to be rerouted home’. At first he'd thought that Ingo had been kidnapped - just like everyone else suspected. It ran in the family to know when someone's gone for good. But this time was different. It'd made his skin crawl to see how ghastly Ingo looked, yet his voice hadn't seemed to fail him in all these years. Still lively as ever, despite the expression. He supposed Ingo always had a bit of a disgruntled look to him, even when he was delighted. His face seemed free of permanent blemishes, besides a small knick to his lip - but when he gestured with his hands, he saw nothing but healed wounds. Calluses, even a nasty burn he had to assume was the wrong end of a thunderbolt. The black eye would heal.

Clay had been standing at the door, like a guard as he got in touch with just about anyone he could think of.

His eyes drifted to where the man slept, having moved him to his guest bedroom for the night after he'd cried himself empty. He'd been so exhausted he could hardly sit up, so when he began crying he just… Collapsed. Crumpled up under his own weight, & passed out in his arms. He was so light when he carried him to a proper bed, but he was certain that was a constant before he disappeared. Both of the twins were thin & gangly.

Clay had comforted him until he drifted off. He wasn't the touchy, feely type. Neither was Ingo. Especially not for folks he hardly knows. But Ingo was distressed, about so many things he couldn't even voice his worries. His voice left him after some time, petering out into a quiet whisper until it was no more. He'd let the younger man rest himself against his chest, & let it all out until he had nothing more. Until the tears went stale, & his chest stopped its abrupt rise & fall. Setting into a slowt & steady rhythm. Ingo, now, looked the most content he'd seen him in hours. Exhausted, but content. His head laid to the side, arms tucked around a pillow. He had held it less fiercely than when he'd first pulled the covers over him. It felt like he was clinging to the pillow like life support. Now he looked as though he felt safer, drifted off into a hopefully pleasant dream.

His jacket was dangling from the foot of the bed, the dirty garment was the most harrowing item on him. Clay had pulled it from his shoulders before putting him to bed, it was drenched in mud, & he didn't want Ingo to wake up sick.

And the uniform… He recognized the insignia the instant he'd found Ingo. When he stepped close enough for his aging eyes to make out the spiral. The gnaw in his mind to wonder just how a man like him got ahold of such items. But the longer he spoke, it was more & more apparent. He spoke of people Lian had known, but of people Clay had never, & would never get the pleasure of meeting. That was fine. He supposed. The past is in the past, & his grandfather didn't want to look back.

Clay remembers being small, curled up in his grandfather’s lap, asking questions & gaining answers in response. Stories of a man who appeared within the mountains, with no memory of who he was & where he came from. That he spoke in odd phrases, & lived amongst the Pearl Clan for some years. Found in a blizzard, comatosed for three days. A chill ran up his spine. The man became a Warden when Lian had, to an extinct variant of Sneasel & treated him like family. Said he disappeared as mysteriously as he came. That it wasn't an isolated incident, that four years after Ingo had come to Sinnoh, a boy had fallen from the sky. Without a trace of his memory, but an affinity for pokemon. He disappeared after some months, & the mysterious Warden with him, just a week later, during a search for the boy.

It all lined up. And Clay felt sick.

He had, unknowingly, known this entire time where the Champion of Sinnoh & the missing Subway Boss had been. He just hadn't put the pieces together because he had all but forgotten the stories until today.

A text rang out on his phone - rather than the clunky Xtransceiver he'd been gifted a few years back by Burgh. Keep in touch, he said, get a phone, Clay replied. He looks at the notification, as he drudged through his pile of contacts, noting it was from Elesa.

> am i supposed to just keep this to myself clay??

No, he supposed that wasn't fair. He had put a lot on her just to calm his own mind of the obvious. It should have been obvious. It was just a few hours, he hopes.

[ Clay - Sent at 2:01AM ]

> I will tell Drayden, Emmet & Iris tomorrow. I needed to know I wasn’t crazy, not before I got their hopes up.

He sent the message, then went back to scouring his contacts, ceaselessly full of numbers he probably should clear. Of other regions Gym Leaders, Elite Four. Colleagues, co-workers, employees. He had a few of the adult champion's numbers as well. Although he looks at the small name Hilda with a faint emptiness in his chest. He really hoped that kid was alright. At least her family got a note, but she never even came back when N showed his face again. He hopes deep down she comes home just like the Sinnoh champion had, just a week ago.

Clay looks over his shoulder at Ingo hearing a small noise. The younger man's pokémon had found its way out of its ball, kneading itself against his side. A Gliscor. It had its head atop Ingo's stomach, small legs & large incisors curled against his side like a kitten. Its wings pinned to its back, tail dangling off the mattress. Always smiling, it seemed. Even when the creature slept. Clay smiled with a soft snort at the sight, glad that Ingo had someone else looking out for him, too.

A glowing eye peered open, sending a mean look Clay's way. Not asleep. Understood. He looks back down at his phone as it buzzes softly.

[ Elesa (Work) - Sent at 2:02AM ]

> so youre just letting me sit with it instead

Clay sighs, ignoring the message as he finds Cynthia's number in the list, first.

He was, as bad as it felt.

What time was it there? It was late for himself, what would that make it over there? His phone rings for a time, unanswered. Right, she probably had better things to be doing. Clay waits, listening to the phone ring as he waited. No answer. That's fine. He's some random gym leader from Unova, she's met maybe… three times, offhandedly. It didn't bother him too much.

[ Clay - Sent at 2:03AM ]

> I'm real sorry. I didn't want to be alone in knowing either.

[ Elesa (Work) - Sent at 2:03AM ]

> he's my brother too. you were better off picking i dont know. lenora. at least she knew him but didnt Know him.

[ Clay - Sent at 2:03AM ]

> I'm sorry. It'll just be a couple of hours. I promise. I’m not going to wake up Drayden in the middle of a storm. Ingo needs to sleep, he’s exhausted.

[ Elesa (Work) - Sent at 2:04AM]

> youre right but im still going to kill you when i see you next

Clay snorts, though his typing was cut off by the appearance of a ringing screen, phone buzzing in his palms. He nearly dropped the thing out of surprise. Fuck. Okay. Sorry, Elesa. Cynthia was calling back. His hair stood on end as a low snarl erupted from the Gliscor behind him. Ingo stirred slightly at the noise, grumbling something incoherent. Clay knew better than to stick around.

"Goin, goin. Sorry." He said, keeping an eye on the large pokemon as he stepped away while placing a hand over the speaker. It felt like the bat was still staring daggers into his back.

"Hello?" He says, answering at last. Please don't be busy. Don’t be frustrated with him. Bite the bullet, Clay.

"Hello, this is Cynthia. This is Gym Leader Clay of the Unova region, correct?" She sounded very awake. He felt much better about the call immediately.

Both Emmet and Elesa caught each other's eyes. 

An expression of 'You need it' was sent her way, met in response with a glare of 'Be normal' . 

She looked dreadfully exhausted since she got to his apartment, and he had a bit of a tendency to be unpredictable when he got his hands on caffeine. Though it mostly just made him a bit more chatty. There's a snicker from Emmet as he wraps his arm around Elesa's, linking them together as he smiled, pressing the sides of their heads together. 

"Sounds great!" He chirps, answering for both of them. Elesa's hand released from Skyla's to press it against his face, smushing his grin. He squawks indignantly, nearly tipping off his feet. 

"You are tired!" His voice was bordering on unintelligible as her palm still hadn't retracted from his jaw as he swatted the air by her hand.

"And you're not much better!" 

Touché . A finger grazed his lips. Emmet leans forward to bite it. Elesa reels away with a shout of disgust. A snicker bubbled up from his chest, leaving his hands flapping.

"You're actually so gross!" Elesa wipes her hand off on her jacket, making a far quieter faux-disgusted noise. Emmet grins triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips beaming. A hand yanked at his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of hand sanitizer.

"You owe me." She says, pointing it at him before spritzing some on her hands, clicking her tongue. "Ugh." 

He rolls his eyes, he hadn't even actually bit her. "You retreated, therefore , I win." He beams. There was another look from her, as if to say 'It wasn't a competition', but let it slip as he continued. " And , I got you to smile. That makes us both winners."

Elesa elbows him. Emmet grunts as it jabs under his gut. "You're such a dork." The smile on her face still didn't falter, which Emmet took as a personal victory. 

Something had been bothering her just an hour ago, though he attributed that to a bit of sleep deprivation. The storm had been verrry noisy, which neither of them dealt well with. Maybe he should have invited her over? Then they could have hung out without him having to make a stressful phone call. 

He hums, quietly, twisting his fingers together. 

Even if her eyes still hung heavy, and her posture wasn't the best, especially for her – a smile was a smile! She was, hopefully, having fun now even if things didn't go exactly to plan. And if she continued to not feel well, Emmet would drag her home and make her get some sleep, yup! He was very good at convincing her to rest because she did the same for him. They looked out for one another, that is what family does! Maybe their four car train had become three, but that did not mean they had to become uncoupled. 

Elesa wrapped an arm around both him and Skyla as if reading his mind, squeezing them tight. Emmet smiled wider, and Skyla leaned her head against Elesa's shoulder. "I love you guys." 

Emmet practically melted into the affection, but decided on simply patting the spot Elesa held him by. 

"Not as much as I love you." Said Skyla, shutting her eyes as Elesa guided them along, hed by the waist.

"You are pretty alright." 

" Emmet ." A bubbling laugh escaped him, hands flapping at his sides. "I love you, too! I love you verrry much." He corrects himself, swinging on his feet to walk in front of both of the ladies, walking backwards with practiced motion. "I am Emmet, you know I am teasing." He says, flapping a hand at his chest. 

"I do." Elesa says with a fake sigh, running a hand over her clothed cheek. Faux hurt across the part of her face they could see. Skyla giggled. "You wound me. I thought you loved me."

Emmet threw her a smug little smile as he tucked his hands in his pockets. "You thought verrry wrong. I do not love anyone, I am incapable." He taps his forehead, then snickers. Elesa flicks his head, making him dissolve into laughter. 

"So the usuals, right?" Skyla asked, "Or should we try something different today?"

"We both know Emmet's just going to get a black coffee, so we might as well do something fun." The Subway Boss sneered at the comment, placing himself back beside Elesa who shot him an equally amused glance. "We could do something with whipped cream?"

Skyla " Ooh'd. " at the suggestion. "Like one of those little lattes with the chocolate shavings and cinnamon?" She asks, shaking her fists excitedly.

"Yeah!" Elesa grins, nodding her head.

Emmet tuned them out, drawing his hand from his pocket to turn his Xtransceiver on, flicking to his emails. 

His nose scrunched up in the way it did when he was preoccupied. There were plenty of emails from the weekend conductors and engineers who ran the non-battle lines. Apparently some Drilbur had been causing issues, but they were dispersing them as easily as they could. No lasting damage, thankfully. Little victories!

A few from the depot crew, mostly regarding shift changes or a notice about needing to swap out a teammate for another. One email about a passenger being banned after starting a fight, resulting in a broken nose. Something like that could get messy. He silently hopes a lawsuit doesn't ensue. 

Before he can open the most recent email of the bunch, something about energy efficiency, a finger pressed onto his Xtransceiver, pushing his hand down. "We're supposed to be enjoying our off hours, remember?"

Grey eyes meet sky blue, his gaze failing with a nervous smile. Right, right. No work.  

Emmet tucks his hand into his pocket against his better judgement, sinking into the collar of his jacket a little ashamed. A hand sweeps over the brim of his cap, drawing it over his eyes. He simply nods, eyes averted to the ground in front of them. " Verrry sorry." He says, kicking at the puddle in front of him, thankful he wasn't in uniform. That would stain horribly. "It is habit." 

"No need to be." Emmet didn't agree, but also didn't fight it. There was no point in making a fuss about something he had agreed to. 

Instead he fishes out a pen from his pocket, clicking away at it as the trio made their way to the little coffee shop around the corner. Skyla didn't seem to mind the noise, or at least didn't show it, thankfully, as she went back to chattering between her and Elesa. 

[ ◇ ]

"Y'know, you'd think out of the two of you that Ingo would be the one to like black coffee." Said Skyla, watching Emmet as he sipped his drink. 

He eyes her with a snort, taking a firm sip before placing it onto the table. Hands still cupped around it letting the sides of the drink warm them through his gloves.

"Y'know, cause," She grabs the collar of her own jacket, before letting it drop. "Sorry, that's… That's Insensitive."

"I know what you meant." They tended to be opposites where people did not expect. Though he was certain Skyla had meant because of the incorrectly stern air people thought followed his brother. 

"Filling half of the cup with milk does not make it coffee. It makes it milk with a splash of beans." He says, lifting the cup to his lips, but peeking an eye at the pilot. 

She snickered, leaning back to peek at Elesa who was still inside, filling her own cup with cream. The trio had opted to sit outside, since the building seemed to be busy. It was much too loud, and the seats got particularly packed in such a small building. Elesa had one of her twin Emolga resting over her shoulder, nibbling away at a baked treat. He smiles.

Emmet sets the cup onto the table, his hand over the lid as he hums. "Besides, it will make me ill." He says, prying off the lid, waving away the steam that poured out. Too hot .

She eyed him, leaning back towards Emmet. Her elbows placed squarely onto the table, leaning forward as she catches her straw, sipping a fruity drink she had bought rather than coffee. Skyla clicked her tongue quietly, placing her head atop her knuckles. "Yet you still eat ice cream?" She tilts her head, amused. "I thought you were lactose intolerant. 

"Yes? I do not see the correlation." Emmet makes a face. 

Skyla stares at him blankly. "What?" She sighs, shaking her head with a big smile.

"Nothing, nothing." She preoccupies herself with her drink. Never would he understand, it seemed.

Emmet pats at his left pocket, dragging out an ultra ball & a dusk ball. He settles them both on the table with a moment's deliberation. They were both rather large, and Chandelure had a tendency to accidentally scare people. Not sure how, but sure. 

It should be fine to release them here . Emmet taps his knuckles against the table, thinking. It isn't a facility that outright bans them, and we're outdoors. We should be fine.

They were well behaved, registered pokemon (with permits!) that could be withdrawn at a moment's notice. There was nothing against it, so he saw no reason not to allow his companions some leg room. Okay, sure. He tosses the ultra ball up on second nature, before he could even realize what he was doing. 

"Shit – " Emmet stumbled back to catch the ball as it came back down, clasping it between two hands with a grateful exhale. 

Archeops appeared beside him, squawking at his sudden, new surroundings. His winged arms flapped nervously. Claws clacked and splashed against faintly wet pavement, clicking as he stared at Emmet. "Hello, Whistle." He says, hand placed to his chest. "I apologize for the abrupt change in destination. However…"  

He nods his head towards Skyla, smiling knowingly.

The flying-leader's eyes were practically heart shaped as she leaned down to press her hands to either side of his head. Archeops squawked and squealed at her attention, 

He clambered to seat himself atop the bench next to her, practically crawling into Skyla's lap, met by coos of "Hi handsome, aren't you so pretty?" that Archeops ate up, flapping his wings excitedly, chirping away like his namesake. 

"Safety first." Emmet chides, and the bird's wings slowed to a far more reasonable, steady pace. Claws no longer threatening to tear up the poor woman's legs. A low warble escaped the bird, leaning his head over Skyla's shoulder, pressing his full weight against her. 

Emmet smiled softly, although not without a  roll of his eyes, drawing the dusk ball from the table. It was with far more care he pressed down on the clasp of the ball, watching it erupt into a shower of red and lavender.

Chandelure appeared before him, flames dancing in trails as she twirled through the air. Her trills warbled through the air, unable to keep up with her dance.

"It is verrry good to see you, too. We are having coffee." Emmet says, as if she couldn't see that. "I did not get you anything, would you like me to?" 

There was a tilt of her little frame. Silence. 

It was a bit of a habit to spoil the little ghost when she got out and about with him. She deserves nice things, especially seeing as though she was the only one who seemingly couldn't move on. Ironic, maybe. Material things weren't ever going to cure the aching loneliness he knew she felt, he understood, really. But he supplied in other areas when the situation called, making sure to see that she was healthy despite the sudden detour in her life.

Emmet took her silence as a no, letting her simply float alongside him. 

"Just these two for today, huh?" Asked Skyla, gently scritching under Archeops' beak. She loved seeing the raptor, and he loved attention. It was a fair trade. 

"Archeops wanted to come along, and Chandelure needs sunlight, yup!" The ghost whistled a broken note at him, evidently annoyed at the comment. He snickers, watching her flames erupt and swirl with more magenta than lavender. 

"I am correct." He says, drink brought half way to his lips. 

The ghost hovered over his shoulders, drenching his peripherals with a warm glow as she scowled at him. 

"Yes, yes. Verrry scary ghost." He leans back, smiling up at her as he places his drink between his hands. Emmet raises a hand to her, cupping the side of her glass. "You do not get out much." He pats the spot he held her by softly. "It is good for you." 

"You're one to talk." Emmet felt his ears burn as he heard Elesa sit opposite to him, shooing Archeops playfully to Emmet's side of the table. His head leans forward again, with a smile. Elesa gave him a weary grin, Emolga nestled into her jacket collar. 

She settles her drink and a small snack onto the table, protected by only a napkin. His nose wrinkled at the thought of the sanitary concern. "When's the last time you got out in the past two weeks?" Elesa asked, placing the lid of her drink back on. 

"All week!" His tone was indignant, placing his hands on the edge of the table. Chandelure whistled a tone that mocked him. Heat burned at his face. She was a known snitch when Emmet was doing his worst, but he wasn't sure where this was coming from. He sends a chipper but cold smile at the ghost trying to sell him out when he did nothing wrong. Archeops' head pops up from between seat & table, and warbles. "I did!" 

Elesa takes a long sip of her frou-frou drink, then cocked an eyebrow. " Besides working, or going to the grocery store?"

Emmet shuts his mouth, visibly thinking for a moment. What have I been doing?

There hadn't been much to do besides work or grab food for himself and the team. He didn't really go out to exercise like Drayden and Skyla suggested, but that was never really in his wheelhouse anyways. But he also hadn't found much time to get himself out on any walks like he usually would. There was when he took Klinklang – no that was last week. The only things he really recalled doing was … working. 

A sheepish blush rushed across his face. "... Todaaay ?" He confessed, toying with his gloves to avoid their looks of disappointment. 

" Emmet… " His face darkened at Skyla's tone, and Elesa groans, kicking one leg over the other as she got comfortable. "You're insufferable." 

I am doing my best. Emmet pops the lid of his drink back on, blowing air out his nose as he knew they were both looking at him.

"I am Emmet, I am keeping things on schedule." He says, fidgeting his fingers over the lid of his drink. Falling into a line of dialogue he has practiced time and time again over the past four and a half years. "I am a Subway Boss, but I do not work more than I need to. I am doing my best, despite the change in course —" 

Elesa held up a hand. 

"I know, Em." Her tone was a little sad. A little somber, as she took a long sip of her drink through a straw to avoid elaborating. After a moment, she leaned into her hands with a distant look, even if her tone evened out. "You don't have to justify yourself to me, sweetie." 

Justify? I'm not… He supposed that was what he was doing, but really it was just the first thing that sprung to his mind at the comment. It was easier to run through words he already knew, than try to form something new to fill in the blanks. Why did she look so sad? Why did she sound so sad?

Things had been a little weird since she texted him last night, that much was true. 

And he was certain she hadn't slept a wink since. Not even all the make-up in the world, or half-smiles could hide the fact something was hurting her. She was one to talk, pointing out how he hadn't gotten out – It wasn't as bad as lying straight to their faces. It made his chest ache to think Elesa thought she couldn't talk to them. That she had to put on a charade just to make Skyla and him feel better, even if she was hurting. 

"You… Are sad." Emmet starts, slowly. Skyla didn't stop him this time, as he looks to her for confirmation. "Not tired. What is wrong?"

Elesa stared at him, and Emmet met her eyes. It held for nearly four seconds, before they both averted them in a draw. 

"We can both tell. Why don't you talk about it? Neither of us'll judge." Skyla adds, gently wrapping her arm around her, placing her head against her partner's shoulder. "You know that."

Elesa was silent, biting down on the straw of her drink to avoid talking. Audibly sipping at her drink, eyes downturned towards Archeops who was politely snoozing under the table. 

You are never like this. What aren't you telling us? Emmet reaches his hands across the table, gently placing his hands on either side of the cup. 

"Don't be me." He chides. She relents, letting him pluck the drink out of her hands, setting it onto the table. "You would be verrry upset if I, or Skyla , avoided the question." 

Parading herself as alright when she was clearly not alright was not going to happen under his watch. 

"Guys –" She's looking between the two of them. "Why all the fuss?" She asks, looking down at Skyla. Her eyes were wide with worry, which made Elesa's own water. "It's nothing, really ."

"You do not like my stubbornness, and yet?" Elesa shot him a glare, but immediately softened as she felt mascara dripping from her cheek, drenching her left side with an awful stain of black. 

"You, Elesa, have not attended to your own wellbeing, but fret over ours." Emmet fishes a napkin out from a little container in the centre of the table, and offers it to her. "You have failed personal safety. You are allowed to be sad. Please talk to us." 

There was silence as she pats at her eye, trying her hardest not to smear her makeup more than she had. "I don't… Know how or where to even start." She says, setting aside the napkin in a crumpled heap. "It's been eating away at me all night, and I don't want to hurt you, too."

Skyla sat up, she tilted her head, taking her hand in hers. "If it's hurting you, we wanna know how to help. Y'know? Even if it hurts us, it means you aren't suffering alone."

Emmet hums in agreement. " Verrry well spoken." 

"I – Well. I made a promise not to say anything until …" She trailed off, and Skyla squeezed her hand comfortingly. Emolga nuzzled her cheek. 

"Till what?" She asked.

"I don't… Want to talk about this anymore." Her voice cracked. 

It was at that Emmet scowled. Elesa, who was staring at him, broke. It sounded like something inside her had died as she buried her head in Skyla's shoulder. 

He hadn't heard her cry like that since… since. Emmet goes to stand, but Skyla motions for him to sit. "Elesa? I am verrry sorry if I –" Did he… remind her?

His heart shattered upon hearing the hiccup of a sob that escaped Elesa, fingers wringing through the back of Skyla's jacket. Skyla curls her arms around either side of her, shushing her quietly, drawing the two of them into a tight embrace. "It's not your fault." Skyla says, stroking her hair. " Shh… Shh . Breathe with me, okay?"

Elesa bobbed her head slowly, a gasp escaping her. Skyla began, a slow but steady pace, taking the lead with an example. Elesa followed. 

Chandelure nudged herself gently against Emmet's side. A slow, haunting tune escaped her. Like a broken little lullaby. "Not now." He murmurs, raising a hand to stroke her glass despite himself. 

The ghost nudges herself closer to him, warm against his side. Archeops was watching from his spot under the table, knowing he was better off allowing everything to blow over. His head resting over his claws, blinking up at him sadly. Emmet slowly drew his ball back out from his pocket. Sorry, the rainwater is not good for you . He returned him. Chandelure eyed him. Emmet shook his head. She could stay, unless something came up.

"I can't, not yet." He heard Elesa whisper. "I promised. I promised . I owe him that." 

"And you promised me, too. Remember?" Skyla replied, holding her by her arms. "You don't have to go back on it, but…"

"I guess I did." She's rubbing at her eyes now, make-up be damned. Skyla thumbs over her tears, making Elesa laugh, faintly. "I know I sound crazy – but I'm happy. I'm really happy, actually. I promise." Elesa's twisting her hand through her hair, catching herself before she gnawed on it nervously. "I promised both of you – And, and I get it, if neither of you never want to talk to me again… " Her voice broke. 

"Pull the brakes." Emmet's voice was quiet, but firm. There were very few things that could pit a wedge between them. "We are best friends. She is your partner. Do not worry for our sake."

"I …" Elesa swallows hard, hands stroking Emolga's cheek who now rested between the two women. " Emmet –" 

"Yes?" He tilts his head, crossing his arms with a smile. "Try me. There are verrry few things that can come between us." 

"Ingo." She falters. 

“No, I am Emmet.” He says, gesturing to himself, as if by second nature. What about Ingo?  She took a shaky, deep breath settling her nerves before she continued. "No – Emmet. He's alive. He's... He's in Driftveil. He's alive ." 

[ ◇ ]

The gym opened in just thirty or so minutes. It was Saturday, so the later time was nothing out of the ordinary. 7AM to 9PM on weekdays, 11AM to 8PM on weekends. 

Iris was lounging on the couch, watching TV with her Hydreigon, munching away on what was left of her lunch. The two were watching some loud replays of a tournament match from over in Sinnoh. Sounded like it was a past play-by-play from the Battle Frontier, if his ears weren't deceiving him. The sounds of a Milotic clued him in to believe it was against Palmer himself, or even the previous champion, though he couldn’t be certain. He peers over from where he was to see a Torterra looking worse for wear, & shook his head slightly. Someone must be on their final pokemon, or mixed up their teammate. That was just a wretched type match up. 

An interesting choice in tournaments, Iris didn’t ever seem very interested in any from outside the surrounding regions. Seemed she finally got bored enough to reach out & find new matches to watch. It was always good to see how others do things differently than you might. He supposed Kanto, Johto, Hoenn & Sinnoh matches were the next best option if Iris fully wanted to watch tournaments she could understand. 

He hums in recognition, setting aside some silverware he had been drying, noting to put those away all at once. 

The Milotic served as a reminder to the back of his mind, the Champion of Sinnoh had recently reappeared after a six month long disappearance. Just a week ago, to the day. 

Rowan had called him on Wednesday about the situation, though seemingly just to settle his own nerves. He was frantic, Drayden could tell, even if he tried to come off as collected. Seemed like they were in all sorts of a mess over there. It was good the situation was being sorted. A fifteen year old vanishing into thin air is no joke, they'd better be taking the case seriously. 

The Elite Four themselves had put a lot of blame onto themselves for their disappearance. It had cut through the Four for those weeks, as if they failed their obligations to look after the young one. 

There had been plenty of public conferences, one of which he recalls one of them leaving early under his own stress. Plenty of social media backlash towards the Four for not trying harder. It was easier to point blame at faces you know the names of, than to the hired security that should have been doing their jobs. Seemed like everyone in the country had been out looking for him, not just in the region. 

Drayden had even gone over to lend his aid himself, under the request of Rowan. 

Iris had stayed home with her brother, which he was certain enjoyed the company. He was glad the two of them got along, especially after everything. Not to mention Iris was considerably younger than Emmet, which he was worried would drive a wedge between the two, but they seemed to share just about every interest besides trains. 

Missing person’s cases seemed to be becoming more, & more prevalent. To hear this one had a happy ending gave him a small glimmer of hope. Six months was different than four years or six years, he reminded himself. 

Drayden mentally kicked himself as he picked up a pot from breakfast to wash it. 

Their own Champion, prior to Iris that was, hadn't even returned. Left in a rush, & hadn't been heard from since. Deemed a stale case once it was presumed she was in hiding. Her note told that she had left on her own accord, though the question of if she had been put up to writing it was always on the table. He felt a soft pang of familiarity in his heart to the girl's family. It was almost seven years at this point. Hilda would be declared legally dead this year, if she wasn’t found. She would be an adult by now, wouldn't she? He remembers seeing her, bright eyed & ready to challenge him with her own team. A spunky teenager, full of vigor & with an Emboar who sent Haxorus for the hills. He mused with a small smile. That was back when Team Plasma was still running amok… She had left, running after that boy who had shown back up. But no sign of her. Only fourteen, & suddenly gone. 

Drayden reeled at the feeling of soap staining his hand, not realizing how much pressure he had been putting against the pot. He pulls his hand back, turning on the tap to rinse his hand of suds. 

"Your Kantoan lessons going over that well?" He asked, over his shoulder trying to ignore the thought as turned his attention to spray the pan clean. "I didn't think you watched battles from outside Unova or Galar. Language barrier & all.” 

"Yeah! Professor's been really helpful with it, too!" Iris chirped from her spot, eyes not moving from the screen. "I'm not exactly fluent,  but I got the gist of what they're saying. Plus, context clues!" 

Drayden hums in acknowledgment, eyes returned to spray the pot clean. 

Rowan had encouraged her to learn the language after they had learned of her roots in Galar & Sinnoh. It'd been some years ago, Iris had been wanting to learn about her ancestry. Turns out his daughter was the great, great grandchild of some old Professor who helped found Sinnoh itself. First recorded Pokedex in the region, if his memory served him right. It was a good idea to look into her roots, here or there. There was no reason not to which Iris had agreed with, wanting to know more about herself. He smiled in amusement, thinking about Iris as a Professor. That was never, ever going to happen if he knew her.

"Laventon" was the surname they had found to be the connecting link, it was the one Iris had been adopted with. She had asked to take his own last name as she got older, to which he obliged after a small back & forth on whether she was certain. It was a big step, & he didn’t want to impose anything she didn’t want for herself. But she had insisted, stating that no matter what he was her father. That was a good day. Now that she was sixteen, almost seventeen , he thought wearily, she had gotten personally keen on learning about her Galarian & Sinnoan roots. There was really no harm in it, really. 

They had already known about her ties to the Champion of the Galar region, & his little brother during a time when they, too were looking for missing relatives in their family tree. Though that seemed to be from a sibling of the famed Professor, rather than his own children. It made them distant cousins. 

Drayden sets the now dry pan atop the stove, taking a dry hand towel to dry his hands. 

A particularly loud Dragon Pulse rung out across the room from the TV. He turned to satiate his curiosity, watching alongside Iris. She was lying back on the couch, knees to her chest with her plate atop them as she leaned against Hydreigon. The dragon had her main head lying atop Iris'. Her other heads rested on either side of her. Both were focused on the TV, enjoying the match. Seemed like Milotic had managed to knock out the poor Torterra. 

Drayden smiles again, nodding his head as he turns to grab his coat. He peers over again. Yes, it certainly was Palmer. He remembers that Rhyperior. It was the Dragonite they had a rivalry over. "Good match?" 

"Oh! Yeah!" She looks over at him with a grin, fork still in her mouth. "Palmer's Rhyperior VS a Snorlax!"

"Battle for the ages." He mused, pulling a sleeve over his arm. "Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Iris made a face. Drayden ignored it. She set her fork aside to smile again, leaning back & cupping Hydreigon’s face in her hands. The dragon responded by sticking her tongue out. Drayden smiled back, pulling the coat over his shoulders. “You alright with it just being you & your team here today?"

"Yeah, I'll be OK." She says, looking over. “Do you really gotta work today, though? Come on - It's Saturday!"

Drayden sighs softly, knowing she’d prefer he stay home & spend the day together. Frankly he'd prefer it, too. He tried to take every other Saturday off, since Iris would be home those days. But the gym needed to be run, even as he got perhaps a little too old to keep up with it. He runs a hand through his hair, with a quiet sigh. Alright. He heads back for the kitchen, fetching his keys off the wall with a hum. "It is Saturday. Which means I've got to attend to the gym, you know that. We'll go out for dinner when I get home, does that sound fun?" 

"Ooo." Iris thought on that as she offered Hydreigon a scrap of bacon. "OK, sure!"

Drayden smiles. That seemed to be enough to keep her happy, & he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to not cooking tonight. It would be a good bit of father-daughter time, & they didn't go out for dinner as often as they did when she was younger. "We'll make plans when I get home? Figure out what you want before five, I'll be home around eight." 

"Will do!" 

Drayden waves to Iris softly, the girl quick to wave back, "See you!" 

"See you at 8. Lunch is in the fridge."

"Thanks, Dad!"

A buzz on the table reminded him he needed his phone. 

"Ah–" He turns, headed back to the table to scoop it up. Curious. Drayden's eyes stared, long & hard with a curiosity he didn't feel often. His phone read Clay's full name, & he had no clue what he could possibly want. He knew better than to call while he was working at the gym - it was his destress time, away from his responsibilities as mayor of Opelucid. 

He hadn't left yet, caught in the knick of time, so he supposed this could be fine. He'd talk on his way to the gym, that would be that. It's not everyday Clay, Clay calls someone unless it's important. Reclusive was definitely the right word for him. 

So Drayden answers the call, catching it just on its last ring watching Iris' curious glance. "Who's calling?" She asked.

Drayden signed 'Clay' , placing the phone between his jaw & shoulder. Though, more literally, he signed 'Leader Ground' , but it got the point across. She'd gone & learned USL ever since Emmet had become more & more verbally-adverse. He leans against the doorway, pulling his gloves from his pockets. 

"Hello? Is something the matter, Clay?" His voice was firm as he traded his keys for his gloves, slipping one on. They weren't close, whatsoever, so for Clay to be calling had to be something out of the ordinary. They knew each other, of course. They had to for their line of work, but it didn't make this any more odd. There was silence for a few moments. 

" Hello ? Clay?" He asked, a slight antsiness growing in his tone. A bit annoyed. No, that wasn't right. His patience was wearing thin however. Iris sat her food aside, head tilting to the side at his change in expression. His hand rested on the doorknob, about to twist it open, giving Iris a small wave. 

"Howdy, Drayden. I uh," his voice trails away. Weird. "You might wanna sit down."

That caught him off guard. "...I'll be fine." Drayden opts to stay a few minutes longer, turning to place his back to the door. "What's the matter?"

"If yer certain..." Clay paused. He sounded rather nervous, which was odd for him. "I… Found yer nephew." 

What? What was that supposed to mean. 

"What?"

Ingo.

They found Ingo . 

This wasn’t about Emmet – Clay wouldn’t have phrased it like that if it was anything else. Of course Clay would find him. Drayden pressed the back of his trembling hand to his mouth, holding back whatever threatened to come out. Closure. They could have closure.

"Dad?" Iris stood up. He held a single finger out, asking her to wait. Drayden took a long deep breath. 

"Where was he?" He drew his shoulders back, trying to keep his composure for her sake. He could hear Clay hesitate on the other end of the receiver. "Please." 

"Chargestone Cave.” 

Oh . Drayden covered his face, ignoring the rush of emotions that came to him.  That wasn’t particularly where he had expected. But it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.  There were a plethora of tunnels that connected the two cavern systems together eventually. He knew that because of his boys – they practically lived in that cave as children.  The Subway had to be careful not to build into any connecting caverns, long before either of the twins started the battle half of the subway. They should have looked there first . Why didn't they look there first? Why didn't they look harder? How could they fail him like that?

“What was…?” Left . He began, his voice was small despite himself. He cleared his throat, pulling on his collar. "What did you find?" He needed to be strong. 

"Drayden – " Oh, Emmet. Emmet was going to be devastated – he’d been holding onto hope. 

He couldn't even look Iris in the eye as she stood next to him, his own eyes welling up with tears. He never cried. Especially in front of her.

He reached his hand out, cupping Iris' face with a tender, if melancholy smile. She placed her hands atop his own with furrowed brows. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He hesitated. Drayden blinked a few times sadly, before simply drawing his daughter into his arms. 

"Drayden?" 

"Yes?" Tears threatened to stream down his face. Iris didn't move, squeezing him tighter. Drayden let his head lean back, taking a long, deep breath, not allowing himself to crack. He wasn’t the type to cry. It was unbecoming. 

"Yer not listening to me." It was true. He wasn't. He wasn't listening, even as Clay talked in his ear. He had been talking the whole time, probably explaining some awful truth he didn’t want to hear. 

"He's alive , Drayden." 

Iris looked up at him gawking. She was close enough to hear the other end. "Who… are you talking about? Alive? Dad?" 

Drayden placed the back of his hand over his mouth, taking a long deep breath. Alive. The word felt like it was practically buzzing inside his skull. "Alive." He breathes. It felt like a breath of fresh air.

"... Is it Ingo?" Iris asked. Drayden slowly nodded his head. Iris stared up at him, tears welling in her eyes. Drayden opened his arms again, letting the young girl hide her face in his side. He rubs the top of her head knowingly, whispering a quiet apology. 

"We'll talk after this call, okay?" He whispers, pressing a gentle kiss atop her head. Iris nodded her head, wiping her eyes as she stepped back. Iris took a few steps away, and buried her face in Hydreigon's side. The dragon snorts, lying her main head atop hers. 

"...Where – What happened to him? How is he? Is he okay?" Why didn't you start with that? 

"He's gotten some rest, he needed it long before he went makin any calls. He's got some nasty lookin' bruises."

"I do not… Believe I broke anything, however." Ingo. That was Ingo. Drayden felt the smile that broke across his face as he sat himself down at the kitchen table. Clay hums in agreement, taking a deep breath. "We got some bad news, though. Do y'wunna break it to 'em or me?" 

Ingo was silent. Drayden despised that. It sounded like a silent deliberation went on between the two, before Clay spoke again. 

"I can take it." Drayden says. Anything was better than dead. 

"Drayden, yer boy…" Clay sounded hesitant. 

"Yes?"

"He… Does not remember much of anythin' from before he went missin'. Family, friends. It's all gone, nothin' but the last four years."

Drayden went silent. It felt like his voice had dropped out of his throat. His gaze cast to Iris who was hidden under Hydreigon's wings, seemingly tapping away on her phone. He really hoped she wasn't telling Emmet too preemptively. 

"He has amnesia?" He whispers, placing a hand by his mouth, so the teen wouldn't hear. 

"That he does. An … Plenty of stories t' tell…" Clay trailed off into silence. "I found him last night. It was damn near two in the mornin'. He's been tryna get comfortable enough t' call. Practically collapsed before we could do anythin' to get ahold of y’all.” Ingo had been found hours ago. He doesn't remember anything. Ingo is alive . He should be grateful for that, instead of tying himself up on the details. "Let me talk to him. If he’s okay with that.”

"Ingo? You uh – y'ready?" There was a voice from Clay's side. It sounded like an affirmative yes. Drayden could hear the phone be passed between the two. His breathing held still, waiting to hear his nephew's voice clearly on the other end. 

"...Hello?" That sounded like his Ingo. Loud, & clear. But not excited, or panicked. Just Ingo. Just as he should be. "Clay tells me you are my Uncle. That you are Drayden. And that I am your nephew. I never knew I had a family." His voice went quiet. "Not until today, that is." 

Was he lost in the caves for all these years? Hit his head & got himself lost? No, there was no way. He wouldn't have left Chandelure behind if it was that easy. She would have followed him to the ends of the Earth if it meant she never left his side. Drayden took a deep breath to recuperate himself. 

"Hello, Ingo." I've missed you, so, so much. It's so good to hear your voice. Drayden looked back at Iris, watching her staring from under Hydreigon's wings. "We've been looking for you for quite a long time. It's good to hear your voice again." Drayden was not about to cry. Maybe he was. Just a little. "How're you feeling?

"...I see." He clears his throat. "A little lost. I have been very disoriented since my arrival here. I did not intend to depart without making my loved ones aware. But it seems… I have found my way back. And that is what is important.” 

"Arrival?" Found his way back? 

Ingo was silent. Drayden hated that. Ingo was always the talkative type, even when he was stressed. In fact, he talked more when he was under stress. "Ingo? What do you mean by arrival?"

"I am sorry, sir - I did not know how to… form the words.” Sir? Drayden’s heart sank at the feeling that any familiarity he had with him had been lost. How was he going to even begin to explain to Emmet? Iris… He cast a meek smile to her, but it quickly fell flat as the girl watched from under her three headed sentinel timidly.

“Ingo, would you rather I come to Clay’s home to speak with you? I would like to see you again.” And he knew how much Ingo hated phone calls, now that he thought about it. That might explain the quietness. Calls stressed him out, he was unable to read the other person by their gestures & expressions that he relied on unlike his brother. "Your sister would like to see you, too."

“Would that be… possible?” He sounded as if he was asking Clay. “Drayden would like to know if he could join us. Here. Okay. Clay says that will do. I will explain my untimely detour when you arrive then, it seems." 

A low, tired groan escaped him as he realized they, too, were behind schedule. They were probably hungry - he'd awoken to Eelektross' face to his own, which was not the usual. It meant they were all late. He was more than content to let them tucker themselves out before they rushed down to the kitchen, nipping & pawing at each other. But he knew better, especially now that breakfast was late, that everyone was going to be hungry. The duo were preemptively churring & crackling at each other, ready to take off. He rolls his eyes.

Emmet stretches out his arms, before placing them on his back, dispersing pressure throughout his spine. He sighs when nothing pops, his back a little stiff. Maybe he was getting a little old. Not really. Their birthday was just a few months ago – he was 30. Only 30. Thank you, Uncle Drayden. That is verrry reassuring, when you lie about your own age. Emmet was probably do for seeing a chiropractor. He stood for nearly twelve hours a day, & it was not great for his posture as the years went on. He sighs, letting his head hang for a second. Okay. Up, up. That is what he had to do, yup!

He really does not want to. But he had to. He'd much rather roll back over & bury himself away in his warm blankets & fall back asleep. Get a fresh restart on his schedule tomorrow. Eelektross hisses with a pop from where he stood, trying to get his attention. Fine. Threes clicks against his nightstand before grabbing his Xtransceiver in one fell swoop. The weight to his wrist is familiar & welcome as he stands, ignoring Eelektross' staticky clicks to open the door. "I am! I am." He says, adjusting the device around his wrist. "You are just particularly impatient."

Galvantula chirps triumphantly.

"You are not one to speak." So fussy, he had to be in his bed before she could sleep. Which meant she kept him on schedule, usually. And truly, her persistence was charming. But both of them were so, so impatient in their own ways. Learned trait, he remembers Ingo chiming in once. Emmet adjusts his sleeves, which had become jostled in his sleep. Okay. Okay! Today is going to be fun. Emmet ignored his growling stomach as he headed for the door, with a yawn. Galvantula looked up at him with big eyes as he stood between the two.

"Please stand clear of all moving doors!" He practically chirped. The two nudged backwards a step or two, staring up at him. They all knew that phrase meant they were about to bolt, & Emmet was never prepared to deal with his particularly disruptive pokemon. Both pokemon looked at one another.

Daily mischief commute will begin in three.

Emmet placed his hand on the doorknob.

Two.

He twists it with a click.

One.

He opens the door a sliver —

Eelektross wriggles between the frame & door long before Emmet even had it fully open, far more lithe than Galvantula. His claws pressed between the frame & door wiggling himself through, scampering down the hall, much faster than floating would take him. "Mind the g – !'' He tried to say before Galvantula tried to mimic her siblings' behaviour. She was quick to skitter after him though, before Emmet had even gotten the first word out, wriggling her abdomen between the door & frame, her paws clattering against the floorboards as she scampered out of sight. Emmet sighs, letting his head fall back dramatically. “This is why you are balding!" He chides, watching as she disappears down the stairs.

One, two, three. Emmet rubs at his eyes, with a long yawn with his free hand. He steps into the hall, stretching out his arms in front of him. The open room across the hall was empty, save for Chandelure, who remained. Like a fixture in the room. Flames ignited, although small, audibly crackling to life from across the hall. Her attention was pinned on the other two pokemon, he noted as her gaze followed them, but then drew to Emmet as they left. She looked like the two had woken her, or perhaps his knocking. Knocking meant he was certainly awake, & leaving his room, & not just dismissing the duo of troublemakers early. Her flames were dull, & hardly had the same spark they did when she was fully awake. Soft lavender hues that illuminated the dark room with a haunting light. She was very tired, he could tell.

Emmet met her attention, though his brows furrowed at the sight. It made him sad to see her like this. It really did. Never moving, unless he took her out with him during his commute. Never fighting, just accepting the change in scenery alongside him. Just enjoying the time she spent with the remaining brother. Always accepting life, but never living. Sometimes he found her pleading with him for his attention, especially at dawn. She usually slept through the early hours, but when she didn't, she phased right through his door. He always assumed she associated the sunrise with Ingo going missing. But he wasn't a mind reader. So he did what he could to comfort her, & let the little mimic rest on him. With cold flames, & their joint silence. A dear little creature, Emmet just wished he could show her it'd be okay someday.

He had tried for years not to be sad that he had lost another family member. Letting it get him down wouldn't do him much good, it was better to live in the moment. But the little ghost seemed to never recover. She had never known his parents. They died before that camping trip that they had met her on. So for Chandelure, this was the first loss she had been faced with. Her very best friend since she was small.

It was just them & Drayden back then. Their uncle had wanted to distract them from the loss of their parents. Their trip had been just a few weeks after her passing. Ingo had been unconsolable from the loss, but the promise of keeping their new friends was a good step towards finding a way to heal. Emmet didn't understand death yet. He was pretty sure Uncle Drayden let them keep Freight & Relay just because he knew they'd make good company for two little boys without their mum or dad.

Guess that's why he always tried to keep himself happy ever since Ingo… died, in a way. Ingo is not dead.

But Emmet associated these days with how he had went about his parents' death. He was young. He did not know how to handle their passing. He did not even know they were never coming back. So he stayed happy, so they would not see him sad when they returned! They never did return. Drayden was never the type to sugarcoat the truth. So he stayed silent in its stead just like Emmet. He taps his fingers against his arms, absentmindedly, his gaze unbroken from Chandelure's. Emmet could live without his parents. Even if that was when he really started showing symptoms. Even if he knew he was making Drayden's life harder. Knock on wood, & it won't come true. Knock on wood, & nothing you think or say is an issue because it won't come true. He always jinxes himself.

Emmet could feel his knuckles pattering into his upper arm, nervously knocking against the skin like second nature.

Uncle Drayden could live without his sibling. Emmet could, too. They were as close as he was with his own brother. Uncle Drayden was around his age when his mother passed. And he's okay. Emmet had been okay for three years now. Uncle Drayden… probably hadn't been okay, when she passed. But his goodbyes were more … final? Emmet didn't have the same comfort to lean back on. He had no closure.

Ingo could be out there suffering & here he was living as if he never lost him.

Chandelure chimes softly, like a soft clink of a spoon against a glass.

His arms felt stiff as he waves quietly at the phantom who only stared back. She knew.

"Breakfast?" He asked hoarsely. Today was going to be fun. So don't think about those things! He didn't want her to think about it, but here he was doing the exact same thing.

Chandelure stared at him long & hard. Emmet held a shaking hand out, offering breakfast downstairs today. She didn't budge. Neither did Emmet. After a long, drawn out staring match, though this time both parties aware of their staring; the spectre moved from her spot. Emmet's eyes lit up as she floated to his side, a grin spread across his face, large & wide. He hadn't realized he was frowning. He clapped his hands together excitedly, ignoring his previous dismissal of his usual expression.

"Thank you. It is verrry good to see you out of bed!" He allows the smile to drop into a more natural one, running his hand against her glass shell. "I miss him, too. It is OK to be sad." A soft bell chime met his words. Two arms reached out, scooping Chandelure up under his elbows, catching her by surprise. She made it abundantly clear as her little metal limbs wiggled & writhed, & the disoriented jingle of her voice. A small flame threatened his shirt as she jostled herself. He knew she would not hurt him intentionally. "But!" Emmet added. "That is no answer to ignoring your other loved ones!"

Chandelure went slack in his arms, chiming softly as she rested against his chest at last. Emmet grinned a little further. "You are like a fussy little cat." He says. "Do not want to be held, then decide otherwise."

Knock, knock, knock went the top of the railing, knowing he could not & would not let her fall even as he leaned in to rap his knuckles against the wooden frame. He repeated this for the bottom railing, stepping into the living room with a quiet hum. He slowly opens his arms, allowing Chandelure to recognize he was letting her go. She tilts her little frame up at him, wondering. He smiles with his teeth. Taking that as her cue, she floats into the living room on her own accord. This was to many of the others' delight, though she twirled around to face Emmet. He noted that most of his team was awake, although some he did not see. They all liked to see Chandelure around the house, rather than moping in Ingo's room. It made Emmet happy, too!

He often took her out along on his walks with Skyla & Elesa, or to dinner with Uncle Drayden & Iris. Though he had been requested to stop bringing ghosts into even the most pokemon-friendly establishments. He usually never even let her out, she let herself out. You can't blame him for wanting to get her out of the house. Sometimes she even came down when they had company, though that was more of a rare occasion.

Emmet rubs his arm, watching as Archeops clicked & chortled, jumping from his living room perch, landing atop the couch clumsily to be at her side. Klinklang floated up to her side, bumping their gears against her arms. The two object mimics got along very well, which made Emmet happy. He just wants to make sure they're all happy, even if it took a toll on him. Gigalith was still busy sleeping, although Crustle seemed to have migrated away during the night. The crab was standing in the hallway, his little claws raised in a victorious pose to see Chandelure, scuttling to stand by the growing group. Conkeldurr, Durant, Haxorus, Excadrill, Crobat, & Garbodor were nowhere to be seen. Probably still asleep, he muses. He'd do a head count when he got them all fed. And himself, he thought with a wince, his stomach was still growling. While he did feed himself fine, he had gone to bed without much of a thought about how he had missed dinner. The doubles line was very, verrry busy yesterday & he hadn't gotten a second in to find himself a proper meal. So he went to bed on just a granola bar he had stored away, & whatever lunch he had ate at ten. He sighs. Alright, food for everyone.

The two bugs got their usual smoothies which he had pre-prepared in the fridge, Archeops' chopped lettuce was prepared & in a plastic container, along with some peppers, & his joint supplements. Conkeldurr & Eelektross had rice stored away along with some spicy berries, & fish stirred in. Klinklang had a place to charge themself in Emmet's room, which he knew they would use when they needed it. Garbodor helped herself to the trash & scraps when everyone was done, though he did have a tray of sweet rice balls set away for her. Okay. Okay. Everyone first, then himself. He can eat whenever, they can eat when he gives them their food. Not entirely true. He’s seen them sneak snacks for one another. Eelektross & Archeops especially. The two had dexterous little claws, & liked to pry open the cabinets to scavenge as if he didn't feed them three times a day. Why did Ingo get all the polite teammates?

He smiles a little to himself, knowing it all came down to their own personalities & training. Maybe Emmet snuck them snacks at late hours. Maybe. Haxorus never denied a piece of lunch meat, or piece of a rice cake. Ingo would kill him if he knew he was still sneaking her snacks. She liked snacks, Emmet hated Earthquake. It was a fair trade. Rice cakes. Those sounded kind of good right now, even if he was going to force himself to make something rather than just eat a dry, plain rice cake. Okay. Okay – sidetracked. He'd just been staring at the counters for a few seconds, absentmindedly filling a glass of water for himself that threatened to become overfilled. He takes a firm drink for a moment, before setting it aside & opening the fridge.

Emmet takes the smoothies out first, the ground up berry mixtures were the only way he could get Crustle or Galvantula to take their medicine. And by god, they were going to take it. His nose curled at the strong, sweet smell, having pulled off the lid marked with a piece of tape that read 'Circuit'. Right, he even put honey in these. He waves his hand a moment, trying to dispel the smell, before fetching their bowls. They'd have their medicine, then he'd feed them something more filling. Galvantula was already staring up at him from the floor, Eelektross at his other side as he poured out the personally made 'snack' into her dish. The eel made a face at the smell himself, or perhaps just a look of recognition.

Galvantula was meant to lose hairs, but she was losing them at a rapid rate. So he had to resort to medicines to help keep her from going bald. She wasn't supposed to molt much more, now that she'd evolved, so a loss of hairs was not a good thing. Especially because she didn't look to be in pre-molt, & especially because she still had a voracious appetite. Emmet threw a smile to both of his partners, before moving onto Crustle's dish. Crustle needed medicine his entire life to help keep his joints strong as he got older, & his shell did, too. He'd also need to give him eye drops later. He taps the edge of the container as he finishes pouring out the mix, the rest of the smoothie settling flat in the dish. Emmet swipes up the twin dishes in two hands, making sure to be careful not to step on any flippers or paws as he turns around abruptly.

The bowls were both patterned & covered in cartoon depictions of Joltiks & Dwebbles, which was very cute. Elesa had found them sometime when in Castelia & gave them to him the next time they met as an early birthday present. It was a cute gift, & perfect for his little arachnid duo. They were always fed with them. He called for Crustle's attention. The crab slowly turned in place, before clicking over to his side. Emmet smiles down at him, meeting the crab half way, setting his bowl down in front of him. "Just for today." He says, knowing he'd usually make him walk the distance to the kitchen as exercise. "Good morning, Ballast." He said, giving his shell a soft pat.

It was still clean from the bath two days ago, though a thin layer of dust had accumulated over it. That was natural, he thought as he wiped it off on his pajamas. He looks down at Eelektross, who knew better from a time when he had a flipper infection. He knew better than to ask for those meals. Smoothies meant medicine. Which meant Emmet was tricking them. He was, & it was funny. He sets the second dish down in a corner, out of the way, Galvantula trotted up beside him as she waited. He set it down in front of her, with a small knuckle rub to her head as she dug in.

Emmet looks up, into the living room. Chandelure & Klinklang were still chattering amongst themselves, though Excadrill had joined them. He still looked sleepy, with how he slouched, little eyes blinking every so often as they adjusted to being awake. Emmet's attention turned to Gigalith, the large pokemon still a fixture between the living room & kitchen.

"Gigalith," Emmet called to the sleepy rock, "It is time for you to be outside."

The large rock pokemon's head rose as he stirred, raising his head to meet Emmet's smiling gaze. "Walk or ball?" He asked.

The rock took a careful step forward, so as to not break something. Emmet clapped his hands together with a nod. He would still have to return him before he could actually exit the door - he was much too broad, but it was good to have him walk around from time to time. Health & safety first! Emmet watched Gigalith rise to his full height, quietly - as he could - stomping his way towards the back door at a slow pace. In the meantime, Emmet drew Archeops' food from the fridge. He set it aside, going back in for Crobat's meal.

Ah, Crobat's meal.

He visibly flinched at the quart of blood - ethically sourced of course, but it was still blood. When he had first found her he was dismayed to find that the pokemon & its kin drank the like. It was one of the nurses at the Pokemon Center that had informed him, upon hearing that his new friend was a recent catch. The poor woman watched him grow ill at even the concept, & had offered to take her off his hands if it would be an issue. No, no issue at all!

He is not abandoning a passenger before they reach their terminal for something so silly as diet.

Still though, even after a few weeks of tending to the still healing bat, Emmet cringed at the sight. At least it wasn't just liquid blood - it was frozen, weird little blocks made for the species. Perhaps it was not the best pokemon to name after his departed brother. But the constant frown, even when she was overjoyed, was enough to make Emmet grin. Oh & when he discovered she evolved with friendship. Friendship! It was so sweet to see her impromptu evolution from Golbat to Crobat during some strength exercises for her wing. The injury unfortunately remained on the corresponding wing, but even after evolution it was capable of healing.

So perhaps it was the best decision, eating habits aside. Despite everything, his brother was his very best friend. Inbound was a member of the family now, Emmet really could not see himself releasing her anytime soon. Though, he'd certainly have to get a much larger tree to accommodate both Archeops & Crobat. He wanted to move out into an actual house so the two of them would have more space, along with Gigalith. Not until Ingo came home. No, he would not move until Ingo came home. He needed to stay where he was, so he could find his way home.

A rumbling bellow at his side caught his attention.

Gigalith stared at him, unmoving as close as he could get to the table without breaking something. He looked at him, smiling softly, before setting the quart on the counter along with Excadrill's meal. "I am verrry sorry for the delay."

Emmet fetched Gigalith's ball from beside the backdoor, a heavy ball that weighed down his hand a little as he did, the large creature watching him expectantly. Drawing him back into the ball, he pats the top of the pokeball gently. Clicking the door open, knocks on the metal frame three times before pushing the screen door open with his shoulder. Stepping out onto his rather small porch, if you could even call it that, he swiftly jotted down the stairs. The backyard was theirs, rather than their neighbors making it the ideal spot to allow Gigalith to rest in the Sun. Besides, a large Gigalith resting in the front yard was a bit intimidating. Bogie is a sweetheart. A big, clunky sweetheart. Emmet mused as he released Gigalith into the backyard. With a small burst of light, the large rock pokemon reappeared before him. He let out a contented noise, enjoying the warm rays that shined down on him & his solar stones. An arm wrapped around his sharp shoulders, patting him gently with a smile. Gigalith lowered himself into the grass with a nudge against Emmet. He laughs, patting his big head with his hands.

"Okay, okay. Enjoy!" Gigalith rumbled quietly, leaning away from his trainer. Verrry cute.

Quietly Emmet stuffed Gigalith's heavy ball under his arm, lifting his arm to read the time off his watch. 10:23. He would be doing today's routine in reverse, it would seem. He hated that. Emmet turned away to go feed the others, trying to ignore how unpresentable he looked while outside. Pajamas were not meant to be worn after breakfast, but everyone was hungry which superseded looking proper. Gigalith did not eat. But he did need at least forty-five minutes of sunlight a day. This, however, was going to put him off his new schedule. He hopes Elesa & Skyla will understand that Gigalith's health impeded their plans, if only by half an hour. Emmet was going to be bothered. But he could get over it. As long as he didn't look at the clock again.

Knock, knock, knock.

——————

Emmet sighs, resting a hand over his forehead dramatically as he leans back on the couch. That was everyone, everyone has their food, including him. His other hand rose above his head, clicking his knuckles against the wall three times. All of his & Ingo's teams were contently chattering away, munching or sipping on their late breakfasts. Relay, Ballast, Rollby, Inbound, Turntable, Axle, Whistle, Circuit, Junction, Knuckle, Diesel – Bogie was still outside. That made twelve – Freight floated idly across the room from him, making thirteen. Roasting away your food with flames… Very convenient, he wishes he could do that, instead of worming his way around awful textures. Turntable & Bogie did not have conventional ways of consuming energy, which Emmet was grateful for. He didn't mind prepping meals, it kept them healthy & himself on schedule. It was a lot of work, but it was his duty to keep them in tip-top shape, as their trainer. They looked to him for all their needs, & he provides as well as he can. Sometimes he had considered just ordering a few pre-prepped meals, the healthy ones, of course, but where would the love be in those. The care? Emmet rolls his eyes. There was no point in preparing them something nice if he took the easy way out. Besides, it was usually slimy if he didn't purchase it himself. He pulls his hand from his eyes, letting his arm fall into a heap at his side.

Emmet personally had a small sandwich atop a plate in his lap, & he was happy to finally be able to dig into something. Though he had a table for a reason, it was currently preoccupied & surrounded by everyone eating. Not to mention he didn't really care for sitting amongst the commotion today, it was much too loud when he was already considerably overwhelmed by the loss of his routine. Chandelure watched him from the other side of the room, completely still. He caught her eye, & Emmet waved disjointedly, taking a bite out of his food. She whirred in response, the sound reverbing.

"Just for today." He said, mouth half full. He took another bite before he had even swallowed the first. "I will sit at the table tomorrow." If Elesa was here she'd be telling him to slow down - but she wasn't, & Emmet knew how to eat. Skyla, however, was a conduit to his shenanigans. Encouraging him more often than not to her girlfriend's dismay, usually ending up in competitions to see who could down their food or drink first. Ingo would shoulder it silently until he took Emmet by the shoulder & reminded him of the awful stomachache he'd get later. And the heartburn. Emmet swallowed hard. Yeah, maybe he should slow down a little. Heartburn sucked. The girls weren't here yet, he could afford to not rush.

Emmet pinches the bridge of his nose as he felt a hiccup escape him. Oh come on, he did not eat that fast. Chandelure ambled to his side, noticing his raised shoulders, hand to his face & the sound. Emmet placed a fist to his mouth, smiling with a small 'snrk' as another hiccup rattled him. He waves his free hand loosely, shaking his head. "Not like that, Freight."

She chimes, staring at him. "Really." Emmet hiccups again. His face was free of tears, & after a moment of close inspection, that seemed to satisfy her worries. Emmet smiles - then hiccups, placing a hand to his chest. "Thank y–" Hiccup. He laughs, encouraging the ghost to his side, patting the couch cushion. "I have been okay for a verrry long time. It is okay."

Chandelure rested against him, allowing her floating form to settle onto the couch. Her flames were warm, but he had never been singed before. Okay, once, once, when she was a Litwick. But never again as she learned to control her flames & got older. Emmet hiccups again. This was the end for him. Hell on wheels. He pinches his nose closed, holding it tight as he held his breath. One, two, three. Squeezing his eyes shut he was pretty sure he could hear his ears rumbling. Four, five, six — Emmet exhales loudly, like he was a Basculin gasping for air.

…He hiccups again. Fuck.

Eelektross' head popped out from behind his dining room chair, floating up to rest his head on Emmet's lap. The eel's head prodded his leg gently, pressing against it with his forehead. Emmet laughs, waving a hand dismissively. "I am okay!" He said, hiccuping as he swiped up his sandwich, keeping curious eyes off of it. "I am Emmet! I am okay! I get hiccups! I am not crying –" Eelektross leans into his legs with both of his arms, bumping it with his head, hard. Emmet let out a long, defeated sigh. "You are ridiculous."

A knock on the door caught his attention. He swallowed hard, though another hiccup shook his chest. He groans. "My cab is currently overloaded - Please open the door yourself!"

The front door creaked open. The sight of a red bun, & then a flowery accessory clued him in that Skyla had knocked. She peeks her head in. "You… Okay? You were yelling – Oh!" She immediately cracks a smile at Emmet's conundrum. "I see!" Skyla giggles into her hands.

Eelektross was now trying to climb atop his lap, while Emmet, ever the hungry man, was holding his plate over his head, nearly teetering to drop it. Skyla steps in, beckoning a hand for Elesa to join her. Emmet ignores his friends arrival, trying to wiggle his way away from Eelektross who was persistent on comforting someone who wasn't sad. Or maybe he wanted his food. He probably just wanted his food. Emmet wriggles, trying to gently nudge Eelektross off of his lap with his knees. A large frame ducking under the doorframe caught his eye, platform boots doing her no favours. Emmet flashed her a faint smile, though his attention immediately went back down to Eelektross gurgled delightly against his chest.

"Looks like you've got jammed wheels." Elesa said, though her usual enthusiasm in her own jokes was fleeting at best. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it. Skyla giggles & Emmet groans.

"I am Emmet. I am stuck." He hiccups again — "I have not got to eat yet."

"C'mon you two - you got to eat already. I know you did!" Skyla said, scooping Eelektross off Emmet's lap & Chandelure floated out of her way, politely. Eelektross was gently deposited back onto the floor from under his arms, Chandelure floated up to Elesa's side. Emmet sighs in relief, sitting back on the couch, sinking into the soft material with a dramatic sigh. He smiles up at Skyla, settling his plate back onto his lap.

“Don’t mention it.” She smiles back, proceeding to rest herself right next to him, flopping over into a comfortable position. He knew if he hadn't been eating she would have leaned into him, but instead opted to lean against the arm rest. "So! What's gotcha running late, you usually have a schedule, don't you?" Skyla asked. "You're still in your PJs?"

Emmet put up a single finger - please wait! He took a long breath of air after swallowing another bite of his food that he was allowed to eat at last. "Slept in." Emmet said, his face a little flustered though he did not let his smile falter. "I am not happy."

"That's uncharacteristic." Elesa sat herself on the other side of Emmet, her eyes falling on Chandelure who stayed where she was. The ghost was watching the others eat, still floating where Elesa had stood. Elesa leans back, leaning into the armrest, wearing something far more casual than she usually would. Seems like they were all dressing up to be less recognizable today, he noted at both of their attire being definitely out of the usual. Elesa in one of Skyla's oversized bomber jackets – Skyla matching, although in brown rather than Elesa's blue. Skyla's hair in her usual do, but Elesa's in a singular, black braid, coiled to her head with a hairclip instead of crimped. Always looked like a lightning bolt, in his mind. That was probably intentional. A white face mask dangled off Elesa's ear, pinned down by a pair of plain headphones. Ear defenders, they all knew better.

"Are you mocking me?" Emmet stuffs his mouth as he asked, not really caring for manners. He was hungry.

Elesa smiled a little, though not looking at him. She was looking at her Xtransceiver, nails tapping against the screen gently as she scrolled "Maybe, a little…" Something was bothering her, she says scanning the screen.

Emmet side eyed Skyla, as if to check to see if she saw it, too. She caught his eyes with a small nod. Okay, weird. He takes another bite of his meal. "Verrry odd."

"How's Crobat doing?" Skyla asked, probably trying to cut Emmet off from getting under Elesa's skin. What? He was just being honest.

"She is okay." Emmet says, breaking a piece of his sandwich off to offer it to Chandelure. "I am doing those exercises you suggested." The ghost floated over, & Emmet held the piece to flame watching as it disappeared into cinders. "She does not yet use her primary suspension, but that is not imperative."

Skyla frowns, though nods her head as her gaze fell back on the snoozing bat. She knew better than anyone that a wing could take a verrry long time to regain all of its strength. "Good to hear she's getting better! Sad to hear she can't use her big wings yet, though." Skyla leans forward to cup Chandelure's face with a smile. "It's good to see you out & about, you know!" She smiles wide.

The ghost chimed, twirling pirouettes as Skyla retracted her hands. Despite herself, Chandelure liked compliments. Emmet munched away on his sandwich, ignoring the side-eyed gaze of Elesa who seemed to be waiting for… something. He ignored it though, to satisfy his growling stomach. Did something come up? Emmet fidgets a little, feeling uncomfortable with the gaze on him. He swallows hard, letting his own attention fall on his pokemon. Most were about done, though Haxorus was still preoccupied gnawing through a piece of frozen meat. Better for enrichment, & for her teeth.

Crustle had begun to amble over to his usual basking spot, a spot in front of the windows that the midday sun always reached this time of year. Excadrill was lazing against Garbodor, the two always seemed to fall asleep against one another after their meals. Crobat was lying on their table bench, injured wing tucked up to her side. Archeops was lying beneath her, his little eyes peering up curiously at the other flying-type. "Those two get along alright?" Asked Skyla, following Emmet's gaze.

Emmet nodded his head, munching on the final remains of his sandwich. "Verrry well. He has even allowed her in his tree."

"Oooh, gotcha. That's impressive! He doesn't even let Swoobat on that." Emmet hums quietly in acknowledgment. He stretches his arms out, twisting the one with a quiet pop. He felt kind of uncomfortable between the two while he was still underdressed, he was very off schedule. Emmet usually took much better care of himself, he did not like looking like he was falling behind when he was alright. Especially with Elesa's silence, where she'd usually be teasing him far more than one statement. He looks at her for a moment, just to see her absentmindedly staring at her Xtransceiver.

Emmet looks back down at his empty plate, drumming the tops of his thumbs against it nervously. A hand placed itself on his shoulder, Skyla scooping the plate from his lap gently, nodding her head towards the stairs. "Go get dressed, okay?"

He silently thanks her.

Emmet clicks his hands against the wall, almost rushed as he stumbles to his feet. He felt odd. This was awkward. He was off schedule. He wasn't dressed. Elesa wasn't herself & if he could tell there had to be something there. He flaps a closed fist against his opposing wrist, feeling his hands twitching nervously. "I will be back when I am dressed." He says, back still turned to the two gym leaders, going to tip a hat up that was not there. Okay, leave. Leave – Emmet shuffled upstairs, abandoning the two with his & Ingo's team as he bolted.

——————

Elesa felt awful.

No, that couldn’t even begin to explain her feelings.

She was pissed, first of all. Clay picked her of all people to tell first. Elesa. The woman who's known Ingo since they were ten. Why don't you go tell his uncle? You know, their dad. She thought, nails rattling against her Xtrans as a sharp inhale shook her chest. It was just a couple hours. A day at most. She was angry she had no say in the situation. Of course she was going to respect Clay's wishes. Elesa wasn't dumb. Telling Drayden or Emmet when Ingo wasn't awake or ready was practically asking for the poor guy to be anxious.

She felt sick after only getting an hour of sleep in her own car. Skyla could tell from the look on her face when she had gotten to Mistralton that she was hardly even there. Told her that she was driving them back to Nimbasa. She wasn't going to complain, really. The only time she even remembered opening her eyes was to see the Driftveil drawbridge passing them by. Her head hurt at the thought of knowing one of her best friends was probably a ten minute walk from there. It all felt awful. She felt awful. Like someone had gone & poured her head full of static. She’s faked being alright before. You have to in her industry. You have to when you’ve been undiagnosed your whole life. But this… She couldn’t keep up the facade. She sunk into her jacket, pulling on the collar up to her neck, as she heard Emmet's nervous proclamation that he was leaving.

Skyla had gone & sent Emmet off in a rush. Elesa had hardly even said anything & when she did, it made it worse. She was upsetting him. Treating him poorly wasn't going to get anyone anywhere, even if she tried to keep calm. Making a joke. But the words came out faster than she could think, but her body felt sluggish in response. The way he looked when he realized she wasn’t being one hundred percent with him… It made her chest hurt. Her eyes flit back to her Xtransceiver, opening Clay’s message logs. The last one was around 7AM.

[Clay ▪︎ Sent at 7:12 AM today]

> He’s awake & eating. We’re gonna call up Drayden in the next couple of hours. He’s trying to psyche himself up for it. And it doesn’t look like we’re heading to a hospital, thankfully. Just a black eye.

Nothing else. That was the worst part. No more updates, in three hours.

Just a black eye. Just a black eye, and no recollection of the last four years. Four years. Four years he wouldn't even be able to explain. Covered in so much mud she had to question if he was bleeding until she got a proper look over Clay’s transceiver. His uniform torn to ribbons, wearing some weird hoodie. Found unconscious in a storm outside Chargestone. Ingo had been missing for four years, what happened? Why were they just finding him now? Was he hiding? No he wouldn't leave them like that. Being hidden?

A chill ran through her as she looked to Skyla, who had her back turned to her, watching Emmet go. Elesa sinks further into her coat silently, slumping further into the old couch. They both could tell she wasn’t okay. That she was exhausted. Today was supposed to be about the three of them hanging out, & taking a load off work. But now she’s gone & stressed Emmet out more — then there would be later, she was not keeping this a secret forever. How much longer did she have to wait? Clay hadn't gotten back to any of her messages, yet. She was going to respect not saying anything for the first day or two. Ingo needs to rest & gain his confidence, a part of herself assured her. Clay can take care of him until he wakes up. Emmet deserves to know right now, another part of her said. You're going to ruin his day if you let him know you knew first. So don't let him know you knew first.

An arm wrapped around her. Elesa's breathing hitched as she melted into the touch, hiding her head in Skyla's shoulder. “I'm sorry.” She mumbled into her jacket. “I didn’t get much sleep last night."

“I can tell.” There was a frown in Skyla’s voice as she stroked Elesa’s hair. “Did the storm keep you up?”

She wished it was that simple.

“No, it’s not that.” She murmurs, shifting to make sure she didn’t smear her makeup. The soft rise & fall of Skyla's chest was comforting. Her heart was a gentle drum against her ear. Her fingers caressing her hair, nails gently dragging the black strands back. “I didn’t mean to upset Emmet. I'm just… Really tired.”

“I know. I think he’s just really stressed to begin with.” Was she just going to make things worse for him? Ingo coming back was a good thing, but even good things can be stressful. He looked awful when Clay showed him on the phone yesterday, & Emmet wasn't going to take that well. Clay said he hardly remembered what even happened to him. How do you forget four years of being missing? "But that's what todays for, you know? We're gonna go have fun!"

Fun. Right, that's what today was for… "Yeah. Thanks, sweetie." Elesa shuts her eyes, comforted by the repetitive motion of Skyla's fingers through her hair. Her breathing.

They had plans for lunch, & to catch a movie. Fake it to make it, she thought knowingly. Her fingers clutched at the edges of Skyla's jacket, letting herself rest against her with a soft sigh. It was a lot. She hated being so readable. She really needed to check her texts. No she didn't. She clutched Skyla's jacket like her life depended on it. "Elesa?"

"I'm just tired, I mean, I've been up way later. I promise." She says, looking up at her with a weary smile.

"...Are you sure?"

"I'll talk about it later… How about that? When I'm more awake? Over coffee…" Elesa smiles a little more. It was fake, but putting on a brave face for her best friends was the least she could do until that call came. She needed to keep her composure. Skyla didn't seem impressed. She sighed, smiled & nodded. "Alright. As long as you're sure."

The sound of a soft pattering knock at the top of the steps told them Emmet was back long before his footsteps hit the creaky stairs. Skyla peered over, watching him wander back down, adjusting a white cap atop his head. It wasn't the usual one from his uniform, but it did suit him well. Elesa felt her stomach coil into itself when she noted his scowl, & black overcoat. Sometimes she forgot how similar they looked. "Emmet? Are you…"

"I am Emmet! I am okay." He says, mouth unsure of where to place itself. He dusted off his coat, drawing up the collar to hide his face. Fingers traced the railing as he knocked softly against it, tapping the front of his shoe against the floor. Forcing the shoe on without tying it as he stepped into the living room. "I am verrry off routine." He says, mumbling as he rubs an eye.

Elesa nods her head, tapping her fingers together as she watches him go about the kitchen, scooping up empty bowls & containers. "Gigalith must stay outside for twenty more minutes." He says, back turned to the two of them. Twenty minutes. They could find something to talk about for twenty minutes. "I apologize for the delay!" Emmet says, stacking Durant's small bowl atop Crustle & Galvantula's.

"That's A-OK!" Skyla grins, before looking down at Elesa at her side. "Right? It's not like we have reservations."

"Reservations? I am sorry, this —"

"No, Em. We actually don't. We're going somewhere casual. We might even do fast food."

"Oh." Emmet dumped the dishes into the sink, stacked up in his arms awkwardly. Elesa smiled seeing the couple of everyday items she'd picked up over the years for the two of them. The square plate shaped like rock & wood for Conkeldurr, the Dwebble & Joltik bowls. Even the little red & black mug hanging unused on the mug rack made her feel warm. The matching white one was resting on the counter used, while the others, cloudy blue & bright yellow were beside Ingo's. They had all picked out personal mugs at a speciality shop at least seven years ago. It was a nice thought. That things could get back to normal, someday. Not today, not tomorrow. Probably not even next month. But things weren't going to be completely wrong forever. Not the same way that they all thought it would.

The quiet humming of Emmet in the kitchen was reassuring, even if she knew he was distracting himself. The silence from him from the first six months still haunted her. How chatty he was is a testament to how much he'd let himself heal, really. Elesa masked those months. Her own voice was fraught, & unused during that time. But Emmet… Prerecorded lines kept the subway going, & his scripts only got him so far. It was good to hear him talk so much. It felt good to talk to him so much. A hand brushed hers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles. Elesa looks up at Skyla with a tired smile, which was met with a kiss to the forehead.

"Right!" Ever the punctual timing, Emmet. "So." He trots over, looking down as he fishes around his pockets for something. Elesa rolls her eyes, closing the gap between her & Skyla by kissing her back on the cheek.

"We are…" He looks at his watch, not yet looking over at the two of them. "We will depart at 11PM. This will give ample time to retrieve Gigalith & reroute our current line."

"Whenever works for me. I just wanna hang out with you guys." Emmet met Skyla's smile with his own, Elesa trailed a little behind but nodded along. Skyla's hand rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"Yeah, of course. Of course." This was going to be a day, it really was.

——————

'The Pearl Clan has accepted an outsider with no designation into their ranks. It was alongside the aid of two of their Nobles & Wardens he was found, despite the unrelenting storm that has plagued the Icelands for two weeks as of this writing. He has been unconscious for three days, found just before the solstice. As confusing as this conundrum is, they do not believe that the man has any connections to the storm that has formed above Mt. Coronet. The Commander has decided that until he has proven his trustworthiness, he is not a welcome figure in Jubilife Village.' pg. 51

'The stranger taken in by the Pearl Clan is injured considerably, & speaks in a language that I know well. A Warden of the clan has approached us today, stating that he recognized the dialect as the primary language as one in our ranks. Professor Laventon has been keen on speaking with the man, though the stranger has told him that his knowledge of the language is limited. He knows small phrases & terms but has not been capable of mastery or parsing more than common sentences. He has been able to respond to any questions of his name, though many other questions were met with silence. Some are wary of the man's hearing, believing him to be hard of hearing as he speaks at a much broader volume than most. I thought it would be impossible to rival our dear Commander, but upon meeting our guest, I stand impressed.

"Emmet –" Elesa places a hand on Skyla's shoulder, catching her before she could try and call him back, shaking her head. The other woman gawked for a split second, before closing her mouth and nodding slowly in understanding. 

"Let him get it all out." Elesa murmurs, settling her back into her seat. They were better off letting him have his de-stress time on his own, rather than forcing him to sit down to try and talk when he was going to just space out or spiral. This way, Emmet got all of his nervous energy out and would be in a clearer head when he came back to them. 

"Yeah. You're right…" She says, quietly wringing two hands through her hair. “It’s just. It’s a lot.” Elesa hummed a ‘ mh–hm ’ in agreement, as she rubbed her eyes with a knuckle.

The Skitty's really out of the bag on this one. And had it been any other reason, any other time - she would have kept her mouth shut. Really, she would have. She could have just explained today was going to be a little rough, but let's have fun anyways! 

But Clay's last text. It was so ill timed. It bore into her like a death wish. She couldn't help but let the dread draw up into her chest and cloud her judgement. "Ingo's not sure if he's ready to see you, his team or Emmet, yet, so we're easing into things with Drayden & Iris. Go get some food, & try to relax until Ingo gives the say-so. He's not going to want to see you upset, and you know that." 

Ingo's not sure if he wants to see them yet. She squeezes her eyes shut, breathing just as Skyla had instructed her before. How was she supposed to interpret that? That he did go and run away, but now he's home because he got himself into hot shit? That he abandoned us all?

Shut up. Actually shut up. He'd never do that to us. That isn't Ingo, that's your insecurity talking.  

Still. Insecurity or not, it was scary to think something happened. Something weighing on him so heavily that he needed his space. He needs his Dad. Not his friends or sibling, and that's okay. If she was in his shoes she'd want her dad, too. To help figure it all out. Emmet had gone to Drayden when he needed stability, over her, and she never judged. Because parents were different than siblings, parents gave the type of stability that friends and siblings couldn’t replicate the same way. Both of the brothers looked up to Drayden so much, he was always there for them when they needed him, and he did the same for Iris these days. It was so hard not to take it as a personal attack, that Ingo didn’t want to see them because he hated them. She knew deep down that he just needed the familiarity of home without the smothering she knew both she and Emmet were going to be unable to hold back from. They had the right to fuss over him, but Ingo also had the right to his privacy, and his own personal comfort. 

She didn't keep her word, but she couldn't go back on Skyla, either. She could keep Emmet busy for long enough, until they gave the all clear from Clay's side. 

And seeing Ingo again, it hurt. Oh, it made her chest ache to see him, not as he was four years ago. Changed, different. No longer the stagnant memory of who he was before, no longer fragmented memories and photos long put away into bins or turned over, but visibly worn. His face pulled long, stress wrinkles that made him look double his age. Eyebags that were dark and heavy. The little bit of stubble he had always complained about had grown out into a goatee. What she wouldn't do to pull him up into a hug, and never let him go. To kiss his forehead, smothering him like she did when he inevitably stretched himself too thin. To place his head under her chin and let him ignore the world around them for a little while. It'd been four years since he disappeared, but fourteen to know him. She never mixed up the brothers as they all got older. It was hard to, once you got to know them. 

But that lingering image of Ingo was so, so much. It had been sitting in the forefront of her mind like film on repeat, just begging her to keep it in mind. It was usually no problem that Emmet dressed himself up in darker colours, he liked darker colours when he was off the clock – but when visage of her best friend, alive, who she helped plan the funeral for, who she had countless sleepless nights scouring the city for… It was just an expression. She's seen Emmet frown plenty of times. But she saw Ingo in him for just a fleeting moment. 

It hurt so deep down, it was so, so raw in her mind. And she broke. She needed someone, anyone else to know so she didn't have to carry it alone. Even if she was selfish. She just wouldn't let Clay know she told. Emmet knew how to keep quiet when he needed to, in place of lying. That was one thing she wasn't going to be able to get him to do, which is fine. It's fine. Both Emmet & Drayden had a nasty habit of just staying quiet when they wanted to keep themselves from just speaking their minds, because neither of them knew how to lie.

Elesa sniffled, using the sleeve of her jacket to wipe away her tears and soiled make up. "Ugh." She mutters, drawing away from the now stained fabric. She'd get it washed later for Skyla's sake, it wasn't hers to go ruin however she liked. "I'm sorry. This is… Kinda pathetic." 

Something wet nudges against her hand. She half expected to see Emolga and his wet little nose, but found that Skyla had fished a little single make-up wipe out of her purse, and opened it. She smiles weakly, leaning to press a kiss to the top of her head. Skyla smiled back, shaking her head as Elesa took it with shaky hands.

"Thanks, sweetie." It was all she could manage to croak out, running it against her cheek. Her eyes, anywhere that felt foreign and wrong with caking makeup. Elesa took a long, calming breath, nodding slowly to reassure herself.

"Don't mention it." Skyla drew the towelette from her hands, gently nudging away the excess that Elesa had missed. Skyla hums softly, a little tune she said her grandfather would sing to her. She knew it well, Skyla was always humming something when she did anything. The unpracticed looks, the gentleness. A hand slipped under her jaw, wiping away what had trailed there with her tears. Everything about Skyla was so calming. 

"There you go. Don't be so hard on yourself. This is all pretty stressful." She chides, pulling Elesa's hands into her own. She raised one, holding it in two hands as she leaned in to kiss it softly. Then recoiled. Skyla shook her head, sputtering with her tongue out.

"Sky?" Elesa asked, hand still clutched in one hand.

"Make up remover." She was still holding out her tongue, slurring her words. A giggle fluttered up out of Elesa's chest, as Skyla made a grabbing motion at her drink with one hand, downing some to remove the taste. It certainly improved her mood, the little antics not lost within the whirlwind she created. Skyla shivers, setting the drink in her lap. "That was dumb." She says, sniffing disapprovingly at her tongue. 

"Maybe a little..." She smiles, reaching a hand to push hair out of Skyla's face. "It's the thought that counts though. You're so sweet." Skyla grins, letting her head lean into Elesa's hand. "I try my best." She retorts, closing her eyes. 

They stayed like that for a long moment, allowing Elesa to catch her breath. Bit by bit her heart rate slowed, her breathing evened. No longer did she feel like she was sputtering at every breath, or that her heart was going to beat out of her chest. A few gentle tears still trickled down her face, but they were nothing to her now. Elesa rubs her thumb over Skyla's cheek, nails gently assuring they wouldn't break skin. Breathe. In seven, out four. 

A broken wail cut the air between them, abruptly, making both women jump. Elesa looked up, feeling her breath caught in her throat. She had expected it to have been Emmet – he had a habit of letting his frustrations manifest in the form of vocalizing when words failed him. 

But instead, she found twilight flames dwindling, with two little round eyes set on bearing into Elesa's. The ghost had not followed Emmet away, but remained, fixated in her spot in the air. Oh you poor thing. I didn't even think…

Two hands open to her, making a grabbing gesture. "C'mere, sweetheart." Says Elesa. The pokemon hesitated. She waves her hands again, tilting her head. "I know this is a big deal for you, too. C'mon. I don't bite "

After a moment, she lifted up from her spot in the air, phasing straight through the metal pole of the umbrella between them. Elesa raised her hands, cupping either side of the sullen spectre bringing her back down to chest level. The ghost settled between her and the table after a moment of fumbling, Elesa unsure of where to allow her to rest or where to place her hands.  

God, how does Emmet hold you? She lets her hands rest between her arms – Emmet calls them arms, so they're arms. 

The warmth of the little light was like a hearth against her chest, indescribably warm in a way she had never experienced in the years she had known her. Her fires always ran cold. Skyla's hand reaches forward, running it along the top of Chandelure's glass. "We're gonna go see him later today or tomorrow, okay?" Elesa says, nose curling away from a spark of flame that threatened her cheek.

It was odd to think that ghosts could mourn. Her usual little whistles and chimes failed her, reverting back to the haunted wails of a wild Chandelure. It was heartbreaking to hear. 

"You're running hot." She murmurs, eyebrows furrowed into knotted concern. "Why is that, hm?" It wasn't as if she was going to answer. Elesa coiled her arms closer to her, despite the lukewarm heat that radiated against her. 

"So… What happened?" Asked Skyla, sitting up straight, removing the pressure from Elesa's right side. "Do you have any of the details?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it, biting her lip in thought. "Can we wait for Em? Just so I'm not repeating myself…" It would be easier to go through all the details with both of them present, rather than have to explain herself and accidentally omit something.

Skyla hummed her agreement, hands running through Emolga's fur. The little glider was snuggled up under Skyla's jacket, seemingly caught in a staring match with Chandelure. A quiet chitter from the electric type, and his head was nuzzled into Skyla's side, ears pinned back. A gloved thumb rubbed circles into his little head, just between his ears. "She's just sad." She murmurs. "Don't be scared."

Whether Skyla meant her or Chandelure, Elesa honestly wasn't sure. 

◇

It took about ten minutes for Emmet to come back, seating himself across from them. Ten minutes of pacing, half word sentences and nervous stimming. He doubled over himself the moment he sat, placing his forehead to the table, his knuckles rapping quietly against the bench. His hands pulled over his head, clasping them together, and skewing his cap from his head. 

"Emmet? You wanna talk about it – ?" Was all that was able to be said before Skyla's voice dropped 

"Please come back next week." Was all he was able to muster out. Code for 'Try again later, Emmet isn't here' Elesa was used to figuring out what he meant based on echoes and scripts, this one common enough she understood from the get-go.

"Okay." Hands settling on the now silent, half-asleep Chandelure in her arms. "Okay. We can wait." Elesa runs her hand along the ghost's side, no sound of defiance from the typically picky pokemon. She simply pressed her phantom weight into Elesa, silent. "He's… Safe, if you wanted to know."

Emmet doesn't respond at first, forehead still lain against the tabletop, his leg bouncing nervously. But slowly, he nods his head. That's a good start. "I am dreaming." His voice is hardly more than a whisper. "Dreaming. I do not want this dream." 

"No, sweetie. No, you're plenty awake." Emmet peeked up from under his cap that his hands pressed down into his forehead. Elesa smiled softly, tilting her head in a gesture of 'see?'

"...I am dreaming." He reiterates.

Elesa blows air out her nose, sighing. She gets it. She does. He's had so many nightmares, so many dreams. Ones where she was woken at the dead of night by him calling her. Sobbing into the phone because he really needed a friend, more often than not dissolving into a late night text session. Other times, where he woke up screaming to be swept up into her arms, because she had stayed the night to just make that empty house a little louder. Trying to fill a void that had been left in it. Dreams where he sobbed into her arms, because they felt so, so real. And he was robbed of his brother all over again, just to wake up in a world where he doesn't know for certain what became of his twin. 

"How can I prove it to you? That this isn't a dream?" Emmet was silent, shifting to drag his hat over his head. There were tears in his eyes, that he rubs the palms of his gloved hands into. His hands shook for a time, before signing "You can't", tapping his index fingers together. He then made an X with his fingers to accentuate his point, shaking his head. 

Of course not. Stubborn ass. Can't doesn't mean I won't try.

"If… You were asleep, you don't usually panic in your dreams, right? Because you'd just wake up. You'd be on the phone, calling me to tell me you need someone to talk to. That you had another dream, and it's troubling you. Because you don't know, and that's what's killing you." Elesa furrowed her eyebrows together, then let them soften as she puffed up her cheeks to keep herself from practically unloading all at once. She exhales. "Look. I can't force you to believe this is reality, but I promise you're awake." Emmet gives her a look. "Ingo's getting picked up by your Dad, right now, safe and sound. You're awake! You're gonna see him again, really soon, I promise . It's real this time."

Emmet's eyes cast a glance at Emolga, to Chandelure. To his drink, to his hands - Anything to avoid the two sets of eyes fixated on him. Picking at his gloves, visibly lost in thought as he digested his options. "Okay." He says, mouth unsure where to settle itself, pulling itself into a straight line, as he went back into silence. Elesa smiled softly, even if he was now looking at his hands as he twisted them together, popping one, then two. It's a start. He's calming down, she can tell. "It is..." He hums quietly. "Maybe."

"So…" Skyla started, looking up at Elesa expectantly. She bites her lip, knowing she had to get around to it eventually. She hadn't even begun to share the fine details with the two of them. It scared her. Emmet looked up, equally expectant white eyes peering out from under his cap, but it didn't linger long. 

"Ingo is… With Clay, he's safe. He… He's a little hurt –" Elesa started, knowing that the black eye would be a little hard to miss. So get that out of the way first. She could hear both of them audibly react, not looking up from where she stared at Chandlelure - a gasp from Skyla and a stiff inhale from Emmet. She shot her hands up knowingly, accidentally startling Chandelure, who she had been petting, awake. "He's just bruised! He fell during the storm, that's all. No worries! No worries!" She waves her hands a little frantically, knowing everything she said could have been phrased so much better, attempting lowering her voice to not attract attention. 

Emmet didn't seem to believe her, he stared long and hard, silent with rigid shoulders and stilted breathing. Elesa runs her hand across Chandelure's glass to encourage her back to the lull of sleep. "He um…" 

Where to go with this first? Good news, bad news. "You might be having the daycare workers look after more than just the Joltik you did keep, too." There's a small smile that accompanied those words. "Depending."

A look of confusion spread across Emmet's face, scrunching up his features with a tilt his head. Elaborate please? 

"So Ingo has… Five new pokemon, for your team it seems." She sheepishly recalls, shrugging her shoulders with a raise of her hands. Five entire pokemon. She wouldn't be surprised if Emmet made a stink about it.

"Five?" Skyla asked, bemused. Her gaze fell on Chandelure, the little ghost's eyes shut again, drawn back to sleep by Elesa. "Where did he get five? Why didn't he just…"

That's what scared Elesa the most. Why didn't he take his team? If he was running away, he would certainly have taken them with him. They were an extension of himself and his family. Unless he wanted a fresh start, but certainly he wouldn't have just dumped them in the middle of an abandoned track. Ingo wasn't like that. Which led to the second, more horrifying option. If he had been kidnapped, stolen from them, of course they'd be stripped from him or lost in a fight. It wasn't an uncommon theory that Team Plasma might still be around, especially with the power outage that coincided with his disappearance. It was a better theory than the people who insisted Emmet had been the one to cause his brother's disappearance, citing his known "competitive nature". It made her sick to think anyone could accuse Emmet of anything heinous, let alone insinuating he'd place his hands on his brother violently. 

Elesa shudders, exhaling sharply. Skyla gives her a look. She doesn't meet it.

Where did Ingo get his hands on pokeballs? If he had been taken, or lost, the likelihood of keeping five - six, pokemon, in tow was unimaginable without them. Ingo was a good trainer, but he was not anything like a ranger. And none of his new pokemon were small. By any definition of the word. Except maybe, maybe the Scyther. Which he wasn't even keeping. 

"I don't know." Elesa says, at last, stirring the straw of her drink around as something to keep her hands busy. "I really don't know. I guess we'll find out."

"That is eighteen pokemon." Says Emmet, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to be lost in thought, mulling over the sheer number. "Eighteen pokemon." He doesn't strain the words, his voice doesn't tend to allow for things like that, but she could tell it was a lot to consider.

Thirteen was a lot already, it was a lot on Emmet's plate. But eighteen was three teams. A group of six was hard enough to work around by even the best trainers. She still wasn't even sure how Emmet did it on his own most days. Of course she always lent the odd hand, make sure to help him out with having their needs fulfilled, and helping make their meals from time to time. Emmet's too. He was usually fine, honestly, but some days were worse than others and she could tell. He did the same for her on her worst days. Usually preventing her from ordering fast foods and breaking the sanctity of the "twice a month cheat day".

"What kind?" Emmet asks, clearly having thought it over and now imbued with a new curiosity. "I would like to thank them. For keeping Ingo safe. They are good." 

"Oh, um." Okay, yeah sure. That's Emmet for you. She fishes her phone from her pocket, dragging it open to her last few messages with Clay. She squinted at the bright screen, wrinkling her nose as she tried to find the specific text. It was better to let him focus on something like this than to let him spiral again. Elesa clears her throat. "Magnezone, Alakazam, Tangrowth, Machamp & a Gliscor." She says, abstaining the information of the odd little Scyther that Ingo had given away. 

Emmet froze.

"Verrry large pokemon." He says, rattling his fingertips against the table. His smile was back on his face, but it looked perturbed. "There is not much room…" He trails off, thinking. "We will make room. Because they are family now. Yup!" If you say so, sweetie. As long as he's happy, she's happy. 

Skyla paused, blinking a few times. "Do… You know where he was, in all that time? Did Clay even tell you?" She tilts her head, looking at Elesa. Elesa pulls a long face. He didn't, but it had to be Unova, right? 

"No, why? He didn't… I don't think he knew when he called. He still might not know, depending on what Ingo told him."

"Alakazam don't live in Unova. Neither does Machamp, for that matter. I've only seen those kinda pokemon when I flew over to Kanto and the surrounding regions to see family." She explains, gesturing with the hand that wasn't being used as a perch. 

"Huh. I didn't… Think about that." She says, staring at the thin wall of text again. So where did he get them?

Machamp & Alakazam are trade evolutions, aren't they? Did that mean he was somewhere he was friendly with people? So much so they passed pokemon between each other?

There was so many little things that added another brick to the growing pit in her stomach. Ingo left. He was lost. Ingo was taken. He disappeared in a city black out. Why would he just leave? And why would anyone let him keep pokemon to defend himself. 

"Are we able to go to Clay's home?" Asked Emmet, cutting through her spiralling thoughts like a knife. Not looking up from where he twisted his fingers, tugging at his gloves. "To see Ingo. I am Emmet. I miss him verrry much."

Elesa smiled, too, though a bit sad. I do, too, Em. She shifts her weight but not enough to disturb Chandelure, who whistled out little snores having tuckered herself out. We're all gonna see him again. Aren't we. The thought alone invigorated her with a newfound strength. How exciting. How terrifying. 

"Not dreaming then, huh?" It was Skyla who piped up, clearly happy to see he was going along with everything now. Sweetheart. Give him time. The comment didn't seem malicious, Skyla wasn't the type, just genuinely curious. But she knew Emmet might be a little frustrated by it. She knew how bad those dreams could get. She had them, too. Just snippets of her lost friend, back where she could see him. Memories of when they were children, but it was only her and Emmet. As if Ingo never existed at all. 

"It is still verrry likely." Emmet says, knee bouncing. "But. Good dreams, bad dreams. All the same. I will wake up soon, if it is." He looks up now, staring at the dim flames that swirled inside Chandelure, asleep in Elesa's lap. "Unless she used hypnosis again. Which is likely." He waves a hand dismissively, as if that wasn't something concerning to say.

"You let her use hypnosis on you?" Skyla sounded as Elesa felt, cradling Emolga over one shoulder now. "You know that's not great for you righ –" 

"No. I do not." He says, the bit of onflection that was put into it gave him away. Rare lying voice. Easy to spot when you got to know him. Emmet even cleared his throat, slipping back into his far more monotonous way of speaking as if he caught it himself. "She is not advised to. But it is no different than a worried Blissey taught to use heal pulse." Kind of the same, but not really the same at all. Emmet crosses his arms. "We are derailed. From the prior topic. We should go back to that."

Elesa wrinkled her nose at that. Conversation for another day. "We are, we should." She replies, "But don't think for a second we're not going to talk about all of," she gestures to Emmet's eyebags, "that later sometime." 

"We are not –" 

"We are. Get over it." Emmet made a face at that, but lowered his head, a little ashamed. Sword's sake, she loved him, but the guy was stubborn. She smiles, wearily. He returns it, though much smaller than typical. 

"Ingo wants to start off with just Drayden and probably Iris. They're over there now, he's probably going to spend the night with him to keep from overwhelming him too much. He's…" Elesa trailed off into silence, rubbing at her eye absentmindedly. She had to break it to them.

"Yes?" Emmet was bouncing his leg again, tapping his thumbs together impatiently. 

"He's not… Ready to see the three - four of us." She replies at last, hand over Chandelure's side to insinuate the fourth. "There's um." Elesa looked away, watching the bustling street behind Emmet instead, unsure of how to phrase it. "A bit of a … Catch. If you can call it that." 

"A catch?" Both Skyla & Emmet echoed. Emmet eyed her. Skyla's expression dropped. 

For once, she hated all eyes being on her. Elesa swallowed hard, sinking into her jacket slightly, feeling her face burn. How was she supposed to break it that the only man on Earth who could have answers for them won't? That Ingo forgot the past few years? Haha, sorry guys! Ingo actually won't be explaining anything, ever, because even he doesn't know! Great. Exactly like that. Super mature, very composed. Great job, Elesa. "He… Has amnesia." The words came out quicker than she thought, biting down the imaginary bile in her throat. "He can't remember the last four years. I think Clay used the word 'retrograde'? It - It was late – just before you texted me. He's not going to have answers –" 

Skyla tilts her head, "That doesn't sound right." She says. "Retrograde means to go back. Like retrograde motion, or retro fashion." The allusions were obviously meant for all parties. "Like the past, y'know?" Skyla paused. "...Are you one hundred percent sure that's the kind he meant?"

Elesa faltered. Thinking back on it, she wasn't sure. "I…" Did she misunderstand? Did she miss a word? She was so tired, she might have. "I don't know." She admits, feeling new tears perk up in her eyes. Everything about this, the uncertainty was eating her up inside. Everything was so wrong. She wanted to be happy, she was happy. Estatic, even. Her best friend, her brother, was home! But nothing was right. How couldn't she have seen that? Things weren't ever going to be the same, he went missing for four years. 

Skyla fumbles with her purse, fishing out her Rotom phone. "I don't wanna say you're wrong, but, I don't want to have bad information before seeing him. Y'know?" She preoccupies herself, typing in the term into her search engine. After a moment, Skyla nods solemnly. Elesa watched, silent as she turned the phone to set it down on the table, letting the two of them read.

" Retrograde Amnesia: Describes amnesia where one cannot recall memories that were formed before the event that caused the amnesia. It usually affects recently stored past memories, not memories from years ago. "  

Emmet stared. Elesa felt her jaw clench. 

"He does not remember." There was a smile on his face, but it was biting back whatever refused to come to the surface. His weary eyes and soft voice, though not trembling, betrayed the expression. As if he accepted the concept as quickly as it was presented. Yet the poorly held restraint in his voice gave him away. Emmet was staring at the ground now, knee bouncing, scratching at his wrist nervously. 

"Us. He doesn't remember… Us." Whispered Elesa, mortified. "If - If he does, he probably doesn't remember half of the things we've been through…" 

"You won't know until you see him again." Skyla's voice was calm, but it was clear she was trying to keep a brave face for the both of them. Elesa leans her weight against Chandelure, a quiet whimper of a sob escaping her. Skyla runs a hand over her back, reassuringly rubbing circles into her shoulder blade. "Don't jump to conclusions too fast, okay? You don't know for sure yet!" She tries to smile reassuringly. 

"We will help him." Said Emmet, though he didn't seem entirely certain as he spoke. "We have to. We do not work, one without the other. That goes for you, too." His voice broke at the end. Emmet rubs away tears, palms pressing into his eyes as he buried down his own emotions. Ingo was always the one to cry between the two. "...It does not matter. Ingo is home. That is what matters." 

"You're taking this surprisingly well." Whispers Elesa, Chandelure's little arms raising to hold her. Woken up by the salty tears that now streaked down her glass. Sorry about that.

"I am Emmet. I am trying not to scream, at the moment. Thank you." He flashes a smile, but nothing about it was meant to be reassuring, before letting his eyes drop onto the ground, sniffling. "Ingo is my brother. Elesa is our sister. We will not abandon one another. No matter what."

Her heart swelled, even as a few more tears fell gently onto Chandelure's glass. The little ghost whistled softly. "You're right. You're right." She hugs Chandelure close, keeping her hair at a safe distance. "Sorry about waking you." She whispers, met in return with a low to high note. 

Suddenly appearing in the League, out of the blue in the dead of night was a pretty jarring start from the get-go. His team from Hisui was still on him, & his uniform rang alarm bells in any sensical person's mind. On his sleeve was the symbol of Team Galactic — he really had to explain it was okay, he wasn't being indoctrinated as some runaway Grunt. He promised. When he had remembered being there last, he had been staying overnight until his Mom could pick him up. The week had been full of challengers – and he was having a blast! But it was coming up on the weekend, & Bertha had been insisting he head home for a few days. As to not worry his Mom. The idea of him disappearing on them all was what hurt him most. When did she get the call that he was gone? Did she come all the way up to the League to find him gone in the morning? Countless adults who were trusted to keep him safe, unable to find a trace of him? When did they stop looking?  Even his team had been left behind, they had been in his bag or all around him, sharing the room he spent his time in when he stayed overnight. He knew his Empoleon had to have been outright destructive in his absence. He'd practically raised him from an egg. The big guy was as glued to him as Lucas was to everyone else, neither he nor Empoleon really wanted to be apart again. He had even woken up to him lying against the couch on the first day home, his head placed next to his. Pleading with big eyes that told him he needed to get up, & get up now. But Empoleon had the same issue as Houndoom. Plenty of spikes & jagged parts on him, & little humans are too squishy.

Flint had been the first to notice he was gone, apparently. He had been first to find him when he'd come back as well. Practically shaking as if he’d gone & seen a ghost before immediately questioning how someone could have gotten in at night. It wasn’t hard to explain, the moment Lucas opened his mouth Flint knew who he was. All questions, asking what he was wearing. Where he had been. He told him he’d explain if he helped him get ahold of his Mom. He was on it almost immediately, though almost immediately left him on his own again. He came right back for him, dragging him to Bertha while he went & found his phone.

It was all smiles & tears - ' where were you's ', & plenty more phone calls. He remembers sobbing into Flint's phone, crying on the floor the moment he heard his Mom's voice for the first time in months. They'd both been crying. Bertha had been combing his hair at that point, telling him it was a Honchkrow's nest dotingly, although he could tell she was trying to remain calm about the situation. He still hadn't cut his hair since he came back. Wasn't even sure he planned on it. Aaron hadn’t been in the League itself that night, but he was there in the morning. Lucian had been busy getting Cynthia on the line in another room, she had been home, & awake, so it didn’t take long for her to show up. She had stepped back in as Champion in his place until he was found. Not to mention had been the one rearing his pokemon where his mother couldn't. Barry had offered, but when the six of them alongside his own proved too hard to handle for him & his mother alone, she took them in. Apparently none of them thought to offer his team to Palmer, who was plenty capable of handling the rowdy bunch. And had plenty more space to allow them free range on his hands. The six of them really had been through everything with him. They were ride or die, for Lucas & for one another.

It wasn't hard to get the six of them to intermingle with his Hisuian team, they'd all been through so much with him, although separately. They seemed to synergize well, even if Typhlosion & Empoleon liked to squabble for his attention. He loves them both very dearly, but they are both very big, & very, very petty. Both of his Luxray took to each other well, though his male Luxray, Rogue, did seem to defer to his larger, older female Luxray, Scout. He had to keep them both, it didn't feel right not having a big doting kitty. Even when he still couldn't remember where he'd come from, a Luxray soothed his nerves. She was even more of a mama than Rogue was, & Rogue practically babied him like he was his own kit.

His Empoleon, Luxray, Roserade, Houndoom, Gengar & Gastrodon were the team that brought him to success when he was eleven. His Typhlosion, Drifblim, Sylveon, Scizor, Gardevoir & another Luxray had aided him in closing the rift, & sending Volo for a run for his money. Although when it came down to it, his Gardevoir had been left to the past. When he returned home, he had been carrying a Sneasel, dotingly named Conductor, he had recently caught & planned to train. He really hopes he never thought he was abandoned. It was training. Field work. More information for Professor Laventon, so he hadn't even thought he could have been leaving him behind that day. A sweet pokemon, he hopes he went on to be of help to the Galaxy Team's work. Psychic & fairy types were invaluable, so his dual-typing would have – maybe could have done wonders for Pesselle & the Medical Corps.

He really hoped all of his little stragglers in time had been happy & cared for when he wasn't there anymore.

Was Laventon worried over him? Fussing over a child he'd never see again? Trying to ensure he kept an eye on Akari, hoping & praying that she, too, was not stripped away from him? There one minute, gone the other. Did they find his living space empty, with nothing but the clothing he had left behind & the box of supplies by his door full? Of dirty food dishes, stained by berries, plants & meats for his pokemon. What did they do with the countless creatures he had caught? Did they keep them in the hopes that one day, he may return, & claim them? Or did they release them as he had amassed so many, countlessly losing track of the beasts that he amounted. They were all good. Even the ones he mellowed, even the ones with a track record with the Galaxy Team's Security Corps. Did everyone think he abandoned them?

He had wanted to say goodbye. He really did. Seems like gods don't have time for little things like that.

Lucas hadn't realized how much he had been tapping his foot.

He really should get something to keep him busy when he’s left with freetime like this. But ever since his journey, then his time in Hisui, he really, really hated just sitting still. Especially when he was outside. He had to be doing something, he was always doing something. He kind of wants one of those bead charms you can fidget with.

He had way too much free time now. Getting in touch with other kids from Johto could be fun - they had years of mastering the craft of pokéball construction. He had a few months, & his own were still functional! Although he was really considering swapping his team into more current styles. He liked learning from others, who helped him develop the skill further, long before any mass marketing of them happened. Lucas fidgets with his jacket's zipper, just about flapping his wrist as he did.

A buzzing caught his attention. He checks his own phone, wholly expecting a play-by-play from Barry who was doing an internship with his father. It was kinda disappointing that he couldn't come out with them today - they had a lot of catching up to do, & he really wanted to see how his new team fared against Barry who'd been training with a Frontier Brain. His dad kicked his team’s ass when they were younger.

No new texts, no new notifications. No one was calling. All that stared back was his own reflection & the screensaver he had taken with all twelve of his interchangeable team. Cynthia’s phone however, was lit up face down.

He looked up from where he was sitting to where Cynthia was standing, her phone buzzing against the table, on silent. Oh. He looked at it, then went back to her. She was holding Garchomp's food for her to eat it out of her hands, taking the leek chunk by chunk like Dawn did with her Torterra. Lucario stood beside her, munching on a hand baked treat between his paws. Togekiss rested beside Lucas. Whatever fairy aura they said he emanated didn't seem to wash away his worries, like some said it would. He didn’t have a very good track record with the little guys, as of recently, but his hand still ran through his coarse feathers gently. It wasn't that he didn't like him. He just reminded him of a fight he would have never won without earning the favor of literal gods. And the ire of more.

"Um." Lucas says quietly, looking at Milotic, who had her head resting across his lap, subject to his ceaseless foot tapping. Then to Togekiss. "Could you two…" he laughed a little, nudging the sleepy oarfish gently. Cynthia looked over at the trio as Lucario padded his way to join the bunch, noting Lucas' attempts to wake Milotic. Spiritomb was in her stone, just to the left of him, away from the public eye - so it wasn't her causing issues. And Roserade was sitting beside Garchomp eating her own meal, a spicy berry that she seemed to favor. Cynthia gave him a look.

"Lucas?" Asks Cynthia, finding her gaze on him as he tried to stir the sleepy creatures.

"Oh! You um - someone's calling!" he says, smiling at Milotic who was now slowly raising to her full height. Lucas pats her side, smiling up with a wide grin before looking back at Cynthia. Garchomp snatched the last of her greens. She gave the dragon a gentle rub of the head as a parting touch, as she strode to where Lucas sat. She picks up her device, seating herself beside Togekiss.

"Who was it?" he asks. He watches as Milotic disturbs Spiritomb, her large head resting under the shade of the table, rattling the stone. The spirit flashed to life, crying out in an attempt startle the other. It wasn’t very effective, as Milotic just huffed in her face & rolled over, lazily sleeping off her own meal. He was pretty sure Spiritomb didn’t have to eat, so for the most part she didn’t, but he also had seen her be one to indulge in a poffin or two. That made him smile. Not so spooky after all.

Cynthia clicked her phone open, flicking to her contacts app. "Clay, from the Unova region."

"The gym leader? He specializes in ground types! I fought him when we went over a few years ago! You let me & Mom stay in your spare room in the beach house. Remember when I’d gone & got sick from eating my weight in Castelia Cones?”

"I do. And, yes, that's the one." She chimes, thoughtfully as she questions the call. "I do wonder what he could need, though." Cynthia hums thoughtfully, scanning the phone as she stares at the missed call screen. She looks down at him, curiosity lighting her eyes. "Any ideas?"

"Nothin." Lucas says in response, twiddling his thumbs.

“Me either.”

Lucas was half listening as Cynthia calls the gym leader back. What time was it there? Was it late? He remembered being severely jetlagged when he had pleaded to come along a few years ago. Cynthia was his aunt, or cool older sister, sorry Mom! He had plenty of new Aunts & Uncles, & new friends. Plus it was nice to have someone who was there for him, especially because she'd be the one taking care of all of the paperwork until he turned 18. Or until he lost & a new Champion was named. That wasn't going to happen any time soon. He swore to it. Though he… Really needs to get back into the swing of that. It took a lot of his Hisuian team getting used to all of the artificial lights, & how loud it was. And how much more gentle they had to be, but not too soft on opponents! They just weren’t fighting for their lives any more. People often asked if Typhlosion was sick. Or if Sneasel had gone & grown himself a winter coat. His attention stirred as he caught the tail end of the conversation Cynthia was preoccupied with - "It isn't late there is it?"

"No, as a matter of fact this is probably the best hour you could have called. What is it, sir? Is something amiss?" Cynthia was offering Milotic a berry, the serpent lazily taking half of it in one go.

"I uh-" That sounds bad. Lucas leans forward, looking at Cynthia, catching her expression. She looked perplexed, if anything. He guessed it was kinda weird. But Clay was a businessman, though for what Lucas didn't really remember. Maybe evolution stones. That sounded right for a ground type guy like him. And because he was pretty sure he was related to Lian in some way. "Sorry, I was wondering how much you knew about any old Sinnoh legends. Especially about the Lords 'n' Ladys of Sinnoh, the Deity, not the region."

Oh? What did he know? Lucas nudges close to Cynthia, as if wanting to pry his own way into the conversation. She looks down at him inquisitively. "If that's what you're calling for I can see if I can lend you to Professor Rowan - he'd be much more concise about these kinds of things."

That was her work voice. He knew her work voice. That was her boring voice. But the look in her eye was something far too familiar. A curious glint that he'd seen time & time again. Cynthia wanted to talk for hours about something like this, but knew better after the stunts of so many in the region. Too many people want to know things for the wrong reason, & he's seen it first hand, twice. Besides, what did Clay want to do with Sinnoh? With the literal Sinnoh, too, that is. All four of them - though did Giratina count into that? He guessed xe did. Though it was all written history! It couldn’t be that bad of a question. He’d learned about Hisui & Sinnoh when he took a few years worth of school, alongside his role as Champion.

"Are you certain? I know you've been to Unova a spill to poke around the ruins - you got nothin on say, the Pearl Clan?" Okay. What did he want to know that he couldn't just go find in a library? He knew there was a huge library in Unova. He fought in it! The gym leader was really nice, too.

Lucas takes Cynthia's sleeve in his grip, looking at her as if he wanted to shout to the whole world.

She gave him a look that said ‘Don't. For now.’ Lucas stared back, before pouting. He stuffed his arms across his chest, tapping his foot. He needed to know. He wanted to ask. Lucas felt like he was practically vibrating where he sat, foot unable to keep up with his ankle as it patted the ground. Lucas stands up - he needs to get out the jitters.

Cynthia sighs. Uh oh. "Why are you asking me in particular?"

Lucas looks down, turning to not catch her gaze as he had expected to.

"You'd be less biased towards the science-y type things, than the fantastical. Am I right?" He sounds really tired. It has to be late. No other way. What, was he back in some late night history class or something? Gotta get a good grade so he went to an ex-Champion? He has to know.

"You'd be right." Says Cynthia, looking at Lucas now who stared at her with an expression that could only be described as baby-doll eyes, but from a human. He puts his hands together in a pleading gesture.

"Please? You gotta let me - come on." he says, leaning forward now. "Rowan hasn't even gotten back to us!"

Cynthia hesitates. He wasn’t proving his point. Cynthia relents. She holds her phone out towards him. Lucas' eyes glitter. He steps forward, perhaps maybe a little too excited, taking the phone in two hands although not out of Cynthia’s grip. "And what do you wanna know? Huh?" He outright barks the question, long before he could realize he was being rude. Too forward - Cynthia pulls the phone back with a knowing smile, & shakes her head. Not the way to ask.

"Lucas. Have some tact." She was taking the phone off speaker, tsking quietly, to his dismay. He pouted. The guy - someone he hardly knows - is asking about the exact place he went for six months, & he's not allowed to ask questions? Come on. Come on! This sucks. This sucks!

Lucas pouts, slouching as Spiritomb bumps his leg. He stares down at her. That smile was mocking. Of course the ghost was mocking him.

"Lucas is very intrigued by your interest. Would you care to elaborate?" Cynthia says, standing up, gently taking his arm to usher him towards his Mother & Dawn. "Go help your mother, okay?" She points out they had their food now, quiet as she speaks. Two trays for people but one for the pokemon who weren't Cynthia's. All hands on deck.

He pouts. Okay, fine. Lucas stuffs his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over to his Mom & Dawn, who had ordered maybe a little too much.

"Isn't this a lot?" he asks, as he approaches. He took the tray of pokemon food - a few fish shaped foods he didn’t recall the name of, spicy berries & peppers, he only had Typhlosion, Empoleon & Sneasel with him, so the others had to be for Dawn's but the two other trays seemed excessive.

"Oh! We're just celebrating." his mom said, hand waving away any worries. "Come on, then. I'm sure your little ones are hungry."

It did look really good. And it was a good time to celebrate. Even if he was super, super stressed.

"I - yeah." He kicks a pebble under his foot before looking at Dawn, who was a few feet away with Buneary standing at her side, hopping as she awaited her own food.

"You got a milkshake didn't you."

Dawn hadn't looked up from where she was diligently looking for a straw. She turns to look at him slowly, then all at once laughs, rubbing the back of her head, a bit red faced & smiling. "Yeah! I did… We got one for Cynthia, too - you said they’re still too sweet, right?"

He makes a face, placing a hand on his stomach.

"Right." She turns to face him, placing a spoon on the tray before waltzing up beaming with a grin. "Where're we sitting? Cynthia's pokemon & yours combined practically take up two tables - I know we're outside & all but it’s a little much."

"Oh, uh." He nodded his head to a table beside where Cynthia sat, Garchomp lazing in the sun with Roserade by her feet. "There's a spare one. And don't act like Torterra's any smaller! She's not gonna stop growing, unlike mine."

"Sneasel still hasn't evolved." She sticks her tongue out. He sticks his tongue out in return, blowing a raspberry.

Lucas leads the two of them over to where his mother had set a tray by Cynthia's side, smiling. The woman smiled back, lifting her hand to say ' hello ' , despite still being on call. Lucas sets his tray down at the secondary table, letting Empoleon out first, then Typhlosion, then Sneasel. The trio looks up at him curiously, & he smiles back as he sets their meals down at his respective heights. Sneasel’s on the ground, Typhlosion's on the bench & Empoleon's on the table top. Lucas looks back at Dawn, who's Torterra was blending in comfortably alongside the outdoor decor. It was a pokemon inclusive area, so a team of six was expected of trainers like themselves. Dawn only had Torterra, Buneary, & Pachirisu at the moment. She'd gone off setting her food in the grass by her side, letting the tortoise stay where she was basking in the unusually warm rays.

Lucas looked at Cynthia, her face looked… contemplative, at best.

"Do you know his name?" He heard her ask, as he settled himself down next to Sneasel. He was gnawing away at a few roasted berries held between his claws. Lucas smiled, rubbing the fur between his ear & feather gently.

"What would it be?" Lucas listened intently, knowing this had to be about whatever mystery of Sinnoh that Clay wanted to know. He didn't really see his interest, grabbing at something to snack on. His stomach was growling. He found himself eating some snapped peas, although he wasn't very focused on his meal so much as he was Cynthia's mystery man. Dawn sat next to him, & nudged him with her elbow.

"Feeling nosy?" She teased before taking a bite.

"Little bit."

Cynthia looked to Lucas, catching his gaze for just a few seconds. He felt his confidence die in that moment. She looks away, offering Garchomp another leek. The dragon leaned up, snapping it in half with a contented noise. "Ingo?" She hums, placing a finger to her chin as quietly as she contemplates the name.

Ingo? He sat up, no, he stood up.

Almost nearly stepping on Typhlosion's paw, which he immediately apologized for, putting his hands out in an apologetic manner. He trilled in response, holding a once fish shaped treat between his paws. All was forgiven when there was food involved. He half heard Dawn question his sudden jolt, as Lucas now rushed up to Cynthia's side, almost tripping over his own feet as he did. He caught himself, half way through - hands landing on the table. He breathes a sigh of relief. Cynthia casts him a glance. A look of 'What are you doing?'.

“Lucas?” He could hear his Mom - Dawn was standing up behind him.

Cynthia shakes her head. Kids. "That's your version of the Battle Frontier, is it not? I don't particularly know the name, but-" Lucas grabs at the phone, catching her by surprise with a gasp.

"Please," He says, watching Cynthia stare at him for a moment, unrelenting. She pulls the device away from him with very little force, then turns it, delicately offering it to him. Be polite. Right.

She smiles. It was knowing. "You could have asked." She gestures with one finger. He really hates it.

"I need to know." He replied.

Taking a deep, full breath to embrace whatever conversation that lied before him, he wasn’t very certain he was ready. His hands felt clammy against the plastic case. Lucas holds the phone with two hands as he steals his nerves. He was never good on phone calls. He needed to know Ingo was okay. He needed him to help him not sound insane. He hadn't even considered he could have possibly been from the same time period.

It was an accident caused by Cynthia's own grandparent – never, ever would he blame her – but Ingo had nothing to fulfill except getting himself home & back to his family. He had a family. Just as he knew he did, too. Lucas finished what he had to do. So he went home. But Ingo had no divine task - nothing that ate away at him at night, besides his own past.

Lucas had been lost to something he could not understand, something beyond him. Divine, & holy. Sinister, & malevolent. Like tides pulling against one another until it spat him out as the solution. Something that told him if he didn’t fulfill a quota, that he would never see his family again in so many words. Not until he met the demand. Something that seemed unreachable, as he remembered more, time & time again that he knew more pokemon that existed beyond Hisui. Pokemon he had worked alongside - raised. Fought against & cheered for. Pokemon he adored, hated. That he grew up with - that he had raised, even. It was an intangible task, one that his mind still fought with – still could not get past. He had fulfilled his purpose, but he was nothing more than a tool to a god who saw him as an easy scapegoat. Why did it have to be him?

Ingo knew he was lost. Lucas thought he was a lost cause. His breathing shook for a moment, inhaling again to calm himself.

"You know Ingo?" He asked, maybe a little louder than he’d preferred. He was always a little loud. Everything was always exciting – but this felt like the day he had come home. When he’d been embraced in his Mom’s arms, when he’d wept into her shoulder. When Barry downright tackled him into a hug - squeezed him so tight he was pretty sure he’d been winded. Ingo was lost like him. Just like Cogita said. They didn't have to be lost.

"I do. And from the sounds of it, you do, too. Lucas, am I right?" He had a really, really heavy accent. He forgot about that.

"Yes, sir. Is that why you were contacting Cynthia? I – You. You’re asking about a lot of things I know about. And – It’s really freaking me out. And I know that – that sounds really dumb coming from a kid. I know! I am a kid. But—”  Maybe it was better for Professor Rowan to handle things like this. Lucas took a deep breath.

"Woah, woah now. Hold your horses. Let's start from the beginning'. I'm Clay, nice to meet you." Lucas felt like he was about ready to implode. Cynthia places a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Maybe she could tell he was seconds away from vibrating out his skin. He hadn't told her about the man stranded in time, just like him. He was like family at this point. Like an older brother, or an uncle. Like Cynthia, in a way. He idolized them both so much, they were such big parts of his life.

"...You ok, kid?”

Lucas hadn't noticed he had been tearing up. He had gone silent on him. Cynthia offers her hand, as if to say 'I can take it from here.' he shook his head vigorously. Lucas rubs his eyes dry. "I'm okay. Really. Please tell me everything you know about Ingo. He's a very dear friend to me. Like family. He’s part of the reason I was able to get home unharmed.” There's a pause. He could hear Clay's hesitance. "Did you find him?”

The receiver crackled. "I did. Alive."

Ingo's home. Just like him. It took longer - but he was home. Maybe he had to change something about the past before he could come home. Just like him. Lucas holds the phone a little looser, although the bottomless pit in his stomach did not fade. He was quiet, feeling himself tremble - but his grip was not so tight. He felt less lightheaded. "Is he okay?”

"Did he always forget where he came from?"

"Yeah! Yeah. It was a big deal, too. I uh — I did, too, but it was only for a week or so. But if he wants to talk to me, call me Rei. Okay? I don't really want to explain, but he's not going to know me if you call me Lucas. You really have to trust me on this." Rei was his father's name. It was the first thing he could think of when Professor Laventon was talking to him when he woke up. Just… His dad.

"Alright, one thing at a time. What pokemon did Ingo fancy himself to use?"

"A uh… A really feisty Gliscor, a real docile Machamp, a Tangrowth, a Magnezone. Um." he looked down at the ground as he thought, long & hard on it. He had two others that were really slipping his mind. “Alakazam?”

"You've sold me already.” That was quick. “Don't fuss yourself tryna remember fine details." And that was a first. Lucas swallowed hard. He could see his Mom worrying about him. He flashed her a smile, but it was quiet, & tired. It was unlike him.

"Is he awake?" he asked, casting a glance at his food that had been getting cold as time went by. Though thankfully it was mostly just leafy greens - stuff that wasn’t really warm to begin with.

"No. He's passed out like a sack of potatoes, but comfortable ‘n’ safe with me. That Gliscor you mentioned wanted my head the moment the phone rang, it's mighty protective of him." Lucas can't help but let a small laugh escape him. He nods his head, smiling at the image of the large bat, who always had draped himself over his trainer. Full of malice, but the biggest softy on his team. Ingo didn't mind his big head laying on his chest, he said he liked the pressure. That it reminded him of a dragon he once trained, although its mouth was an occupational hazard so letting it snuggle was often done with safety in mind.

"Is he hurt?" He asks, looking up at his Mom who had gently pat his shoulder with a reaffirming smile. She waved it away as she walked to where his pokemon & his own meal sat. He looked down at Milotic at his feet, then back up as his mother who stood next to him, tray in hand. She smiles at him, & sets his tray down. Oh. "Thank you." he whispers gratefully, placing his hand over the speaker, & she smiles softer, now, ruffling his hair.

"Not recently, that I can tell at least. Though he looked like he'd been flushed outta the sewers, like a half-drowned Rattata."

"He always looks like that." Although a particularly loud strike of thunder that was picked up over the phone sought to prove him wrong. Lucas turns to face the table properly, taking one hand off the phone to take a large chunk out of his salad, using a fork to stab different chunks of what he’d wanted. He takes his fill, munching quietly as his eyes drift to his mother & Cynthia speaking amongst themselves. Lucas' eyes fell on his food, knowing they were talking about him. He picks his food over, mulling over the situation. "Does he have any family? Have you told them? They might wanna talk to us – we have a lot of explaining to do.”

There's a low hum from Clay at the last statement. Rowan might really, really need to explain somethings to whatever family Ingo did have. "Yes & no, it's very late. I was kept late at the gym - it was a miracle someone he knew found ‘m in this storm. That's why I rang up Cynthia - I was lookin' for someone who wouldn't say I'd gone & lost my marbles. Then I got passed t'you. Which wasn't my plan. Not that it's bad, but it's a bit sidewindin."

"Sorry. Right, sorry." he took another bite, holding the phone away a bit as he chewed. "Well I don't think you're crazy. I just wanted to know if Ingo was okay. I don't think I should be the one to handle things like this." Despite what some people might think. “I don’t… Want to deal with things like this anymore.”

Lucas heard a hum of agreement from Cynthia, who had a single hand over her drink as she wrote something in a notepad. His mom was looking over from her own spot. He gazed over at Dawn who looked a little lost at the whole situation. He still had nightmares about being hunted by Luxray, despite his own being very timid. He still had dreams of people who he would never see again. Lucas stuffs his mouth before he can think about it too hard. "I'll pass you back to Miss Cynthia, I just… needed to know he was home. And not dead. Don't be surprised if I come knocking down your door though! I think Professor Rowan would really like to talk to you. Or his family.”

Lucas looks up at Cynthia whose eye met his. He takes the phone from his ear, holding it out to offer it to Cynthia. She smiles, almost wistfully, taking it. She places it between her chin, & her shoulder as she was still finishing writing something down. Lucas looked down at his food, almost shoveling it in now that he had his hands free. Sneasel had joined him, his little grey blue head nudging his side as he begged for a scrap of his food. He looked at his Mom who couldn't help but laugh. She looked so stressed. Lucas tries to smile for her, keeping it as authentic as he could.

"Look at him, Luke. He's skin & bones." She teases, watching him try & weasel his little claws onto his plate. Lucas offers him a snapped pea. He makes a curt face as he sniffs it, taking a cautious bite. "Look at him! Didn't think he'd – " Sneasel immediately spit it up onto the ground, pawing at his mouth. "Nevermind."

Clay sighs loud, exhaling out of his nose as he pinches the bridge of it with his free hand.

He was doing a good thing, even if it wracked his head. He didn’t feel guilty. He knew in his own mind that this was just a bump in the road. But Drayden was … notably fiery, when he was upset. But he hoped the news of Ingo being found would push away any concerns of Clay’s conviction. He would just have to forgive him someday if he got angry with him. Clay lets the eggs simmer as he grabs two glasses, filling them both with water. He sets them aside, alongside some premade toast settled atop a plate.

Excadrill had been sent off in the hopes of waking Ingo up minutes ago. He almost wanted to go make sure that Ingo was alright, that he wasn't just gone again, or that his Gliscor hadn't picked a fight with Mortar. He debates it for a second, then reminds himself he would have heard a commotion far before now. That Gliscor of his would just have to get over it, other people & pokemon were going to be around its trainer.

Kind of endearing the man went & found himself a teammate who never stopped smiling. He wonders, even with Ingo's memory gone, he subconsciously chose it for that reason. A little piece of home away from home. Seemed like those two, the twins, never left each other's sides even if he reasonably knew they had separate lives. They just worked so damn much – Elesa's words, not his. Though the more he got to know them as they made a name for themselves, it became starkly clear that they were workaholics. Their teams, too. Apparently the two worked 6 days a week, for 10 hours. Insanity. Downright silly of them. Clay looks down at the food he was cooking, a little ashamed he hadn't gotten ahold of Ingo's family yet. No, no it was better to give him some time. To help remind him, hopefully. At least know their names.

A chitter from his side tells him Excadrill was back. He grunts, letting him know he heard him, still preoccupied ensuring their eggs don't burn – he was known for not being the best cook. Good thing all three of his partners were keen to a raw diet, else he wasn’t sure he’d ever get them to eat what he makes. He turns his head, half expecting to see Ingo following the little critter, but when he sees nothing; he looks to his side. It was Sandslash staring up at him, begging for some of his own meal. "You already got yer breakfast." He snorts. "Don't act all cute cos you want more."

The pangolin proceeded to place his snout against the counter, acting cute. His eyes were big, claws tapping against the wood as he whined. Clay snorts again, letting his gaze fall back onto the food. "Go see what's keepin' Excadrill so long. We got company, y'know."

Sandslash stared at him for a long, hard minute unrelenting before padding off. Acting like he was starving when Clay didn't even feed them pellets like they were pets. He had to wake up early just to arrange their food, then their supplements, then himself, & now he has a guest. Not that he was complaining. A particularly loud voice told him Ingo was awake - though not startled or alarmed. Just awake. He never had volume control, even as a kid. He could hear him greeting Clay’s own pokemon, quieting himself the more he spoke. Clay smiles wistfully as he turns the flames off, & takes two plates from his cupboard. He closes the cabinet with the back of his arm, his back still turned as he hears the approaching paws of Excadrill. His were heavier than Sandslash's. Less scratchy, more of a thunk, thunk. Not sure how he'd confused the two.

He sets the plates down, lifting the pan & scraping the contents onto the two plates. Clay fetches the toast he'd baked & buttered minutes ago, setting it beside the scrambled eggs. "Good morning, Ingo." Said Clay, hearing human steps join Excadrill's, then the rushed paws of Sandslash who ran in front of the others to make his way back to Clay’s side.

"Good morning. Thank you. I had not realized how encumbered my exhaustion had left me."

Clay gave him a side-eyed gaze. Ingo looked much smaller without his coat & hat, though he didn't look frail. Just … smaller. He was well taken care of, he could tell. Clay couldn't help but wince at the noticeable black eye Ingo had, now lit up by the kitchen light. It was an ugly blue, nasty & stretched across to his jaw. He inhales. "Not a problem. Are y'hungry? You certainly look it."

"Yes, I am." Seems like it wasn't keeping him down though. Clay nods his head, gesturing to his table with his spatula. Excadrill had situated himself atop his fortress of pillows on the other side of the table, lounging in the Sun. He had no clue where Krookodile was.

"Get yerself situated. You okay w'eggs?" Ingo nods, though looked more than a little lost. A little awkward, especially as he continued to stand there for a few seconds more, wringing his hands before he headed for the table. Clay turned his back, taking the glasses of water & sliding one to Ingo.

"You don't gotta be a stranger, y'know." He sets the other on the edge of the table. Ingo eyed the water as if he hadn't been given a lick of the stuff in weeks. He was the same way when he woke up. Clay gives him a bit of a nod of the head, encouraging him to take his fill if he was thirsty. Ingo stared for a few seconds, hesitantly taking the glass to sip.

"I am a stranger, it seems." Ingo replied as he pulled out a chair, seating himself. He watched Clay a moment, as he grabbed up both plates in two hands, leaving the dirty spatula on the counter for a later issue.

"Well that's a harsh way to put it." He sets Ingo's plate down, pulling a fork from a container he had nearby. Clay looked at him, trying to read whatever he was feeling. Lost, certainly. Ingo didn't meet his eye. Forgot about that. "Here."

Ingo took it between two pinched fingers, with a "Thank you." as he placed it atop his plate. Clay pulls a chair out from the other side, though not across from Ingo, & sits down. Didn't have to force eye contact if Ingo didn't want to make it. The other man was just staring at his plate, his face long & tired. Frown pulled across his face, his forearms flat against the table. Clay held off on eating, to pat the top of Ingo's hand. "Stranger or not, yer still a person. People gotta eat."

Ingo looked up at him. Contemplating. He could tell the way he scanned his features, then slowly nodded. He took his fork, & hesitantly began to pick apart his food. Clay felt his shoulders relax, leaning forward in his chair to scarf down his own meal.

"How's yer head feel?" He asked, mouth a little full but it wasn’t unbecoming enough for him to really care. Ingo paused, making a disconnected noise, his fork still in his mouth. He removes it, placing it on his plate.

"In disrepair." Ingo took another small bite, immediately silencing himself. Clay could tell he was trying to be polite & not stuff his face, but the growl of his stomach betrayed him. Clay chuckled at that. Ingo’s face twisted a second, looking a bit flustered, his eyes falling on his plate. "Thank you, again." He says, quiet. "You are… very generous."

"You're plenty welcome." Clay looked at his own quickly depleting plate, scooping up a large chunk of scrambled eggs & just about inhaled it. Ingo looked up at him like he was insane, but didn't vocalize it. God, he had to call Drayden. Just seeing him in person was enough to make his stomach flip, but seeing him like this made him feel ill. Clay taps his fingers against the table.

"Ingo," Clay started. He looks up at him again, silent. "I need t'get a hold of your family, sometime. An' you were sayin' you don't even recall your brother–"

He heard a fork hit the glass quietly. Ingo used his thumb to wipe a small bit of food from his face. "I do. It is just… faint."

"Right, right. That's my issue, see. I wanted to know if you'd be in the right mind to talk t'yer uncle. He's just about th' closest thing you got as a father.”

"I see." He whispers, his hands held at his chest, twisting the band around his wrist nervously. It was peculiar to hear Ingo so quiet. "Do I have a mother, then?"

"No. They both passed when you were young." He had to be honest with him. There was no point in sugarcoating the truth. He'd find out someday, & it was better to let him know now than have him ask for someone who'd been dead for 22 years & dredge it up for someone else. Ingo looked indiscernible. His face was flat, his eyebrows didn't move, his mouth a frown. He was someone who was very, very hard to read. Clay watched him for the slightest changes.

"I see. What of my brother?" Right, right. He had mentioned Emmet to him last night & never explained. That was unfair to him, especially when he had explicitly asked. When he promised he’d let him know. He planned on it - but Ingo had crashed in his arms, exhausted from his day long before he could explain anything about the other Subway Boss.

"An identical twin. Named Emmet." Clay said.

"Emmet?" Ingo parroted, his hand on his wrist stilling as he stared at him. His eyes were at his mouth, watching, waiting for the next syllables that met them. He sounded like he was questioning the name long & hard.

"Yes?" What was going on behind those eyes, he couldn’t tell.

"That is very funny." Said Ingo, it sounded like he was amused. His eyes crinkled, & his grip on his wrist loosened. "That is very, very funny."

He sounded like Emmet dropping that many very's in short succession. Clay cocks an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"My Gliscor's nickname is Emit. Like emitting a sound. Not omit – " He strained the O sound. "Though I… suppose that, too, would work in this situation." His gaze fell on the table, shame washing across his face.

Clay makes a face & Ingo doesn't meet it. "That so?"

"Yes. Something about the name sounded proper." He says, his growling stomach encouraging him to eat a bit more. A bit faster. He takes his toast in hand, examining it a moment before biting into it with a crunch. Clay looks at him, as if he had said something odd. Ingo swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Y'know," Clay says, twisting the gold earring that had been from his grandmother. Dammit Ingo. "Yer brother, Emmet is the exact opposite of ya. Don't think I've ever seen y'smile – but Emmet, Emmet I've never seen frown. Not ever. Not even …" at Ingo's funeral.

"That is… very alarming. I have… not understood why my own face has haunted me. Why it had felt as though I had departed something very important." Ingo places his head in one hand, leaning his elbow against the table.

"How bout this." Says Clay, sounding more firm now. "I'll show y'some photos of your family. Tell y'some names. 'm sure I could even find some of yer old team." He could scour some social media he had access to. Some personal account he'd been added to, & find a few photos of them all.

Ingo nods his head, quietly. "I would like that. I think that may be the best course of action. To help my mind come back on schedule."

"Alright, alright." Clay pats around his jacket, finding his phone in his pocket. He opens it, Ingo watches him silently. He went back to his food, but peered up at him occasionally. Expectantly. He was very curious, now. He tried to swallow down the bile in the back of his mind that told him he was abandoning the people who loved him. Another half of him reminded him this was what he'd wanted, & he was returning to people who loved him, too. He was never where he was supposed to be. But it didn't mean he wasn't where he wanted to be. He wished he could walk amongst both, unhindered by the laws of space-time.

"Ingo?" He looks up. "Lost ya there, y'okay?"

"I am… I am okay." He nods his head briskly. He needed to be honest. He needed to talk about it – last night his voice had been lost, long before he began weeping. "As happy as I am to walk within my own time, I cannot help but recognize all that I have lost. And all that I must work to reobtain."

Clay's face softened. Ingo felt ashamed.

"I know this is the right path for me. That my track must run its course, & I am home. But I, too, have been displaced & the path ahead will be… challenging. I am mourning those I have forgotten, those I remember, & those I must meet again. And I do not know what lies ahead. I am sorry. This is… a lot, to handle alone, & I know, too you are only trying to help. I do not want to overencumber you with my own burden."

Clay was silent, he set his phone aside face down as he nodded. He watched him a moment, before exhaling quietly out of his nose. He nods again, slower this time as he clasped his hands together, pressing his thumbs against one another. "I know it's rough. And it's gunna be rough fer a long time. But that's why we're gunna get y'home. They'll be able to help you plenty, 'n' y'can start healing from everythin', together."

Ingo swallowed hard. "You're right."

Clay turned the phone to him, having saved photos to his phone in Ingo's minutes of silence. It was a lot, to go through images back when Ingo's family was still all together. Images from Drayden, of his sister & her husband. Photos of Emmet & Ingo together, some from events, some were personal. Some were from their work, taken by Elesa who had done a multi battle against the two with Skyla. There were plenty of cute photos of their teams, some of them during battles. A couple where the two twins were shaming one another's pokemon jokingly. "Y'ready to face things, so you can get yerself there?"

Ingo hesitated. He scratched his wrist nervously, his eyes adverting to the floor. His breathing was funny. He took a long, shaking breath as he steeled his nerves. This was for himself, & for his family. He nods slowly, before adding some vigor. Clay took that as his cue as he turns his phone back over, lying it between them.

"This is yer Uncle Drayden." Said Clay, gesturing to a broad, white haired man with an admittedly funny beard, stood between two large dragons. One made of hues of blues & pinks, jagged on every edge. Claws that looked like they could tear someone apart, & jaws that could snap bone. The other was a large, tall green dragon with tusks so sharp they glinted in the unnatural lighting. Its arms were short, but its body was long & strong. In front of the man & his companions was a small, stout green hatchling that looked as though it was babbling through it's small tusks. He's seen them before.

"He's a real tough nut, Mayor of Opelucid City & th'local gym leader. You an' your brother were raised by him. Never knew what happened to yer parents, personally. I'm real sorry I can't tell you any fine details."

"It's… Okay. I am certain it will hurt again one day, but today it is just life. Life goes on."

Clay grunts in agreement, allowing Ingo his time to take in the photo. "Does white hair run in our family? Or am I just getting old, too…"

There's a rumbling chuckle from Clay. "Ingo, son. You're only 30."

"Pardon me?" He'd forgotten how old he was, really. But his poor posture, wrinkling skin & silver hair had led him to believe he was much, much older than just 30. That means when he'd shown up in Hisui he was only… 26. That didn't feel right. He'd suffered through being called an old man by Melli when Melli was, in fact, 32. He'd really like to rub that in his face right about now. He could be polite. He is polite. Ingo is polite. Do not be mean to the other Wardens. Do not start issues. The other Wardens are polite, unlike someone. Ingo blinks a few times, before he snaps his attention back to Clay. He had heard something about his Uncle, though had missed it.

" But uh — I'm just startin' to grey, y'know. Rearin' on sixty. You were only twenty-six when you went & fell off th' face of th' Earth, 'n' I remember yer head bein like a snowy day. It's gotta run in th' family, or somethin'." Clay chuckles. He hadn't heard much of what he said.

"I see." Ingo was silent. He was pressing his thumbs together like Clay had been prior, without realizing. "What are the names of those pokemon? I have… procured memories of one, in the past."

"Oh those three? Th' little ones an Axew, th' big green ones a Haxorus – Axew evolves into that big fella. Th' real vibrant ones a Druddigon. Your brother has a vendetta against that thing, swear on my heart. Elesa calls 'm Gruddgigon"

"Tell me did I… have any of these pokemon, once?" Ingo was looking between the green dragons intermediately, taking the sight of them in. Was it the tusks he recalled? Or the green scales. "The Haxorus. I remember when y'came into my gym, probably 12 years old, with your little Fraxure. I swear it only knew earth power. It was your favourite move, swear to all that is good & green the moment it could learn earthquake you taught 'em it right there 'n' then." Clay affirmed. So he did fight with dragons. That was something he had always wanted to try, but never felt he was skilled enough to do. He still wants to see Galarian dragon types, in all of their ferocity.

"Haxorus." Ingo repeats. He stares at the image long & hard. His eyes were fixated on his Uncle, seeing features in him that Ingo saw in himself. Even his posture reminded Ingo of himself. It kind of reminded him how he would point & call, even if he had no station to supervise. Clay watches him, noting the man's expression as he took it all in. White hair ran in the family, he wasn't that old. He felt very old. Silly sideburns & facial hair, too it seemed. Ingo rubs at an eye, his dry, cracked hands scratching at the skin.

"Would you like to see your siblings?" Clay asks, a finger hovering near his phone as to shift the photo at the drop of a hat.

"I… Yes I would." Ingo says, catching his eyes. "I have been uncoupled for some time. I do not want to be the weak link between us."

"Mh–hm." Clay swipes his phone screen to the side, displaying a new photo. It was of a dark skinned girl, dangling, swinging between Ingo & another man. Ingo's uniform was in the state he had appeared to the Pearl Clan in. Pristine, no holes or frayed edges. No burn marks. No chew marks. No tattered edges, cuffs – his jacket had cuffs. He had forgotten that. It reached near his calves, rather than his waist. Even then he did not smile. This was correct. But he could tell, he was happy. It was small details, like the shape of his eyes. The way they crinkled & moved. Or his nose scrunching up, the posture of his arms.

The other man was a spitting image of Ingo. The same silver hair - grey eyes. His uniform was a mirror copy of his own, but white in colour. His smile was broad. It met ear to ear, & very genuine. It seemed they opposed one another in all fashions – Ingo wore a white undershirt, where his brother wore a black one. He can't help a quiet, sad snicker that escaped him. What a small little thing to do, & yet it warmed his heart to see it.

"We look happy." Ingo says, his voice much more acquainted with his emotions. Louder. He gently took the phone in his hands, staring intently at his own face. That was him. This was who he was. Who he could be again. He would keep the memories of those who opened their homes to him, who protected him. Who he loved, & in returned loved back. Today he needed to meet those who had awaited him. Who he had sought to find, & remember. Faces he would know in time, & names that would feel like clockwork, that click as easily as a turntable. He had so many people to say goodbye to, but so many people to say hello to. Ingo closes his eyes, allowing a tear or two run down his cheeks.

"I am okay." He says, setting the phone down, his band clicking gently against wood. "It is good to see physical proof of myself, as I once was." Clay patted the top of Ingo's hand, gently.

"My cousin, or, perhaps, little sister… What is her name?" Ingo felt the words fall into place like they were normal to him. Brother, sister. Cousin, uncle. It felt right, even if he still could not reach them.

"Iris." Iris. A pretty name. Like the flower. He remembers those from the Fieldlands. He wipes the tears from his chin, & the new one welling in his good eye.

"I see." Ingo replies. No you don't, your eyes are all puffy. Ingo couldn't help but crack a small snicker at that thought. It sounded like a joke he'd hear someone he knew make. He could almost hear the groans, & the pleas for her to stop – but once she made one, the rest kept coming. Clay shifts back in his seat, crossing his arms as he laid his head back. "She's uh. The Champion of the region, she's gotten even better than her old man. Even beat yer brother a few times, keepin him preoccupied, that she is." Clay nods his head, "That she is. She's growin' up fast, too."

That word buzzed in his head. Like he could recall something he had done – where that word was a blessing. Or maybe a curse. "What is a Champion?"

"They're uh. They're the top trainer in a region, meanin' they hold the title. They have t'go against all of the gyms t'prove they got what it takes. Then they gotta face the Elite Four – they're like a prerequisite, even tougher than the toughest leaders. Then if, if they beat the Champion themselves, they take the old one's place. Y'see?"

Ingo pauses. Yes, that sounded familiar. It reminded him of campfires. Campfires & electric pokemon. Thunder stones & tiny jolts of electricity. Metal pokemon that could never seem to sit still, always fussing the other's company in their joint bodies.

Or Campfires alongside Gaeric & Calaba, at the beginning of summer. Where Lian had begun to shown him a thunder stone he had procured just minutes before, with the assistance of Ursaluna. The small boy sitting alongside him, between the large bear's head, who snored as the boy rattling off about the two pokemon he knew that could evolve with it. Of those pokemon's specialities, of their weaknesses. About Irida's father who had a Jolteon that evolved with such a stone. And of a cheeky Raichu who had tried to steal from Lord Kleavor's offerings right in front of him, while the Noble ate.

Ingo remembers fondly ruffling the child's hair, asking him if he would like to see the effects of a thunder stone in person. It was to the other Warden's dismay when the child agreed. Lian had shook Ingo by the arm & pleaded with him to let him help a pokemon evolve. To see it first hand.

Ingo had drawn out his Magneton - Velocity - their trio heads twisting & churring at the sight of the four Wardens. Calaba seemed almost a little frightened by the mechanical triplets, but Ingo insisted they were harmless. They were. He nodded softly, assuring her with his expression. She trusted his judgement. He suspected the calmness of Ursaluna to play a part in that. The large bear hadn't even moved, let alone make a sound.

' What is it? ' Had asked Lian. Ingo had no reply, but knew deep down it evolved upon contact with a thunder stone.

' I do not recall its name – but its origins reside within my time. I discovered it within a rift. Or more, they discovered me. Their name is Velocity. '

' Velocity. ' Came the echoed voice of Lian. Ingo nodded. Gaeric was surprised to find he named his partners. Ingo explained it made him feel closer to them. To give them identity. He was just glad the man didn't seem to question his usage of pokeballs, such as the Galaxy Team's ranks, having forgotten their inexistence amongst the clan. They felt right. The shape was wrong, but the form was correct. Ingo had looked to Lian, the boy eyes a glow as he held the stone in one hand. Having a competition with the pokemon, making faces back & forth between the two.

' What do you say? I believe it is time to help them along to their final stage of life. '

-

Magnezone rested in his coat pocket, just a mere room away. Ingo was silent. His motions had stopped, his hands just resting against one another as he stared blankly at the table. When he remembered he had been holding a conversation, Ingo slowly, almost robotically turned to look up Clay. He blinks a few times. The older man gave him a look that begged to ask if he was alright, but Ingo just looked down at his brace. "So it is … a gauntlet to test your strength & resolve?" Ingo asked at last, his words didn't fit in his mouth. They felt clunky & unused.

Clay was silent, for a long moment. He watched Ingo twist the band around his wrist, palm ignoring the carved feather of Sneasler's visage pressing into his inner hand. The wood & metal were a comforting touch to his hands, though he was certain he would be handing away the item to Clay, when the time came. Or perhaps he would keep it, as a remnant of his responsibilities. He presses his knuckles to his face quietly, leaning against his hand.

"I suppose y'could say that." Clay replied, at last. He had noticed him drift away, spaced out & got caught up in his own head. Ingo ignores fact. It was easier to think that everyone was just as oblivious as he was. Ingo hums, quietly, letting his gaze fall back onto the image of his siblings as he tried to detach himself from the memory of his fellow Wardens.

Emmet was a spitting image of himself, but in a contrasting uniform & features. The uniform. "Zoroark." Ingo whispers.

"What's what?" Asked Clay. His gaze was tunnel visioned on his attire. His expression. That's why his tormentors were so effective. Their red & white coats that couldn't quite mock his jacket & cap. Their not right forms met him with a gaping smile as they mocked him. They were reminding him of Emmet, unintentionally. They were mimicking Ingo, but his subconscious was screaming that it wasn't him. It was someone else. Someone he loved trying to tear him apart, just to turn into snapping, drooling maws. Teeth that bore close to his throat, & snapped like a famished Houndoom, but with the strength of a human man. He remembers the almost human whimper it made when Machamp flung it into a snowbank. The blood that pooled at his fingers, where he hadn't realized it had tore into his sides. Ingo felt his breathing rise. Ignore it. It was hard to forget things like that. Ignore it. He had a twin. His twin. Emmet. That was not a Zoroark. He is safe. He is family. He would not hurt him.

He knew Clay was watching him. He didn't really care. Ingo was used to being observed by others. "Nothing." Ingo said, looking at the photo longer, just taking the sight in. Ignore it. A brother. A sister. I like winning more than anything else. "Was one of them… particularly competitive?"

Clay chuckles. It made his shoulders shake, & devolved into full blown laughter. It was loud. It was a warm belly laugh, but Ingo couldn't find comfort in it. He just waited, feeling a little mocked. He blinks a few times, taking a shaky breath. "Ingo, yer brother & you were some of the most competitive duos I've done near ever met. Emmet – God, he's a sore loser. Nice about it, don't get me wrong. But y'were always more humble, always cheerin' for the opposin' teams, even when ultimately y'lost." Clay faked wiping a tear from his eye, with a sigh of amusement. "God, I think he almost tore my head off when he went 'n' lost the first time you came t'my gym. You both did. Came back with a little Klink & tore my team a new one with the little guy. You two bein so set on a fire type 'n' an electric type did y'no favours."

"What… pokemon does my brother use? Does it evolve with a thunder stone? Is it steel? Or - have more than one head?" Ingo asked, absentmindedly searching for Magnezone's ball before realizing his jacket was gone. He had been noticing the change in pressure over his shoulders, & had been trying to ignore he only has Gliscor at his hip. But now it was stressing him out. He reasonably knew his jacket was filthy, but the weight of his team holding it down & the collar against his neck was stabilizing. He pulls his hood closer to his neck, trying to replace the lost sensation. Ignore it. "I have… a partner who I recall being familiar with."

Clay hums at that, curious what he could mean by that. "Beats me." Ingo visibly deflated at the comment. Clay put up one finger, as if to say hold on. "I can fish up a photo of your teams, though. See if it rings any bells."

Yes, yes that would be good. Ingo placed his hand on Gliscor's ball, holding it in his hands. He had to be hungry by now. Soon, he promises. He'd repay Clay anything to help him feed the six of them. He always had such a debt to pay for his kindness. Ingo's thumb traced the shape of the carving, absentmindedly, hoping he wouldn't be too fussy when he let him out. He hadn't been too happy when Excadrill had come & woken them up, hissing at the mole. Ingo had withdrawn him before either of them could start a preemptive fight inside a house. Clay took the phone, turning it to its side as he showed him a wide photo. Ingo looked up at the sight of motion, pushing down the worries of his current team. He hopes the ones of his past didn't see them as replacements, but as new friends. Ingo gnaws on his bottom lip, as he scans the photo.

It was a large, open space. With large columns, & tiled floors. It was far larger than any building he had seen in quite a long time. It rivaled that of the Galaxy Hall, with its large red floors & plaster walls. These looked like they had a dull shine. The photo was taken from a far angle, with the two twins on either side. Ingo was to the right, his hand on his cap but arm in that signature point & pose of his. Haxorus, he remembers Clay called it, stood at his side. Its head was reared back in a smiling roar, its tusks threatening to bat Ingo's hat clear off his head. At his waist floated a pair of twin gears, bound by a third, faceless set. It reminded him of Magnezone. Yes, this was the one that drew him to them when they were just a Magnemite. A little thing that had followed him out of a rift, that danced at his hands. Not zapping him, nor ramming him with their head. Just a small little thing that found a kindred in Ingo.

A broad, beige pokemon with a strained frown & bulky arms stood underneath the twin gears. It had pink, almost vein-like protrusions that reminded him of backpack straps. It even had a little goatee like Ingo had grown - to make his reflection seem less familiar. It was a little funny to see little things in his own team that he had in himself. An Excadrill posed dramatically, with its arms thrown out on both sides of it beside the bulky pokemon.

He needed to address the elephant in the room.

The twirling lavender flames that illuminated his face, lighting his silver eyes. This was his partner. Was. The steel handles of the ghost reminded him of Magnezone, yet he knew that it was not a steel-type. He remembers her. Yes, he remembers her. Freight. That word brought a bubbling, laughing smile to his face. Tears welled in his eyes, but he rubbed them away as quickly as they sprung up. Yes he remembers her, catching her alongside Emmet. They had found her clinging to Ingo on a camping trip they had taken, the little ghost clinging to Ingo like a lifeline. He had a different name then. It was dead to him if he found it in him to change it. Ingo thumbed away his tears, laughing quietly. Oh & Emmet. Emmet, he knew it would be stressful to see him again. He knew it was going to take so long to remember every small idiosyncratic detail. Everything he'd been trying to claw to remember. It was going to be hard on them both, wasn't it?

He would be a stranger in a home that had known him for years. To people who knew his face, every little thing about him. But he could not do the same. Pokemon were so much easier to come back to, he thought. But he needed to see his own family. He wanted to see his own family. To meet the man who haunted his mind & memories – as a ghost. A reminder that what once will never be. But it could be. It would be. He had family.

"I want to talk to them." Ingo says. He felt certain. Determined. If speaking to Rei helped him remember his dear partner, what would speaking to his family do for his recollection? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure at all. But he's been a stranger before, & he could do it again. This time it would be harder to be a ghost in his own home, rather than an outsider in a world that was never his. "I do, I… I am not ready at all. But I believe this is the point where I step over the yellow line – allow myself to stand on the tracks, & follow them to where they lead me. Even if there is oncoming danger."

"Right. Right." Clay replied. Ingo had so much to digest. His fumbling hands popped open the latch of Gliscor's ball, the bat swinging its large arms around his neck, ignoring the other three pokemon he had upset earlier. Ingo leaned into his side, the bat clinging to the edges of the steel chair he sat in. He placed his head against his chest, he felt the churr that rumbled from him as he did. Ingo clasped the ball shut, closing his eyes as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was tired, even with some hours of sleep, & food in his stomach. He was sure Gliscor was the same, & he hadn't eaten since he left Lady Sneasler her own meal.

Ingo always fed the six of them afterwards, though he made sure to wander off from Lady Sneasler's den. She wasn't keen on other pokemon trying to set up in her territory, especially not when little kittens had just hatched. Her third litter. Her successor had been born years in the first litter he had been there for. Helped raise her from a little hatchling. These ones were only to be her own. He wouldn't be there to see her heir evolve, or take her mothers place as Nobility. Maybe he didn't want to be there when his dear friend passed. She had already passed, he noted bitterly. Pokemon don't live forever. Ingo hid his head in Gliscor's chest, who whined quietly, chirping to get his attention. He needed to eat. All of them did. Ingo sits up, sturdying himself, although Gliscor's pincers did not move. Clay had been watching him, the man silent as he allowed him space. He set his phone on the table again, a number displayed on it. "Call him when yer ready. You just have’ta press that green button there."

Ingo nodded. He looked up at the bat who rested his head atop his own. "I will repay you, in whatever way possible, when I am able. But you would not have food for five pokemon, do you?"

Clay looked at him dumbfounded. He put an arm on the back of his chair, leaning back in it as if to gauge his own supplies. He looked back at Ingo with a slow nod, then tipped his hat back. "Yea, I got some."

"We may need to feed them outdoors." Ingo warned

Clay stares at him, smiling with a cocked eyebrow. "That so?"

Ingo nods. "Quite, I am afraid."

Clay laughs, clapping his hands together with a firm nod. "Alright, give me a few minutes." Gliscor leans forward, sniffing him in an expectant, investigative way. Clay smirks. "You wanna be friendly now, big fella?"

The bat sneers with a flash of his fangs. Ingo rolled his eyes, scratching him behind the ears. He immediately stuck his tongue out, & coiled back into a more passive demeanor. "Did he cause you problems? I saw he was asleep at my side when I woke."

"Just a few glares. A hiss or two."

Ingo looks up, catching his orange eyes, with a scornful stare. Gliscor looked back a little abashed. He leans down now, placing his head on his shoulder as an apology. "I appreciate you being so kind to watch over me, but we do not disrespect our hosts." He pointedly holds a finger out to him.

"It's fine, Ingo." He peers at him, side eyeing Clay, then nods. As long as he says so. "Lets get somethin' in his system. Might help that temper of his."

Gliscor sneered. Clay shot him a similar glance. Ingo laughed.

-

They had taken to the outdoors to let the rest of Ingo's team out. It was with wide eyes that Clay agreed this was a much, much better space for them all. All of them he could place a finger on, they were all from the same three or four regions. They all bordered Sinnoh or were native. But the size of many of them was impressive. Ingo certainly didn't choose small teammates. Five of them needed meals. The sixth was Magnezone, inorganic, which perplexed Clay to the manner that Ingo obtained it. It floated beside the man as Ingo finished passing the final meal to a large, rocky insect. Clay knew exactly what the creature was, & where she came from. He wouldn't bother her during her meal, but he watched the Kleavor with baited breath. "Ingo," Clay began. The other man looked up from where he crouched, setting a tray of pellets Clay left lying around down for his least fussy eater. For the most part, his team was mostly made up of herbivores, content to a bowl of some of the berries that Clay offered. But he had a limited amount, & didn’t grow them himself. Tangrowth was picking them apart with her long hands beside Ingo & his Alakazam, who was now holding the bowl, scarfing the odd food down without question. When he had offered it to any of the carnivores, they gave it a discontented sniff then turned their nose up at it. Gliscor was preoccupied gnawing on his insect-only meal. Sandslash & Excadrill had plenty to share, fair was fair.

Kleavor was content to mostly berries, although was given a share of the insects Clay had offered to the insectivores. He knew Kleavor's eating habits like the back of his hand. Ingo wipes his hands against one another, tipping his hat up, as he turns to Clay. He was still slouching. "Yes?"

"Is that…" His eyes drifted to Kleavor. Ingo jolted, realizing something as he lifted up the insects' own food, fumbling with it as he did. The man nodded to the large creature, offering a berry to her hesitance. "She cannot eat comfortably without aid or an elevated surface." Said Ingo, "Thank you for reminding me." He was holding a berry out in his palm to the mantid, who leaned forward & took it with unprecedented gentleness.

Clay's brow furrowed. He approached the two, the pokemon looking up from Ingo to lay her eyes on Clay. White eyes narrowed, then widened. Slowly she staggered forward, near taking Ingo's foot under her blades - thankfully he shuffled backwards, his shoulder bumping into Clay's as he scampered out of her way. Clay reached a hand up, placing it on the pokemon's pointed face. "I remember you." He says. It was long ago. When his grandfather still lived. When he was raised in the same home as the child of the Noble, deceased Lord Kleavor. When the Lord passed, Lian revoked his title as a Warden. He was replaced by his own kin, of course, but the young Scyther was not enough to dull the ache he felt for his Ward. His best friend, he remembers. He couldn’t live with the idea of him being gone. But here was one just before him, living. Breathing. She clicks, pressing her head against his cap, tipping it up & off of his head. Clay laughs, wrapping his broad arms around her thin, craggily waist, careful of the saw-like shoulder blades. The pokemon nuzzled into his shoulder gently, as to not scratch him. "Hello, old friend." Clay whispers. "I have not seen your likes in a very long time."

Kleavor churrs as Ingo lifts Clay's cap from behind them, dusting it off gently, holding it to his chest. "I believe she thinks you are Lian."

"Let her." The answer was immediate, backing up to scoop up another berry off the platter Ingo still held. The other man offers it to him, & Clay takes it graciously. He’d do this in a heartbeat. He holds out the cheri berry out to the mantid. She stares at it a moment before taking the berry in one bite. Clay smiles, looking at Ingo. "Where did y'manage to… Is this where th' other egg went off to?"

Ingo stared at him a moment, before tipping his hat down with a nod. "Warden Lian thought it would be best if I raised the Lord's last kin. That, should the time come, she would be ready in her fathers stead & not without training."

It was odd to hear him speak so familiarly about the family Clay had lost years ago. It seemed like they’d both be reacquainting with their pasts. "Right." Clay said, taking a half insect out of the bowl to offer it to Kleavor. There was no hesitance this time, taking it hungrily between her incisors. "Atta girl." He held it until she had a firm grasp, gnawing through it thoroughly delighted at her meal. He smiles. "My grandfather had brought along one of the Scyther from the final clutch of eggs, & with it, some of the final black augerite he could manage to find. I lived alongside him, in some of his final years. This would be his elder sister, then."

"That would be… correct." Clay hums at Ingo's hesitance. He looks at the man, who looked about ready to crawl out of his skin. He's jittery nowadays. That wasn't there before. Clay lifts the last of the berries to Kleavor in his palms. He could see Ingo turn away in the corner of his eye. He watches him settle himself next to Machamp, who to his surprise, was a herbivore. They were just notably territorial & strong to protect young Machop, it seemed. The man had since put back on his jacket, as dirtied as it was, & pulled the collar up close to his neck. Clay looked back to the Kleavor, who was now staring down at him intently. "I got nothin' more, I’m mighty sorry my friend."

She stared at him a moment, but then turned herself - large blades striking the earth to ground herself. It was a sight to see. It had been a long, long time. He remembers picking berries for his own friend, knowing he would be unable himself. That his blades did not allow his the same accessibility it did when he was young. Where did the time go? The mantid sauntered away, resting herself next to Tangrowth. The large beast did nothing but drag her own meal away from her with a huff. Clay snorts, before turning his attention back to Ingo. He had been watching him. It was obvious, the way his eyes darted to the ground, his hands fidgeting with the clasps of a pokeball. His Magnezone rested itself beside him, all of its gadgets twisting & whirring. Ingo place a hand against it gently, rubbing it’s head with his knuckles.

It was a good distraction for both of them. The dread of calling up Drayden was starting to weigh on his shoulders, & he wasn't certain how he'd react at this point. He certainly was going to have a few words when he saw Ingo, battered up the way he was. And he wasn't sure how to explain the obvious. Ingo had been sent back in time, & it was scary to wonder what got him there in the first place. Clay had heard rumours about it before, but never really believed them. But when Ingo kept talking. When he saw his attire, he knew that some rumours were true. That he couldn't just be making this up. No one could, besides himself. There was so little written history of that time, despite it being just at the turn of the century. It was why that Chandelure of his could never find him. They were known for recognizing souls, weren’t they? The different energies of other people, the manifestations that humans could never seek to understand.

When he saw the ghost at Ingo's funeral, when he heard that the poor girl didn't leave the man's room unless Emmet made her, to try & lift her spirits. Everyone knew Ingo had to be long gone. That she would have far more hope, had she been able to find him that day. She was the last to be seen with him. She wouldn’t budge, despite Chandelure as a species being used to find humans, in odd occasions. Some even tried to say that the little phantom had done the deed herself, the pokemon known for the rumours about its life-stealing nature. Some even tried to say that Emmet had gone out of his way to dispose of his own brother. Clay didn’t buy it. Chandelure had been found within a long since blocked off section of the city’s underground. He remembers reading in the papers that they had been built into an unsafe cave system, walled off long before the twins had even been born. It took experts to try & search the caves, to see if Ingo had been lost within them. But when humans fell short, & scent pokemon only ran in circles, it was obvious. There was only one Subway Boss of Nimbasa City, & that, too would not last.

Yet here he was, resting in the Sun that peered through the clouds. It’s warm rays warming the ground. His skin not gaunt, or rotting off the bone. Not feet below the earth, but here before him, enjoying the Sun as it met him kindly. Resting among pokemon he loved & trained by. Allowing the wind to carry his overgrown hair with it. Hat resting over his eyes, like a shield. Clay’s own resting in his lap, awaiting it’s owner to retrieve it. Ingo was alive. Now it was a matter of getting him home.

Ingo looked up & around, attempting to sit up without disturbing his partner. Where was he? Oh, oh right. This was not his dwelling. Ingo felt an awful twinge in his stomach, though that might be his bruises. He remembers now. He had woken up somewhere very strange, in a forest, just outside a field of tall grass. He awoke to the soft nudge of a nose against his skin, & the rain that dripped from the trees above. Surrounded by pokemon who were curious of his presence, sniffing – clicking all around him. Some reminded him of small Stantler, though with a warm orange coat, having not yet donned their antlers. Little mushrooms that stared at him curiously, & small, yellow insects that made his hair stand on end. Swaddled green insects that tried to fuss over Ingo, with a particular care to his injury. It was endearing, he had seen them before. Ingo had paid them his thanks before departing. Dusting off his coat & trying to find his bearings. To find another human being. It was very odd. Very disorientating. At first he had considered Lady Sneasler had taken him somewhere in his sleep, leaving him unattended. As if she considered that he was in danger. It had happened in the past, she had saved his life from an impending rockslide onset by quarreling pokemon. It was very jarring then, & it was jarring now. But he met with a man who recognized him, yet Ingo himself knew did not belong to any Team, Guild or Clan. Who knew his name before he uttered it, who was willing to set him back along the right track, after a very awkward beginning. Clay, he reminds himself.

After countless years, & where his memory still failed him. He had returned to his initial station, just as all conductors should. It was not without a cost. Ingo fumbles in the dark, finding that his pokeballs - nor his jacket - were not on his person. He looked at Gliscor, who would never be so calm if he believed the two were in danger. Therefore, Ingo felt no need to panic. He cast a glance at the warm, orange light that beamed into the room from the doorway, determining in the dark what it illuminated enough for him to see. Gliscor was obvious. The coat rack & proceeding closet also caught his eye, although the former & latter was empty. He looks down at the foot of the bed, contented to find his jacket had been laid across it. He silently thanks Clay for not putting him, or his team far from one another. There they were.

"Please depart, Gliscor." He says. The bat's ears perked – then drooped, at the notion of no longer being warm & comfortable. He made something of a chirping noise as he crawled to the foot of the bed, where his jacket remained & laid himself down beside it. Claws hid his orange eyes that glowed as they bore down on Ingo from beneath the pair. Very cute. Ingo leans forward, snagging the torn collar of his jacket pulling it close to him. He held it between his arms, before hugging it, placing his head against the mangled fabric. Why this of all things was a comfort item, he wasn't sure. But for now, he knew it held his team. He rummages for his pockets, sewn into the inside of the jacket – it was like he had a special place just for pokeballs, once upon a time. They had always been an integral part of his life. They always… Ingo sighs quietly. They were all much too large to release in someone else's home. And far too noisy. But the comfort of laying his eyes on them all was enough to settle his nerves that were far beyond shot.

"Tomorrow we will be back on schedule. Until then we will have met a delay." Perhaps he had intended to be much quieter. But it was like second nature, & his tired mind had far too little time to respond to his own pitch. He covers his mouth with two hands for a moment. Ingo leans to his side, peering at the cracked door, attempting to ensure no one was coming to tell him to quiet down — His eyes slammed shut as his insides protested. Ingo bites down on a hand, trying to ignore his clearly bruised ribs. When he heard no response - no footsteps, nor voice, he assumed he had not been much of a disruption. Disruptive passengers were to be let off at the next stop! He really just wanted to wait out the storm. If he hadn't recognized the man — or this place. He would have already left, in the hopes of finding shelter elsewhere. But he was a friend, where his memory was hazy. And he was the grandchild of a boy he'd call his own. So he couldn't help but stick around. If things got worse for wear he knew how to defend himself. But he hardly thought that'd be an issue.

Ingo swaddled his pokemon's pokeballs together, coiling the arms of his jacket around them. Typically they would all be out with him - enjoying fresh air as they got some well earned rest. Gliscor was always his self appointed guard, however. Protective of him. Maybe it had to do with his broken arm, when he had first caught & begun to train him. Maybe he just never unlearned that Ingo could, indeed, fend for himself. He appreciated him.

Ingo traces his thumb over the engravement he'd put on each pokeball, noting that it was in fact his typical … no, that was Kleavor's ball, rather than Probopass'. He really wasn't sure what that would do for the alpha. Or how he could have possibly mixed up her ball for hers. He furrows his brow, but notes the rest were all accounted for. Each one marked with the letter of their nicknames. It was relieving to have this piece of himself still intact. Gliscor let out a low noise, although it didn't concern him. That noise told him he wanted his attention. Ingo offers his hand, & Gliscor nudges it with his head. He meets the smile with his eyes. He was so sweet, despite his track record.

"Thank you. You are very valuable to me." He says. Gliscor places his claws, closed, on either side of Ingo's hand. He nods, rubbing his soft head with his thumb. "I do not think I would be here now, had you not been by my side. I believe we are both very tired." He says, drawing the blanket over his shoulder as he lies down.

Gliscor stretches out, his tail dangling off the edge of the bed. Ingo took a deep breath. And held it.

After a moment, he sighs - putting an arm over his eyes. If he stopped & listened, he could hear the pattering of rain all about him. He could imagine he would wake to another day's worth of Melli's gloating. To mountain air, & the chirping of young Starly, awaiting their mothers. Where he would fetch crunchy salts to offer to Lady Sneasler, before heading along his way to ensure the safety of Wayward Cave. Then to … No, he wasn’t going to be doing that tomorrow. He was petering out of steam at a rapid rate, & his headache. His whole body ached, but he attested that to doing more physical labor than he's ever done in his life.

Who was he before? He’d always have someone else filling in those blanks, just hoping he would cling to the idea & remember. He didn't really want to think about anything. It was hard to think about anything. He didn't want to think about his past life, his current life — his now. He's been travelling down these tracks, blind & without a guide for so long. What if he loses himself again?

How many lives were uprooted at his sheer existence? How many others suffered at his expense?

Ingo felt his lips tremble. Gliscor chirps, clambering over to press his head against his side. It was a hard hit to his gut & Ingo felt his throat tighten. He wheezed, nudging him away with his hand. "Not there." He strained out, the pokemon immediately took the hint.

He breathed deep. One two. One two three. He didn’t think he was so far in disrepair. The bat proceeded to curl up at his waist instead, placing his head down gently, sympathetically staring at Ingo. Ingo felt his head sink farther into the pillow, still wheezing at the borderline gut punch to his injuries. He’d ask Clay if he knew a doctor tomorrow. He had lied when he’d gone & asked if he was hurt when Clay first found him.

“I’m not mad.” He says, placing a hand on his chest but leaving his hand for Gliscor to nudge. “I’m not mad.” Were they, too, displaced in time now? All six of them? He was silent. He supposed they'd be happy wherever you put them, so long as they got their fill of exploring & battling. Ingo laid his head to the side, sighing quietly. The drumming under his skin had slowed, his breathing slowed. It was… a lot to handle.

Lightning crackled over head, flashing into the room & he couldn't help but cover his ears for the impending thunder.

He squeezes his eyes shut – the crash wasn't as bad as he'd thought it'd be. Ingo felt like he let every bone in his body untense when he opened his eyes again, finding a white ceiling staring back at him. Gliscor leaned against him, staring out at the window behind the two of them. Ingo felt like he's done this before. Was Freight awake from the storm? She hated storms - it kept them both up, & disrupted her sleep with their chatter. Axle hid in his room when it rained like this, & always had to make sure she was not a safety hazard. Safety first! Gliscor reminded him of her.

Ingo blinks a few times.

It was odd, recalling such specific names at such mundane things. They all sounded like nicknames — They were railway terms. He must admit he’d forgotten beyond the basics of his train knowledge – words & phrases coming to him, & flowing into his speech, but never really sticking around long enough to be something coherent. His current team had much more literal names, based on physical attributes or personality. He recalled a name starting with a B upon setting his eyes on Clay’s partner pokemon, although it slipped his mind yet again. It had been that pokemon who found him first, it was him who made the memories of Clay click. Although it drew forth the memory of rushing winds, & rattling plastic. Of shouted commands, & someone by his side. It almost reminded him of Zoroarks, the way the image mimicked him. He shutters at the idea of the foul pokemon who had hunted him during one of his return trips to the Pearl Clan settlement. Had it not been for Tangrowth, he was certain he would have met a swift fate on their claws. Ingo took the very end of his braid in hand again, taking the gnarled split end & twisting it around his fingers.

That had been a very bad storm. He needs to do something. He needed to get this pool of rotten thoughts out of his mind. He needed to move. He remembers twisted claws - faces he can’t recall. Mocking laughter of voices not quite right, not human. Ghastly flames that swirled in the dark of night. His own face - shrieking at him as it tried to tear through his teammate to get to him - only finding itself ensnared in her vines. His companion bled. His own face cheering for him, smiling back as though it was mocking him. He couldn’t help her. He heard his name. Enough. He felt his heart in his chest, he clutches his hair tight. Tears warmed his face, & Ingo pressed his cheek into the pillow. Enough. He was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. His mouth pressed into a fine line as he held back a sob. A shaking hand covered his face, sobbing into the palm. He didn’t want to do anything. Ingo was restless. He didn't know what he wanted.

He was going to be down for the count for the better half a few hours if he tried to do something to distract himself. He was better off staying where he was, warm & where his body didn't disjointly tell him it's had enough. He shuts his eyes, squeezing them shut sidling for a feeling of emptiness in his chest. His hand felt hot with tears & his own breathing. Things would be back on track soon. Things would be okay, eventually. As much as he felt comfort in his responsibilities, in his old life — isn't this what he'd been asking for? What Lady Irida had hoped for him? He was never meant to be a ghost amongst others, walking amongst a time he had never known, yet was the only life he’d known. He loves his loved ones, more than anything for the kindness they've shared. But they, too, knew he had somewhere he had to be. He needed to be home. They wouldn't have encouraged his recovery so much, had they wanted him to stay forever. He needed to be home. Ingo needed to remember.

A Warden he was, but a prisoner to his own memory. Two worlds set apart. He was a stranger to both, yet at home in strange ways.

Ingo needed some sleep.

It had been a very stressful first few months, back when Ingo first disappeared. Emmet had lost a sibling - one he spent most of his time with, though not all of it & who he worked alongside. It was a smart decision, financially, & the two of them hadn't really ever been without one another. They were always there for one another when they lost their parents, & they stuck together as they took their first journey together. They had made enough off the Battle Subway itself to support themselves on their own, although it'd be a little lonely without another person in the apartment. It was lonely without another person in the apartment. He would be fine, of course. He was fine. And he’ll be fine. Ingo had partners in the past, where he lived with him in the apartment & at his partner intermediately. Emmet himself was never particular to romance in any fashion, but he was happy for his brother. He's seen a fair share of heartache, comforting his brother from guys who broke his heart. But he had plenty of happy times, too. Where Ingo told him about his new love interest, where he saw how truly someone made him. It was always so easy to focus on the bad, & forget the good.

Don't let it be all bad.

The hardest part to overcome with his brother's disappearance was the months where he couldn't speak. The months where he had to tell himself he hadn't misdone a ritual – that his compulsions weren't the one to blame. He wasn't a bad person, he didn't kill his family. That forgetting to knock three times before or after he sat wasn't the deciding factor of fate. That's what his therapy has been for, yup! Even if he developed new ones as time went on. That was to be expected, even if he was getting help for it. He'd stayed with his uncle for a few weeks, only at the beginning. When they were still looking for him every night, & they couldn’t find ten minutes without someone calling on the phone. It was easier than being alone, & he needed the last shred of parental guidance he could find. He had no mum or dad, Drayden had raised them, from the age of 8. Then Iris later in life. He called her often, she was his cousin but was also practically his little sister. She’d seemed pretty happy to see him around, even if they didn’t hold the best conversations. Even if he was home for awful reasons. His team didn’t react well to the situation. Though Haxorus was enthralled to be around her father again, none of the others enjoyed the change in scenery.

Those were the hard parts, emotionally. Being around family for a little while helped ease the blow. Physically, the station had to be resituated. That meant, too, that Emmet would have readjust. Departing from old ways was never a fun time for him, but he got through it. There was a weekly pre-planned schedule now, where one day he would run the singles line, another day the doubles, multi battles had been closed indefinitely. The battling half of the station was closed on the weekends, instead of just on Saturdays, to allow Emmet the breathing room to recoup without an additional set of hands to help take over, but the public transit half was open everyday. It was exhausting keeping up with his duties alone, & keep track of 12 pokemon. Thirteen nowadays.

The twins had always shared pokemon, even if Haxorus, Conkeldurr, Klinklang, Excadrill & especially Chandelure were Ingo's. He named them, & raised them. Crustle & Durant were both of theirs. Archeops, Galvantula, Garbodor, Gigalith & Eelekross were his. The dynamics of their pokemon did not change, however, they all knew how to fight by Emmet just as they did by Ingo, & vice-versa. The five pokemon did not go without, & Emmet was sure to make sure he gave each & every one of his team attention. Though some of them were a little needier than others, some were more reserved in their needs. Especially Chandelure, who he often found sitting alone in Ingo's forgotten room. He'd always make sure to find his way in by the end of the night, he left her meals, & often spend some time with Ingo's dearest friend.

She was his first pokemon, a lost little thing they'd met in Lostlorn Forest on a camping trip.

Emmet had met his own partner that day, too, a curious little Tynamo who had been following the twins up stream. When Emmet had offered it a treat from his bag, he'd fallen in love with the little creature. Litwick & Tynamo were as close as Emmet & Ingo themselves. Trained together, grew together, came from the same place. They had even both received their dusk & thunder stones at the same time. Just before their uncle's gym. He really did not go easy on them. Emmet remembers losing pretty badly against his Druddigon. Ingo hardly beat him because of the Haxorus they had been gifted by their Uncle on their 12th birthday.

Back then he was pretty sure Eelektross was bigger than he was tall. Eelektross was still big now, big enough to lay across Emmet's whole chest, & then some. He usually woke up with staticky hair, especially if Galvantula managed to plead her way into snuggling, too. They all had their own designated room with their own beds, it was a sizable apartment, half of a house– but that didn't mean it was a large space. And it was still just one room. More often than not, their pokemon wanted to cuddle, or share one of the brothers' rooms. Especially after Ingo disappeared. Sometimes they just hid in their ball.

Emmet really wished he had a ball he could hide in. It was pouring in Nimbasa city, & he had been hardly able to sleep the past few days, anyways. The rain had been keeping him up & while his ear protectors were enough to keep the noise of thunder out, he needed sleep eventually. He'd been preoccupied with paperwork for the subway itself, though that didn't mean he could really focus on it. His eyes fell on the clock on the other side of the room, his fingers pinched around a pen that was tapping against his table. 2:49. The daunting red letters were practically glaring at him.

Emmet leans back in his chair, letting his shoulders go slack. Durant was lying on his lap, a quiet churr escaping him as he slept away. The others were all asleep in various parts of his home. Garbodor, Archeops, & Excadrill had a nightly cuddle pile he often found them in, in the morning. Klinklang always rested with Chandelure, keeping her company. Without a doubt in his mind Eelektross was sleeping in his bed, half dangling off the side by now. And the Crobat he had recently taken in for a nasty wing injury – though it had been a Golbat at the time – was usually sleeping alongside Conkeldurr or Haxorus, who was usually a known member of the trio's snuggle pile. They were all good pokemon. It always made him smile just a little wider. But they were a lot of pokemon, & he was breaking a lot of rules. He really wants to sleep.

The only others he could physically see was Gigalith, Bogie, who was lying on the floor, with his head resting against Crustle, Ballast’s shell. He was really, quite too big for the apartment. But they lived in a house that was split into two apartments - thankfully. He just wasn't allowed upstairs. He deserved to be out & about just as the rest.

It was a surprise evolution, anyways, he mused as he leaned forward to sign off on one of his papers.

Ingo had asked to train him personally, so the two could learn to better fight together, but that would leave Emmet empty handed. So Ingo offered to allow him to train Gurdurr! To say the sudden evolutions of both of their partners was a surprise to him, personally, would be an understatement. But it was to Ingo's delight, as he cracked a grin with his eyes when Emmet came to him, hours later, startled to find an entire Gigalith; rather than his small Boldore. He really had not planned for it, but was enthralled at his new found stature. But he really was not ready for him to evolve so soon.

Maybe that's how his team felt about him changing so much over the past few years. It wasn't a bad change. Well the first few months were. But that was just about everyone. It was only ever bad again around the yearly anniversary, & once, when the case had gone stale. They closed it, & held a funeral. Emmet really, really tried to stay strong, but the whole day was nothing but one disaster after another. Emmet really didn’t want to give up hope. But if Ingo was really gone, this would be his one & only funeral. He would have never said goodbye. He’d never find closure, but it would have been enough to know he wasn't forgotten. Skyla had to take him & Elesa home, Elesa had just about broke down in another room sobbing – Emmet didn't talk for a long while after that day. Neither of them did.

But he didn't let his disappearance get the better of him. He set himself back on track, & adjusted his route, still smiling. Do not forget to smile! His family needed him, his friends needed him, his team needed him. A couple rocks under the wheels wasn't enough to set him on a collision course for failure. He was Emmet, & he was going to live. He didn’t have to be okay. He just had to live. He ate enough, he slept enough. The subway was on schedule, & Emmet was assured to keep up his routine. The pokemon were fed, & trained.

Eelektross still got his bi weekly two hours in the tub to rehydrate his skin, Crustle got his after to wash off all the excess dirt. Excadrill & Durant were still given places to safely dig, taken places they could be responsibly destructive. Gigalith had a spot just for him outside to bask in. Chandelure… Was distant, but attended to. They all had needs he couldn't meet all of on a singular day, but they had them all attended to. It was good to attend to the needs of your passengers. Keeping himself happy & them happy was the least he could do. He didn't like to think about it, but he couldn't stay miserable. Especially if he never did come home. He would. But he knew he couldn't do that to himself or anyone else.

Emmet places a hand on Durant's head, stroking the cold steel between his antennae. Paperwork could wait for tomorrow, he just needed to fill the rest of his forms & get them in by the 23rd. He had time. No overworking! Safety first. And safety meant he should really try to sleep. Emmet lifts Durant into one arm, swaddling him like a baby as his little legs clung to hold tight even in sleep. He knocks softly on the wooden table, one two three, before stepping away. He pushes the chair in, knowing that Galvantula & Eelektross would be running laps before their breakfasts. Every morning. They woke when he did, & that meant they had to see who was faster, early in the morning.

Competitive little things.

Emmet lies Durant on the seat of the couch, patting the little guy's head. He churrs mechanically, before nuzzling into the cushions. Please don't tear them like last time. Emmet sighs a breath of relief as he turns to see Crustle staring at him from the floor. He gives him a small wave, uttering a half silent goodnight as he flicks the living room lamp off for the night. The crab clicks as he heads back off to sleep. One two three, his fingers rap against the doorway.

Emmet peers his head into the spare room, designated for their teams, where the others slept. Four five six, for this one, too. He saw Archeops, head lying across Garbodor's belly, Excadrill's paws doing the same. Never judge a Garbodor by their looks. Emmet had gotten into a genuine fight once upon meeting one that smelt like a rotten corpse, that hadn’t been recently caught. They're not supposed to smell bad once they're well loved. It was a symptom of friendship, & being fed well. He knew better than that. He knew better than whatever that schmuck was trying to tell him. Take care of your pokemon, or don’t catch or train them. Emmet takes a long, deep breath as he shakes his head. He peers further into the room, to see Crobat hanging upside down from Archeops' tree that sat beside one of the large beds, sleeping off her medicine. Haxorus was nowhere to be seen. Which meant she was keeping Chandelure company, or she was sleeping in Emmet’s room. Eelektross would never let that happen. Too many earthquakes in his life. They got along fine.

Everyone was fine & accounted for, even if it took him a second to realize where Conkeldurr was hiding. He was swallowed whole by a blanket he'd found & fussed with. Emmet looks towards the stairwell behind him, noting the little staticky head that poked its way out from between the railings. Galvantula was staring at him. He smiles wider, letting her know he sees her. "I am going to bed soon! It is verrrry loud outside. It is not nice." He taps his ear protectors knowingly. He grimaces at the clicking of his nails causing an odd noise.

The tarantula laid her head on her front legs, pedipalps twitching as she stared at him like a sleepy Growlithe. "I promise." Emmet says, reaching up to pet the top of her head. She clicked & churred like little sparks in response.

Emmet withdrew his hand, watching as she remained to wait for him. He nods his head, before stepping back into the living area. Knock, knock. Emmet scoops up his paperwork, his pens. He's careful not to tip his now warm drink in all his motions, even if he was incredibly tired. He tucks them away in a folder that had been set aside, before placing them inside his work bag. Galvantula was still watching, he could see her eyes from the stairwell. He threw her a smile. Emmet takes his drink, dumping it’s contents, then placing the once glass of water into the sink. Tomorrow's problem, it's just a cup. Once done, he claps his hands together, wiping the condensation off on his pajama pants. Then he gave Galvantula thumbs up.

"All board sleepy time express!" He says, not forgetting to knock against the railing before heading up the stairs. He really was tired. Although Galvantula had a pep in her step as she skittered back up the steps, his door wide open at the end of the hall as expected. Knock knock. Emmet looked at Ingo's open door. He should check on them. Quietly his bare feet patted down the empty home, quietly knocking as if to address his presence to the trio. They all looked so sleepy. Had he known it wasn't out of stress, it would have been a cute sight to see them all together again like this.

Haxorus, as expected, was fast asleep with half her frame against Ingo's bed though mostly on the floor. She took up the majority of the small room, which he assumed was meant to be an office. Ingo had insisted on having him take the smaller room. Chandelure was laid, lightless, atop one of Ingo's pillows. She didn't leave the spot much, unless Emmet got her out & about. He tried not to think hard about why the ghost was so lost, he just tried to do the best by her that he could. Klinklang however was churning, their gears ever moving. He didn't think they ever slept, really. They did turn to acknowledge him, though they knew it was only him. He smiles wide at the trio.

"Hello, Turntable." He says to the Klinklang, who continues their continuous spiral of cogs & gears. "Looking after Freight & Axle tonight? Verrry sweet of you. You are sharing a car with an extra passenger."

And although he could feel little tarantula paws batting against his leg, he ignored her as he turned to check the time on his Xtransceiver. 2:55. It is late. Emmet has a full day tomorrow & a schedule to upkeep! He looks back to the trio, Klinklang lying against Chandelure now. Okay, alright. Emmet looks down to Galvantula.

"It is verrry late & I must depart at promptly 8:30. Do you believe you may conduct me to my station?"

The little tarantula just looked at him dumbfounded. Then realized what he was asking. Bedtime! He was asking her to lead him to his room, Emmet was playing along. She trotted along, back down to the other side of the hall, stopping every so many seconds to pause & wait for him. That got a laugh out of him. It felt good. Emmet follows, nodding with a "Yes!" Or "Indeed!" at every little chirp or squeak the tarantula made. Three knocks. He looks at his Eelektross, splayed out across the foot of his bed, arms dangling, mouth drooling. That was about correct. He'd be concerned to see anything else. Galvantula knew to wait for Emmet to get comfortable first, she really was like an excited Growlithe. He could never keep up with a Growlithe's energy. No thank you.

Emmet sits down at the edge of his bed, knuckles feeling a little sore at this point. But all the same, tap tap tap. He flops backwards, exhaling sharply as he lets his arms fall above his head. Tomorrow the station was closed, so tomorrow was when he would go spend a few hours with Elesa & Skyla, as long as they have no challengers. No planned flights, no planned fights, no planned shows. Emmet rolls over, grabbing his blanket to throw it over his shoulders. He unclips his Xtransceiver, just about to set it aside for the night when he sees he had a few missed texts.

It was from Elesa. No sudden show. No bad news. He's really looking forward to tomorrow. No bad news.

[ELESA ♡ sent at 2:51AM today]

> I love you, buddy.

> Are you still on for tomorrow?

No bad news. Emmet paused. She didn't really usually type like that. He pauses. Bad news.

[ i am emmet! sent at 3:00 AM today]

> Of course I am!

> However your texting is verrry out of character.

> It is verrry late.

> Are you okay?

> Are you feeling under the weather? It is cold outside.

[ELESA ♡ sent at 3:00 AM today]

> why are you up so late???

[ i am emmet! sent at 3:01 AM today]

> I am conducting myself accordingly & seeing to my personal safety!

> …

> Why are you, Elesa, up so late?

[ELESA ♡ sent at 3:01 AM today]

> okay. okay. point taken. im a hypocrite. i cant sleep.

> happy?

> Still. see you tomorrow? i'm really excited to see you. please get some sleep i know its late and its loud outside

> ill be over at like 10 i have to pick skyla up first. you know how far she lives

[ i am emmet! sent at 3:01 AM today]

> Tomorrow, yes!

> I am in bed now.

> Circuit is waiting to go to bed. Relay is already asleep.

[i am emmet! sent a photo! It is of a small, fuzzy Galvantula staring up from his bedside. Eelektross' paw could be seen dangling nearby.]

[ i am emmet! sent at 3:02 AM today]

> You are going to bed now. Yup!

> I will not keep you up any further. Please sleep.

[ELESA ♡ sent at 3:02 AM today]

> i am dont worry

> okay. i love you.

> give her & the rest a kiss from me.

[ i am emmet! sent at 3:02 AM today]

> I will try to remember!

> I love you, too :)

> Goodnight, Elesa!

Emmet smiles, setting his Xtrans aside. He pats his bed, encouraging Galvantula to climb her way into bed. She ambles her way up, little claws pulling on the blanket, her back legs prodding Eelektross accidentally. He let her with an annoyed half asleep swat. Emmet rolls his eyes, lying on his back, while he'd usually sleep on his side, no way he was doing that while wearing ear protectors. Galvantula nuzzles her head into his stomach, settling her legs in every which direction as she got comfortable. Some things never change. He strokes her head, closing his eyes as he tries to drift off. Tomorrow would be fun, he would be spending time with family. He needed to enjoy his weekends, rather than fretting about the subways in his absence. He rubs a hand against his eye with a yawn. Emmet could feel Galvantula purring against his side. He was going to wake up with the most static in his hair in weeks, with the humidity in the air. Especially since he started growing it out, it was just about by his shoulders now. Elesa mocked him for having a mullet. It wasn’t a mullet. She even offered to cut or dye it for him. He almost took her up on it one time. He’d been pretty dysphoric, but he’s glad he didn’t go & mess it up on himself. He liked his hair. He took very good care of it. But living with three electric types did more than fry his power from time to time. They liked to fry his hair. That’s what straighteners are for, not his buddies.