(It was amazing, though, that it was so docile for him despite being in so much pain. Sneasels were usually much more volatile when they were injured.)

Chandelure floated along beside him, keeping pace with ease and ensuring that no one else would be able to try to stop them before they could reach their station. (She had refused to return to her pokeball but he assumed it was due to the threats that lay in the forest.)

He'd never been much of a sprinter but, for the bleeding Pokemon in his arms, he was certainly going to try.

He had his x-trans out, sending a message to the ranger station as he went. Telling them he needed an emergency transport ready to take him to the city Poke-Hospital as soon as he got there.

(He'd originally grabbed the number so he could let the rangers know if he’d run into any poachers, but it seemed he would be using their number for more than just that.)

The sneasel was growing worryingly still and quiet in his arms, especially considering the volume it had been capable of before. It was how he’d realized there was a pokemon in distress earlier. He could feel Chandelure’s mounting concern about it. (It was strange how quickly she’d gotten attached to it.)

Emmet’s lungs were burning, not used to being under such strain, but he was certain they would be arriving soon.

Even Emmet would admit that his arrival at the (surprisingly modern-looking) station had been rushed and frantic. They’d only stayed long enough for Emmet to speed run his incident report, take the papers he needed to fill out and stuff them into his bag, coax Chandelre back into her pokeball, and get some hurried field treatment for the sneasel. After which both he and the pokemon were bustled onto the back of one ranger’s Salamance and rushed to the city.

(He was pretty sure the ranger girl’s name was Lilim. Mostly sure. About 75% sure. Or was it Lilith? It was one of the two, he knew that.)

Their rushed flight was followed by the frenzy of activity that met them on the roof of the Nimbasa Pokehospital, St. Kemps. He was fairly sure that was the name of the place. He knew it was the 6th stop on the blue line when traveling by subway, at the very least. Not too far from Gear Station.

It felt a bit like rush hour in the subway, honestly. But Emmet was surrounded by people in lab coats and scrubs instead of frustrated office workers and frazzled students.

Both subway boss and pokemon were hurried inside the building, Emmet answering rapid-fire questions along the way. Until the sneasel (along with his and Ingo’s coats) was plucked from his arms by a nurse and whisked away to the ER. Another nurse escorted him to a waiting room/office, passing him a clipboard to finally fill out the paperwork he’d been given and to kill time until he could learn how the poor pokemon was doing.

It was only as the door clicked shut that Emmet finally took the time to sit down and let his adrenaline rush fade.

The aches and pains of his sprint through the woods and their unscheduled flight back to the city made themselves well known now that there was nothing to distract him from them. He was definitely going to feel it the next morning. (Perhaps he ought to take some medicine before he went to bed that night…)

He let out a shaky breath, pulling out the papers and clipping them in place on the empty clipboard, tugging a pen free from the cup on the desk nearby.

One station at a time. He needed to message his staff, then finish the paperwork he’d been handed.

They needed to know know that he wasn’t going to be riding the rails back to the city. They would be worried if he didn’t. He typed a quick message with his x-trans; telling them to not wait for him, as he’d found an injured pokemon and a ranger would escort him to the city. A few seconds later he received a confirmation.

He let out another breath, clicking the pen and starting to, slowly, fill out the papers in his lap.

The sneasel…

He had been in bad shape. Verrry bad.

Emmet had seen battles gone wrong before, it came with being a professional competitive battler. But he’d never seen a pokemon hurt that badly before. Not even when he and Ingo had been young, wet-behind-the-ears trainers set loose on the world for the first time.

Trainers were taught from a young age how to prevent battles from going too far. To ensure that their pokemon, wild or owned by another trainer, never got hurt too badly. No one let a pokemon be hurt that badly for anything but survival. Enough to knock them out, but never enough to… His eyes caught on the red that had managed to stain his gloves.

He stared at them for a moment. Then, slowly, he slipped them off and stuck them in the small pack he wore on his belt. (It mostly held treats for his pokemon. It had been a gift from Jacob, one of the ticket checkers, on his last birthday.)

Emmet felt numb.

He knew he should have felt something. He was pretty sure he felt something after all of that. But the connection from whatever was happening with his emotions just… Wasn’t reaching the rest of him. Not his mind, not his body, nothing. It was a bad connection. Leaving him sitting there, staring blankly at the papers in his lap with no idea what to think or feel or do-

Emmet was rescued from his mental spiral by the door to the waiting room opening, and a doctor clutching a clipboard to her chest stepped inside.

“Sir?” He gave her a worn smile.

“I am Emmet. Emmet Beaumont. How is my passenger doing?” He asked, leaning back slightly in the seat. The doctored gave him a lopsided smile.

“He could be better, a lot better. But I think he’ll be alright.” There was slight light heartedness to her tone, she was trying to make a small joke to lighten the mood. He was sure it was a good skill to have when it came to dealing with pokemon in a hospital (and their families and trainers by extension). She held out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Dr. Tea, I specialize in weasel pokemon so I’ll be the one in charge of our… Passenger’s care. It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Mr. Beaumont. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

Oh, how lucky! The hospital had a specialist! He smiled and shook her hand.

“Good. This passenger will be in good hands, then.”

“He will be! We’ve got him on some good, strong pain medication right now, and the nurses are setting him up for surgery as we speak. I have a few questions for you, though. Just some things I need to clarify before I go back in and help fix up his leg.” Dr. Tea sat down behind the desk, quickly pulling over her keyboard. “Now, can you tell me what happened? How did you find this poor guy?”

“I heard a few passengers talking about a strange sneasel in Lostlorn Forest that had the hat and coat that belonged to my brother. I wanted to see if it was true. The Rangers have been having trouble with poachers, I wanted to see if I could find some battles to make the pokemon harder to catch.” Contrary to myth, pokemon often ran from battles instead of toward them. If Emmet had gotten into a vigorous battle with another trainer, more pokemon would go into hiding to avoid it. Which would make it harder for the poachers to find and catch them. “I also breed joltiks, I wanted to see if I could find any new pokemon to try. I am licensed to do it.”

“Alrighty, so you were looking into some rumors and planned to make things a little easier for the rangers by making a small ruckus,” the doctor said, nodding. She smiled brightly at him. “Also, very cool to meet a joltik breeder. Not a lot of people look into bug types, so it’s nice to see something different. How did things go after you’d made this plan?”

He beamed at that. Perhaps the doctor would like to meet one of his joltiks later? He would ask about bringing one with him during a later visit.

“I had taken the afternoon off to wander the forest for a while. I keep tight schedules but doing something different is healthy. My x-trans is connected to satellites, so the map could safely lead me back. I also had my brother’s chandelure, she is a verrry good navigator.” Emmet paused, remembering the noises he’d heard. The pained screech that had him switch from a calm walk to a full sprint through the woods. “I heard attacks, and a verrry loud screech. I saw the sneasel in a trap, and two poachers with pokemon out. I battled them. They were not very good, I drove them off very easily. I had my durant remove the trap, bundled them in my coat, and rushed here.”

“Is he still wild or did you catch him on the way here?”

“He is wild, I did not think to catch him. Getting help took priority.” The doctor nodded, quickly typing something down.

“Okay, so he’s not yours then. That means we’ll be sending updates to the rangers about him. Since you rescued him, and brought him here, would you like to be included in the updates on his health? Or would you rather just sign him over to the rangers now?”

Emmet thought the question over. The pokemon had trusted him rather quickly, despite being injured. It had been docile for him, that could have been because he’d saved it from the poachers. If he simply left, it could get upset over not seeing the human it thought was safe (ish?) or one of the pokemon that had helped rescue it.

“I would like to visit. It was… Calm, when I was carrying it. I do not know how it will react if I don't come back.” Dr. Tea paused, blinking in surprise.

“He was calm? Really?” She sounded surprised. Honestly, he was too. Sneasels were usually quite volatile when they were hurt.

“Yes. I have no scratches.” He lifted his arms to show the doctor, proving that he was unmarred by the pokemon. She looked rather impressed.

“Wow, okay then. If he still likes you after all of this, maybe you should consider keeping him,” she joked lightly, smiling at him. “I don’t know how good of a battler he would be, but weasel pokemon can be pretty cuddly if they like you.”

If the sneasel still liked him. He had brought it to a hospital after all, and very few people or pokemon liked hospitals. He kind of hoped it would still like him after all of this. He’d never had a sneasel before, and they were rather neat pokemon. Maybe Ingo would like it too…

It was an interesting color though. He was fairly sure most sneasels didn’t come in shades of lavender. Maybe he should ask?

“Why is it purple?”

She hummed, looking thoughtful.

“I’m honestly not sure. He’s not a shiny, I can tell you that much. Those are more of a golden-yellow. Like, a really bright golden-yellow. We might run some tests to figure that out while he's here,” Dr. Tea said, her hands waving a bit as she spoke. She started typing on the computer again. “It’s rare but sometimes crossbreeding can cause weirder than usual mutations in a pokemon’s color, so that might be it. We plan on doing some blood tests to see how his full health is, check for any underlying conditions and such, but we can look into that while we’re at it.”

He nodded. He would like to know. It would be curious if it was a unique mutation. (He wondered if any breeders he knew had something like that happen…)

But, if it was a unique mutation, it meant that poachers would continue hounding the poor pokemon when it was released.

He frowned slightly at the thought.

Maybe he would see if he could keep it, then. Just to give the pokemon a safer place to live while it was healing. Chandelure had seemed interested in him, so she would get along with a new pokemon in the house, even if it was only temporary.

“If it is a mutation, I would be willing to allow him to stay at my station. It would be safer sharing space with myself and my pokemon until it is recovered.” Emmet said with a nod. Dr. Tea nodded, smiling brightly at him.

“Okay, I’ll make a note of that. We’ll also try to clean up your coat for you, and pack up the other clothes the sneasel had for the police. We’ve already had someone call, so they should be in the lobby soon. They’ll probably want to talk to you too, before you leave.” Emmet nodded at that, he’d expected it. It was nice that the hospital had asked the police to come meet him there, since it meant he wouldn’t need to make time to find them himself. “I think we’ve covered everything, just let me grab your contact info and you can either hang out here until the surgery is done or I can call you to let you know how things went.”

Emmet glanced at the clock. Based on the time, he would rather be called. He needed to tend to his pokemon and make sure everyone was well rested and fed. He said as much to the doctor. She nodded, taking the number for his x-trans and giving him her number as well as the number for the hospital.

Emmet left the hospital office in better spirits than he’d arrived in.

And, to make things simpler, there was an officer waiting for him at the front doors and they were able to clear out his report and the confirmation that the sneasel had been in possession of Ingo’s hat and coat. Both had been in rotten condition, but he knew his brother’s uniform when he saw it. So now the police would be inspecting the area where Emmet had found the sneasel for clues about what kind of connection there may be that would have resulted in a wild pokemon having them in its possession.

Stepping into the night, he had the quiet thought that, if there was a chance he would be housing a sneasel in the near future, he ought to get some things to better suit the potential new housemate. Some simple bedding and some extra bowls would be simple enough to snag on the way home.

Oh, right. And he needed to order a new coat. Even if the hospital did its best, he wasn’t sure they would be able to fully clean the blood out, considering it was white…

The rest of his trip home was full of stray thoughts to the sneasel. Wondering why it was such an unusual color. Wondering how it had gotten Ingo’s coat and hat. Wondering, for just a moment, if it had been calm because it had thought he was Ingo.

But wondering wouldn’t give him an answer.

Chandelure had seemed upset for a moment when they’d arrived home, but he soothed her by explaining that the pokemon they’d rescued was in the hospital for its injured leg and the doctors would call as soon as it was out safely. All of the pokemon that had met the sneasel seemed worried once he let them out for dinner. That was odd. (Perhaps he really would be keeping the pokemon if his and Ingo’s pokemon were already attached to him.)

He got the call that the sneasel had made it through surgery for his leg. However, he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

The little pokemon had several infections and smaller injuries that would keep him from being at full health for a while longer. And it would still take several weeks for him to be healthy enough to be let out of the house. But it would be safe for him to take him home in a couple days.

And, moreover, there seemed to be something odd about his DNA. They were going to re-test, but it looked as though the sneasel didn’t have the standard sneasel typing. It was possibly a regional variant that had been set loose in Unova, so they were looking into that.

(A regional variant… How interesting! He’d never had one of those before.)

He'd agreed and asked them to let him know when the results of the tests came.

Welp. Now was as good a time as any to start Sneasel-Proofing the house. Maybe he could send a text to Elesa about it? She might have ideas that he wouldn't about how to handle that.

AN: Dr. Tea was inspired by an Exotic Animal Vet from a show I really like watching. Having certain vets that specialize in specific groups/types of pokemon (beyond the usual pokemon typing) made sense to me.